If opposites truly attract, the correct life strategy is to be a loser.

As I mentioned in a slightly earlier post, I've been going out a lot more recently. Recently being about the last 6-7 months or so. One day I just decided that being home sucks, so I started saying YES to literally any invitation I was given...even the weird/crappy ones. It's like I'm the living embodiment of that semi-okay Jim Carrey movie from a couple years ago! (not Cable Guy.)

Going out gives me a certain level of confidence. I feel like it's forcing me out of my depression, even if only for a few hours. But as with everything in my life, there's always someone ever-so-willing to remind me that I'm outta place.

Situation: Saturday night I went to this Nevada Women's Money Conference thing all day for work. Decided to meet up with some friends on Fremont Street (i.e. Old Las Vegas) for drinks. ALL NIGHT, I was having a GREAT time. Seriously...fun conversation, feeling comfortable, laughing my ass off...just a good night, in general. Hours pass. It's roughly 1am and our group of 7 has dwindled down to just me and my friend Erik sitting at the bar talking.

This dude walks up and pushes his way in between us at the bar. I decide to make conversation because he's literally four inches away from my face already, so why not?

Me: That's a good beard, dude. (Side note: I like facial hair a LOT!)
Interrupting Douchebag: (hereby to be referred to as ID, for short!) Thanks. What kinda whiskey should I get?
Me: Um, Maker's Mark.
ID: (to bartender) One Maker's Mark on the rocks.
ID: (to Erik) Why are you drinking PBR? Is it cheap?
Me: It's 4 bucks. But all the other beers are 5 bucks, so I say pay the extra dollar and get what you want.
ID: That makes sense. You should work here, you're good at pushing booze.
Me: Yeah, that's why I sit here. They call me The Closer.
ID: I get it! Like she's pretty, and you're smart!
Me: ....Dang. That's kinda insulting to both of us, don't you think?
ID: Oh. Well, she might be smart...I never talked to her before.
Me: ..........................and??
ID: Did you want a drink or something? (oblivious or just a jerk??)
Me: Uhhhh, no, I think I'm done drinking tonight.
Erik: You may as well take the free drink, the damage is done now.

He was right. So I ordered a $10 shot, downed it, then we left.

I mean, seriously, like I need some jerk with a decent beard to randomly come up and remind me that I'm not all that attractive. Thanks, really.

I KNOW I shouldn't let it bother me. But it's bad enough to have those insecurities, then to have someone confirm it for you is just a real kick in the teeth. I KNOW I shouldn't let the "opinion" of one douchey frat boy ruin an otherwise great night, but JEEZ. Have a little tact, at least.

That kinda stuff makes me remember why I spent so many nights locked in my room making excuses for the few invites I did receive to go out. As I get older, I find myself caring less and less what the world thinks of me. Especially since, in general, I'm not a big fan of most people out there anyway.

Also, that dude can go suck a bag of dicks. The End.

Dad.

It's always hard when someone you love dies.

I think it's way harder when it's someone that you've always had a hard time with.

When my mom died, it was horrible. But we were tight. I knew in my heart that she died fully knowing how I felt about her. It was sudden, and there wasn't time to say anything to her...but I still felt like there was nothing really left unsaid. There was just a security in knowing that she knew.

It wasn't the same with dad. And it was weird because there WAS time, and I DID say what I thought I needed to say to let him know how I felt...but it still feels weirdly unfinished. I think it was more because I never had to prove my love to my mom...I could tell she just knew. My dad and I just never really had that kind of bond. I always told him I loved him and made sure he knew that I wasn't mad at him for the things that I SHOULD have still been mad about. I'm a forgiving person, and I think we all just wanted him to know that it was okay to let go.

But it was still weird when he did.

Valentine's Day. I had to work, but then Jeff took me out for dinner at an Indian restaurant that I really love. We were sitting there discussing our plans for the rest of the night. We were about to land on a movie to go watch, when suddenly he brought up us driving up to Hoover Dam since I've never been there and wanted to do something different. Jeff being spontaneous? I should have known only a death in the family could come next.

My phone rang about 5 minutes after we got our food. It was my sister. Yeah, my sister that NEVER calls me. I had a bad feeling, but I decided to let it go to voicemail because I didn't want to ruin the evening if it was something trivial. Three minutes later, my brother calls. I already knew. There's really only one event at that point that could have possibly brought my brother and sister to the same location. I COULDN'T answer. I couldn't hear the words. I just sat there staring at my phone and Jeff asked what was wrong. I said "something bad" and then the text popped up.

My eyes welled up and I said "my dad's dead. I gotta go home." I grabbed the keys and walked out and got into the car and just started bawling. I thought I was prepared. He had been in the hospital for over a month. Most days when I called him, he was so supersaturated with whatever meds they had him on to manage pain that he couldn't talk...he would mumble something incoherently then trail off. It was like talking to a zombie and it made me cry everytime.

Then one day he seemed okay. He was able to talk and he told me he ate three peaches (his favorite!) and he was very happy about that. We had a nice little chat and I told him I loved him and that I was glad he was feeling better and that I'd talk to him soon. Three days later, he was dead.

My brother said he went to see his specialist the day he died and was told he would need to have even more of his left leg amputated. He says he thinks my dad just gave up because he made his peace, got to spend a little time out in the sunshine, and wasn't willing to endure another painful and damaging amputation surgery. He already had his entire right leg amputated a few months prior and part of the left one a little later. The last time I saw him was December when he was just recovering from the initial amputation and he was already having such a hard time adjusting. He mostly just sat there in and out of a drug-induced sleepy haze. It wasn't the way he wanted to live. He was a cowboy, a rough and tumble dude, his WHOLE life...this wasn't his life anymore, and I understand.

The funeral was hard and frustrating. It cost almost a thousand dollars to get from Las Vegas to Houston with no notice. There's not a lot of sympathy out there in the travel industry. My sister mostly took care of all the arrangements, but it was really hard to get a hold of most of my dad's friends. He didn't have many, and they're not exactly the type of people you can just look up on FaceBook. Most of them don't even have phones! A few showed up. It was quiet and sad and we all had to speak at the wake. I tried to keep it light, commenting on how strangers would come up to me and ask if he was my dad and tell me what a great old dude he was. That actually happened pretty often!

I never knew my dad as a young guy. He was already almost 50 by the time I was born so he was always an old dude to me. He had a unique ability to be forgiven. He had two wives, six kids, and at least ten waitresses he was in love with along the way. He was 79. He was my dad and I hope he knew that I loved him, despite everything.

We were always so hot and cold. I feel like so much of my low self-esteem is a direct result of the way he made me feel about myself. I know he knew that I harboured a bit of resentment, because he told me. We talked about it. He apologized and I forgave him for the most part. So many times in my life I disagreed with his methods, his beliefs, his thoughts...but in some way I think hating all those parts of him made me a more tolerant and accepting person.

It's weird because some days I'll feel like I need to call him when I get home from work. It's a passing thought on the drive home and it takes me a few seconds to realize I can't do that anymore. It's odd when you don't see someone very often and then one day they're gone. It feels like he's still in Texas waiting for me to visit home and drive him to drink iced tea and flirt with waitresses.

I don't know what happens to you after you die. Is there something else? No idea. But if there is, for his sake...I hope there's iced tea.

One of my brother's friends made a drawing of my dad's hands on the day he died.
 His knuckle tattoos always made him seem like a badass in my eyes.

Harry Pooter and Sorcerer's Bone.

Religion is weird.

I guess I started questioning my faith about a decade ago when my mom died. I think I just kinda went with it before then because it mattered a lot to me that she thought I agreed with the stuff she taught me. Then she died, and I felt pretty haunted for the first year or so. Like...maybe some people find comfort in thinking that your loved ones are "looking over you" after they die...but I just find that to be creepy. It was during that time that I convinced myself that I didn't have to believe it anymore because it was better than feeling like I was going crazy with all these dead relatives watching me all the time.

Plus, I always hated church SO MUCH! Like, in some way, I guess I almost envy the way some people accept their faith fully and spend all this time congregating with like-minded people...like, the community aspect of it, I guess. But mostly I think religion is so vain! How do you just accept that what you believe is the right way? THE ONLY WAY? There are so many dang religions...how do you just decide yours is the one that matters and think everyone else is just wasting their time? It's like a dude that always wants a blow job but won't eat pussy. GET OVER YOURSELF. (side note: if god does exist, he probably won't be happy about me comparing his followers to bj-obsessed man sluts, but...ya know.)

I guess if I had to choose a religion, like if someone held a gun to my head and was like CHOOSE ONE (why would this ever happen, btw?), I would probably choose to be Team Jew. For all the wrong reasons, mostly. First of all, because almost all my favorite comedians are jewish, so at least they have a sense of humor. Secondly, because I have a SERIOUS attraction to jewish dudes. I don't know why...I just do. And thirdly, Bar Mitzvahs.

I went to a Bar Mitzvah! My first one! And it was SO FUN! Well, after the boring like reading all the Hebrew stuff and lighting a million candles and stuff. A religious rite of passage that includes a DJ, glow sticks, a photobooth with props (!!!), AND a sundae bar?? Yes, this is something I can certainly get behind! Plus all those dudes walking about with Seth Rogen Disease...yeah, let's do this! Plus, the party was Harry Potter themed! Like, I'm not a fan of the Potters, per se...but I like parties with themes and they really went all out. Aside from all the free stuff and the party atmosphere, I just liked that it didn't take itself too seriously. It made me want that feeling of like belonging to something. Not so much that I'd wanna learn Hebrew or anything, but it made me understand why people want this stuff in their lives.

No booze at bar mitzvahs though, it turns out.

Not that it stopped us from doing something totally innappropriate:

Turns out the family gets a copy of all the photos taken in the booth. That was fun to explain a month later...

Whoops.

Anyway, my point is...I'm FULLY okay with you believing whatever you want. Even the seriously crazy stuff! I don't try to make people feel bad for whatever they do or don't choose to believe. More people should be like me. Let gay people get married...let people have abortions if they want...and don't tell me to wear my stupid seatbelt! It's not your life...so leave it alone. The End.

In other news, they fired the super hot IT guy today. WOE IS ME! Am I the only one who NEEDS someone to crush on at work or else the days just seem unbearable?? He was my Jordan Catalano...sigh. We're gonna go drink after work in mourning for the hot piece of ass we'll probably never see again. LIFE IS AWFUL!