Clubbing

So you must know that the clubs in Vegas are really popular. I go to the club every other weekend, more specifically, Sam’s club. I was in Sam’s club on Saturday morning and I walk in, grab a shopping cart from outside, and I start looking at some of the watches they have right when you walk in. I’m standing there for about 3 minutes when this girl walks up to me and taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and say, “hey what’s up?” She looks me and asks, “did you just take my cart?” I laugh cause I thought she was kidding and respond, “uh, no.” She then asks me, “well then where did it go because it was just sitting right here?” Uhh I don’t fucking know, psychopath, even if I did take it, am I all of a sudden going to admit it now. So this time I stop laughing and in a very George Costanza-esque way I respond, “look, I didn’t TAKE your cart.” She continues to berate me and says, “well you’re the only one over here.” So now I’m mad obviously
So sarcastically, I tell her, “there’s like 20 people in this section of the store, I think you should just go get a new cart.” She says, “yeah, I guess I have to,” giving me a dirty look. And then again, feeling Costanza blood burning through my skin, I huff and say, “yeah I guess you do.” The rest of the time I’m in this store, this girl gives me dirty looks every time she sees me like I’m following her around.  This woman actually thought I stole her cart and lied to her face. Why on earth would I do that? Really thinking about it though, who the fuck walks into a Sam’s Club without getting a cart? I really hope the person that did steal psycho’s cart was standing there watching this go down. Honestly, I want to know why she left her cart long enough for someone to take it. If you leave an empty cart around for more than a minute, I’m pretty sure it’s fair game anyway. So think a little bit next time crazy lady. The Sam’s Club is no place to leave your things unattended.

The One with the Road Rage

So last week I went home to NY for the weekend. I got back to Vegas late on a Sunday and was exhausted by the time I got to work the next morning. Fast forward to the afternoon when I’m done for the day and have to drive home. I get in my car, naturally, I’m just annoyed because it’s a Monday afternoon. I still have to go food shopping and cook for the next few days. I’m driving home, and as I’ve said before (if you’ve been listening), there is a ton of road work every where. A lot of the roads near my house are one lane for this reason. So I’m on this one lane road by my house and get stuck behind this person trying to make a left. There’s no stop sign in the direction I’m going but the crossing street has a stop sign. Finally, the guy in front of me makes a left and I start to go forward when this jerk off on my right side decides it is his turn to go. Which, it is obviously not his turn, vis-à-vis the stop sign.

Naturally, I start waving my arms at him in New York fashion. This fucker has the balls to open his window and start yelling at me. He literally says, “what the heck man?” He said heck. Like if you’re going to yell at me at least make it worth your while. So I open my window and release the last 36 hours of New York on him. I yell back, “Fuck you jerk off you have a fuckin’ stop sign.” So then he proceeds to tell me about my manners and responds with, “you have no manners man.” That actually kind of pissed me off because who is this guy to talk about my manners and in reality what the fuck does manners have to do with driving. So that’s when I told him, “we’re in the middle of the road not your mother’s dinner table, follow the fucking rules of the road!” He starts to retort but I had already decided I was done arguing with this moron. I stuck my head out the window and used the manners my Mother taught me and yelled a polite “Fuck you!” So to my fellow transient New Yorkers, remember your manners, but more importantly, remember where you’re from.

Memberships

So I was sitting here think about what I should write about and then it hit me. As I’m sitting here I get an email from a company I ran a 10K through saying my trial membership is up and they charged my credit card on file with 70 bucks. Before I even made the phone call I knew this is exactly what I was going to write about. I was just saying the other day that it’s almost like I hope people do stupid things just so I can write about it. Without fail, there will never be a lack of material.

So I call this company up and explain that I didn’t sign up for a membership, I signed up for one race. I also explained how I never got an original email telling me about this “trial membership” I supposedly signed up for. The guy tells me, “I’m not sure what I can do about that.” I obviously than retorted with, “Well here let me explain, you’re going to cancel the year long membership you signed me up for and had me pay in one shot and you’re going to refund the money. Does that help you be more sure?” He grumbles and says, “relax sir, we’re going to figure this out.” At this point, after he tells me to relax, I’m ready for a real argument. Nothing like a real good argument. So I say, “There’s really nothing to figure out. Cancel the membership, refund the money and let’s make this a quick phone call.” He tells me, “Alright sir, I’ve been authorized to refund the money. You must have opted in for the year long membership when you signed up.” This guy just had to throw this in there. He had to say it was my fault. He doesn’t even know me and he can’t accept the blame. Clearly the company is conning people into signing up. I didn’t sign up for a year long membership to run races. Who the fuck am I Usain Bolt. I did one fucking race. So I said “Listen guy, thanks for the refund but I didn’t sign up for a year long membership. That’s why I’m on the phone with you.” He hung up on me. But that’s fine man.

I appreciate the stupidity in the world. I’m sure I’m part of it. I’m sure the guy I got in an argument with in the middle of the road the other day would have some pretty choice words to say about how stupid I am. But I’ll save that story for another time. Nothing like some good old-fashioned New York road rage. I’m surrounded by assholes. Stay tuned.

Dry Cleaners

So I went to the dry cleaners the other day to get some of my pants done. Since I’ve moved here I have been starching all my clothes on my own. Outside of the New York City area, dry cleaning is outrageously expensive. Just to make this story clear, I brought my clothes in on a Monday. They didn’t tell me the price or anything obviously. But I dropped off three pairs of pants.

I went to pick them up on Thursday and I went around 7:15. They closed at 7 it said on the door. They were still standing in there folding clothes or whatever nonsense they do at a dry cleaners. I walk in and the girl says, “we’re closed.” I just told her, “I just want to grab some pants.” She responded, “No sorry we’re closed.” I kept my cool and just walked out. I can’t get mad at everyone, especially not a girl who looked like she was barely out of high school. If I’m going to argue, I want it to at least be fair.

So I return to the dry cleaners the next night…at exactly 6:59, just to be a dick. They actually didn’t give me a problem which was surprising to me (and also sort of a let down). I give her my name and she grabs me my pants and she says, “36.50 please.” 36.50! What the fuck are they doing to the pants for that kind of money. You might as well get a new pair of fucking pants. I say “What could possibly cost $36.50.” She said, “Well, we did an amendment” (at least that’s what I heard). I said,” An amendment! An amendment to what? The fucking U.S. Constitution?” She looked at me like I was a moron obviously. No they didn’t take any money off for “mending” not “amending.” Apparently I was a bit confused. Fucking $36.50 though. That’s actually insane. So, I will not be dry cleaning pants ever again. At least not for a few months. No Ragrets.

Millennials (Generation Y)

 So, I want to provide you “millennials” with a little bit of advice. You should be careful what you post on the internet. You shouldn’t talk to strangers. Nah, I’m just fucking with you. It’s fucking 2017 people. If you didn’t meet your significant other over the internet, then you’re just the other 50%. But you know what I’m sick of. I’m sick of people complaining about us. Yeah “US.” I was born in 1992. I’m not a fucking 90’s kid. I don’t even want to be a 90’s kid. I don’t want to wear a stupid windbreaker. I don’t want to pretend that I had a phone on a cord. No. I was given a cellphone when I was 16 and 4 years later I was provided with google in my pocket. But constantly, us millennials are shit on.

So, as millennials, we are always looked down upon. I honestly don’t know if this is new. I don’t know if this is something that every generation receives. Maybe every generation gets shit on by the previous. For the first time, I’m not here to complain. No I won’t give the satisfaction. I won’t pretend like I’m here to complain. I’m here to stick up for us. We need a voice.

Are you happy? This is the generation that you created. And by you, I mean the people who say we text too much. I mean the people who say we’re not outside enough. The people who say we’ve had too much screen time. The people who believe we are sheltered.

We’re not sheltered. Us “so-called” millennials know more than any generation born yet. We have more information at our fingertips than was ever given to any past generation. No I don’t know the dewy fucking decimal system. But I can tell how to carefully change a biological man’s voice to be perceived as a woman’s voice. I’ve crafted my skills, through careful internet research, how to do my job at its best. But here is what I hear. Let me tell you the bullshit, stereotyping, judgement that our generation bereaves. Let me destroy 4 stereotypes they place upon us. By “they,” yes, I mean “the man.” We’re going to take down the man.

One. “Millennials don’t work hard.” Don’t work hard? This is the fastest growing technical generation of all time. Don’t work hard? I went to school with people who essentially finished their first year of college before even leaving high school. They don’t work hard? They took 3 AP classes every year of high school just to please their parents, their family and their school. I finished college in three years. Where’d that get me? No where. Had to do another 2 years.

Two. “We can’t communicate.” We communicate with more people than ever before. I wouldn’t have my beautiful girlfriend without this internet that YOU created. Communication has changed. Communication is instant. Communication is now. We communicate with thousands of people every day. Some people send one tweet and it reaches thousands of people. Yeah, maybe no one is that manly man that you expect to communicate with, but trust me we know how to communicate. By sending this blog out I get at least 30 people to read it. No, I’m not trying to brag.

Three. We’re selfish. We are the “me” generation. We are non-committal. We can’t do for others what we can do for ourselves. I have a friend.  His name is Dan. Dan raised a thousand dollars for a cause. I don’t even remember the cause. But I’ll tell you what. I sent him some cash. So, did the rest of my friends. We all love being a part of something bigger. Maybe some of us want it known. Maybe some of us don’t. But that’s fine with me. I don’t care if people want to be known for donating. They made a difference. We don’t all have to be humble. That’s more bullshit than pretending we want to be modest. Try to make a difference  whether people know about it or not.

Finally, four. We still live at home. Yeah, we still live at home! Your credit destroyed any possibility that we could ever move out of our parent’s house. I feel for anyone who stayed in New York. The chances of them moving out of their parent’s house is close to impossible. I mean, I owe $79,646 to the United States government. I couldn’t afford to live on my own back in New York. Yeah, here in Vegas, I get to live with my dope roommates. But, no, where I’m from, I couldn’t even imagine it.

Overall, the point is, time is different. The people are different. The times are different. You can’t expect “us” to live how “you” did. It’s impossible now. We do our best. We’ll change the world, don’t get me wrong. But for now, let me tell you one thing. Let us make our change. Let us make the change we want.

Tropical Smoothie

So I went to tropical smoothie today after the gym. Love that shit. Anyways I go to this place somewhat often. Maybe once a week. If I’m being honest, it’s kinda gross. You walk in and the temperature almost goes up from outside. Keep in mind this is Vegas. The temperature should always go down walking into a store. But I walk in today and the girl behind the counter looks like she’s struggling. She is on the proverbial struggle bus. She’s the only person working in this place, but it’s by no means busy. There were three people sitting waiting on their drinks and me who hadn’t ordered yet.

This girl keeps yelling from the back, “I’m so sorry I’ll be right there!” And “I’m really sorry, it’s just me and I’m so busy!” I was looking around like what the fuck is she doing back there. Let’s keep track of time though (yes I checked my phone the second I walked into this shit show). 10 minutes go by and finally she says ok can I help you. So I order my drink and pay and now I’m waiting again. Now we’re are 15 minutes and I’m standing there waiting and she comes out with 2 people’s drinks and they leave. The last woman gets up being extremely impatient and starts getting angry with the girl. She finally gets her drink and this family of five comes in and she takes their order. Now we’re at 20 minutes and she comes out from the back. This time she looks like she’s about to cry and I just sorta laugh. Not at her. I wasn’t trying to be rude but the whole thing was hysterical. She again starts apologizing like crazy, “I’ve been here since 4AM and it’s been crazy since I got here.” I’m still laughing, wondering how busy a tropical smoothie could be at 4AM. But then she’s like I broke something in the back and it’s leaking everywhere. She goes back there again and another 3 minutes goes by. She comes out and now she’s “all wet” as she put it. Her shoes were soaked; I’ll give her that. But there must’ve about an inch of water in the back. She was in the verge of tears now. Barely able to handle the smoothie ridden stress. Now we’re at about a 25 minute wait and I’m debating on leaving but I already paid and I really wanted to see where this could possibly go. In reality, I just wanted to see if she’d actually cry.

She proceeds to ask me for my order. I ask what she means. She totally forgot about my order. I just laughed cause this poor girl who was probably at her very first job clearly was not handling it well. Finally after about 28 minutes I get my drink. I walk into places almost hoping shit will go wrong nowadays. What do people say again? Oh yeah. Do it for the story.

Lonely Brunch

So, on Sunday I had a pretty good hangover going. I decided to head over to this place for breakfast. I walked in and said I was just one for breakfast. The girl said she could seat me right away but then kind of just walked away. I stood there for about 5 minutes, which is really no big deal. But this place was packed, it was hot, and there were so many kids. So. Many. Kids. So I decided I was going to leave. So, I said to the girl, “Hey, sorry but I think I’m going to leave, thanks anyway though.” She gives me a dirty look and says, “well I was going to seat you right now.” I looked at her odd and said, “well I just kind of changed my mind.” She then tells me that if I leave and come back I won’t have my spot on the list anymore. I laugh at her and just respond, “I don’t understand, I’m not coming back, I don’t want to be on the list.” So, she just dismisses me and says, “well ok.”

Jerk off me, I decide to try the place next door, where I’m the only person in the entire restaurant. I sit down at the bar and no one is there. Not even a bartender so I was about to leave when finally, this guy walks out of the back. This guy with the longest ponytail in the world, smiling at me like he wants to lick my bald fucking head. So, I obviously think to myself, “what a fucking mistake.” Now instead of sitting in the hot room with the screaming children, I get to sit here with smiling ponytail man. I order a Bloody Mary. And the guy hands me a glass with vodka and tomato juice and says the Bloody Mary bar is over there. I’m the only person in the entire restaurant and I now have to get up, walk to the other side of the restaurant and make my own Bloody Mary? I get up and go make the stupid thing and sit back down. I order a salad with chicken. He asks me, “Do you want a sandwich instead?” What kind of questions is that. When I order a coffee, do they ask me if I want tea instead? No, of course not. He was like “well, the sandwich comes with a little salad.” No douchebag. I want exactly what I ordered. I don’t want something completely different and not what I asked for.

It’s incredible the planet we live on. Instead of sitting in the crowded hot place, I got to listen to this bartender’s sob story. He tells me all about how shitty Vegas is after I just told him I’m new here. Tells me how terrible it was growing up here and blah, blah, blah. Listen GUY, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around. Isn’t me, sitting at a bar alone, supposed to be the cue to the bartender that I get to complain, not him? Well I guess not. Anybody still reading this is essentially my internet bartender I guess. I say that as I pour myself a second glass of wine. So, thanks for listening to all my sob stories. Stay tuned fuckers.