Thank you, 54th Street or I have no idea what I am writing

Note to readers: I have no idea what this post is about. I just wrote the first thing that came to my mind. Not sure how well it flows or even if there is an actual post attached. No worries. Enjoy it. I am sure it is funny. Most of my stuff is. It’s funny to me at least and if I do say so myself, I am a funny guy.

I am one of those people who just rather be alone than get married, make babies, and pollute this planet with annoying creatures that cry and beg for attention. I’ve dated. I’ve done that. I just like knowing that I can walk in my apartment and lounge around in my birthday suit without upsetting someone. That really doesn’t fall into the marriage category. I am sure if I was to be married, my wife would be ecstatic to see my in nothing but a pair of argyle socks and maybe a snapback. A roommate on the other hand, wouldn’t be for that. I’ve had roommates and we never measured our junk and never had penis sword fights. We ignored each other. We were like a married couple who when we did converse and see each other, it was to drink, smoke, and listen to some Jimmy Buffet. Life is much simpler when you’re alone. Life is too complicated when you’re married. Too many rules. Believe me. I have rules already when (if it ever happens) I get married. It won’t happen. I am fine with that. It’s my life, not yours. I just don’t need you to rub my solidarity in my face with snarky remarks and obvious attempts to show me once more that, I will be forever alone.

I was sitting at home doing nothing. It’s not anything new. Most of my days at home are spent like that. I am at my computer or I am on my couch, drinking and watching television while I live tweet bad horror movies. It is a rough life but some poor sap needs to do it. I hope I warned enough people about the poor excuse for a movie called, #MonsterBrawl. Honestly, it was a horrible movie. But the movie and its horribleness doesn’t compare to what happened today. Like how I did that? You thought I was going off topic but I wasn’t. I was leading up to a terrible event that unfolded today. It was tragic. It drove me to drink and for a second, maybe two, I wondered if humanity gave up on me. Was God laughing in my face? Were the staff in the back laughing about it? Was I just a joke to them? So many questions I have and so many answers I will never get. I shouldn’t have been treated that way. I don’t care how attractive my waitress was. I don’t care that her bosoms were practically pouring out of her shirt. I will not complain about that. I will complain, however, about how your hostess ignored what I said and proceeded to drop me off at a booth when I clearing stated I wanted to sit at the bar.

That is why I went there in the first place. I wasn’t looking for a meal or a nice dinner for one. I wanted a few drinks and some nachos. Maybe mozzarella sticks. Those things are f**king fire. I had a long day of being very unproductive and after days like that, we all need to unwind and have a drink or two. That is all I wanted. I just wanted a beer and afterwards, some liquid courage to finally tell off the crazy bat-shit neighbor I have. I pointed to the bar but the hostess wasn’t going to let that happen. She said it was “full” and I would need to sit elsewhere. If being full means four empty stools, then she is right. But from where I come from, an empty seat means an empty seat. Will you please let me sit at the bar next time so I can feel socially awkward when your regular booze hounds try to talk to me like I am their son they neglected growing up and this is now their drunken attempt at making up for lost times.

I am sent to a booth. I sit alone and keep myself company with my phone.The couple in front of me were fighting. Looks like he is getting cockblocked tonight. The gals behind me were chatting about facebook and all the photos of Josh’s page. Josh seemed pretty popular because one gal talked about totally needing to friend request him. Wish I knew Josh. He has three fine ladies plus a mediocre one looking gal, all wanting to ride the train to Joshville. He seems legit. Dude definitely has swag. But I am not Josh. I don’t have a facebook and those three gals and their standard mediocre friend will never friend me. I sulk and tending to my slight OCD, I fix the ketchup and mustard bottles, lining them up correctly and evenly spread apart.

I am told the waitress would be right with me. That was a lie. I waited a while. I just wanted a drink. Get my some beer and I will leave. I thought about just leaving. I was really upset because I wasn’t sitting at the bar. I wanted to sit there. Not to mingle but because that is where I always sit when I go. I stayed. I sat in my booth and texted family and friends till I was rudely interrupted by the waitress and her demands.

Just bring me a beer, please.

For a guy who is full of anger and violent thoughts, I was nice about. Curse me for being a nice guy. They say nice guys finish last. They say women don’t want a nice guy. Who effin’ knows what women want. You are a strange bunch of creatures and men spend their entire existence trying to decode what goes on inside your brain. We have only come to the realization that you like chocolate and flowers. Besides that, your desires are as mind boggling as decoding Travolta’s sexuality.

The beer is brought and I am take a sip. It is very refreshing. I think I can go for one more. One isn’t and will not be enough. One is never enough. Just ask Larry King about that. I look at my phone. Work drama. I text and amuse myself with my family and friends at the expense of other people and their foibles. I am rudely bothered again by the waitress.

You still waiting on someone?

No. It’s just me.

Oh. So you’re all alone?


Okay. I’ll just take this other menu. Not sure why they gave you two of them when it’s just you.

Why the hell did you bring out two menus? What kind of sick and twisted people do you have working here!? I could hear it her in voice the joy she is getting out of my table for one. Her two menu joke will be the highlight of the night when all the staff gather together for a night of drinking and def poetry slams about the customers they served and the shit they did to piss them off. I am not ashamed at being alone. I wasn’t there to eat, even though I did, I was there to drink. People who drink at bars are fine coming alone. But since I was declined room at the bar, sitting alone at a booth can and will raise questions of my social life.

She grabbed the menus. A smirk crosses her face. Was she subtle about it? Did she just grab the extra menu and walk away? Nope. The whore grabs a blow horn and airs it the entire place that I am alone. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you for airing it loudly to the couple next to me and the facebook whores behind me that I have no one joining me and I am alone. I am the person that people turn their noses at. I am the person people mock when they aren’t looking. I am alone tonight. No one is with me. I don’t know why you had to “accidentally” bring two menus when I clearly stated to your hostess and to you that I wasn’t with anyone. I was dining alone. I am alone. I am drinking alone. That being said, the drinking alone thing, that sounds depressing. Shit! My mom is right.

I am depressed.

ps. The pretzel bun sucked.

pps. The events listed above didn’t unfold like I said. I fibbed a little.

ppps. Really, the pretzel bun did suck.

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I like food. I like the smell of cinnamon.

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