my new best friend
so i breed thicker skin and let my lustrous coat fill in and i'll never admit that i loved you...

one more day


tomorrow, rhode island goes smoke free.

so today my mission, and my assignment for those who come into the bar, is to smoke myself into a coma by the end of my shift.

then i will probably be on a slow road to quitting. or at least to becoming an occasional smoker as opposed to a SMOKER smoker. it's too fucking cold here to deal with stepping outside all the time.

happy one-more-day-left monday!


i don't know much of greg's story. most of our conversations revolve around what a good kid he thinks i am and how stoked he is that we're both left-handed.

greg's an older guy, maybe early 50s. he's friendly but quiet, and never drinks too heavily. he tips well, and never complains if the bartender runs his keno ticket late.

last week at the bar was an exceptionally slooooowww one. monday and tuesday didn't surprise me, but usually my wednesday and thursday make up for it. because of an impending snowstorm, those two days were pretty dry, too.

then on wednesday, greg hit it big with keno. he hit for $410, which, for low-level bar gambling, is a pretty big fucking deal. it was near the end of my shift, so i didn't mind raping both the keno drawer and my register in order to get the money right into his hands without having to call the bosses to get me some cash out of the safe.

traditionally, a big keno winner should feel obligated to leave a hearty tip from his winnings for the bartender, and buy a round for the bar.

greg bought a round for the bar, then slipped me a cool hundred. a hundred! then wouldn't let me return the favor by paying for his whopping $4.50 tab at the end of his visit.

"it's only money, kiddo," he says. "it comes and it goes, and you probably have more use for it than i do."

i like greg.



tommy is a semi-regular at the bar. i see him four or five times a month. he just got a new job and commutes to the cape daily. that's a longass commute.

he was one of my two earlybirds when i opened the bar at 6am on thanksgiving. the three of us got to talking about responsibility and money versus happiness, and where we all stood on the scale of BEING A GROWNUP.

his girlfriend drinks double stoli raspberry with soda water and cranberry juice. and a lime. she drinks them fast and she drinks them a lot.

tommy drinks either coors light in a bottle or miller lite in a bottle, depending on his mood and who he's with. with approximately every other beer he orders a shot of jameson.

one night he and his girlfriend were throwing them back a little bit faster than normal, and after a hushed argument in the corner, he left without saying goodbye to anyone. she and her cousin moved up to the bar, and she and i got to talking.

she started up a debate about how useless marriage is. that it's an antiquated idea, that if you're committed to someone that should be enough and who needs a stupid piece of paper and all the legalities that go along with it. she felt that since she and tommy own a house, and both make decent wages, that marriage is "stupid". she also went on to say that everyone else should feel the same way she does, and that she NEVER wanted to get married.

my only goal in this debate was to get her to see that while the notion of marriage may seem ridiculous to her, she shouldn't judge others who really view it as the next step in a loving relationship.

last week, tommy proposed to her. they came to the bar, and for the first time, she invited a bunch of her girlfriends. they oohed and aahed over the ring, and i overheard her loudly announcing where the wedding should be and what the date was and oh my god how will she ever afford the dream dress that she wants.

funny how an expensive rock changes things.

i do believe tommy's gonna have a rough time with this one.



the love gods are laughing at me right now.

in the last week, i've had the horribly boring date which led to two or three straight days of said boring guy blowing up my phone, mr. boston sent me a happy valentine's day text message, vegas guy has popped up from the ether and is teasing me via rapid-response email, southern boy seems to be out of sorts if we don't talk for two days, fucked up nutjob florida man wants to "talk", and spring fever is definitely in full bloom because the guys at the bar are all horned up and extra over-the-top flirty (and by flirty i mean single entendres).

all of this and i am STILL NOT GETTING LAID.

i've also been too mentally exhausted to keep up correspondence with people i actually care about, so i'm probably on my best friends' shitlists as well.

i may have misspelled "entendre".

happy v-day


valentine's day.


i handed out grade-school style valentines at the bar today. the reaction was one of two: either the recipient laughed and said, "so how many of these have you given out today?" or they got a bit misty-eyed and told me under their breath before they left how it was the only valentine they got that day.

i identify with both reactions. except that i didn't get any valentines.

but that's okay. shit, i hate christmas for all the pressure and that's at least a REAL holiday.

i went on a date yesterday. nicest guy in the world (and not even in that "too nice" way), but he's not for me.

problem is that he's pretty interested in me.

J thinks this means i should at least go on one more date.

i think this means that i should cut out before anyone gets led on.

anyway, happy V-day. give your special someone an extra kiss for me. only kiss i'm getting tonight is from one of the cats.



girls' night out with one of the roomies tonight. going to a place called olives, which i can only assume probably serves a LOT of martinis. which is good, because i've been hanging out in too many places lately that beg me to have a beer in my hand. it's time to peoplewatch in a new locale. if you're in the area, stop by. if there's a cheap drink special, i'll buy you one. fun!

happy friday!



it's been about a month now, but still even as i write this all i can think about is you. what are you doing and are you happy and is she okay and are you thinking about me.

because i am thinking about you. i'm getting over you, yes. i'm moving on with things, yes. i'm not dejected and miserable. but oh am i worried. and oh how i hope you're okay. it is a daily struggle to keep myself from contacting you.

it was never right between us. not once. we are not to each other what the other needs. but the connection was strong and the chemistry was stronger and goddamn the way you look at me!

i would do it all again. in a heartbeat.

i don't want to see you again, but part of me needs it. needs to watch you pop into my life again, like the way you've done before.

but please don't. without you most of my fire is gone and i can't stand the idea of tasting it again but not being able to keep it. it will come back to me eventually, no doubt. but for now it rests with you and i've grown used to its absence.

i just really fucking miss you. it feels like maybe you belong with me, that we belong with each other... but i can be a fool sometimes. this is out of my hands and i'd be better off to keep that in mind while i force myself to forget you.

and again i work on wiping the slate clean. to what end is all this bullshit? to what end are all these experiences?

*sigh* be well, my love. i'm working on finding my happiness and i truly hope you're on the road to yours.

crying jag


i keep crying lately. just now, grams was finally telling her family that she has breast cancer and i started outright bawling. last night on my way home from watching the superbowl, i started tearing up as i was singing along to a song. and through the wall, i can hear on dawson's creek that all those kids are rallying together to help dawson with his new movie and this whole notion of found family and creativity has made my nose run with tears.

it's ridiculous. maybe i'm ovulating.

this weekend i went to myrtle beach to investigate things further with southern boy. turns out there's nothing there. so i'm glad i went before we both built each other up in our respective heads and ran up crazy phone bills for weeks and weeks only to arrive at the same conclusion.

myrtle beach is really far away by car.

the bartender's ball is coming up. i'm excited about it, except that it will require formal wear. i clean up pretty well, but damn do i hate doing it. and i don't have a date. wanna go?

happy monday! yay pats!



i think i'm going to start telling little stories about some of my regular customers. i'm starting a list here to remind me next time i post:

chris d
steve s
dan (g.i. jerkoff)
mike g
steve g
greg (firefighter)
john (tappy)
bathtub billy
mike b
dave (newman)
mark (ups)

i guess that's a start. i can't think of anyone else's name. someone told me once that you'll remember everyone's name when you're behind the bar, but run into one of your customers in the real world and they become what they drink. it's true. just this morning i drove by one of my semi-regulars, and all i could think was, "hey, there goes absolut mandarin and seven."

i also didn't realize how like family some of these guys are becoming until johnny went on an extended vacation. he came back in the bar after over two weeks, and i threw myself into a sprint and climbed on him like a tree. he kissed me on the cheek and said he liked my new haircut.