Life Accustomed
Alright, so it's not so bad. Maybe I was prejudice towards the environment. The crowd here isn't what I'm used to. The things to do and see are different as well.
Yeah, there's all kinds of traffic like how it is in H-town but it's a different kind. Here, there's more drivers hence more traffic. There, it's less drivers but they're the annoying asian bad drivers which if I could, I'd certainly let road rage take over and blast a few shells their way. But I'm not that disgruntle yet so that hasn't been done. Or at least it can't be proven...
But living out by the beach isn't so bad. In fact, I'm really starting to enjoy it. Life here is something I can adapt to.
It has it's obvious pluses. The most obvious being the weather. Although it's been shitty throughout So Cal lately, I know in the coming months when summer takes over and the sun throws up on us, it'll pay to be close to the beach feeling that cool sea breeze.
But I don't think it's necessarily the setting. More a change in mindset. Usually come the weekend I head back to the Heights to go hang out with my family and see my fobby and ghetto friends. They're all out there and I know they're too damn lazy to drive 40 minutes to come see my ass unless there's a big party or I'm on my death bed.
Fob: *cough* ".... Hey... aaaaa.... you guys want to come over?"
Fob's friend: "Like now? Is there chicks there? You throwing a party?"
Fob: *heart stops* "No... But I think I'm dying..."
Fob's friend: "Oh... well maybe. I don't know. I think there's traffic on the 60."
Fob: "...."
So to keep my social life going, I'd head back home to hang out and do things. And now I've realized it's not that there's nothing to do out here and that I've got no one to hang out with. It's more because I wasn't truly accepting of living out here. I didn't really give it a chance. And that way of thinking is changing.
I know this now because come the weekend, I really don't feel like heading back. I'd much rather stay and shoot the shit with my roommates or call up some friends around here and head down to the pier to drink myself under the table.
Who knows... maybe it's temporary. But in either case, I feel like I'm finally getting used to living here.
The Chick Magnet
Usually I don't mind the competition. In fact I tend to admire the physical qualities of an attractive male. But this guy! Standing next to him, I'll be lucky to even get noticed. And so it happens he's become my new roommate.
Watch out bitches! (And you female dogs too) Because Raider is out on the prowl! This cute little bastard automatically draws women to him. So what if his name is Raider and he's playing with a soccer ball? Pele was taken...
So the good and bad news. The good news is the owner, my roommate, has a woman. A very nice woman who helps me with my motherly duties around the house. So he can't use Raider to his full potential when it comes picking up the ladies. A skill I may call upon soon.
Hot girl: "Oh he's so cute!!!"
Fob: "Thanks, he is isn't he? I just shaved him."
Hot girl: "What's his name?"
Fob: "The little general..."
Hot girl: "That's kind of a weird name for the dog."
Fob: "Oh... you meant the dog!"
But the bad news, I'm Filipino. Which means you hand me some barbecue sauce and some wet naps and I got myself a tasty treat with this little guy. I know, I know. You're not suppose to eat dogs here in this country. But come on! Look at him. He probably taste like veal...
A Taste of Freedom
I guess that's how it goes. You get old. You work a lot. You hang out with the family. Go to dinners with your friends. Play cards with the boys. And every now and then... When the stars are aligned and the Gods are being kind to you, you get to go out and party like you used to.
Well sort of. I mean come on, I'm in my late 20's now. I'm not saying stuff doesn't work anymore. It just doesn't work as good as it used to. And I'm not talking about the piping down there. That works fine. Do I use it as much as I'd like to? Probably not unless you count the times I nut on my roommates pillow for being loud and obnoxious all night long.
But I'm referring to the overall ability of my body to function properly. Drinking or being up late takes a toll on my ability to think straight. Or think at all the next day.
Fob: *still drunk* "Hey Moms! Happy birthday you hot son of a bitch!"
Fob's mom: "You mean Happy Mother's day right?"
Fob: "Yeah that too! Look, I'm really thirsty. Can you get me another beer?"
Fob's mom: "Are you drunk?"
Fob: "No, are you?!?!"
Fob's mom: "No!"
Fob: "Well then..."
Regardless of the following stupidity the next day, this past weekend was surprisingly fun. I was able to go out and party it up like I used to. Drinking, dancing, and not having to worry about my finances or other 'grown-up' type problems. It was a nice getaway.
Will I do it again in the near future? Well the best I can say is hopefully not. My body can't handle it anymore on a consistent basis. But I know the next time an opportunity comes up, partying will be just like how I treat my women. No means yes...
Prison huh? We'll see about that...
So long mid 20's
Ah... the good ol' days. Having money to drink myself stupid all night long and wake up just fine for work the next day. And... well... the only other thing I can think of being in my mid 20's that's good is getting a break on a rental car. But yeah, the drunk one is nice.
Anyway, as of the past week I am now officially in my late 20's. Supposedly, my goals are suppose to change from here on. The former need of drinking myself into oblivion and waking up next to a she-beast are suppose to be replaced with making money to support my gold digging wife who's cheating on me with my neighbor's gardener. Damn cheatin' ho!!! I knew something was up when she said we needed to get our bushes whacked!
So that's my life. Career and family. And I won't lie about it. At this moment, the only thing that really matters is making a decent amount to support myself and possible a family of my own in the future. Who knows, maybe my first wife won't be such a bitch and leave me with nothing to give my second.
Fob: "Don't take the dog! You don't even like dogs!"
Mrs. Fob: "What are you talking about? He'll make an excellent taxidermy in front of our... I mean my couch."
Fob: "You bitch!!! Well... um... you were never good in bed!!!"
Mrs. Fob: "That's because I was better in other beds..."
Fob: "Son of a..." *wipes feet on couch* "Man, fuck yo couch!!!"
