Monday, June 21, 2010

Petrolium

I've felt embarrassment, quite often. Who hasn't? None quite as so devastating as the BP incident. This has probably been my most well documented, and most told story. Let me take you far back. Way back to 2007.
I worked at Barbecues Galore, as most of you already know. Right next door was BP. As well as selling petrol, there was a large amount of coffee sold during morning sessions. One of the regulars was a young, naive version of me. I can still remember the taste of a fresh caramel late from there, made by one of the most beautiful girls I've known, and I'm yet to find an equal.
Every morning I walked in there, and saw her. The first month might have been weird, but soon after we striked up a familiar ship. I can't remember how it started, but soon we could take about anything. My coffee girl would put me in a zone I felt comfortable in. We'd talk like the oldest friends, about people the other only knew. Her friends became my friends in my head. She'd always go out of her way to see me/do things for me. Rush through her duties to serve me coffee, shout me coffee some mornings. I have coffee to thank for a lot of loves.
After a while, I started to convince myself she liked me. The acts of friendship I received became strong views of affection. Every conversation became a subliminal cry for affection. I was meant to be the sexiest man alive.
After weeks of talking and being nice, I finally worked up the courage to do something. It was a massive plan. John Dillinger wouldn't have spent longer on his plan. I'd strike up conversation as usual, then when I received the coffee, I'd ask her if she wanted to do something afterwards. Easy.
I decided on one morning. It had to be that morning, because everything was working out well for me. I was early, feeling/looking good. Smelling a million bucks. It was all falling into place. I walked in, and saw no-one but workers about. Great.
Ordered the usual caramel late and made idol chit-chat. She looked stunning, even in her stained uniform. She handed me my coffee, and it was judgement time. I looked around and to my sheer horror, people had flooded the building. My preparation couldn't be wasted, I was too far. I swallowed my pride and asked her "Did you want to do something later?". The response wasn't what I was looking forward to.
She replied with "What?"
Oh dear god. She didn't hear. I could feel every ounce of blood rush towards my face. I felt faint, like I was about to fall over. She didn't hear! Imagine performing the most amazing feat for a Guinness world record, then finding out it wasn't seen properly. Sheer devastating. All my confidence was drained, so when I asked again, my voice was sincerely drained of feeling, quietened and shaky.
"Did you want to...umm...do something later?" I asked, as quick as possible, while 4-5 patrons behind me listened in.
"Sorry, I'm busy..."
I've never felt a bullet impact my chest, but that's what I'm sure it felt like. A freight train just disemboweled me and left the waste behind. Pretty sure I lost breath. I can't remember what I said afterwards, but in the span of what seemed like 2 seconds I was gone. I could have broken the sound barrier with the speed walk I did that day. I don't think I made it past the car wash before stupid, insecure tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't want them to appear, but they squeezed them out from underneath my tattered ego. Made it inside the confides of work before I lost composure, and my shit.
That night I bought a bottle of black Douglas and drank my ass off. Enough to spew all over the kitchen floor of my Aunt's. I sincerely apologise to my cousin for making her boyfriend's first night with her, one of spew smells and loud noises.
I think I avoided coffee for the next few days. When I came back, things were as if nothing had happened. Everything ignored. I nervously tried to get back to routine, but it just wasn't working. She told me something about her being pregnant, and only finding out that same day. Odd coincidence. One day she failed to arrive to work and I never saw her again.
I wish I could say my experience has changed me, but it hasn't. I'm still the naive young boy, jumping at conclusions. If an attractive girl says "you're a nice guy" or "I like you" I immediately think I'm in. I conjure up situations in my head. I convince myself of these feelings until I get shut down. I ride an everyday roller coaster. I hate myself for this thinking method. It overrides any logical thinking and restricts my friendship connections. Worst of all, I think it made me into a self loathing, bitter and twisted individual I am today. I love the person I am, but feel that this part of me brings out the most pathetic, cowardly and immature actions. I need a hobby.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Second Amendment

Right. As per the usual quota, i'm plastered. Work in the morning is going to suck. I find that when i'm plastered I can write more open and honestly, which will make me feel better.
When I drink I get very lonely. It's a problem, and it keeps occurring. This very night, i've tried to contact 2 very nice girls but no replies. You know who you are.
So, often when i'm drunk, and feeling lonely, I go onto Oasis Active. I have a very barren account on there, filled with lots of little dove pictures shrugging their shoulders and looking depressed (if you've ever had an account, you'd know what that means). Doves aren't meant to look depressed. Majority of doves I have seen are on powerlines, shitting on pedestrians. Guess i'm a pedestrian.
This particular story is from when I actually had a SUCCESS on Oasis. I probably should have been alerted to the fact this girl hadn't put any full pictures on her site. She seemed nice though, so I decided to meet up with her. I'm sparing the details in this department so as not to point anyone that may stumble on this site out. We met up at a party her friends were having. I nervously rolled up to the party, anxious to see what she looked like in real life. Parked the car a couple meters away from the party and called her phone. She answered and we began the task of decribing locations in order to meet.
What found me was...large. She was a very big girl. I don't want to sound like i'm against big girls, but this girl was big, big. And wore makeup so thick, you could blast for diamonds in her pores.
I made friendly, hoping that she didn't put on her personality either, and she didn't. Relief. I was introduced to her friends and stood by her side awkwardly as they discussed one of their friends like I knew them.
The party was a redneck, dropout heaven; complete with fireworks, fake fights and mass swearing. I felt uncomfortable seeing them light a firework next to a police officer.
Once the party was cleansed of the dero mess, only her friends and some pretty cool people remained. This is where things become hazy.
I can recall leaving the party. I was drunk as a tequilla worm, trying to condition myself to find this walrus attractive (again, she was an ALRIGHT person). We got a lift with some guy and she sat in front while I sat in the back with her friend. Then things got confusing. Her friend started rubbing my leg. For some reason I had a cigarrette, and burnt myself at this point with hot ash. I was numb anyway, so I manned it through. She started kissing my neck (I think) and that's when my sense of decency kicked in. I turned and asked her exactly what the absolute fuck she was doing. She replied with giving me her number. I replied with some retort about her being a proper friend, and how she was clearly being a shit person.
I found out this was a test, and I passed. Oh goodie.
Things happened. I wont go into much detail, but she found out about the particulars of phimosis she never knew about, and I found out that she reminded me of my sister. Before you think anything, fuck off!
So, in the morning, I experienced my first dose of remorse. It sucks man.
My fingers had all become covered in a thick layer of dried puss, starting from my cuticals. I pried apart the crust, to see a large amount of fresh puss fill my nails. I shouldn't have done what I did.
What's worse was I had to meet her parents afterward. Try and justify why I was in her daughters bed. And they were deros too. So all sorts of filthy shit flowed from their mouths, along with something about the footy scores and a motorbike reference. I got a lift back to my car and bailed.
A few weeks later I got a text from her saying her ex boyfriend wanted her back, and she kinda felt he'd changed. I got dumped by this girl, even though I didn't know anything was going on between us. Even though I didn't think we had/want a relationship with her, it still hurt. Serves me right I guess for being so shallow.
What have I learnt? Nothing. I still want someone who is gorgeous, attractive. I find personality a huge factor, but looks equally. Does that make me a shallow person, or does everyone see this way too? Maybe my problem isn't my personality, but my looks. You can't catch fish without bait. I feel that, from the experience I had, i'm closer to figuring out who I am.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Subject Online

I am drunk. Pretty drunk. Been drinking Coopers green for a while now and listening to Dntel, which has somehow stopped playing without me noticing. I've had a shithouse night. Arrived home at 10:15 after driving from Perth to home. Went to my cousin's party to only be stared at and ignored for over an hour. I have no idea why I waited around for an hour. I felt like that weird guy at the back of the children's party wearing a suspicious trenchcoat. I felt like a pet running around the house with the others, never really part of the conversation, but there enough to be in someone's way.
I should have done something cool. I wish I could do or be something cooler than what I am. I dreamt of conversing with the guests that I was in a band, and we were touring around Europe next month. Or even having some kind of slippery arch on the soles of my shoe, so I could surf the stair hand rails as I exited; at least the exit would have been cool. Instead, I stood around in my slightly overweight physique, feeling like an idiot as I listened to everyone talking about someone they all knew. And my awesome exit? I reversed a bit too fast and scratched the host's car, which caused all of the people on the balcony to rush over and inspect the massive, 1cm damage I had caused with my excessive breaking. From this night, I am thankful I have a cousin like Hannah. Standing up for me, asking if I was alright, trying to include me.
She, at one point, asked me to sit down nearer to the main point of conversation. What I didn't realize was I had just stolen a young girl's seat by doing this. I had defiled her nesting area. Disgusted, I saw her sit on the couch I once sat on, over the other side of the room. I could tell she thought I was a total anal twitch for what I did, like I did it on purpose. Luckily she actually turned out to be a decent person before I left. Quite a nice girl. If I could pick up, or had any skill in doing that, I would have at least tried to. Unfortunately, I have the gift of the gut, and manage to make some really, really good friends. Seriously, really good friends. It's like you're stuck in a desert looking for water, and you find milk instead. Useless and quite sickening.
That pretty much sets the tone for this Blog. I'm going to post about all my failures and love failures. They have made great stories before, and I figure if there's one thing we all love to hear, it's about someone dying a little inside.