Lunchtime walk on our last, nice Autumn day.
Lunchtime walk on our last, nice Autumn day.
A bevy of beefies!
Do you ever run across people in your life that just seem to attract Drama all the time? I’m talking capital D drama. There’s always some issue or their world is crashing down, etc. You know the kind.
Well the “new gay” at work is one such drama magnet. For the sake of this blog we’ll call him… Blake.
First off, I don’t know if I ever blogged that yes, Blake is for sure gay. When he was first hired I wasn’t sure but I was hopeful. I didn’t want to be the only gay at work. So it was cool when we discovered that we each had a propensity for cock.
But then I rapidly started coming across “red flags”.
It started when we met at the Eagle for a “get to know the other gay at work” drink.
The first red flag was that Blake couldn’t drink “for another hour”. Because he had to submit a clean breathalyzer result to his parole officer before drinking.
Because that was part of the probation for his DUI.
And yet here he is, meeting me at a bar. And he has his “when to drink” timing planned out.
And then Blake shared that he’s been in “treatment” before. I think it was for meth, but he didn’t say. It was alluded to thst it wasn’t for alcohol tho.
Which is where he met a 23yo that he’s in love with- although this kid is still currently in treatment. For meth.
Oh, and did I mention that Blake has a husband? That he cheats on but they don’t talk about that because he’s pretty sure his husband also cheats on all his business trips so it’s ok.
And then there was the time that Blake texted me to see if maybe he could crash at my place because his husband had kicked him out after yet another fight. This one because Blake went home with a bartender after they fought at the bar.
And now they’re talking divorce. Maybe.
(PS— I told him he should either go home or get a hotel).
And a lot of the issues also revolve around money— because Blake has the tendency to spend it like water.
The coup de grace for me was last night when he texted me that he might not have a job anymore because he was sick of all the straight salespeople always talking about their wives and boobs and pussy and such. And he couldn’t work in this “all male hetero” environment and he emailed all this to his boss and the HR manager.
Okay. I get it. Nobody should have to put up with a harassing work environment. But I’m not really sure how “harassing” it was. But he did interview and we have an unapologetically all white, straight male management and sales environment.
Which sucks but….
I can’t help but think he could have approached things differently, either by talking to his boss or to HR directly. But no.
He chose the dramatic route.
This is all so frustrating. I really wanted another gay at work, but this one isn’t working out. And even if he does stay, I plan on distancing myself from him.
Drama and I are like gasoline and a match: meaning I want to douse you with the gasoline and light you on fire.
Because Jesus. Just make good goddamn choices.
*Not actual fun
I was down visiting my parents again this weekend. Last weekend was mom’s sister’s funeral. This weekend was checking in on them because of health concerns.
Last weekend my mom’s friends cornered me and expressed concerns about her. She seemed slower. Weaker. She has a bit of a hand tremor now. They were concerned that maybe she’s had a stroke.
So I needed to discuss that with mom.
She doesn’t think she’s had a stroke— and her speech is fine and she seems mentally ok. But still, something is off. It may be from her surgeries. It may be depression because her ankle is causing her pain all the time. We don’t know.
She’s been to the doctor and she’s seeing a physical therapist a few times a week to help build strength. I spoke to her about nutrition. And we also talked about when we need to get her ankle fused— which will probably mean an extended nursing facility stay.
It’s a lot to process.
And then there’s my dad.
While the chemo is working like a charm, he now has a heart issue. A potential blockage or some such. He goes in for a procedure on Wednesday. I’m really hoping it’s something solvable by angioplasty or a stent or something.
And while down visiting him, I learned that he and his girlfriend broke up a few weeks ago. Evidently she got tired of his bad attitude and they got into a big fight. She called him out and said, “You have every right to be sick, but you don’t have the right to be shitty to people around you.”
I totally get where she’s coming from. My dad is a pessimist and gets incredibly stressed about EVERYTHING. Even small things. He just blows them into dramatic events and he lashed out.
And now I don’t have someone watching over my dad, and he’s getting more depressed and lonely. (He doesn’t deal well with being solitary).
So there’s that.
I guess I’ll know more after Wednesday. And in the meantime I’m going to be working on things like how to move my mother’s laundry upstairs for convenience.
As I was watching the game last night, this happened:
As the nights get colder, I need a snuggle buddy to keep me warm
If only it were this easy.
On Sunday evening I was relaxing and watching the Chiefs play the Texans (oh, stop gasping— I watch pro football. Because woof!) and I discovered I have a new heartthrob.
6’5”. 260 lbs. Tight end. And an absolute dreamboat.
I actually used my DVR to pause the game so I could take pictures of him.
Just… oh my damn. So hot. So…
I’m now a Kansas City Chiefs fan.
My aunt Ann passed away last week and her funeral was this past Saturday.
As a rule I hate funerals— mostly because m not a big church person and I see these as a religious ceremony with little value. I mean, yes, I get it. Funerals are for the living.
But they’re all basically formulaic and maudlin affairs.
And i also tend to get upset by the mix of sadness and normalcy. The juxtaposition of the raw emotion and the mundane activities of “life going on” creates an almost unbearable friction.
I attended to support my mother and the other family members for whom this loss was much more impactful. I smiled and hugged and held hands and shared memories as I was able. It was exhausting.
In the end, I felt most sorry for my Uncle. He and Ann were farmers and still live on the farm (even though they stopped working the land long ago). Still they raised chickens together and sold the eggs at the local farmers market. And their farm was the place where people stopped for Ann’s cookies, a cup of coffee, and chit chat.
Now it’s just him, alone out there in that house, miles from the nearest small town. I wonder how he’ll do; I really hope he’ll be ok.