Drugs and Bed Bugs

I wrote this a while ago, posting it as is. Kinda lost interest in topic when the next weekend was even worse. Richie G's party and Superbowl took another 5 years off the end of my life. Insurance actuaries have me slated to pass away next Tuesday. Fuck 'em!

I got in trouble for drugs again this weekend at the ski house. Not the usual kind of trouble, there was no law enforcement or incarceration. No, I got in trouble for talking about drugs. Apparently there is more cocaine floating around then people are comfortable with. Now I didn't bring any drugs, but if they are around I am certainly not opposed to them. My nickname in High School was Lenny, for the Celtic who died of a cocaine overdose, Lenny Bias. You do the math on that one, I don't feel the need to explain. I'm not a very good drug user. I don't feel the need to hide it or lie about it. Truthfully, I'm pretty blatant about it and do too much of it. I'm not a maintenance user, I'm a flat out abuser. It's very consistent with my binge drinking. "Why can't half the house blink?" So here's where I got in trouble: I admitted I was doing coke. Unknown to me, there were not suppose to be drugs in the house. I got a memo about no smoking in the house and I complied with it. I didn't really think about drugs at all, just assumed there would be some around and if anyone was dumb enough to offer it to me, all the better. I guess I should distinguish between drugs. Lord knows if someone has a joint, it's party time and invite everyone and their parents! Coke? Be quiet about it and keep it hidden. And get your fucking jaw under control, you look like a cracked.

Well, there were at least three separate and independent sources of coke that I found out about. (I suspect a fourth but feel no need to blow up their spot. Though it goes far in explaining a lot of erratic behavior at beach house.) One of them even had a bullet! For the sake of you non-drug users, a bullet is a device for easy, portable cocaine use. Rookies do not carry this around and I don't think I've seen one since high school.
Now I am all for personal freedom and individual responsibility. You want to get drunk or high? Great, me too. Normal moral rules still apply. If I grab your ass, slap me. If I drive drunk, arrest me. If you don't like me, we can agree not to hang around together but still be cool around each other. No hard feelings. We are all adults, we should be able to work these things out. Any way, I got yelled at repeatedly from various sources. One person was mad that there were drugs and I somehow allowed them in the house. Someone else was mad at me for mentioning that there were drugs in the house (and they had brought them!). The rest of the people were mad at me for doing all their drugs. This was very confusing to me. I don't know exactly what my point is, other than the obvious point that I shouldn't do drugs. Also, don't ask me to enforce rules on others. That was the one thing about the beach house that almost broke me. Late night at the beach house, I never want to say "Hey, keep it down!" That is so not me. I'd rather see how many curses I can string together in a sentence. At an elderly woman. Then tell random strangers they made my "Fucko List". Nothing funnier than watching someone try to figure that out, "Did you call me a Fuck?" "No, I just mentioned you might make my 'Fucko List." Anger turns to confusion on their face as they are simply trying to walk their dog. "Uhh.." "Don't worry about it Fucko!" I yell as I quickly flee the porch and run for the bathroom/backyard to hide, leaving whoever had the misfortune of sitting out front with me to apologize and explain. Should really videotape that, "Sorry, he's had too much to drink. He's just joking around, trying to make us laugh." (From the backyard you hear, "Keep walking Fucko!") Uncomfortable glances and nervous laughter on front porch. "Sorry...." "Yeah, okay..." Neighbors have to balance the fact I'm usually very cordial and capable of small talk, with the fact I also am capable of being ludicrously drunk and belligerent at the most unexpected times. "Good Morning Jay!" "What are you smiling about Fucko?" Yeah...(Office Space voice).
Don't ask me to keep stupid secrets either. You got AIDS? I'll keep that to myself. "You fucked a donkey while on excasty? In Tijuana?" Well, I'm not so sure that may not come up again at some point. Everyone can feel free to discuss when I'm an ass, just expect me to reciprocate.
Now I have no hard feelings towards anyone. I'm pretty used to being yelled at for bad behavior and it's usually well deserved. Please just save it for when it's well deserved.


There was also apparently some kind of bedbug infestation (maybe not really bedbugs, but I put that in the title cause it rhymes and I'm trying to attract more minority readers. You know how they love rhymes! And no "minority readers" is not an oxymoron you bunch of racists. I'm ashamed of you all.) Turns out it was some kind of hot tub disease which primarily effected the ladies. Hot Tub Coochietis? I'm a little light on the specifics but know it didn't get to me. Something to be said about having a Blood Alcohol level of .2 through out life. "Bug free and intoxicated" may be my new knickname.
Cheers motherfuckers!

Miami, no mas.

As many of you know, Shal and I went to Miami Beach over the last weekend. She is being recruited by a firm down there and they flew us both down and put us up for four nights. The place is beautiful and we had a great time. BUT...It's not really our scene. Everything is extremely expensive, extremely latin, and extremely gay. There was none of the advertised lower cost of living, particularly around real estate. There were places we could afford, but we didn't really want to live there. Over coffee and cigs one morning, we came up with an alternative plan: We sell our condo anyway. We expect to make anywhere between $100,000-$150,000. We buy another place in Hoboken that needs renovation. We know a good contractor who did our bathroom and doors. He's young and trying to get established, so he is still pretty inexpensive. We work the timing so we can live at the shore while the place gets renovated. Depending on how much we make on selling our present place, we either commute from the beach or leave our jobs or some combination of all of the above. Shal needs to get out of her current job before she kills someone. I can get my job done in 3 days a week and keep us in health insurance. Shal wants to try and start a consulting firm, I want some time off to try and write a book. Is this crazy? Sure. There are a ton of ifs and the plan is open to multiple changes. We plan on talking taxes and finances with as many people as possible. Plus we would hate to leave all of our friends up here, except Brown of course. He's a dick. So while we are young, we are looking to get into real estate speculation, start a consulting firm, and try to earn a living through writing. This is our shot, and it looks like we may take it. If it doesn't work out we go back to real jobs. Feel free to respond to us in email, we need to find all the flaws in this plan before we commit. I wanted to write a funny recounting of our trip and I'll try to get to that soon, but this idea is obviously domminating our thoughts right now. What do you all think?