The Badly Written Sitcom

Here it is, what I like to envision as the long awaited 100^th post for The Badly Written Sitcom. Sadly, this is also going o be the Sitcom’s final episode. No, I wont stop blogging, apparently no force on earth can do that these days, but I’ll just be doing it somewhere else. I’ve had this problem with writing here, as I’ve taken the precaution of not naming names. At least in the other blog I’m starting, I get the chance to let it all hag out, since the only people reading it would be those who took the time to search or whatever.

Another of my many reasons to switch is the fact that I am in a far different place now, emotionally, mentally, philosophically and spiritually, than I was when I started the blog. I’ve blogged here on good ol’ Friendster for a measure of two or so years now. I don’t really know, but with the drastic changes I’ve undergone, I just thought moving on would be a fitting thing to do.

Let’s just backtrack a bit and look back at a few key points in my life now, all covered by the blog one way or another. I’m 25 years old, going on to 26, though I shouldn’t have. I’ve had a heart attack, a number of hypertension attacks, got run over at least thrice that I remember, and I survived all that. I’ve been to the North, and then to the South, then back to the North again. I have been a college student, an amateur film maker, a TV slut, a tour guide, a phone monkey, a smut peddler, an educator, and now, an actual writer. I fall in love a lot ad get hurt a lot. And I have been known, on occasion, to enjoy a drink or two.

I’ve chronicled in this blog my meeting with Mick Foley, watching the fucking Ja Rule concert, my friendship with the Hidalgo Boys, The Scoobies, The Ultimate Production Machine Albert, and The Angels, who I now join amidst the heavens, among a host of others. I’ve exulted all the people I care about, and insulted every single one that I don’t. I’ve had a couple of crazy former lovers, gushed about love at an extreme level, reminisced and looked forward, and I’ve told the stories of countless glorious weekends.

I’m a different person now, like my profile says. I don’t even wear the sunglasses anymore, neither do I walk around dressed all up in black like I used to. But I still wear the old jacket, I still smile the same old smile, still raise the old middle fingers and still throw around the old”F” word like it was my fucking birthright.

From the first post, which I wrote in a dark editing room in the wee hours of the morning, to this one, written in a well lit office in the wee hours of the morning, I’ve had some constant readers which I would like to thank for at least making me look forward to writing and waiting for comments and reactions. So thank you, Resty, Ivan, Jeff, Tina, Althea, RJ, Riza, Leven (yo! Contact me. Let’s get sinful.), Bianca, Edverlyn, Kathy, and everyone else I’ve neglected to mention cause they either never commented or I just forgot.

Do still check out the Hidalgo Boys blog, right here on Friendster, and thegeekrevolution.wordpress.com (I am pimping that site like a cheap whore, I swear), and my rare multiply posts.

It’s been a great two years of shilling out my bullshit and knowing that there are people out there willing to read. Peace out, bitches.

            B, don’t stress out. Truly. Breathe.

            OK, this one’s going to be a short one since I’m basically killing time until I have to step out of the office, and since I’m feeling multiply a bit more right now. Also, I’m thinking about putting up something extra special, extra emo, and extra everything since the next post I post, is is going to be my hundredth post.

            First off, I’d like to do a little advertising. A couple of friends and I are starting a site, and right now we’re doing it on wordpress since we’re raising money for our own domain still, but we already have the content and for those who like reading shit to kill a few idle minutes (and if you’re reading this now, I’m willing to bet a kidney you’re one of those people) check our shit out at thegeekrevolution.wordpress.com. It’s four guys just shooting the shit on various topics. Enjoy the literary magic, kids.

            Secondly, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! You know who you are, you crazy, selfish child! I’ll tie up the loose ends, do what I need to do, but beyond that, the only news I want to hear from you is that contains your obituary, just so I could throw a big fucking bash. You want to test my pride? Game on, babe.

            That’s it. See you next post, kids.

            One of the advantages of having as much free time as I do working a writing job during the night shift and having a Friendster account is that it gives one the opportunity to look up people and retrace certain periods of one’s life to review the lessons learned and evaluate how the said learning experience was applied. A couple of weeks ago, I was on a high school kick. Tonight, it’s a fond little place I know as IHG.

            After quitting my post as one of the resident whores from everyone’s second favorite music channel to pursue a career in teaching, I realized that in the months in between I needed money. These days, the quickest legal way to make a buck was work in a contact center. Fate led to a five month stint as a phone monkey at this awesome place where the work is light, the pay is good, and the people are interesting.

            That place taught me a lot. The biggest lesson I learned was than if you regularly drink in excess, the only thing you’d be left with would be more reasons to drink on a regular basis. It’s a fucking vicious cycle I tell you. In line with that, some of the more interesting people you can meet in life would throw up in a big city street first thing in the morning.

            Looking at the pictures of the people I used to hang out with during my headset glory days, I’m surprised that I actually miss a lot of them.

I had a boss that was very nice to me, despite my numerous shortcomings. Actually, I’ve been very lucky with bosses so far in my professional life. I don’t know why.

All in all, I see that stint there as a missed opportunity. I had a chance to make lifelong friends there, but I wasn’t able to. I was too wrapped up in my own shit, and being drunk as much as I was back then didn’t really help much. Hell, I spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve working the phones there, how can it not be special?

I guess I’ll just make up for all that with the people I share my time and office space with these days. Once again I’ve lucked into a pretty sweet group of people. In fact, this is the company I worked in before teaching and after IHG. I came back, so I guess I’m doing a pretty good job of cultivating my relationships here. I guess I’ll just keep on doing that.

On a totally unrelated note, I never had an idea how many people read this, mostly because no one bothers to comment anymore. (Not that I’m complaining, mind you. The gesture would be appreciated though.) Over the past month, every person I’ve bumped into that I haven’t seen in a relatively long time has made reference to this blog. (Actually they made reference to the amount of bitching and moaning I make on this blog.) Well, my happy blogs are now on multiply.com, and my username is thegreatrenethegreat. Two sites, two sides of me. Yeah? Yeah.

Peace out mo’ fo’s.

            Not geting tired Resty. Quite the opposite actually. Just practising a healthy bit of catharsis. But for the record, those Columbine kids had it coming.

            To those keeping track, I actually post at least two times a week on a couple of the sites I blog in. Depends on the mood, actually. Like I said on my latest blog post on multiply, the one where I had nothing but glowing words about the absolute soiree my life has once again become, I save my angry posts for Friendster. The reason I stated was that there are more people to rip on here than on my obscure multiply account. Also, I happen to think that this is a great avenue for me to express the fact that I do get pissed off too, to a superlative degree even. In fact, a number of my previous posts were rather hostile.

            Here I go again, blogging about my blogging. Stupid ass concept.

            There are a lot of things I’m not particularly fond of thinking about, but all of them have been long running, never before uttered out loud issues that I’ve decided to finally unload. Hell, I’ve stared the whole honest blogging thing last week, might as well roll with it.

            A lot of people don’t really know much about me, where I come from and all that basic information goodies that mostly are just common knowledge that for some reason I still manage to keep under wraps ‘cause frankly I’m not very comfortable with certain circumstances and the pretty picture I painted on top of all that just sufficed. I always worked under the assumption that people don’t give two shits about any of those details, so I never really bothered about talking them out. So, since this page will most likely only be read by those who do care or a least care enough to devote the spare minutes they have here on the sitcom, I don’t think I’ll have a problem.

            One thing I noticed is that no one really takes me seriously, at some level. Why? I think it has a lot to do with the way I present myself. Admittedly, I’m a fucking cartoon. I’ve been fit into the role of the two-dimensional joker for to long I never really tried to break out of that image. What burns my ass is how some people assume that my supposed carefree attitude equates to ineptitude. I have heard some pretty insulting things that I’ve let slide the past few weeks. It’s starting to get to me. Understand this, I am very much aware of what I’m capable of and if you keep pushing my buttons, you will be too.

Let me present you with a wholehearted “Fuck you!” and allow me to inform you that your head is so far up your ass that the only thing you see are your own guts spewing out the only thing you apparently know: shit. Stop fooling yourself. I’m better than you. I know it, and honestly, you know it. Be happy I’m happy right now.

Then, there’re those people that take comfort in silence. I’ve been betrayed quite a few times in my life, and considering there’s only a handful of people I totally trust, the betrayal rate is astounding. Equally surprising is how people can seem to grasp the concept that an apology is never enough. You sorry, I say fine, and what, that’s it? Would it be my bad for expecting at the very least a gesture of goodwill or an attempt of making things up? I guess an apology, in this world you people move in, erases certain deeds. That’s fucked up if you ask me. You’re fucking deluded.

I’m a self evolved prick, and there’s good reason for that. I was young once, basking under the glory of being part of the God loving community and all that. But shit happens, and I’m afraid at the tender age of who knows how young I couldn’t retain my inner light. I want my fucking light back you selfish, fat bastards!

Why I prefer to do and go through all my shit alone is beyond me. And I’m not looking to find out. I concentrate on the bottom line now, and the bottom line states that if you’re not fucking helping out in the betterment of this life, I’d very much rather just see you in the next.

Ciao, mother fuckers.

(I’m still cheery. I swear. It’s jus that The Badly Written Sitcom has officially become my rant blog. You want to check out the other side, check out the other blogs. Peace out.)