You’re Not Thinking

You ever lay in bed looking at your phone and you’re touching your phones screen with your thumb moving it up, as you are scrolling though your news feed you see a picture that either says, “Like this if you would like to party here,” or a picture of a large and/or unique house that says, “Like this if you would like to live here.” Well I’m going to give you a perspective that most of you honestly don’t think about.

You liking one of these pictures does not mean that you hate me, I don’t think that my friends who share this type of photo hate me. I know the majority of my Facebook friends. I’m not one of those types that has 900 friends on Facebook, but only knows 10% of them.

The large majority of my Facebook friends live in Washington State, and at one point in my life I was at a party with them, they were in my car, I lived with them, worked with them; you know those type of people who you actually know.

Then you got my extended family, and fuck…there’s a lot of them. The majority of them are either removed from my news feed and/or restricted unless I publicly post/share something. I don’t want them to see what type of shit I post. I’m known to do stupid shit, stuff that my friends might think is funny…but I don’t need them to know that their cousin, brother, grandson, or nephew can be that dumb.

And the mass majority of my extended family live in Nebraska where you must be a republican who believes in God, some who are more extreme than others. And let’s be honest; I’m an Atheist who believes that people are people and deserve the same rights as every other human being…oh, there is also the idea that I think drugs should be legal, some harder to get then others, but still legal and treated as a medical issue, not a criminal issue that rarely solves the problem.

Mainly they are blocked from my news feed because I don’t know when to shut up. I don’t want to fight with 3 of them who think that Donald Trump is the second coming of Jesus or some shit.

Anyhow…I’ll admit, these houses are cool as hell; I’d love to live there. That location is awesome too, having a party there would be awesome. But guess what? I can’t do either of those things.

You don’t think about a wheelchair, and I don’t blame you; that’s like me thinking about how difficult it is to run in two feet of water, it’s not something I do.

And yes, I know, I’m aware that these type of pictures are fantasies and the likelihood of either happening is very small. I would like to do that type of shit too, but for me that would be more work then it’s worth just to be like, “Hey, look where I live.”

I understand this is not your intention, but when I see my friends share one of these type of pictures I cant help but think…

“Okay, so you’re telling me that if you ever get the opportunity to do something cool you’re not going to take me. Why…because I’m too much of a hassle?  You must not care about me as much as you say you do, because to me you just seem like someone that only cares about yourself and how much fun you’re having, you know…I’d like to do it too, but you might not have as much fun because you have to worry about rather I can get from point A to point B, and when I need to move I might need your help to do so.”

Yes, I know I’m taking it too far right? None of these picture indicate to me that any part of these picturesque situations are handicapped accessible. So yea, I know that you probably won’t ever be in the situation, I get that.

Just think about how those of us in wheelchairs might see it. The situation might be different, but you’re more or less telling us in a-round-about way that if you get the opportunity to do something cool,  I’m going to be the last person you think of.

You just want to have fun right?

I Don’t Know You!

I mentioned this in a previous post, a few of them actually. I take Madden way too far, like why do I do this to myself, it’s just a goddamn video game right? So let me paint a picture for you.

Did you ever have that type of day where you wake up in the morning and you feel rather okay about the day, you don’t have any depression but at the same time you feel as if you’re not super excited about the unknown events of the day. You just put your clothes on, tie your shoes, lock the front door, get into your car and think to yourself, “Well, here it goes…just another day of doing the same goddamn thing that I did yesterday.”

But when you’re on your way to work the car in front of you blows up in a fiery explosion that has no sort of explanation as to why. It just happened, right in front of you on a day that seemed fairly normal. You spend the rest of your drive to work thinking, “That was so fucking odd, but it could have been worse, if only I was one-hundred feet ahead of my current location.”

Later that day you’re enjoying the day thinking to yourself that everything is okay because you’re still alive when your boss taps you on the shoulder and says, “Can you come into my office so we can talk?” You end up following him in to his office just to be told, “You’re a shitty employee and we’re going to fire you for no fucking reason, and we not going to pay you either.”

While unrealistic and highly illegal it, just imagine it; how would you feel?

On your way home, you’re sad, you’re depressed, you just don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do; you’re just about to give up and say, “Fuck it, I don’t care anymore.” You’re about to just give up when you get this odd feeling that you want to live this day over and over like you’re Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, you have an odd feeling that you can change the events of the day and just as you feel slightly better about your situation a vehicle traveling fifty miles per hour heading towards you enters your lane and heads your direction.

Just as you miss this vehicle by mere inches you look out your drivers side window to notice two things happening…you’re not only falling in a ditch but your tire is also rolling away from you as you think to yourself, “I can’t do anything right; what the fuck did I do do deserve this?”

And then you wake up in the morning to notice that your repeating the events of yesterday but you do have the ability to change the events of the day as you think to yourself, “Okay, today is going to be different.”

Okay, you ever have that moment where you feel like shit and everything you seem to do goes against you, but at the same time you keep repeating that event based on the fact that it can be different and when it’s going your way you feel like nothing can touch you, you feel like Superman as someone laughs at him and says, “I bet you can’t jump two feet in the air.”

Put that feeling into a video game, that might not make sense to a lot of people; but it happens, it happens to me.

One night Shannon came home and I was sitting here with my head rested in my hand that was propped up with the use of my leg. I was staring at the ground while Madden 17 was playing in front of me as the opposing them just passed it for fifty-seven yards and ran it in for a touchdown when they decided to go for it on 4th&32.

She could tell I was upset, angry, sad, reclusive, and all those other emotions that go along with anger. She asked, “Why the fuck do you play this game if it makes you feel like this?”

“Because I enjoy it more then half of the time.”

“Well when you’re all fucking pissy about a goddamn video game, you’re not the only one that is effected, just think about that.”

It’s like my dad fixing a car. My dad grew up poor and worked at a junkyard. His stories might be a little untrue, but from other accounts I know what is true, but I do not know what is false. At one point he had a 1969 Dodge Charger, other then being the most classic car ever, at that time it was green with a yellow top and the paint was highly faded. It’s not like he was taking it to car shows, at that time it was just a cool ass car that he put together from other parts that he found laying around in the junk yard. If I remember correctly the Charger went through seven different engines, fourteen different transmissions, and about forty different sets of tires.

By the time my dad went into the Marines and his cousin, who he doesn’t talk to anymore, sold his car for drug money. His Charger had a huge blower popping out of the hood that help the engine in the production of seven hundred horsepower.

Point is…I remember being a kid and hanging out in the garage with my dad as he worked on his 1984 Pontiac Firebird while holding his tongue and throwing shit at the walls. Twenty some years later I could be hanging out with my dad while he is working on the boat he has been building/manufacturing for the past five years as he sits there and say. “You motherfucking piece of fucking shit, go into the fucking hole, you’re not supposed to not work.”

He can love something at yell too.

So today, I start playing Madden…again. At that time I had a record of one hundred twenty-three wins and eighty loses. So I go into the game feeling pretty good thinking, “I win sixty point five percent of the time.”

It didn’t take me long to realize what type of player that I was playing. Before I go any further I’ll tell you a metaphor that I came up with one night.

I’m not the best player ever, there are many others who are actually better then me, but playing me on madden 17 is like trying to play someone who wants to play checkers on a chessboard. I might not understand the best formations, what they might do, what someone else’s formation might mean, so on and so forth. But when you’re playing checkers against an idiot who picks up his chips and slams them back down in random locations, you just end up shaking your head saying, “This is not how you play this game,” and you just sit there and watch yourself win with minimal effort as they keep doing shit that they think is the smartest idea they ever had.

I was playing this guy who…like all others low ranking players, rush their offense, always go for it on forth down regardless of the distance or the location on the field, pass it for more than thirty yards. He was just lucky as fuck. He was pissing me off too.

I was playing some dude who didn’t seem to know what strategy was, that must have been a foreign concept to him. He kept slamming his chips back down in random locations, it just happened to be the right location every time.

And people who rush their offense bother the fuck out of me, and I’ll tell you why. You only have three timeouts per half, I can’t afford to use timeouts just so I can pick a new play. Of course I can choose an audible, but there are only six of them and he might know all of them and can figure out what to do based on where your players go based on the change of formation.

Eventually I quit, normally when I play this type of player I can own him up and down the field. But he kept doing dumb shit and was lucky every time, and I was limited on what play I was going to run next.

I just didn’t care to play him anymore. so I ran into the back field and gave myself a flag on the play just so I could pause it and quit…yea, sure, he got a win but whatever, I just didn’t want to play him.

I don’t mind losing against someone who actually…knows how the fuck to play without being a lucky asshole.

A few minutes later I get a message from him that says, “Wtf bro, you that bad?”

I don’t know why I let trolls brother me either, I don’t know him, why the fuck should I care?

I reply, “What’s your record?” thinking, “There is no way in hell he has more than forty-three wins over his loses.”

Sometimes when a game is ended by either you, or them, your game does not update and you can not see their record, so I didn’t know what his record was…just based on his play style I can make a pretty safe assumption.

And he kept sending me messages where he was not only calling me a idiot loser who should sell his game but he was probably lying to me just to make himself feel justified for being an asshole.

I didn’t send him anything else but ended up blocking him as I was thinking, “Do you have anything better to do with your time, shouldn’t you be in school?”

I just had to bitch to someone, take it or leave it. I don’t even know how to finish this post that just sounds like a dude bitching about a video game.

There is No Picture

You know what? This is more or less a post where I can talk out loud. So here it goes…

So I grew up in Nebraska and many years before we moved to Washington State my sister and I would go to one of my aunt’s house. My Aunt Cathy who laid in bed all fucking day, and I do mean all day! She would sometimes eat dinner in there too.

At that time she was married to some guy named Pat. I don’t remember much about him but I do remember that he was a tall white dude with a full beard that was a grayish black. Many yeas later I came to find out that he was also an alcoholic.

For the most part when my sister and I went over there for unsupervised daycare I was usually stuck playing Lego’s and watching the old version of Scooby Doo. This pretty much went on until my dad’s sister’s kid’s would come home from school.

My dad has/had 2 brothers and 5 sisters. His sister Joyce has a son named John, John was always at Cathy’s house, so much so that I thought John was one of Cathy’s kids. When school got out I would expect Matt and John to come home, while they were both related they were not brothers. She also had two other sons and one daughter, they were older and must of lived elsewhere because I didn’t see them a lot.

Matt, John, and Jason were pretty much the ones who watched me while their mom/aunt stayed in bed all day.

Without going into more then I plan on, one of her kids is named Ed. And Many years later after being in another state for 15 years as well as forming my own opinions I came to the conclusion that some family members can be so stupid and judgmental that you grow to a point were you don’t want to be around them, and when you’re at the family BBQ at the cabin with 30 other family member’s…you see each other, but no one wants to talk to the other.

When we moved out to Washington State my sister was looking to fit in among her peers and that being so she turned to marijuana. I was still the kid who thought that marijuana would open the gates of hell.

Fast forward to the end of high school, like a year after I graduated (2003); I became a stoner who was slowly turning into an liberal atheist and she turned into the religious republican that still has some amount of Washington State progressiveness to her. For those of you who know Washington State, she now lives up where the Sandpeople do, Spokane. And we used to live 50 miles south of Seattle. Vast change in climate as well as religious and political outlook.

As religious as my sister is, and as religious as I’m not; we don’t seem to fight about it. She still has that idea that, someone can be who they are regardless, as long as you don’t try to force your lifestyle upon me…

My cousin Ed on the other hand, he turned into the stereotype of why I hate Nebraska. He is super religious and acts as if he hates everyone who doesn’t see things his way.

A few nights ago I’m laying in bed staring at my phone, looking at Facebook. As republican as she is, she shared a video that most democrats share. It was about ‘The Wall’ that fucking our dumdass of a fucktard president thinks is a great idea. The video went into several aspects of why a wall between borders would be a waste of money just for a sense of security that is more of less a feeling of false security.

I was shocked, happy, and curious that my sister shared this video so what do I do? I go deeper into that post to read the comments. Right away I see something that I don’t want to see but feel gravitated to look at.

There my cousin is saying, “Let’s protect our country first then reform our schools by putting God back where he belongs! Without a safe country, what good are schools?” The next comment is from my sister who has spent time in Mexico and as part of a church group built houses for those who could not afford to do so on their own accord. She said something that also caught me by surprise, “A wall is not the anwser.”

And me being me I focused on God, so I stick my head into a converstaion that I should not be part of and said, “Oh my… him…okay…” and in a sarcastic understanding behind it I continue with, “Because forcing religion upon an entire country of people is a great idea. Fascism never sounded so good.”

I more or less stayed out of the conversation that came afterwards, mainly because I left the comment at four in the morning and I was sleeping. More or less the conversation was: My cousin telling me that I was mad at God, my sister calling him out because he is an asshole even though he may not see it, my sister telling my cousin that she agreed with me, she loves illegal immigrants who work hard to get here, even thought they shouldn’t be, she loves both of us and doesn’t want family to fight, and then she called me out for stirring the pot and being just as bad but on the other end of the seesaw.

So what to I do? Comment with, “I‘m just saying that if you’re okay with the Bible being in school, you must be okay with the Quran, or the teachings of evolution…if you’re not, that my friend is not what religious freedom is. If you think it is you need to get a plane ticket to the Washington D.C. and go to the Capitol building, report back to me what the first amendment is.”

I don’t know if there is any point to this post. I just, every time I look at Facebook I just get really sad and makes me wonder, “When will these people wake the fuck up and say to themselves…who the fuck did I vote for?”

Even republicans can’t be this dumb. Like…what the fuck dude, you guys voted for someone who acts like a kid when someone on a TV show makes fun of him, and you thought that would have been an okay thing to do?

Let’s not mention the few things he did in the last few days that can or will have bad outcomes.

 

 

I Wish

It was 11:57 at night after looking back up at my TV/computer monitor that was sitting on the post game screen of Madden 17.

Last night I was having an excellent time playing Madden 17 and I’m currently on a nine game winning streak, and that’s only because some dude playing as the New England Patriots thought that going for it on 4th down was the smartest idea he ever had.

I can’t act like this kid wasn’t lucky, he was, he just kept doing stupid shit. He was so lucky that he was winning by two points, not two possessions, two points in the fourth quarter. when there was thirty seconds left in the forth quarter and he could of won by doing nothing…he had the smartest idea ever.

He passed the ball to one of my players who intercepted it in field goal range…and me being the type that doesn’t do stupid shit, I slowly made it 1, 2 ,6, or 7 yards up the field, I wasn’t trying to get a touchdown.

With four seconds left on the clock I win the game 19 to 18.

So the fact that I have 97 wins and 64 loses is because no one seems to understand that they take risks that make me shake my head at the TV and say, “Are you fucking stupid?”

Maybe I take the game too seriously, it’s just a video game right? I’ve been thinking about that. When it’s a close game my heart beats super fast, I have not felt that since I was a kid in elementary school who used to be able to run.

If I’m winning I feel rather good about it, and if I’m losing I’m the type of guy who wants to take his controller outside and pour lighter fluid on it while I watch it burn in the driveway.

So yea, maybe I do take it too far…maybe it just gets my heart going which…for someone in a wheelchair…

Anyhow I get done with a game and I think, “I can fucking go to the store.” My fiance is currently in Oregon seeing her family. So I got the house to myself as I continued that thought with, “No one is stopping me.”

The store by my house used to be open 24 hours, but now they close at midnight. So after looking that up on my phone I said out loud, “But Hyvee is open all fucking night.”

Then I looked up from my phone and saw a bottle of whiskey that I’ve been drinking most of the night and out loud I said, “Nope, I’m not fucking going now.” I then continued the idea in my head thinking: If I get a DUI tonight…that would be the worst thing ever. I can’t really afford car insurance now, I don’t need it to go up by getting SR-22, I can’t afford a lawyer, I don’t want to call my dad and tell his that he has to fund the fact that I fucked up, which he might not do anyhow. I need to go to the airport in X amount of days, what if I don’t have a car. I’m about to move to Oregon, what if I don’t have a car. What if I get a parole officer who says, “You can’t leave the state of Nebraska.”

And if I do end up in court…I don’t want my disability to become a question of rather I can even drive. A lawyer will use anything to win, fuck if it’s irrelevant to the case…they don’t know any better, and when my disability effects everybody differently it’s hard to scientifically predict what might happen just because someone else was effected that way.

So, “Nope, I don’t need trash bags that bad, I can wait until tomorrow.”

Unfortunately one of my best friends in Washington is on 1 year of house arrest with work release and 2 more years of probation due to his second DUI that almost killed him and totaled his SUV when it flipped over and ran into a tree. My other friend, no matter how stupid he might be…is still my friend who thinks that if he goes driving drunk he will never get caught, even thought he already did.

I just remember looking at my half empty bottle of whiskey thinking, “I wish more of my friends thought this way.”

This is My Fuck You

And I hope you hear it.

To quote Peter Griffin may I say, “You know what grinds my gears? You America, fuck you.”

I’ve been pretty depressed the last few weeks and I do a fairly decent job at hiding it, mainly because…it’s my life and I have to get used to it, it’s what I know.

Over the past few months I’ve managed to gain a lot of resentment towards my past employer. They didn’t fire me, I was laid off. And yes, if I step into their shoes, and I could actually trust them…if you’re running out of money, you get rid of non-important assets, unfortunately sometimes that can be a human being that is relying on that job to live in a house.

I can’t just jump to another job like a lot of people seem to do. I don’t think people truly understand how hard it is for those of us with a mental and/or physical disability to find a job.

I can’t run, jump, skip, or walk. And that right there my friends takes about 90% of entry-level jobs and throws them out the 90 story window. And then…when I do get a job interview I’m often negatively stereotyped, even though no one claims to do such a thing.

So this is my place as a white American saying, “Yes, discrimination in America still exists, and don’t try to tell me it doesn’t.”

So, for those of us who have a disability and are “unemployable” we have the government that gives us money to live, sounds good right? Yes, but no. SSDI pays more than SSI and even then a full time job paying minimum wage pays me more than they do. Even then a job gives my life meaning, a lot of you who have jobs are thinking, “Oh man, I would love to sit at home and do nothing.” Do you know how depressing it is to stay home and do nothing? It’s good for a few days and all, but if you don’t have a job and feel as if you’re not needed to contribute to society it’s actually rather depressing.

People tend to fall in love with me, even with this set back I tend to have an amazing personality that most people tend to be attracted to once they see it. I’m amazed that I’m not more depressed than I am.

So I live off of disability…I don’t want to…I want to have a job. Many would say, “Get off your ass and go get a fucking job.” So, give me a fucking job ass fucking hole. I want a goddamn job dude, and then when I go try to get a job…

I sit there staring at the digital job board and as I’m scrolling thought it and as I sit there I honestly think to myself, “Well I can’t do that job.” As 20 jobs are going up the screen I might find one that makes me think, “Yea I might be able to do that job with reasonable accommodation,” then as I’m reading the description for the next job I’m back to, “Well I can’t do that job either.”

Then after applying to 30 jobs I might be lucky enough to get a job interview. But when the hiring manager says my name I can always see them thinking, “Oh fuck, he’s in a wheelchair.” They do there thing, they give me an interview and claim reasonable accommodations but never call me back and then when I do call back I’m stuck with the famous excuses, “Don’t call us, if we wanted to give you a job we would have called you,” or “We don’t think you have enough experience to do this job.” Well you know what motherfucker, it’s hard to get experience when no one gives it to you.

Then you got those employers who are extremely honest and say, “We don’t feel as if you could perform this job.” You don’t fucking know me! You don’t know what I can or can’t do. And reasonable accommodation is a very slippery slope that most people just don’t understand.

If a employer has to spend $50 on a chair, okay fine. But if they feel as if they need to spend $1,800 dollars just for me to do a job that pays me $1,600, that’s a loss of $200. Then when they feel as if they might end up in court based on a work place injury, that might not ever happen….they just don’t want to deal with that.

So I get the short end of the stick…again…and I’m fucking tired of it. Many people, that frankly don’t know always say, “Don’t give up,” But that’s easy to say when you don’t see what I see. And you know what, you can claim that you understand, but unless you too have a disability you don’t fucking get it.

That’s like me telling some black dude, “Yea, I understand what it’s like to be pulled over by a cop based on my skin color.” I don’t, and it’s not right for me to act like I do.

I’m not trying out for the NFL you assholes, I would not apply for a job if I didn’t think I could do it. But when I apply for 300 jobs and only get 7 interviews and they all say no…

I’m fucking tired of it. And I don’t know if this will even make you understand my situation.

Then you got those employers who say, “This guy has two college degrees, if we hire him he will want a lot of money.” Don’t assume motherfucker, you don’t know that I’m moving to Oregon soon. You don’t know that I’m just looking for a part time job that pays me under a certain amount.  If you have a question…fucking ask.

And Donald fucking asshat Trump is not going to make it any easier for those of us with disabilities to find a job.

You don’t want me to live on government assistance, neither do I…they don’t even give me enough to pay rent + utilities, forget about food, car payment, and car insurance. But you won’t give me a goddamn job, so it’s your fault that your paying taxes to give me money that allows me to live in a subsidized house.

And Oregon…public housing there is a goddamn apartment in the middle of the ghetto where I got to worry about being robbed at gunpoint. So I’m expecting a $400 rent increase by the time I get to a state closer to my immediate family, my son, pretty much every friend I have, and my fiance’s family actually lives in Oregon.

So to you employers that assume, and a lot of you do, and yes I understand (Well I don’t) but that is a $1,600+ assumption you’re making. Person B is better than person A. Yes, alright. But person A is fucking tired of you being the 200th person that didn’t even give him a chance. So to you that assume without knowing anything about what I can or can not do…Fuck you, it’s your fault that I’m living on government assistance.

What the Fuck!

You would think people are smart. You hope so right? I mean, people can’t be that stupid, can they? Sadly they are.

I’m not the best at football, hell I’m in a wheelchair and I can’t even physically play football, or you know like…walk. I’m not a coach, I don’t know what formation is better than another, I have a difficult time telling what someone might do based upon their formation. But I’m starting to learn.

And strategy plays a big part too. In the worst case scenario, don’t be fucking stupid.

I just got Madden 17 as a birthday present. I bought Madden 16 about a year prior. And I grew to like it a lot more then I thought I would have when I started playing people online to find out that I could actually fucking play.

Modern Warfare…now that’s a game I can’t play online. I run around like a chicken who can’t find his dick and lost his head. Then I just get sad, depressed, and angry that I’m not as fast as Joe Blow over there. And every time I think I’m about to shoot someone here comes a bullet in my the back of my head.

But football is actually a game that I can play; I lose some, but I actually fucking win too.

I finally understand how you could get so pissed at someone that you don’t even know and end up yelling some stupid shit to yourself like, “Fuck you, you goddamn piece of shit motherfucker, you didn’t have that ball and my player should fucking shoot your kicker because you’re a piece of shit.”

But I don’t really feel that way, so why I do in that “zone” is weird.

My score on Madden 16 was about 180-160 or something like that, the numbers might be different but I do know that I have about 20 more wins than loses. Madden 17 is slightly different as far as game play and the mechanics behind it. So after playing it for awhile I entered the online realm and currently have a record of 4-7, or 5-8.

And here is my conclusion.

For the people who actually know the formations and the plays based on those formations. you can more than likely beat me every time.

The majority of them however, do stupid shit; like no one would ever hire them as a coach. Because we all know that if you can’t pass the ball for shit and every time you run I push you back a yard or ten the smartest thing you can do is pass the ball on 4th and 23 when your on my own 13 yard line.

Like what the fuck man?

Some of them get lucky. They’ll pass it 80 yards and actually catch it. And that is when I yell at my TV.

So…I just got done playing some guy. It was the Seattle Seahawks versus the Seattle Seahawks, of course I try to do a friendly quit, I didn’t want to play the same team. But he rejected my offer, so at this point I had to play him unless I wanted a guaranteed loss.

The game didn’t even go into the second quarter before he quit. He obviously didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. But was he playing that way because everyone does stupid shit that would never happen in the NFL?

He ran the ball to the 17th and passed it on 1st and 10. I blocked it, so naturally 2nd and 10 is up and at this point I figured out that he was going to pass it, in give or take the same direction, so I play Cover 4 and Zone All but he held onto the ball too long in the pocket because all of his receives were covered. So I sack my favorite quarterback 6 yards into the back field.

3rd and 16 is up and he plays the same play, I play the same play, he passes it, but Richard Sherman blocks it.

This is the second time he’s been on 4th and more than 10. I already put 6 points on the scoreboard due to a TD and a missed EP. So once again…same plays, pass, block, and and this point I can just make it 9-0 by kicking a FG on 1st and 10 and my own 27, but before I can do that, he quits.

You would think people who play this game would actually know how to play, or even learn.

So, if I get more wins then loses, which will most likely happen, it’s because they keep doing stupid shit that makes you assume they are 9 years old and the only thing they know about football is watching it with their father.

Whoa Man, Did You See That Man!

Blast

I’m in the mood to tell you a story, a story that once happened to me; it might not be a gripping story, but a story nonetheless.  And it lets me practice using words to describe a story that makes the reader feel like he or she is there. One morning I was bored, so I was re-reading my own blog and I came to two different conclusions: When I’m typing something for awhile I’m bound to make an error in spelling and/or grammar, which sucks. And my stories, some of them are kind of entertaining, I hope; I was there, you weren’t…so your perspective is not the same as mine.

As most of you know by now a video came came out, Fallout 4…I like to play it, and spend a lot of time doing so, So much that I have yet to beat it or even take advantage of the DLC’s. I’ve downloaded Nuka-Cola the day it came out, have I played it yet? No. Why? Because I’m too worried about making sure all my settlements are built up.

I more or less spend too much time doing all the extra shit, not playing the main story line.

Anyhow this game has a system of scraping junk that you can turn into building material. One of the many things that you can scrap is a board game, a board game called Blast Radius. And this is where the idea of this story came from.

This actually happened to me, just because the video game reminded me of it, didn’t mean I’m making it up.

At the time in my life, if you read my other posts you might know some of this already, if you haven’t…Matt Hasselbeck was still a quarterback for the Seattle Seahawks and I lived in a town called Puyallup. My friend Marcus lived with me, he had a girlfriend; the two of them were popular and liked parties, because of this it was not uncommon to walk into my apartment and see twenty people walking around talking to one another even though two people lived there.

Marcus was…I don’t know if you would call him Mexican, because he wasn’t. He was born in America with a mom who has German roots and a father who he never met…from what I was told he was a guy from Mexico.  This gave Marcus that dark skin look as he stood around five feet six inches and was about two hundred pounds. He had six piecing in his face, more often then not those holes were taken up by alternative looking jewelry. Something that you could buy at Hot Topic, seven to eight years ago before the store became all “preppy hippsterish”

Two in each ear, the one in back being a larger gage then the one in the front. One in his tongue and one in that spot above your chin but under you mouth, he often liked to wear a curved piece of sliver jewelry in that piecing. Something that came out of his face and came to a point as it made a U shape as it ended under his chin.

He would often rock a mohawk too…which was not that often in all reality, but when he did his hair was dyed some unnatural color, such as blue and the mohawk was held up a foot over his hear with Elmer’s glue as it was separated into several spikes that were all perpendicular from the top of his head.

His girlfriend on the other hand, his girlfriend at the time was pretty cute. She was bigger then most girls that Marcus went after in the past. Which shocked me. She was not fat by any means, at least not according to most people. One day we were having a conversation and I said, “You got to love them, who cares if they look like they were in Playboy; you’re not trying to make other men look at her and be jealous of you, you’re trying to be happy.” Marcus somehow got into the idea that a chick standing at five foot three and weighting 150 pounds was fat. “Who cares if she has a stomach, all girls do; you shouldn’t be asking yourself if he thinks she is hot, you should be asking yourself if she makes you happy.”

She was about five foot two and came in at about one hundred and forty pounds with blond hair and blue eyes, which I found super attractive until she started trying to change the rules in my house and…Marcus was “pussy-whipped,” so anything she said was how it was. I just moved out shorty after.

My best friend Eric still lived in the same house around the block from my parents, but I was now in an apartment with a roommate. He hung out at our house a lot of the time.

Eric was your typical white boy with a drinking problem. Eric stood around five foot eight and at the time weighted about one hundred and thirty pounds. There was nothing too special about him, just picture a white dude with brown hair and blue eyes.

My other friend, from pretty much the entire time that I lived in Washington, was this guy named Dmitry. Dmitry worked out a lot and was the typical strong dude that all the women wanted to sleep with, and according to what I’ve heard from a few women he is not that tiny either. Dmitry moved to America from Lithuania, USSR at the time, in the early 90’s. His first English word(s) were, “Shut up,” which I find funny when he told me he started school and the teacher would be telling him to do something and all he did was say, “Shut up.” 

He even thought me how to say, “Bitch ass,” in Russian, which was great when you’re a kid in ninth grade.

Dmitry is about five foot eleven and one hundred eighty pounds with enough arm muscles that you would assume he can pull a car with a rope. He has blue eyes and blond hair, but now a days shaves it all off making him bald. Every now and then rocking a goatee, which is weird because it comes out red. He is also that one friend, that one friend that smokes pot every two hours on the hour.

Which I feel bad for…the second time I smoked pot was his first time smoking pot, which is another different story if I remember to write it. A year later you came to find out that he would smoke the same about of pot in 30 days ad it took me to smoke is 365 days.

My apartment manager, Marilyn, lived right next to me, she had a grand-son named Ryan who also hung out at out apartment more often then not. Ryan was the youngest of us, he was super skinny at one hundred and fifteen pounds with long brown hair, down to his shoulders. He loved rock music for the eighties and at the same time loved music that was in the same genre as Slipknot, Mudvayne, or Trivum.

He often looked like he was in a mid 90’s grunge music video. Which to be honest didn’t fall too far out of reality when you stop and think that Seattle was just a 50 mile drive north of us.

It was a rainy night, like most nights in Western Washington. I had the downstairs apartment. There were four apartments per building, and these apartment were built in the early sixties so the kitchen was practically the same size as the family room. If you went into the family room you would get to the back door. This door went out onto a massive patio that was more or less blocked off from anything.

The patio was a good twelve feet long and thirty feet wide, this is where we had a pool table and a ton of plastic chairs for all the smokers, which was 90% of most parties we had. When you went outside at looked straight you saw a hill, you were on the bottom of that hill, so that was blockage. There was also a wooden fence separating my backyard from Marilyn’s backyard, the fence went from the apartment to the hill, witch was only about twenty-five feet. Opposite of that, on the other side of the lawn was another wooden fence, this one only went from the side of the apartment to the end of the patio before getting to another hill that dropped about five feet into the parking lot.

Because of the fact that I was one the first floor the balcony of the apart above me, that was the same size, covered my entire patio. So even if it was raining, we were not it in.

That night we had about seven people in the family room smoking pot or drinking beer, seven people outside playing pool, smoking cigarettes, and drinking beer. Emily on the computer being a YouTube/music DJ. Ryan, Dmitry, Eric, and I were sitting on the kitchen floor drinking beer and passing around a glass bong because Eric got the ingenious idea to play quarters.

Dmitry is one of my only friends that like Heineken, I’ll drink it and all; but like most of my friends I stuck with PBR, Rainier, MGD, Budwiser, Blue Moon, or even Icehouse.

We’re sitting there bouncing quarters against the kitchen floor trying to get it to land in the glass cup of beer. Rap music is being played, rap music from the early 2000’s, every now and then being switched to heavy metal upon Ryan’s request or country upon Eric’s request, but no one at the party was happy when country came on. Every now and then Donavin would run inside to play some Flogging Molly.

I was exhaling pot smoke, Eric was drinking his beer, and Ryan was talking about ghosts as Dmitry stood up to go get another beer. As he stood up he and took a short walk to the refrigerator he also bent down to grab his empty beer bottle that he sat on the edge of the counter.

After grabbing a new beer Marcus pops in to yell, “Hey Dema grab me a beer.” As he swung around with a beer in each hand he also hits the empty beer bottle with his arm which sends it flying towards the middle of the kitchen, where no one was sitting.

Because of the material that was tiled on the bottom of my kitchen floor there was almost no traction if you were to slide a glass bottle from side to side.

At this point in the night I was feeling pretty good, and say weird shit; it gets my point across, but…it still sounds weird because I either start talking and forget what I’m talking about as I turn it into a short story about Rainbows being different colors or I can’t find the word I’m looking for so I substitute it with something else.

I’m was now blowing smoke out as I’m watching this empty beer bottle fly thought the air in slow motion as the music being played is going at regular speed.

The bottle speeds up and crashes into the ground and upon impact shards of green glass slide each way and some of them even slide out direction. To someone else it just looked like a glass breaking and sliding all over the floor.

I’m sitting there as all my friends stand up and look like a major catastrophic event just took place and they all look at me, still sitting on the floor looking at the wall like I just made some type of profound scientific discovery. As I say “Woah man, did you see that fucking blast radius.”

And of course they laughed at me before Eric sad, “I love you man.”