A Man and His Cat - Round 2

If you have tracked my blog at all, you may remember a story I had about a fellow from work who became a little emotional when reflecting on his recently-decease-castrated feline. Today, this man became far more strange to me. If you haven't read that story, it's probably a good prerequisite for reading on. Here is that story if you're bored: A Man and His cat

Around lunch time this afternoon, he payed his usual visit to me.

Over the last two or three months, he's been asking me to visit a local-weekend farmer's market that he sets up at where he sells his "famous" rib rubs. I put famous in the quotations because that is a direct quote from him. He doesn't chuckle (actually, he cackles when he does laugh) or anything afterwards, he's very persistent about his rib rubs being notorious (in fact, he told me that Michigan Governor Rick Snyder is a returning customer...yay).

So he's been asking me for a while and I've actually been trying to get up there and visit him. Unfortunately, I'm usually tied up with work or something else early on Saturdays, so I haven't been able to attend.

Well, I always assumed that he was simply being friendly about him asking for my presence, but today I had a revelation that cut deep into my masculinity. I'm fairly certain two things occurred today:

1) He asked me out on a date.

2) He was wearing perfume.

I think he's gay (it wasn't the perfume that gave me the hint, believe it or not). Now, that's not where the problem lies. The problem is that I'm confident in the fact he thinks I'm gay. I have zero problems with gay people. In fact, I promote the gay lifestyle; it controls the population and they're always so happy. Besides, I do live in a city with a high gay population (which he knows, and he also lives in) and they upkeep their property. I know this is a blanketed statement and somewhat of a stereotype I'm applying, but I don't care.

At any rate, today he asked me to dinner. He didn't say, 'hey, let's get a drink,' or 'man, wanna' catch the game?' No, he said, "you know, lets go out to dinner some time." - Verbatim. I really wasn't sure what was going on when I responded, but I said something along the lines of, 'yeah, we live close, we should catch some drinks or something.' Afterwards when it dawned on me what he said, I was glad I responded with that. It was a very safe response.

Ok, side story (I write like I talk so bare with me): He once asked me to go out for drinks after work on a Friday about four to five months back. I actually needed a drink that day and said, yeah, 'that might work, I could use a beer. Let's get one.' He then responded with, 'I don't drink alcohol.' Seriously! Who the fuck asks anyone out for drinks when they don't drink!?! I can't remember the exact sequence of events, but I escaped that post-work coffee-talk somehow.

Anyways, I'll be honest, this is the first time in my life I've ever gotten the feeling that someone of the same sex has attempted to 'pick me up.' (ok, I'm lying, it's the second). I'm really comfortable with myself, so it doesn't bother me. And actually, I find this all very humorous. Now, if he becomes as persistent with this as he does about his rib rub station at the farmer's market, I might need to find a corrective action plan (an automotive term is appropriate).

There's really no conclusion to this story. I wish I had an epic ending or something more to elaborate on. This, however, is only the second chapter in this ever-growing book of hilarity - to me anyways.

This man is a complete cartoon character. Plant life.

[land]Lord of the Flies

Last June I decided to make a bold decision. It was a decision I had only decided to do two other times in my adult life. This was the decision to move.

I didn't move because I was necessarily unhappy with my old apartment. My previous place was the perfect size and it had all the essential amenities that any guy who lived alone would want: stove, shower, toilet, and refrigerator. The decision was based primarily on two reasons.

First, my old apartment was a little off the beaten path. It wasn't quite close enough to the downtown area in the city where I live in for my liking. During the summer the walk to the bars/restaurants was fine, but in the winter, the same walk had a very different feeling (it was fucking cold). Secondly, the carpeting was diarrhea. My landlord wasn't necessarily a poor landlord, but I repeatedly asked for replacement carpeting from day one and was promised that it would happen; it never did. That went on for almost two years before I decided enough was enough. So, like I said, it was more or less the culmination of those two factors that forced the "bold decision." I gave my 30 days notice and began to seek new living arrangements.

Don't Touch My Food!

I've been living in the area where I live now for roughly five years. Over this time, I have become comfortable with certain establishments in the surrounding blocks that I remain loyal to. Most of these places I'm referring to are in the food/bar industry. The most important thing you can do in these industries is offer the best service and quality you possibly can to receive the loyalty of the 'return customer.' Ultimately, these are the two elements that will keep a bar or food joint in business for the long-term. Where this begins for a business is their employees. The quality of a company's service will be completely dictated by the representatives they place on the front lines to serve their customers.

Where I live, there are two independently owned Subway franchises. Over the course of my tenure living in this area, I've changed my loyalty between the two shops. When I first moved here from where I grew up to here, my presence at the one Subway began only because of logistics; it was closer. I never have gone to Subway in any great quantity. At the most, I probably frequented Subway at a max of one to two times a month. None the less, when someone visits any store (of that size) that frequently you become familiar with the specific employees you see on a regular basis.

After going to this specific location for six months there was a new hire brought in.

A Man and His Cat

It's only fair that I preface this story with a confession: I was once a bachelor that owned two cats. I owned the cats because of a long-term relationship I was in, and it took more than two years of being in the relationship for me to cave in to her nagging requests. Don't confuse this as an excuse, it's not. There is no excuse for a single man (who desires the opposite sex) to own any cats. This is purely an explanation. In my defense, when the breakup was official, I got rid of both cats in under two weeks.

Now onto my brief story. I was sitting in the cafeteria here at my work during lunch. I usually sit alone because the mean age here is approximately 3 years deceased. I have an acquaintance (and I use that term loosely) who occasionally makes small talk about Jesus (not into), his love for the local country radio station (not into), his recipes for pies (don't like pie), his mother (who I don't know), and his cats. Unfortunately, I was blessed with a horrible skill.