Just call me Long Island Iced J

A friend of mine commented about relaxing at a friends house and having a long island iced tea.
As with many things,  it sparked a memory in me.   One of those adventures that some would say was good and others might not.   But it happened something like this

(the names have been changed to protect the not so innocent.  They know who they are,  and I love them to this day)

It was my 2nd year at college.  It was our version of spring break (since it was a catholic college,   I think they just rolled the catholic version of dice every year and that's when semester break was).   Being geeks we all had interim classes (3 weeks of classes such as the history of the math equation and an ode to edgar rice burroughs or something similar).    As a group we had planned on going to 6 flags over chicago for a much needed decompression.    The battle over where to go was fierce.    The last time we had headed out as a group was to go to Kansas City and world's of fun,  oceans of fun.   Unfortunately noone actually checked to see if it would be open (I still blame shaun on that one).   But that's for another story

Before we headed towards Chicago we had to meet some of the newest members of the gang.   They were friends of Rick (changed names remember) and Ann,  so I had no idea who they were.   But they seemed nice,  and at least playful.   You get the guage of a person when your lobbing quarters into someone's cleavage at a bar (before you jump on me,   this was about as low cut a shirt as you could get and she was seriously endowed.  Plus she was using the quarters to pay for her drinks.   So meh.......

One of the last ones of our group had to get one of those damned serious classes (probably essays on the genius that is wapner or something) so we were all going to wait for her to get done.    She was engaged to the guy that I was riding up with.  I had just gotten out of the hospital for the OMGth time and was still sore (you get enough needles for blood draws and iv's in your arm and tell me you don't look like a drug addict).

We ended up waiting and waiting for the class to be over.   There had been some rumblings of some bad juju going on due to some personal dynamics that really isn't important to this story.  But in the long run, an engagement got called off,   lots of people being upset and not sure who should go and I'm sitting there hoping that I can at least keep the guy driving the car together so that I don't become a spot on the highway.

We will fast forward to 85mpg driving around the chicago loop,   Myself calling off traffic at 8 at night like I was calling dive bombers in world war II.  But we made it safely to the hotel.    Got up to our rooms and I needed a drink.   Badly.  The night before was the first time I had seriously gotten plastered
(probably about half a bottle of SoCo lived with me that night).    So I went down to the bar to get a Long Island Iced Tea.    Now this was one of the real ones.   All the different levels,  the bitters and the punch right up side the head that a good one will give you.    I drank it,  went back upstairs and my roommate for the night was pissed and depressed like a puppy dog you had never known.

One of the people who went was us had demonstrated she had had a huge crush on Rick,   and had made it no bones that if he hadn't been engaged she would have jumped him.    As I got back into the room he basically called me an A@@hole.  For all the things that had happened I couldn't think what had gone wrong or how it was my fault.  After about 5 minutes of him hubbubbing around it,  he basically told me this girl had came into the room when I had gone downstairs,  and she basically jumped his bones.  Now understand Rick was about 6'5 and probably around 225 lbs.   The girl was 4 foot 8 on a good day and maybe around 130 lbs.   Not sure really who jumped who on that one.    So after I laughed for the next 30 minutes,   stopped took a breath and then laughed again for another 30 minutes I went to sleep.

The next day was going to 6 flags,  and if you wanted to see a giant of a red haired man being scared of a woman the size of a gnome,    I knew I should have taken pictures of that one.  It was incredibly funny.

That's my story,  and I'm sticking to it.

Silence to the masses

After 41 years of life.  There is one very important thing that I learned early,  and is reinforced to the core of all things in ones life.  People are stupid when they believe that their opinions mean anything to me.

 

My friends,  my true friends,  the ones that have been in my thoughts for years and continue to be there.   Their opinions are as good as gold to me.    They provide a drive and determination to hopefully at times get my life straight to where it’s supposed to be.

 

But there are too an occasionally few that feel the need to chirp their views,  mostly in the hopes that they’re little lives might be more enriched by throwing mud.    In the hopes that something might stick and their faults and foibles won’t be as apparent.

 

Today’s unloaded weapon in a battle of wits has been a repeat offender in this category.    If it’s not this misguided belief that I am an easy mark for his stupidity.  It is this belief that I’m going to actually take the time to fly to his place wallowing in his own self created mud hole so that he might ‘kick my ass”.   A feat that many have tried,  and many failed miserably.

 

Funny thing is that even writing in a journal about him and his little fantasies of being important,   gives more

credit and attention than it richly deserves.    To offer anything other than silence is the ultimate in uncaring

and apathy.   Whether agree or disagre,   to ignore someone means they are not even worth the time

to respond.   But then of course,   a captive mind and incapable of logical thinking would only accept this

as cowardice.   Definitely something I am not.   I choose my fights,  and in this case.  It isn’t worth the time

to destroy a person that life has already claimed as refuse.

 

The interesting thing is that it’s a cancer to see people like this,  that they don’t have any idea how to be

a “real man”,  but run around claiming that drinking with friends while their family is sick is needed.   That working half assed jobs and being a half assed human being is equal to the task of being a man,  a father,  a fiancée and even a productive member of society.   

 

While reading Xenocide by Orson Scott Card,  the idea of He who is without sin is presented in a different context.    A Priest comes along to a mob who is about to execute a prostitute.   Quoting scripture of “He who is without sin let him cast the first stone”  The crowd dropped their rocks and went their way.   IN one instance the Priest  picked up the Prostitute and led her to the church to ask for repentance.  In another instance the Priest ended up picking up a rock and executing the prostitute,   stating that if we waited for perfection to execute the law,  then there would be only chaos (paraphrased from the original book).

 

Which one is the realist.    To expect perfection from someone who points out a flaw of an attacker?  Or

someone who walks away and says it isn’t worth the time or the effort to convert,  especially when conversion

is impossible.    So you just let them stand in their own self created filth,   rattle their toy sabres until they have

lost or driven away everything good in their life.   And that wall of chaos and self pity breaks in.   And consumes the refuse to be recycled again.

 

But then there is a 3rd option,   pity,   not even sympathy,  or apathy.  But pity.   Simply becuase it is

these types of people that poison others that touch them.    They poison the fields for their children out of self loathing and self hatred,   all the while blaming society for their lack of self worth.  blaming loved ones that aren’t serving their warped view of purpose for them.    Or blaming anything but themselves for their lack of

ability or ability to create their own self destruction.

 

In the long run,  and the most important thing to see,  is that the unaware of their own position on the social food chain just below cow mucus.  It goes over their head with big words and concepts.    The world is there to control or to whine about,  til it rejects them as being outsiders.     And that of course is someone else’s fault again.   A catch 22 is created to continue to cycle of worthlessness.

 

 

Blah Blah Blah is my start,   Blah blah blah is my finish in response.