Boiler

Top Five Pet Peeves of the Week

These are in no particular order. Bugging the shit out of me is … bugging the shit out of me.

People who stalk the parking lot for a close spot … to the entrance of the gym.

Drunk people. If I am not an asshole with you then I can’t stand you. Yes, I am a hypocrite.

People who pop their chewing gum out loud. Were it not for my fear of arrest I would punch them all in the mouth.

Any and every one who wears Ed Hardy, Christian Audigier or Tap Out gear. Please do humanity a favor and just die.

A tie between ESPN and Brett Farve. No wonder we all stopped hearing about LeBron James. This dick has a bigger ego and ESPN is tea bagging that old bastard like a washed up porno star attempting a come back. Where’s Bernard Pollard?

Moments Like This

Allow me to check my masculinity at the door before this proclamation – this note was inspired by an Alison Krauss song, specifically the lyric:

“So hold me, whisper gently that there’s nothing to fear. You’ll always be near, to remind me, stand behind me. Although life can be rough we can never give up”.

The genesis of this whole thing came about on Monday night when I was driving the girl’s to my apartment. Out of the nowhere, Sofia started asking me about my dad which I thought was odd. Naturally Isabella would repeat the same question Sofia asked so in an effort to be fair, I answered the same question twice. Anyone who knows me knows that the subject of my father remains extremely … personal, even after all these years. The questions ranged from what clothes he wore to if he was funny to how tall he was and naturally, how he died. “You’re grandfather had a headache, went to sleep and never woke up” was all I could muster. Sofia’s next question was the clincher – “would he have liked me?”

“Yes Sofia, I think he would have loved you”.

In my youth, my dad came and went in short bursts, like the ice cream man. It was cool to see him in that short time but he was never around long enough to get to know. When I finally got him all to myself, he was taken from me. There is not a day that goes by that I wonder how my life would have panned out if he were still around. I sometimes look in the mirror and see him. Some days I smile and some days I stare and wonder just how much of him is in me. Last weekend I sat on my bed and watched Isabella sleep for a while. As I watched her I could not help but surrender to the overwhelming sadness inside and allowed myself a moment of weakness. Every time I see them I discover something new and I wonder what they’ll think of me when they get older because the one fear I have in life is to let them down. I’ve been called many names in my day but the one I always look forward to on a daily basis is “daddy”. I really don’t want to be the ice cream man.

You see that for me, the “moments like this” have become my kids. It is they who give me strength to meet the day’s nuances and challenges. As much as I preach about living for myself, I really am living for them right now. My life, in its current state is not what I had planned. I had higher aspirations for myself but being who I am, I chose my path with blind conviction … and what a journey it has been.

After some conversation during dinner I told my daughters tonight that daddy was changing right before their eyes. All they did was giggle and I smiled a big smile in response. It was in that moment that I was reminded with the fact that I know, with every fiber in my body that I loved being a dad.



There is a part of me that knows my dad is looking over me and smiling. Well … truth be told, he’s probably shaking his head more often than not but at least he’s smiling.

A Day In The Life

The 6:00am alarm buzz sounded more like a fire truck parked in my bedroom than an alarm clock. I still had Newcastle and hookah swirling around in my brain and was taken completely by surprise by the wretched alarm clock I forgot to turn off. I managed to crack my right eye open to confirm the unholy time of day and then with all my strength, I extended my right arm and hit the snooze button. So began my day.

7:15am I peeled myself from off the bed and like a retarded Frankenstein, I moan and stagger to the kitchen and the awaiting pot of hot java. After a cup I was no longer cross eyed and managed to string words together in an effort to motivate myself instead of grunting. My kids where waiting for me and I needed to get out of first gear. A night out, some beers and little sleep had a negative impact on my 34 year old body. I’m not hung-over or anything. Could I be coping out to being a pussy? I took a picture for posterity (see above).

8:00am … I still have time. Getting dressed was a no-brainer. I just didn’t give a shit what I looked like though I stood in my closet for what felt like six hours. I walk in the kitchen and eye my blackberry. It’s a Mexican standoff between me and my work leash. Defiantly, I give it the middle finger and walk past it. I’m not picking it up.

8:30am. I bolt for the door and was on the road singing the theme song to Speed Racer. I blazed down the highway averaging 85mph with the windows down … the 56 degree morning wind in my face was finishing the job the coffee started. When I get to my ex-wife’s house I look in the rear view mirror and found Jack Nicholson from The Shining staring back at me. Wow … I look like death so I put my sunglasses back on.

9:00am I scoop the kids up and share my latest obsession with them. I am addicted to Fear Factory’s latest output Mechanize, specifically the forth song, Powershifter. Something about that song gives me a boner. But I keep that fact to myself nor did I play the tune for the kids.

9:10am I remember my boss telling me the other day that my hair was too long and I needed a haircut. This past Saturday, I slicked it back to mirror his hair style in a mocking effort. I don’t think he got it. With that in mind I stopped at Great Clips on the way home. I felt the mutinous eyes of my kids on me as I pulled into the parking spot. I looked at them and said “hey, they have free suckers in there”. They were on board once they knew they were getting a sweet treat. Once I got done with my head job Sofia looks at me and say’s “daddy, you didn’t cut your grey hair like I told you”. The folks waiting thought it was funny. I got their suckers and we booked.

11:30am we get arrive at the crib and as sure as a bear shits in the woods, the television is turned on and the channel is set to Disney for the next 48 hours. Hooray! I jump in the shower while my seed get lobotomized. Before I walk into my room I stop, turn around and tell the kids I love them. It’s important to me that they know. They favor Mickey at this point and ignore me of course. Once done I notice it's actually a nice day so I kick the kids outside to play. I launch itunes, rock out and observe the kids playing while I chill out. Simon looks at me and says “I'm board! I don’t have any toys”. My response was short and sweet “tough shit big guy, use your imagination - it’s an awesome toy”. I think he cursed me under his breath but can’t say for sure. I go in the kitchen to get some water only to find that god damn blackberry staring me down. What's worse is that the red light is blinking which means I have a message. It’s like that crack rock calling out to me, like the Sirens in Greek mythology luring me to my death. I give it the finger again and run past it. I refuse to be slave to my employer.

12:30pm rolls around and I get a serious craving for tacos, cheese burgers and beer. The kids are down so we go out for lunch. En-route and while at a red light I notice that my ride is in shit shape so I make a detour to the car wash. The kids moan. I give them that “I’ll kick your ass” look. They quite down and the car gets washed. While waiting for my car to get detailed I realize I have no cash for a tip so I go to the ATM inside and grab a twenty. I ask the register jockey lady to break the bill and she said she can’t. I try to appeal to her better nature by telling her that despite my pale skin, my ancestors also came from Africa and that in the spirit of black history month she should hook a brother up. She politely told me to get the fuck out of the store. Not wanting to stir up any shit, I calmly walk out. The kids are still in the outside waiting area and in one piece.

1:00pm the guy cleaning my car gives me the “your car is done” signal. It looks clean but for dramatic effect, I slowly walk around my car and perform the inspection. I give the guy the nod of approval, bust out $20 and ask him for change. He says he does not have any. For the next 30 seconds I felt like I was in a Clint Eastwood western flick. Was he bluffing so I would hand him the twenty spot? Did he have something worked out with my nubian sister inside the building from a few minutes ago? Once I saw the kids were in the car and ready to go, I looked at the guy, shrugged my shoulders, apologized and put the twenty back in my pocket. Fuck him. Naturally he stopped me, pulled out his wallet to go through his “personal stash” and gave me change. The burger joint was across the street and my need to eat outweighed the thought of this dick who just tried to hustle me.

1:15pm and we were deep in some burger, tacos and French fry heaven.

2:00pm was the obligatory weekend stop at Best Buy. I picked up some video games because gaming is life. I REALLY should not spend the money but screw it. The kids really like watching me play video games where I get to kill people. It's a bonus.

2:45pm and we’re back home. Isabella passed out in the car from eating two pounds of French fries so I put her in bed. Simon shows me his journal and I find his writings are pretty creative and entertaining. I was going to revisit my comment about imaginaion from earlier in the day but decided to praise him and encouraged him to write more. Sofia drew me a picture that found it’s inspiration from the Disney movie Brother Bear. Something about the stars and the Earth. I had no idea what she was talking about but I taped it to my bedroom wall. She then looked at me and said “daddy, if I lose my other front tooth will I look like a freak?” I smiled and said “the cool thing about losing your two front teeth is that you get to drink things faster. Yes, you’ll look funny but you’re my beautiful freak”. She laughed and skipped away.

3:10pm Bella wakes up and turns into the Tasmanian Devil.

3:15pm The kids have way too much energy right now and are starting to freak me the fuck out. I put on some My Little Pony movie and they become silent. Thank god for that crap. Simon watches the Everyone Hates Chris marathon on BET.

3:45pm I make a valiant effort to exercise. I grab my jump rope and walk out on to the patio for 20-30 minutes of cardio. After about six minutes I pull a Roberto Duran and say “no mas”. It’s my day off. The next half hour is spent bouncing between kids and watching what they are watching. Everyone Hates Chris is a really funny show. This country should do more for Black History month. I admit that I am surprised that African Americans have not complained about having their heritage celebrated in February. It’s the shortest month of the year with an added day every Leap Year. My observation only. I was serious.

4:45pm the kitchen opens and dinner preparations start. This usually consists of music, alcohol (beer) and a snack for the chef (me and usually chips and salsa or hummus and pretzels) and the night’s food.

5:20pm dinner is served. Crab salad on toasted baguette, tomato salsa sun chips and green grapes. Push pops are for desert. While in the kitchen I spot the blackberry and finally cave in. I pick it up and … nothing of importance. Thank god. I proceed with my evening.

6:00pm the kitchen is closed and shower time. Even though she’s three going on four, I still give Isabella a bath and since I have no bath tub I have to get in the shower with her. She likes washing my hair because she gets to give me Mohawks with the shampoo but is pissed today because my hair is too short. She deals with it and moves on.

6:45pm we play like the Simpson’s and all jump on the couch to watch some violent movie that they picked. The kids call their mom to say good night and the flick rolls. This is cuddle time as well. We’re all over each other and I sweat my ass off because I’m usually the one who gets piled on. Before I turn the flick on I have to check scores. USA beats Canada in Olympic hockey (ohh, burn) and the Magic beat the Cavaliers - good. I hate that team.

7:00pm the movie starts. Isabella falls asleep right away. One down, two to go.

9:15pm the move ends. It was good but then again, I’m a nerd and dig stuff like that. I put Simon and Sofia to bed. School awaits them tomorrow.

10:00pm finds me sitting here after a good day. I’m listening to Johnny Cash. I recently became a fan. Bed check has all three kids snoring which means I get to drink another beer before I crash. Score.

Porn and Hanging with Big

The real Cirque du Freak was in full effect during the first week of January in the form of the Adult Entertainment Expo.

Before I get into that, let me share an unexpected, random encounter. While at the gym not too long ago, I was on the treadmill watching ESPN and listening to my ipod. Once and I while my eyes would wander down to the mirror in front of me, you know, to check out my sexiness. The guy on the treadmill behind me kept coming into view and he looked familiar. It bugged me that I could figure out who he was.

By the time I was finished with my run, the guy behind me was still on so I decided to take my sweet time walking to the next area to get a better look and see who the hell this guy was. When I got a good look I thought to myself, “it’s Mr. Big”- Chris Noth. I don’t get star struck easily so I kept to myself and went to the next room. About five minutes later, Big come around the corner and asks if he can work in on the machine I was on to which I allowed, because I’m nice that way. I confess to having the urge to ask him what it felt like to be associated with a character known for being hung like a water buffalo but I didn’t. We did our thing, the workout end and so does the story.

Back to porn and the freak show. Personally, I think porn is cool. It’s kept me company when I was lonely. It got me into trouble when I was naughty. We have a thing, me and porn. Now, I’m not into scat, snuff, voyeurism, domination, sex with animals or any other weird shit like that. Kinky is just fine with me however the multitude of “adventure seekers” that were on display at the resort I work at was a sight to behold.

Let me first tell you about who came to see the show. If you're a dude, and you go to a porn convention and rock a t-shirt of your favorite porn production company, you should get your ass kicked by the 400 pound black woman in fishnets on principle. You’re not a porn star so act like a civilized guy, be cool and enjoy the show. If you're luck, maybe one of the cute chicks in the show will take a liking to you, because you’re cool, talk to you and bone you later. Simplicity is bliss sometimes. Unfortunately there were several pre-pubescent, zit popping, porn production t-shirt wear assholes trolling the joint and everyone of them thought they were going into this thing to bang a porno star. My buddies and I would watch them as they exited the expo show room with a dejected, retarded look on their face. That prototype male vibrator they just picked up as a free sample would be the nights entertainment. Some words of wisdom for the uninitiated - the really popular porn stars walk around with body guards and never travel where the masses walk.

Then you have the guys who think that they are too cool to be at a porn convention. Like shelling out $65 bones to watch porn is just another thing you do. Those are the guys who eventually come out of the closet.

The ladies on the other hand were surprisingly mellow. You had your garden variety rocker chicks with tattoos and piercings everywhere to the innocent looking, closet freak attending the show because “their friend made them go”. Sure thing Snow White. Then there was what I affectionately called the ass clappers. This was a team of very large black women with the biggest asses I’ve ever seen on a human being. They were also wearing g-strings. They would do this hop thing on the balls of their feet and that motion combined with all of that ass fat they had would equate to their ass cheeks slap each other at a very fast pace, hence the ass clappers. It became a resort favorite to say the least. The troupe of chocolate love usually had about 15 white dudes around them taking pictures who would immediately post them on their facebook or myspace pages to illustrate how cool they were.

My favorite were the families who just happened to be at the resort at the same time. Wives would constantly be mean mugging thier spouses because they were convinced their hubby was checking out the one legged chick with the strap on, surrounded by midgets in assless chaps in the corner. Ah, family fun.

I never did to get to go into the showroom itself. Security was tighter than a Presidential dinner event. Not just anyone can get in. You need credentials baby. They say that sex sells and it sure did for me. People were dropping cash like it was going out of style all weekend long. I can’t wait for the circus to come back to town.

Match.com – A Social Experiment

A New Years resolution I made was to shift gears and stop writing drunk rants on facebook and instead focus on Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere.

Another resolution I made was to stop limiting myself and to boldly … go. Enter Match.com. After my 31 day experiment I have reached one simple conclusion. I am convinced that the idea of relationship / dating sites was conceived by the devil himself.

I have not been on a traditional date since my wife and I separated. That is not to say that I have not gone out, been social or have not gotten into some mischief. After all, I have needs too. At the beginning of the break up, I did what any other angry, repressed, hot blooded male would do. I went out often, stayed out late, drank too much and I hoed myself out to any and everyone who was willing to be an active participant.

After a very short while, I found absolutely no fulfillment in my behavior and actions. It felt more like me acting out and filling a need as opposed to searching for something of substance. I was still a committed father to my children and professional hotelier and foodie however my alone time began to teeter on self destruction. So I made the decision to stop.

I got my shit together, lost my house, got an apartment, finalized my divorce, focused on what was important to me and cut out all the static distractions. Fast forward 13 months and here I am, a single guy in Sin City. The normal school of thought with regard to that comment would be “that's awesome”. Here’s the catch – Vegas is populated by genuine weirdoes. I often times refer to myself as an island of reality in an ocean of bullshit. Working in Food and Beverage in the city of excess I have seen everything and have become unimpressed with everything superficial and artificial. Wealth does not equal taste. Beauty does not equal glamour. Education does not equal intelligence. Prominence does not equal class.

So why not try the cyberspace love connection? After all, I spend enough time on the internet surfing for smut, I figured that an attempt at making a legitimate, human connection would be redeeming. Is that an oxymoron? At this point, I’m reduced to being a pervert and I’m comfortable with that label right now. In my lifetime, I have been called worse.

At the onset, I settled on joining Match.com for one month only and was committed to that duration regardless of the outcome. My expectations were low as I was entering unknown waters. So I bit the bullet, shelled out my hard earned $25 bucks and went with it because, why not …

In my opinion, relationship sites are not for people with low self esteem, those who are emotionally fragile or the faint of heart. As a matter of fact, I firmly believe that they are guaranteed to shatter the psyche and spirit of human beings if taken too seriously.

I’ll explain …

The sheer amount of thought, time and commitment that is required to put your profile together is staggering. This is your opportunity to present yourself in the best possible light. This is your sales pitch for companionship. What pictures do you post that is guaranteed to net you that perfect someone? What do you write about yourself? Do you give a small taste to illicit a curious e-mail or connection or do you put yourself out there with the hopes that your honesty attracts? You comb through 575 pictures and pick the top 10 that show you in your favorite settings, showing a little skin, with your pet etc … After a day of research, you pick the perfect, quirky tag line to describe yourself in 15 words or less. All your information gets approved and uploaded on your profile and then … you wait. Then you might have to wait some more.

After all that effort, what if you get no response? See how damaging that can be to someone’s self esteem and ego? No es bueno.

Here’s my problem with it. You only see and / or read about the good. Yeah, I get and understand the science and psychology behind the compatibility questionnaires and whatnot but for this particular website, you only illustrate the good, which is both very misleading and … well, masturbatory. In my first few days I was paired up with a gal, and according to the site, we were 98% compatible. I found that fascinating. What if one of my many talents was to belch the alphabet but she hated people who burp? Is that the 2%? I have known couples to break up because the toilet seat was always left up. Yes, I e-mail her. No, she did not respond. So much for common interestes. Maybe she didn't get my jokes?

Me? I chose to plagiarize myself in an effort to save time by just cutting and pasting my information from facebook. My tag line was “I’ve been known to cure narcolepsy by just walking into a room” (thank you Dos XX guy). At first I allowed the site to pair me up and then I reached out to some people. I enjoyed some amusing e-mails, some rejections and some odd requests. In 31 days I reached out to 12 individuals and got 7 responses. At least I was over .500. I was “approached” 8 times and only responded once. I never went on a date. The e-mails I sent felt forced or maybe there was simply no connection. I don’t know. I corresponded with some attractive women but it all felt so … detached. Did I “give it a chance”? I think I did but this was more about feeding my curiosity than anything else. Should something else have materialized then bonus for me.

Every morning I was greeted by the “we picked these 5 for you” and the “here’s the special pick for this week” e-mails. So my mornings were spent listening to music and sipping on java whilst scrolling through the roster of “potentials”. It was all very surreal. Then came the renewal e-mail and as promised, I opted not to continue. While I can understand and appriciate the need for such a service, I deduced that I prefer to meet people and cultivate a meaningful relationship the old fashioned way. I am not so busy that I can not meet people. Right now, I just chose not to and prefer to focus on the current relationships I have that bring meaning to my life.

To me, finding someone to go out with or date is like looking for an item you misplaced. The harder you look the more invisible it becomes. If you stop looking, it will suddenly appear.