I (H)Ate Myself

I hate myself

I ate myself

Why do I do this? 

Why must I continue to eat like this? Live like this? Be like this?

I don't even enjoy the food. I  just eat it. Flavor doesn't matter. It could be great, it could be gross. It's all the same.

I eat and eat and eat and eat. And at the end of it all?

I hate myself. 

There's no more sobering moment than when I've finished the last bite. Once that last bite goes down, the morning after has begun.

Why must this persist? 

Why must I insist on doing this over and over and over, only to compound my further misery and self-loathing.

I'm sick. But do I require treatment? Is there medication? Do I even deserve it?

I ate myself. I hate myself. And that's not fair.

I ate myself. I hate myself. Why should you care?

You shouldn't. It's on me.

I ate myself

I hate myself

Misery seems destined to be

iPhone 11 Review: The Good, The Bad, and The Meh

For anyone that knows me knows that I have been a die-hard Android user. They know this because any time I'm faced with an Apple fanatic compelled to tout their supposed smartphone superiority, I've been at the ready with every reason I've felt that Apple pales in comparison to its Google-based adversary.

But here's the thing, my career all but requires me to have an iPhone to officially function in my day to day activities. I've resisted for nearly 7 years, but after a year of career advancements, and a disappointing performance from my current daily driver, the Pixel 3XL, I've been forced to accept my fate. So for the last 2 months, I've been the newest member of Team iPhone, and I have some thoughts.

The Basics

Ok, full disclosure, I'm not a complete noob when it comes to Apple products. In the past, I've used multiple iPods for my music needs, as well as an iPad 2 as an overpriced e-reader for years. And since 2013 my main laptop, the one I'm typing this review on as we speak, has been a maxed out 15 inch MacBook Pro. All of this is to say that I had a pretty good idea of what to expect with my very first iPhone.

As for my model of choice, I decided to go with the iPhone 11. Apple gives you the choice of six different colors including black, white, green, purple, yellow, and my favorite, Product Red. Up until the recent release of the new iPhone SE, many considered the iPhone 11 to be the "budget" model with a starting price of $699 for the base 64 gig storage option. I opted to pay the extra $50 for the 128 gig option, as EVERYONE SHOULD. Seriously, why is 64 gigs of storage still a thing Apple???

The full spec list can be found here.

The Good

Upon receiving my device, I have to admit that, notch and all, this is a handsome phone. With a 6.1-inch display, the iPhone 11 falls right in the middle of its two big brothers, the iPhone 11 Pro, and iPhone 11 Pro Max with 5.8-inch and 6.5-inch displays, respectively.

While both Pro variants boast Super Retina XDR OLED displays, the standard 11 is rocking a Liquid Retina LCD with 326 pixels per inch (PPI). Going in, I knew that this display was controversial, to say the least. But having used it, I have to say that at no point in time do I find myself missing the higher resolution OLED display of my Pixel 3XL. In fact, other than the odd time where I have to manually adjust the resolution of a YouTube video, I can't even tell that the iPhone 11's display isn't high resolution.

Now, my absolute favorite thing about the iPhone 11, and something that no Android phone I've ever used has even come close to, is the battery life. Once again, I knew ahead of time that many big-time tech reviewers like MKBHD and UrAvgConsumer heaped loads of praise on the iPhone 11 for its stellar battery life, much like it's predecessor, the iPhone XR. But I must say that I sincerely was not prepared for how much of a battery beast this thing would be. I end most days around 50% battery life, but that's after around 7 hours of screen on time. That means, if I really wanted to, I could stretch this phone to two full days of battery life on a single charge. For a standard flagship phone, that is INSANE, so feel free to leave your charger at home.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Apple's dedication to software support for its devices well beyond the typical scope of other smartphone manufacturers.  Apple has always been best in class when it comes to providing frequent and timely updates to IOS (even if those updates aren't always fully baked). And with iOS 14 on the horizon, the future looks bright for the iPhone family.

And of course, it wouldn't be an iPhone review without mentioning the camera. Or, more accurately, cameras. The iPhone 11 is rocking dual 12 megapixel wide and ultra-wide cameras on the back, as well as a 12MP "TrueDepth" camera on the front for all of your selfie needs. In true iPhone fashion, all three cameras work wonderfully, churning out amazing pictures with a simple point-and-shoot action. And video recording is second to none, with the ability to record up to 4K video up to 60FPS. Even coming from the Pixel, I have to say that the iPhone cameras are almost perfect.

Almost.

The Meh
The one thing holding the iPhone camera back from the top spot is definitely the Night Mode. While I'm happy that Apple included a night mode in its 2019 lineup of phones, I do wish that I could manually activate whenever I want to. In any instance where your phone determines a subject has enough light, the Night Mode icon will vanish. Apple choosing to trust its software over the judgment of its users can definitely lead to some missed opportunities for better shots in certain situations.

The Night Mode icon vanishes when the phone determines a subject has enough light.

Now I know I praised the iPhone 11s screen earlier, but I have to say that one of my biggest gripes about this phone is the set of THICC bezels it's sporting on all sides. When taken as a whole with the notch, you really can see how much potential screen real estate is eaten up, and in 2020, this feels sorely outdated and unnecessary.

The Bad
Now being the "iPhone Hater" I've made myself out to seem, I have to admit that I've struggled to come up with anything substantial to put here in the Bad section. Sure I could mention that the aluminum sides make it feel a bit less premium when compared to it's Pro counterparts. And I could point out that a $700+ smartphone in 2020 DOESN'T include a fast charger in the box, allowing Apple to make another quick grab for cash from accessories (which you should ignore in favor of getting this charger from Amazon). But in all honesty, those are really just little nitpicks I have.

However, the one thing that I have absolutely no issue with listing in this section is probably the main thing that keeps Apple loyalist shelling out for the newest model every year: The Ecosystem.

Apple has built its empire on the basic principle that everything works better together. And it's that principle that keeps Apple users providing a steady stream of cash into Apple's oversized pockets. But after using it for a couple of months, I've found that being one with the ecosystem is a double-edged sword.

Admittedly, I LOVE that I can not only send and receive texts and phone calls from my MacBook Pro. And having native app support work seamlessly from phone to computer is otherworldly. This really is the way that most, if not all, smart devices should work in 2020. But upon further inspection, you start to see that your beloved cross-platform functionality comes at the cross of freedom.

Maybe that's a bit dramatic, but it's also not inaccurate. Unlike Android, where you have the freedom to choose just about any aspect of your phone to customize, Apple literally locks you into using only their selective group of apps as your defaults. Want to use Chrome instead of Safari when opening links from emails or text messages? Too bad. Want Google Maps to provide you with directions after clicking on an address? Sorry (and good luck finding your way out of the woods). How about Gmail, that should be natively supported, right? Nope! And that's not to mention the next to no support for Google Drive, which is EXTREMELY inconvenient for someone like me who has only ever used Google Drive for all of their cloud storage needs.

While Apple isn't stopping you from using any of these apps, they sure do make it damn difficult and inconvenient to access them at will. But what really gets me is that this wouldn't be that big of a deal if the apps and systems Apple is forcing on its users were equivalent to their Google counterparts. Sadly, that just isn't the case, and in my opinion, the seriously diminishes the day to day usage of this phone.

So What Does This All Mean?
I have to say when I finally decided to pick up my very first iPhone I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. And after 2 months of usage, I've found that many of my expectations were well-founded. The iPhone 11 is a great phone. From the great camera, outstanding battery life, to even it's starting price of $699 (when compared to most other flagships that come in right around that $1000 mark). So whether you're a first time user like myself or lifelong, dues-paying member of the church of Apple, the iPhone 11 is one of the best phone experiences you can have in 2020. Just be prepared to praise all things Apple.

You can hop on the bandwagon and join Team Apple by getting your very own iPhone 11 right here.

A Love Story

Story time...

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away....a bunch of shit happened that has nothing to do with what I'm about to tell you. Starting a story is tough, ok.

This is a story about love. The woman I love is...laying on the other side of the room asking me questions even though she watched me put on a giant pair of headphones when I sat down at the keyboard. Eh, she'll figure it out eventually.

What a perfect snapshot of our relationship. Me, the tortured wannabe writer, sitting at the computer full of whiskey and self-importance. My love, fiddling with some piece of tech I gave her that she never really took the time to figure out how to use. I'm sure she'll soon throw a pillow at me to get my attention, I'll act annoyed and then do whatever is she asks. Love.

This has been our story for over 4 years now. How did it all begin you ask? Well even if you didn't I'm going to tell you because this is my blogpost and I can do what I want. Anyway, what was I saying? oh yes that's right. In the beginning, the Big Bang created the universe as we know. There were explosions, collisions, giant reptiles, a few bad winters, the Beatles, and eventually, Sean Rad and a few others created the location based dating app known as Tinder. And in 2015, after moving to a brand new city he had never been in and lacking the necessary social skills to properly make friends, a 26-year-old boy downloaded the app to his phone. Ya know, to look for friends.

Well it just so happened that a girl from Dallas Texas just so happened to also be using the app that's infamous for bringing people together to touch butts and such. As fate would have it, she would swipe right on the young fella, as he did her, at which point he took her breath away by crafting the perfectly poetic greeting message; Hey. Yup, it was all over for her from there.

Well maybe not from right there, but she thought he was cute, or at least cute enough (I take what I can get) and decided to test his cultural aptitude by inviting him out to see an apparently famous fall symphony. He agreed, while simultaneously trying to figure out ways to stay awake during the performance, at which point she revealed that what she actually wanted to do was go get burgers, beer, and watch football. He couldn't get out the door fast enough.

Fast forward 2 years, and holy shit neither of them can believe it's been 2 years.  The boy is packing up his beloved apartment and hauling everything over the 1.8 miles to the girls house where they now both will be residing. Now it was serious. I mean it had already been pretty serious, but now it was really really serious. For realsky.

The first year was good. The boy was still working in television, and thus, not contributing to society in any meaningful way. The girl had recently transitioned into teaching, which was great because that meant there would always be alcohol in the house. And it was at some times around here that the boy got the bright idea to ask the girl to marry him.

Now neither he nor I can remember the first time he/I got this idea but he/I knew it was exactly what he/I/we wanted more than anything in the world. So now all he/we/me had to do was find a ring. Sounds like a plan.

(Record scratch)

Let me tell you something about plans. If you ever want to hear the universe laugh, you should tell them to her. The bitch will be hunched over and out of breath by the time you finish talking. Seriously, she's rude like that. But, I believe that everything happens exactly how it's supposed to happen, even if it's annoying some of the time (read: all of the time). And not long after their 3rd year of being together, the boy got a ring that was made just for the girl. Now he just had to figure out how to give it to her.

Now this brings me to our main point. The reason I've gathered you all here today. But before I go any further I just want to say to each and every one of you to gather up your hopes and dreams and ambitions, wrap them in bubblewrap, slap a tracking number on them and send them out into the universe. Seriously, because you never really know when She might be listening.

Now I'm not sure how much you all know about Mardi Gras parades, but here's the TL;DR for those you unfamiliar. In the weeks leading up to Mardi Gras, New Orleans is host to a plethora of parades put on by the handful of Mardi Gras Krewes. Now everyone knows that people on the floats through out beads as they roll by, but what you may not know is that the bigger Krewes have signature throws. For instance, the Krewe of Nyx throws out hand decorated purses, Zulu throws out painted coconuts, and Tux throws out plungers...for some reason. But the most coveted throw is a hand decorated high-heel shoe through out by the very elite and exclusive Krewe of Muses. Getting your hands on one of those ever elusive throws was a sure way to note that your Mardi Gras season had been a successful one. Through some sort of black magic that I didn't even know I was capable of, I managed to snag a shoe during my very first Mardi Gras. Once it dropped into my hands, I ran as fast as I could back to my then girlfriend of only 3 months and presented it to her. Throughout the entire season the girl had been telling the boy all about how much she's always wanted a Muses shoe. At that moment, while handing his newly acquired shoe to his girlfriend perched at the top of her ladder, he knew this would be the perfect proposal. But that would've been crazy back then. Now however...

But how would he accomplish this? How COULD he accomplish this? He didn't know anyone in Muses. He had no friends in high places that he could call upon to help in this situation. What could he do? He expressed these questions aloud to friend while standing on a television set in the middle of nowhere Louisiana. This friend, being the only person he had spoken to about this so far, knew immediately what to do. This friend led him to a friend, who then led him to another friend that led him to another friend. By the end of the week, the boy had a couple of friends in Muses and plan that was underway. The boy would gather all of the girls friends, get her out to the parade, and when moment came, present her with her very shoe, accompanied with her very own ring.

Which brings us to now. I sit here, typing this story, my soon to be wife sitting across the room watching the news, and a box of wedding invitations sitting next to my desk. It's crazy to think that the story you've just read and the moment you just witnessed above are just the beginning of a long road of life and love. And we'll pave it just the way we have for the past 4 and a half years...

Together 💕

A Christmas Story

Story Time...

So it's Christmas time, and for some reason that I can no longer recall, I found myself at a local Dillard's...or was it JCPenney...no it was Dillard's....or was it....I don't know...it's not important....or is it?

Anyway, upon arrival Bae makes a beeline...or should I say, Baeline (rimshot)...for the seasonal section. While I may not know much, one thing I can say for certain, if there's an item out there that is both useless, and Christmas themed, Bae will find it. Doing my best to not get sucked into all of the festive kitschiness, I decided to circle the second floor of JCIllard's (yep) as slowly as possible.

A little backstory. It was about 2 or 3 weeks until Christmas, and up until that point, I had already bought Bae a good number of gifts to spread out over her birthday and Christmas. Nothing that was going to blow her away, but at the time I felt satisfied that it was enough to keep her from breaking up with me at least until Valentines Day.

As I followed the tiled pathway through the overpriced home section, I took pause when I found myself in the kitchen section. Part of my journey to become the oldest 28 year old on the face of the planet was discovering my desire to have a kitchen stocked full of the finest cookware that I didn't possess the talent to use. Practicality be damned, I dreamt of Calphalon pot sets and Japanese knives. Taking the entire section in at once, I almost didn't notice the recently set up display in front of me.

As a part of their holiday sales, DilPenney's had set up a big Kitchenaid display at the entrance of the section. A collection of colorful toasters, coffee makers, and utensils filled every shelf. Next to it, the centerpiece of the collection, was a mountain of Kitchenaid mixers. Bae had been telling me since we first met that she's always wanted her very own candy apple red Kitchenaid mixer. Every Sunday during our weekly Costco pilgrimage we would stop and admire the big pro model mixers they'd have on display. "Someday" we'd always say, knowing damn well that we wouldn't be able to afford one until our lucrative Bank Robbing business took off. But still, it was fun to dream.

Back to DCPillard's, I stood for a moment admiring the height and structure of Mixer Mountain. I laughed as I thought about the clerk who almost certainly had to build this thing before closing and going to join his friends at local sock hop for some Snapgramming, or whatever the youths are doing these days. It was almost a full minute before I saw it, but once I did, I swear to the Eternals that every light in the store turned off save for the one directly above the mountain's peak. There, at the tippy top Kitchaid Krakatoa was a sign, perhaps from the Flying Spaghetti Monster himself, that displayed in the numeric value of $199.

Instinctively, I whipped around to see where Bae was. There's no way she didn't feel the disturbance in the force of this price tag, right?! Surely, I'd have to figure out a time to come back here on my own and grab one of these later. The bareness of the store didn't make me super hopeful with that plan, but what else could I do? And then it happened. At that moment, God took a break from counting the Likes on his Facebook posts that determine if he can send out any blessings to check up on me. Seeing my dilemma, and no doubt thinking back on the shit show that whole year had been, he decided to send one little blessing, directly to Bae's phone. I could hear the ring from 2 sections away. She answered and immediately acknowledged one of her greatest nemesis; Sewerage and Water Board of New Orleans. Bae had been WAITING for this call for at least a week. An innocent shopping trip had just turned into TELEPHONE FIGHT NIGHT. And it was exactly the window I needed.

Gotta focus. Bae could land a knock out blow to that poor customer service rep at any moment. First thing's first; where the fuck are all of the red ones?! Seriously, there's a variable rainbow of mixers stacked in front of me but not a single one has the candy apple paint job that I so desperately need. I scan the pyramid over and over again. Nothing. I can't believe I came so close just to fai.....WAIT!!!

There, just under the fluorescent rays of artificial sunshine, I see my prize. The one and only Kitchenaid Artisan® Design Series 5 Quart Tilt-Head Stand Mixer with Glass Bowl in Candy Apple Red (#KSM155GBCA) in the whole store was the proverbial cherry on top. No ladders or chairs in site, but Dr. King told me I would make it to the mountain top, so up I went. Imagine, if you will, the site of me dangling off the side of a mountain of mixers that could collapse into an avalanche of metal, cardboard, and crippling debt at any moment. As quickly and quietly as I could, I reached towards the heavens. Gripping it tight, I snatched the treasure from the clouds and descended like Moses from Mount Sinai.

Back on the ground, I checked my surroundings. Bae was still pacing the clearance aisle while telling S&WB all about themselves. Perfect! Now for Phase 2. I had to find one of the ever elusive cash registers. For those of you that have never shopped at a JDPenney-illy, for some reason they like to do their best to make finding a register something only the most skilled archeologists/professors in fedoras could find. I ran along the wall until I finally found one. It was directly across from the section that Bae was in, but luckily there was a little makeshift wall blocking her from seeing me. Unluckily, however, there's not a single sales person in sight. What kind of shit is this?! I could've stole this thing 4 times by now. First I had to be my own sherpa, and now I gotta be a bounty hunter too?! I should've stayed my ass at home. Netflix has never made me work this hard.

Just as I'm ready hack into this register with everything I've learned from watching Mr. Robot, the oldest sales associate this side of the Mississippi meanders over. I frantically explain the situation to her, hoping to motivate her to get me rung out before the new year. Well, she must have missed her stories this morning, because once I pointed out just how close Bae was to uncovering my plot, she sped over to the register and started typing so fast I swear I saw smoke emanate from her fingertips. Another sales associates wonders over, clearly concerned at the amount a sweat trickling down my forehead. We recruit her into being our look out, because me and 2 sales people peeking around a wall every 5 seconds doesn't look suspicious at all. I swipe my card, decline the optional insurance....yes, ma'am I'm sure...no seriously, I don't need it....will you just take my money please?! Determined to make this as interesting for herself as she possibly could, she waits until now to tell me that they don't have bags big enough to cover this thing. Great.

At this point, I have 2 options. I can try to make it to the gift wrapping counter and have them take care of this thing. Or, I could make a mad dash for my car. Both options seemed impossible, but what else could I do? We were in the endgame now. Electing not to spend anymore time in the store than I had to, I elected to escape. I realized that the elevator would have been my best option, but considering that I had no idea where it was located, I made a beeline for the escalator. With almost no hope, I hopped onto the moving staircase, fully exposed to the entire 2nd floor. I stared directly at the back of Bae's head, doing my best to keep her from turning around through sheer force of will. At some point, I made my piece with getting caught. I had done my best, no shame in losing now. Better luck next year.

And then it happened, the escalator deposited me onto the bottom floor, with a clear path to the door. It was a miracle. I don't even remember the rest of the journey to the car. What I do remember is being very grateful for having a bunch of shit in the back of my car which I used to hide this monstrous box. Just as I closed my liftgate, Bae calls my phone. The S&WB associate had finally submitted and my absence had been noticed. Throughout the entire endeavor I hadn't stopped to think of a believable alibi. I threw up a hail mary of a story about looking for the bathroom, knowing damn well it was back upstairs where she was now searching for me. I guess I had laid enough groundwork over the years of being an idiot because she didn't bat an eye at the idea that I would get lost in a department store. Phew.

I managed to drive Bae around for the rest of the day without her noticing the massive package in my cargo area with my hoodie draped over it. I even managed to sneak it in the house, wrap it (seriously, fuck wrapping paper) and stuff it into our closet without her seeing anything. A couple of weeks later I pulled it out (seriously, how did she not notice this thing sitting in our closet for weeks???) and presented it to her. And the rest, as they say, is history.....

P.S. Shortly after this photo was taken I was told that I had set myself up for failure since I would never be able to top this gift....so, there's that.

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM 2 YEARS AGO EVERYBODY!!!!

Waking Up

Anxiety - noun - a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.


Anxiety is something I've become uncomfortably accustomed to recently. I can't recall when it really started, but at this point it feels as if it's always been there, and that I've only just now learned what to call it. It has an insatiable appetite for my well being and only seems to subside when I'm so busy doing something that I don't have time to actually consider my well being. Anxiety is the state, city, and neighborhood I currently reside in and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to move.


Now I might not know exactly when this started (although I could guess), but I know exactly what is causing it; my career. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that my career has been at the center of the vast majority of stresses and anxiety I've encountered in my adult life (second only to my weight, but that's a story for a different blog post).


For those who don't know, I work in television and film. It's funny, when I tell people that in the real world, I usually say that I'ma television producer. That sounds much better than what I actually do, which is struggle. I struggle to find jobs. I struggle to get hired onto those jobs. I struggle to get anything more than a day here or there working on those jobs. And I struggle working my ass off for 15+ hours a day for pennies on those jobs. To think, I went to school for 4 years just so that I could struggle to find jobs that most spider monkeys are overqualified for.


2018 has been the worst for my career so far. After starting off on what I thought to be a high note of a producing job (which actually carried over from 2017) it's been nothing but scrounge and struggle since February. I've had such a hard time that I spend most of my free time trying to figure out what other jobs I could be doing. And there in lies the rub. No matter how hard I try, I can NEVER think of anything else I would be qualified for. Everything I've done for the last 6 years has pretty much only equipped me to work in this industry. The only other thing I ever feel like I would like to do is to become a police officer (like I had always originally planned) but I'm way too fat and unable to get my weight under control for that. So I just stay locked in this spiral, hating what I do and being unable to do anything else.


The other day, my best friend said something to me that I haven't been able to get out of my head. She told me the reason I haven't been able to find another career path is because I haven't really given up on this one. She said that was a good thing. I hadn't ever really thought about it like that until she said it, but I think she's absolutely right. I haven't even been able to fathom another line of work for myself, because deep down, I still want this one. I still want to follow my dream. And that's the problem.


I'm tired. Tired of having to struggle so much for so little. Tired of only working a day or 2 here or there because no one wants to trust me with a full time position. Tired of waking up at 3am to drive miles and miles to the middle of nowhere so that I can stand around in the sun all day. Tired of sending resumes out into the abyss where they're almost certainly never even read. Tired of being embarrassed about just how many days a week I spend at home waiting for my phone to ring. But most of all, I'm tired of not being able to look at the woman that I love and knowing that I can provide for her and the family she deserves. I'm so fucking tired.


So that's it. I have to give up. I have to wake up from this dream. I just don't see any other way. As it is right now, I'm only about $30 away on any given day from having to move back in with my parents. And yet here I am preparing to buy a car and yet I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW I WILL EVER BE ABLE TO AFFORD THE NOTE. I'd still love to write. And maybe one day I'll be able to again. That's all I could really hope for. But my days of bleeding for other people's art have to come to end. Sooner rather than later. So this has to be it. From here on out, I've got to do things differently. My life depends on it.

Autonation Timeline

*Note the times

Thursday Evening: I return to vehicle after work to find that the AC is blowing hot air. I check the pressure when I get home and the needle shoots all the way to the red. Shit.

Monday, 9:30 AM: I arrive for my appointment at AutoNation. I tell the the service worker, Daisy, about the AC, as well as the Check Engine light that has since come on, and Uber back home.

Monday, 2:00 PM: I call to get a status update. Daisy doesn't answer the call, but a receptionist tells me that the computer doesn't show any updates so they must still be working on it.

Monday, 4:00 PM: I call again. This time Daisy answers, but tells me the technician is out on a test drive and that she'll call me back when he returns. She says it should be about 10 minutes.

Monday, 5:00 PM: I call back. Daisy puts me on hold for nearly 10 minutes. She comes back to tell me that the technician did a full flush and recharge on my AC, but hasn't detected any leaks. As of right now it's working fine. She also informs me that I won't be getting my car back until the next day since the work isn't complete on it yet. I'm upset, but what can I do. I hang up.

Monday, 7:30 PM: I buy a bottle of Hochstadter's Slow & Low Rock & Rye. That's not relevant to this story, just really good whiskey.

Tuesday, 11:00 PM: I call AutoNation. Daisy greets me by name upon answering, but since I didn't give my name to the receptionist that patched me through, I assume this means that she now recognizes my number and has been expecting my call. She gives me a quote for the work. I insist that it be done quickly since I have plans throughout the day. She tells me she'll have it done for me in a hour, or hour and a half. She asks me if I would like it to be washed. I say yes and hang up.

Tuesday, 1:30 PM: I Uber to AutoNation, because fuck this shit.

Tuesday, 1:40PM: I arrive with the full intention of waiting quietly in the waiting area for another half hour before showing out, but I immediately see my car sitting in the exit lane, unwashed, so I decide the show must go on right now, because Fuck This Shit.

Tuesday, 1:45PM: The "cashier" (for lack of a better term) asks me if someone called to tell me my vehicle was ready. I told him I came up to wait but since I see it's ready I want it now. He finds my paperwork, unfinished, on Daisy's desk. Daisy is nowhere to be found. He checks me out, gives me the key and I go on my way. I notice the AC isn't blowing hot, but it's not blowing cold either. I assume it just needs to get going for a bit so it can cool down. I head to Jack in the Box about 2 miles away, and no sooner that arrive that the air from the Sahara starts blowing out of my vents. I drive straight back to AutoNation because FUCK.THIS.SHIT

Tuesday, 2ish PM: The cashier, who took it upon himself to try to help me since the manager was busy, has the technician come to my car. The tech had written on the paperwork that when he tested my vehicle, he didn't detect the hot air. I wondered aloud if he knew what the difference between hot and cold was. He held his hand over my vent and profoundly said, "Oh." Daisy has reappeared and tells me the tech, the same guy who couldn't tell that hot air was coming out of an AC in the middle of July, was going to take it back into the shop to see what he could do. I walk to waiting area and angrily pace enough to scare all of the white people in the vicinity. Good.

Tuesday, 3:45PM: I go into Daisy's office for an update. I ask in the calmest way possible, which at this point was probably still angry enough to make a 12 year old cry. She pages the tech. He calls in to say he still can't find the issue. I tell Daisy to go get my car. She can't get out of the office fast enough.

Tuesday, 3:55PM: Without a word to Daisy I get into my car and drive off. I spend the rest of the day/week/month/year in a searing hot rage. For the rest of eternity I fantasize about watching AutoNation Chrysler Dodge Jeep RAM Spring burn to the ground.

Lottery Tickets

     For as long as I can remember (and, in fact, before I was born) my father has faithfully played the lottery every week. When I was younger, this meant hopping in the car on Saturday night and heading east on 270 until we crossed into Illinois. We'd take the first exit and pull into the seedy little strip with a bar on one end and a liquor store on the other. I used to secretly wonder if the bar was a strip club...never was able to confirm. Once inside my dad would head straight to the register to get the process started (he has quite the complicated order. I still don't understand it, despite having been sent out to get his tickets for him numerous times since coming of age.), and I'd head to the candy isles, knowing full well that he would buy me anything I wanted. This was such a normal part of my life growing up that I never stopped and wondered why he did it. What was it that made him start this ritual all those years ago. Sure, he's won a few times, although never anything life changing, but he's never been the "get rich quick" type. So what was it?

     

     Maybe it was this feeling I have now. This constant feeling of unknowing; Of uncertainty; Of constant agonizing anxiety. Maybe it started when he was feeling uncertain of how he was going to be able to provide for his wife and kid? Maybe he was desperate to feel in control of something, anything, and going out and buying that ticket is what he came up? If that was the case, then I get it. That's exactly how I feel right now.

     My job here is coming to end, and I'm terrified. I moved here for this job. This job is the only job I've had in almost 2 years. Everyone I know here, knows me in reference to this job, and thanks to shit this company has done since we started operating in New Orleans, that is not a good thing. I basically have to start over. I'm starting over in a place that is already suffering from a diminished Film and Television tax credit, while having no shortage of production workers. So far, I haven't even received a response, let alone an offer, from any place I've sent my resume to. I don't know what I'm going to do. In about a months time I'll be unemployed and have no clue how I'm going to support myself. My lease doesn't even end until August. My girlfriend and I are planning on moving in together when that happens, but as right now I don't even know how I'll make it to August. So maybe this is it? Maybe this is what causes people to head to the nearest gas station and start playing the numbers? Maybe having a handful of tickets is the only thing that gives those people hope? Maybe it's all they can think to do?

     I don't know. I don't know anything at all right now. How do people do this? How can it be so hard to just be normal? Why is it that I no longer daydream about lifestyles of the rich and the famous, but about having a 9 to 5 that let's me pay for the most basic of bills? How do people think about this stuff and not cry? Is this what life is supposed to be?