Bullshit Manifesto

The day after the fiesta that was Tailgator’s, Friday, I felt like complete and total shit.  It wasn’t the amount pf booze, per se, as that amount hadn’t really been this much trouble before.  Granted, I have been working out and not drinking really, except for the 2 buck chuck with dinner, but I believe I caught a small bug.  It felt like all the fluid from my brain had been drained, and the leftover mass was stuck to one side of my skull.  Whenever I moved or got up too quickly, the mass detached and stuck to another side.  This was all painful, but I got better the next day with the help of my sweety who made soup.  It should be noted that when it comes to making soups and stews, she kicks ass.  I don’t know anybody that has made a better soup.  Some grandmothers may have their own secret recipe for chicken noodle, but how many can make an asparagus soup, or a squash bisque?  That’s what I’m talking about.
 
Saturday was a family gathering for my cousin Svea’s graduation from Cal Poly Pomona at Luminaria’s.  The place was cool and all, but there were two wedding receptions and her party happening there.  The parties didn’t conflict with eachother, but when someone pulls up to the valet and asks if there’s a graduation party, and some other fool from one of the weddings that just got there doesn’t know what’s what, it makes for some confused people.  The DJ for the party was one such person who got confused.  I had leanred that Svea got this guy for $200 for 6 hours.  This piqued my interest, as Milca and I are looking for a DJ, and that price sounded good.  The music selection, however, sucked ass, and the music was way too loud for this crowd.  There were people in their 80’s for crying out loud, and they’re playing some neuvo disco trance shit.  My ears hurt, it was so loud.  At any rate, the party was cool.  We got to officially tell everyone about the engagement, which went over well.  Svea had a collage of pics from her life, and there were some good ones of the two of us when we were hella young.
 
Then Sunday Milca, her mom, her brother, and a family friend of theirs that’s visiting from Argentina and I went out to lunch at the Diner on Main (again, it was the crazy bomb).  From there we went to the California Science Center to see the Body Worlds exhibit.  It blew my mind.  Dozens of people donated their bodies to science so that their bodies could be disassembled and treated with a process called plastination that basically makes all of those pics from a science book not only viewable, but the real thing, and posed to their liking.  A man playing basketball, freeze framed, with his mouth open.  His entire muscular system was visible, with his organs removed so that you could look through his abdomen and see the muscles in his back from the inside.  The different methods, poses, parts, disorders (cancer, hemmorhages, etc.), and states were crazy.  A man on horseback (yes, they did a horse, too) was one of the craziest things there.  I got kinda queezy, but I think that was the fault of myself and Milca.  Myself because I kept reminding myself that these are all real people’s body parts, and not just models made from plastic.  Milca because she kinda joked here and there about how the muscles looked like jerky.  Granted, they did, but it didn’t help the queezy factor.  Overall, I’d say that this should be a manditory event for anyone who has any kind of interest in anatomy, biology, or even the mildest curiousity of what their own body is about.  You might want to think twice about taking the younger kids, but then I suppose there were younger kids there that were completely enthralled, so parental discretion is advised, I suppose.  The craziest thing I saw was a woman that was 8 months pregnant.
 
Above and beyond that I’m getting game together.  The plotlines are coming together nicely so far.  Some of the players will have more to deal with that I’m throwing at them, but then there are going to be some players that are going to be making waves for the other players, so I’m not too concerned as of yet.  Which reminds me, I have emails to write…
 
CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!

Last night, after working my ass almost right off my body at the gym, I showered, dressed, and went to Tailgator’s in Sierra Madre.  The initial plan was to go on a Thursday night, as that’s when they have karaoke.  I love me some karaoke, and it’s been some time, so I have been jonesin’ for it pretty hard.  Above and beyond that, Milca and I were entertaining the notion of having karaoke at the wedding reception, so I thought I might try and hook it up with the guy who runs it at Tailgator’s.  I hadn’t seen him in about a year and a half, so I wasn’t even sure if it was still happening until I called a couple days ago.
 
As an added bonus I got in touch with Brett, who in turn rallied some troops (Corey, Amanda, and the Pooks), and the lot of us hung out at the bar.  There was a small mix up regarding where we were meeting, as when I got to the bar at nine, I was expecting Brett and whoever he had rallied, as well as the karaoke guy.  To my dismay, neither were there.  Brett and company, unlike the karaoke guy, showed up.  They weren’t too far behind me.  I had two drinks before they got there, so it wasn’t too late.
 
Everyone hung out for a while, but Corey and Brett had plans to meet up with some friends of Corey’s from her days of yore at PCC.  Amanda and Asha weren’t too far behind, as Asha had to work today.  So, there I was, kicking it with an old high school buddy, Dawn, her sister, and their friend, a pseudo goth.  She added a new phrase to my repetoire.  “If you can’t say anything nice, say it as loud as you can.”  I’m not typically that type, but I’m sure I’ll have a use for the phrase.
 
After Brett and company left, the explosion hit.  Just about everyone that I didn’t see at Summer and Curtis’s wedding showed up.  The brothers Sean and Scott, their buddy Tomas (sp?), Nacho, “Rocks,” and a couple of the faces I remember from the hallways, but couldn’t put a name to if my life depended on it.  The news?
 
Sean is engaged.
 
Tomas is cookin’ (literally).
 
Scott’s gettin’ his learn on.
 
Nacho’s gettin’ his learn on.
 
“Rocks” is, well, I don’t remember asking, per se.  I couldn’t help but keep thinking that maybe I should throw rocks at her head on behalf of someone who wasn’t there.
 
The strangest part of the night was this one girl who was the spitting image of the girl I went on my very first date with.  It was trippy, to say the least.  I eventually went up to her and asked if her name was *blank,* and when she started talking, she had a European accent, which startled me so that I didn’t even hear her say what her name actually was.  Oh, well.
 
Even though the karaoke guy never showed by the time I left at midnight (which is the big red flag that he’s not dependable, thusly he will not be getting our business), I had a fairly good time.  It seemed that everyone knew I was moving to Oregon.  Good news travels fast in the old west.
 
On a sidenote, the game I’m running is taking place in 1849 San Francisco.  The Gold Rush.  I’m fairly stoked.  Now I have to read a book that is about the same size as Order of the Phoenix before game starts so I am familiar with what 1849 SF was like.  Oh happy day.

I have started going to the gym four days a week.  This is primarily to lose a few pounds, but also to build some muscle tone that I haven’t really had since I swam in high school.  Even then I wasn’t really ripped, but I was in much better shape.
 
I joined 24 hour fitness, as there is a facility in Pasadena that has a pool, and another facility close to work.  When I signed up I took advantage of the two free sessions with a personal trainer.  He and I went over some basic excersizes and whatnot for the upper body.  My legs are fine, and getting my abs isn’t too difficult.  When we were done my arms were like pantyhose filled with jello.  The routine we set up was that I would go four times a week, working on upper body two days, then lower the other two.  It has been working out pretty well so far.
 
The gym is a weird place.  I’m used to people not making eye contact and everything, but this place is unreal.  I understand that in this day and age it’s just a given that women won’t make eye contact because the man will inevitably think that the woman would like to go back to his place or something.  Whatever.  But at the gym it’s even more obvious.  I mean, when I’m on the treadmill for 15 minutes with nothing but a mirror in front of me, I’m going to look into it.  And in that mirror, there is obviously the reflections of everyone else who are also running and not getting anywhere.  I try and acknowledge the presence of men and women alike, but to no avail.  The only contact you’ll have is when someone is next in line for the machine you are currently working on.  It’s sad, really.  I suppose that it’s just the idealistic Burner within that regrets the state that our world is in socially, but it still makes me sad.  When another living person on this rock thinks to look you in the eye and smile, isn’t that enough reason to put the frown away for just one second and smile back, or even give me a nod so I know that the smallest of gestures didn’t go completely unnoticed?
 
Senoir citizens have it down.  I see many where I work, and they’re always so happy to be alive.  We chat.  They smile at you when you smile at them.  They remember what it usedto be like.
 
Smile.  At everyone.  If they frown at you, or ignore you, tell them to have a good day.  Not only will you be spreading some of that good cheer that seems to have gone the way of the Do-Do, but you’ll also likely confuse this random person for a good minute or two.  “Did that guy actually tell me to have a good day?  But I didn’t buy anything from him?”  It’s a damn shame.

I just had this conversation. Thought it might entertain a few of you ether dwelling folk.

Customer: I’d like to make a reservation for blah blah (work related mumbo jumbo that will be omitted because I want to keep my job).

Loop: okay, let’s get that form… (looks at form) I’m sorry, week 5 is closed. The only week open at this point is week 6.

C: Oh, it’s closed?

L: Yep, I’m afraid so.

C: Well, I think my son is busy that week, let me call him. (Calls him on the cel phone) Week 6 is open?

L: That’s it.

C: Is this whole week closed, or just this slot?

L: That’s it (points at week 6).

C: I can only sign up for week 6?

L: That’s it.

C: Will there be any more times after this?

L: (Looks at for that only lists 6 weeks) That’s it.

C: Any other time in the year?

L: That’s it.

C: Oh, okay.

This 3 day weekend was primarily focused around the wedding plans and whatnot. It’s been somewhat frustrating, since most of the details were based on unknown factors. For example, we couldn’t say how many people to invite until we knew where the wedding was going to be. We also didn’t know when it would be until we knew where. Then there’s the guest list in general. Well, I’m happy to say that some of the finer details have been worked out.

First, Milca wanted a small wedding. I did too, but then I have a huge famliy. When we first tried to list everyone from each of our families, her list hit about 20, tops. Mine was around 60. That’s a lot of people. At that point we didn’t even try to go on to list friends, as that would have been even more frustrating. This weekend we had the idea to have two seperate lists. The people at the wedding, and the people at the ceremony. When she had listed her fmaily, and I had listed just aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins that were over 18, and then we added our closest friends, the list was at about 40 people. Excellent. Granted, there may be some people that might feel snubbed, but that’s what the reception is for.

We went on to list all the friends, old teachers, and everyone else that mattered to either of us that we’d want their. That list hit about 150. Even now I am thinking of names that I would want to put on the list that I had not remembered. It’s tough trying to list everyone. I try to remember everyone, but as there are so many people, I can’t remember them all.

Milca’s mom went looking for places to have the reception. It should be known that her mom watches HGTV. All the time. Every day. When I walk into the room, and the TV is on, and she’s on the couch, it’s HGTV. I don’t even have to look. That being said, she has taken a particular interest in every detail of the wedding. Cool by me, as it’s her only daughter’s wedding, and she has good taste. She found a place in Pasadena, Los Guero’s Grill, that she liked. It used to be the Red Barn, a Peruvian restaurant, that had burned down. This place just reopened 2 months ago. Apparently, there are 2 other Los Guero’s Grills, and they do fairly well. We went to have lunch there to try the food, meet the manager, and see the place. It’s perfect. The food would be fajitas, chicken and vegetarian. There’s plenty of room for up to about 200 people, which we will likely hit. The area has a private entrance, so the guests won’t have to walk through the restaurant, and private bathrooms, which is nice. The prices are awesome, and the food was great. They make guacamole right at your table. It’s crazy.

The wedding party will not be traditional, nor will the ceremony. I was raised Catholic, and still hold many of the beliefs and whatnot, but I’m not very keen on the traditional ceremony, nor is Milca. The ceremony has yet to be organized and whatnot, we are still figuring out some of the finer details, but we are trying to get as many friends involved as possible. I asked my boy Mike to play guitar. He agreed, but is very nervous about knowing the material. We’ve got time, so I think he’ll be fine. My boy Donavan will be the photographer (who will be using primarily black and white). The wedding party itself is typically broken up by sex. Not this time. My best friend is a girl. Milca has a brother. I want my cousin to be on my side. So, Milca will have her 3 best girlfriends and her brother with her, and I will have my best friend, my brothers, and my cousin. I haven’t asked my cousin yet, but I’m sure she’ll say yes. My brother Corey will be the best man. I am not sure that Milca will have a maid of honor, as the 3 girlfriends of hers are each candidates.

1) M is her best friend. They take often, and have been through the ringer together.

2) A was a good friend in high school, who chose Milca as her maid of honor when she was married.

3) T is Milca’s oldest friend, going all the way back to preschool.

I think that Milca doesn’t want to choose to avoid stepping on toes. Personally, I’d say M, but then I don’t get a maid of honor, so it’s not my choice to make.

Apart from that, this weekend was pretty relaxing. I’ve been going to the gym 4 days a week, and have felt a difference. I was staying an hour, but lately it’s been more like an hour and 15 minutes. Afterwards I feel great. I can barely walk, and my arms feel like warm butter, but I feel great.

So, I’ve got my four players who are going to play in the game of Vampire I’ve got set up. Half of them are ready to play. The other two need to put their characters on paper. I’m pretty excited about it. I think that the storyline and setting I’ve gone with are pretty versatile, in that just about any character will find something to do in the city.

As two of the characters haven’t made their characters yet, I am not divulging the setting and date. When that’s known to all, then I’ll post more on it here.

In the preperation for game, I started flipping through my game books. In one of them, I found Severin Geringer. If anyone from my boy Justin’s game is reading this, they’re gasping or laughing out loud. See, I played thi character for two years. When we started our hiatus, about a year and a half ago or so, I couldn’t find him. In our circle of players, he was one of the very few characters to have lasted since his conception. He’s gone through ghouls like you wouldn’t believe. One lasted all of about 5 minutes, as he was in the apartment building when the van of explosives hit it. Poor Steve Schwartzman.

Severin is a classical guitarist from Vienna who was embraced in 1850. He and his ghoul, Gunter, left Vienna, a viper’s nest controlled by the Tremere, for the new world, specifically san Francisco. There he was tempted with the idea of being a Primogen, and later earned the title. Many a time in game Justin has done things to Severin that have invoked “The Chris Face.” This is a look that must be seen to be believed. It is the perfect harmony of shock, fright, horror, and “Oh Fuck.” I believe that the van of explosives brought about one of these faces.

Severin isn’t entirely a pussy, though. True, he has been punked around by many, but in the end he’s the one that is still alive (undead?).

After moving twice, I had almost given up any hope of finding him. Then I looked in the back of one of my books, and there he was. I honestly danced with glee.

Now if that game would just start back up again…

Family meeting happened yesterday. It was requested that what happened at the table stay at the table. It was pointed out that certain people close to any of the five of us would hear what happened, but that I would keep the goings on from that meeting to a minimum on this site. I wasn’t really going to post much of it anyhow, but for different reasons than those requested. I wasn’t going to because I wouldn’t want to give the satisfaction to those that were too cowardly to talk to me about any grievances they had with me. If they want to hear what I really think, they can come down from on high and talk to me, face to face.

To be brief, and without really going into it, everything I said, I’ve said before. Everything I heard, I had heard before. The chips are on the table.

My list of grievances was 29 items long. I don’t think anyone else’s lists had more than 10 items or so.

So, what will become of all this? Well, the resolutions from the meeting should go into effect. And what of the grandparents? I dunno. All I know is that they’ve talked some serious trash behind my back, and I haven’t talked to them in over a year. I have no intention of ever calling them. If they want to talk to me, they can make the first move.

Today is the day. My family is having the family meeting. My mom will be the mediator. We were all told to compile lists of complaints to bring to the table. I have mine ready, and will likely have the gaps filled in by my brothers.

I’ll likely post with my thoughts on how the meeting went. I do have a rule of my own for this meeting. If any bold face lies are told, and are then proven to be fact, I am leaving. I am coming to this meeting under the white flag of truce. If I come to such a meeting to be disrespected and lied to, then I’m done.

I can’t say that I know how this meeting will end. The thought has crossed my mind that my dad will storm off, as he has done after countless arguments before, but I really don’t know. You’d think I’d be nervous or anxious. Really, I’m glad it will be over. Well, at least this portion will be over. There’s still some issues to cover with people that won’t be at this meeting.

I am at my wits end here. This entire soirée with my father and grandparents is truly silly and ridiculous, in my opinion.

As these situations are different, though related, I’ll lay it out for you.

Any relationship that could have been fixed with my father has long since faded away. I do not see it happening, nor do I desire it to.

My grandparents, on the other hand, are a weird area for me, and today is another testament to this. Today they came down from their home to talk to my family. It should be noted that there was some talk of me, and what was said was paraphrased by my brother Corey.

Summary:

1) I’m being immatture
2) We have 3 months to fix this “problem,”
3) After which time they will give up on me,
4) After which time they will have one fewer grandson.

What really gets me about this whole thing is that they haven’t talked to me since their Anniversary last June, at which time my father and I still spoke, and were cordial. Even then, we hadn’t talked about any problems in the family. It was all general chit chat, me introducing Milca to them, and what have you.

My problems with my father date back to when I was about six. They truly errupted when I was in 8th grade, when he hit me. This wasn’t the first time, which isn’t to say that it happened often, or even sporadic, but it wasn’t an isolated incident. I called the police, and he was taken to jail because there were marks on me. My grandparents’ lawyer got him off, as this was the first documented occurance, and he was a Boy Scout leader, etc.

When my dad got home, he blamed me for everything. It was all my fault. He cornered me into his bedroom so he could tell me everything that he had to go through in lock up, because of me. I was young, but I wasn’t stupid. I was fully aware of what I had done. When he was in his rage, a rage I had never seen before, I had no idea how far he would go. When he went to his room after hitting me, I picked that phone up and dialed 911, like EVERY ADULT HAD EVER TOLD ME TO DO IN THE PAST. If an adult hits you, tell your parents. If it is a parent, tell a teacher or a police officer.

My mother’s mother, God rest her soul, talked to me the first time we saw eachother after that. She gave me advice, which at the time, I resented her for. She told me that I should have excersized more self control. I have to excersize self control? But he’s the one that hit me. After I had grown up a bit I fully realized what she had meant. I have a level of control over any situation I am in. He hit me, and he should be responsible for his own actions, but I could have kept my cool and not provoked him. Pick your battles. Be in control. After I figured this out, my father was rarely able to yell at me. I would instantly analyze the situation to him, typically saying, “What you are yelling about is (blank). I have nothing to do with (blank).” Then it stopped, and he talked instead of yelling.

The next time I saw my grandparents they said nothing. We never talked about what happened. We never talked about anything. We still don’t talk about anything. As a matter of fact, the only things they know about me are either what I post here (which I’ve onlybeen doing this year), and what other people have told them.

At one point they were none to pleased with my mother, for what I don’t recall, but it had something to do with what my father was telling them. They believed him. They didn’t ask her. Then, when they confronted her about it, she set them straight. Then they wised up that he wasn’t telling them everything. There was another side to the story.

They still haven’t heard my side of the story. I haven’t posted all of it here. That’s a conversation for me and them, not the general public. I post a lot of what happens here, but I will not let them off that easy. They can’t just get the Cliff’s Notes online.

There’s also a possibility that they will take legal action if I don’t say something nice about my father. What’s funny is that the only people that read this blog, and let’s remember that I am tracking who reads this site, are my friends, all the Loops (yes, all of them, except likely not the younger children), and those people who found my site through TJ’s place, as he has me linked.

TO THIS DAY, NEITHER MY FATHER, MY GRANDMOTHER, NOR MY GRANDFATHER HAS MENTIONED THIS SITE TO ME IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. As far as I know, I’m sitting on a stump in a lonely forest yelling to the squirrels.

Bastard son, indeed. Say it to my face.