Every Monday morning, I find myself waking up more and more excited. Why? Well, because it means there’s one less week until I am out of this stupid job and never have to drag myself out of bed to go and sit beside Big Bird again. Unless, of course, it’s for a taping of Sesame Street. I’d be perfectly fine with that.
After rolling my bloated ass out of bed and into the shower, I eventually made it to The Clubhouse on the dot at 9 a.m. At this point, my job is completely mindless. I don’t necessarily hate my morning routine, but it certainly leaves something to be desired. At least give me a hot guy on the subway to look at every once in a while. I mean, come on! I’m tired of looking at businesswomen in running shoes and old men in stuffed shirts. Throw me a bone(r) here!
For the first time in a while, I tried to do some personal writing at work. I’m in desperate need of a catch-up, and writing is a better use of my time than looking at Twitter porn. Well, now I can’t even do that with Big Bird in the office. I make so much noise while typing 500 words a minute that she’s started asking me what I’m writing. Damn it! On that note, I had no other choice but to return to my endless social media scrolling until 2 p.m. when I had my lunch.
On a more positive note, there was a slight break in my day at 12 p.m. That’s when the additional tickets to Mariah Carey’s Christmas concert series at The Beacon Theatre in New York City went on sale. You know I had my credit card ready and waiting. Guess what? I got a ticket! I asked Kevin Sutherland if he wanted to go with me, but he couldn’t. Instead of asking more Big Apple friends, I decided that I would simply attend solo. I mean, why not? The only other person would have been Greg. I suppose I should have asked him, but a part of me wants to go to the concert alone. In a way, I feel as though this trip will be a way of reclaiming my New York City independence – exactly one year after it was taken from me. This is my thing. Nobody is taking Mariah away from me!
After lunch, Big Bird and I sat down to have the first of what she wants to be a “weekly rundown” where we go over what I’m working on. Oh, what a concept! Maybe if you had done that six months ago, I might have been able to get some fucking work done. Big Bird had completely overhauled my original my job description to include a few new items based on the projects that I had initially proposed. However, that wasn’t the part of the meeting that concerned me.
Christmas talk has started. Whenever Big Bird starts squawking about her future vacation plans, how I am now settled in my role, and how can she can let me handle the workload while she is away, I start to cringe. That’s because I know Big Bird has zero idea of what kind of bomb I’m going to drop on her in a few weeks. Fuck. This is going to be like a really bad break-up. I have no doubt that Big Bird is going to morph into a crazy ex-girlfriend and start keying my car, or pecking out my eyes with her beak. It’s going to be a disaster. I can’t say anything until the last minute, though. I need the money!
Work wrapped up, as it always does. I went to the gym, as I always do. No sign of Leonardo. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s not exactly easy to start deep throating a guy when there’s a constant flow of gym rats passing through the locker room. I performed my usual monkey routine, showered, and went home.
Last night, I stole more groceries from the store down the street. Tonight, I cleaned out my freezer of said groceries while watching the rest of the truly mind-blowing Planet Earth II in bed. The joke’s on me, though. The food actually does come at a cost, and the price I pay is a fat ass and chunky thighs. Nobody needs a box of chicken wings for dinner. Nobody! Stop it, Kurt.
As for the rest of my night, I did some writing and talked to a guy on Tinder for about 15 minutes before he went to bed. Yeah. I re-downloaded Grindr and Tinder last night. I haven’t even put up a photo on Grindr, though. I don’t think I want to go down that ghoulish rabbit hole again, but Tinder is somewhat entertaining for the time being.
Listen. I was bored. I was high last night, and wanted some entertainment. I suppose I also wanted someone to talk to. I just want to make sure that I delete the apps before I get too far into something, and wind up having to go on a date. I don’t want to go on a date!
Speaking of being high, I thought a lot about blazing after the gym today. I’m telling you, the walk home from the gym seems to be my standard “should I buy weed” moment. I didn’t, but I definitely wanted to. This is where I have to be careful. It’s also why I am so happy that I was able to buy a small amount at the dispensary the other day. The fact is, if I had weed in this apartment right now, I would be smoking it. There’s no question that the first thing I would do once I got home, made dinner, and settled in for the night would be wrapping my lips around my pipe and doubling down on a bowl of Lamb’s Breath. That’s why I didn’t buy any more tonight. I have shit to do. I have goals to accomplish, and tasks I want to finish. If I start smoking again, that cloud is just going to further delay all of my progress. I had my fun. Now, it’s time to focus again.
Right now, I’m fucking tired. It’s almost 12:30 a.m., and I have been in this bed the entire night doing fuck all with my life.
As much as I feel some remorse about my upcoming resignation notice, I am definitely excited about it. I know that my quitting is going to ruin Big Bird’s life and her holiday season, but I am absolutely ready to take this plunge. As bad as I know it’s going to be, what’s waiting on the other side of this job, this apartment, and this year is going to be so great. When the time comes next month, I will be more than ready to give Big Bird the news. Perhaps I should deliver it by carrier pigeon?
Note to self: call your fucking Uncle Jack!
Goodnight xo
See you in December, Mimi! The Clubhouse, Toronto
“All I Want for Christmas Is You” - Mariah Carey
“Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” - Mariah Carey
My standard dating app profile photo. “Oh, Mister Sheffield!”