Learning to Shrug: One Man's Misadventures in Apathy

" Dude you bartenders are the greatest. No, hey... I really mean that. Seriously. I love you. And you're the best one. I MEAN THAT. HEY... Seriously. No. Seriously." - Drunk People -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Let me guess, you had one hell of a week. You've just spent several hours bathing, dressing, doing your hair, hydrating, and pre-funking, and now you're in the mood to   truly defile both your liver and your good standing in the community. It's ( insert day of the week here ) night, and you've simply no desire to remain even remotely sober for a single second longer. Your pain is a familiar one to me. I can help you. I was just like you, once. Roughly 9 months ago, my career as a bartender was conceived in a most unexpected fashion. As I wandered the streets of Moscow on either Mardi Gras or St. Patrick's Day (am I the only one who can'

When I last left you, humble readers, I was enthralling you with a tale from my past that had a point that I hadn't gotten to yet, and included two key characters thus far: 1) The Man in Red - either Santa or Satan, depending on whether or not you're stupid enough to believe that Santa is real. 2) The Action Figure in Blue - Billy! Billy the Blue Ranger!  While I have significantly nicer things to say about the latter, the former is who the second half of this entry will focus on primarily in the interest of reaching that point that I keep telling you that this blog entry definitely has. In case you missed the first half of the entry, RECAP: A man dressed as Santa used to come to my house a week or two before Christmas in an attempt to steal any innocence I had remaining, but would always leave a shweet toy (like Billy!) next to my lifeless body after I passed out from the sheer horror of his presence. Because of a significant and easily exploited loophole in th

"Holy Cynicism, Batman... You had some pretty harsh words for humankind in your first post. It was your first effing post . Have you always been such a dick ?" I do apologize for that. The honest answer is... well... kind of, yeah. It's manifested itself in various ways depending on the period of my life we're discussing, but the underlying causal personality trait has always been the same.  To a harsher critic, it would seem as though my attitudes are laced with skepticism. To a more sympathetic crowd (my mother comes to mind here), it's a much kinder word: curiosity . When asked to describe yourself, especially at a certain point in your life, you could do a couple of different things: 1) compose a list of traits that you possessed at that time, or 2) tell a story that is very you . We all have these stories. They don't necessarily have to be long, but they say a lot . A list of personality characteristics will give people a pretty accurate idea of y

I'm new to this. And I'm nervous . I like to write - don't get me wrong - but I normally do it maybe twice a year. Relatedly, now that I'm no longer required to write for school, I only write things with any real length or substance when I develop a strong enough opinion that I feel the need to share it. One could logically (and alarmingly accurately) conclude from the prior statements that, on average, I develop a strong opinion about something roughly every six months. Judging by my daily encounters with others, I am the exception in this department, and the rule is annoying as fuck. Hate is a strong word to use in any context, but those who know me well will tell you that, at the bare minimum, I don't have a lot of faith in my fellow human beings. I may hate them. I may not. I'm not entirely sure yet. Science tells me that I'm the same species as Paris Hilton or Justin Bieber   or the lady a while back who faked her own death to get out of work that