The Triumphant Return - Tuesday June 7, 2011

Here we go again...

So, over the past two years, I have decided not once, not twice, but three goddamn times, that I was going to close the doors on my blog. I felt as if I had shared enough of my boring shenanigans with the world that I wouldn't be surprised if anyone who did read this thing to begin with has long since stopped giving a shit. Hell, that's assuming anyone was reading it in the first place. But then I remembered why I started this thing, and it wasn't so much for other people's enjoyment as it was just something for me to occupy my time with and for me to look back on for fun. So, once again, I am saying fuck it, and I am continuing to document my day-to-day goings on the best I can...which really isn't that great when I stop to consider the source material. My life, still, is very fucking boring.

On to today, June 7th. A Tuesday.

I wake up around 7:15 AM. I don't have to be at work until close to 10:00 AM, but I just woke up insanely early for some odd reason. Normally, when waking up this early and being graced with new found free time, I would do something at least mildly productive. For example: my room looks like Burma. It desperately needs to be cleaned. I'm in the process of writing on a new screenplay to possibly be shot in October of this year. I still have some fine tuning to attend to for the final cut of Drinks, which will be premiering early July '11. I also have a bag full of laundry to do. Festivities of the alcoholic variety to clean up in the living room. All of these things that need/should be done, and I didn't do a goddamn one of them. Instead, I woke up in my bed rolled over to face my t.v., and proceeded to watch re-runs of Home Improvement until it was time to get ready for work. Can you tell yet that not much has changed about me?

Post sloth session, I head to the fridge, chase some Advil with a bottle of water, and proceed to head into the bathroom for a shower in an attempt to wash away the stench of insubordination from last night. Post shower, I throw on the work clothes, grab my computer, and cruise to work, making a pit stop at Dunkin Donuts on the way.

I get to work around 10:15 and head inside to help Dana with a catering order that needs to be delivered by 11:30. Catering orders are usually a pain in the ass, but necessary to our business, so I press on and get it over with. Already feeling stressed after only a half hour of being at work, I bomb outside for a smoke and to collect my thoughts. Outside, I run into the owner of the Jimmy Johns restaurant next door to us. I introduce myself and we bullshit for a bit about business and how our location, for lack of a better term, blows goats. After my smoke, he takes me inside his restaurant to introduce me to his store manager, whom I have actually seen before inside my store, but the guy was being insanely sincere, so I don't protest. I head in and bullshit with the Jimmy Johns crew for a bit before heading back to TSC to finish the catering order. A solid fifteen-minute break. I'm on my way back to neutral.

I gather all of the food and shit and head out to deliver the order. It's about a ten minute drive, so I actually don't mind taking it, as it gives me another half-hour break or so which I get to spend driving and listening to some tunes. Upon my arrival, I realize I forgot the receipt for the woman. Luckily, they are one of our regular catering leads, so she tells me not to sweat it and just fax or e-mail a copy of the receipt to her whenever I get a chance. This is why it's important to make good with your loyal customers. They tend to let you slide on shit that you fuck up now and then. I'm pretty sure last time I delivered to this place, I forgot salad dressing. I'm not proud of my short-comings, but it makes it easier to deal with them if the other end of the party isn't giving you a fucking ear full. I set up the trays of food in the conference room and head back to the store.

Back at the store, the parking lot is fucking packed from end to end, mainly due to the kick-ass burrito place next door. They always make a killing on their lunch hours, while our store is usually left empty or with the bare minimum of customers. And even if they wanted to come to our place, there is nowhere for them to park. Normally, I would curse the unholy fuckers next to us for severely depriving us of the possibility of foot traffic, but their steak burrito is pretty fantastic, so I brush it off. Oddly enough, however, today is one of the rare days when TSC is fuckin' booming. I jump in the action and help churn out smoothies and food like it's my fuckin business...which it is.

After the lunch rush, we do some light cleaning and stocking to get the place back in order. I grab a quick bite to eat and spend my lunch break writing more of the outline for my screenplay. The rest of the day goes alright, until my esteemed employee asks me why I seem so stressed out lately. I kindly explain that I don't want to get into it, but she convinces me otherwise. What follows is a damn near two-hour rant from me about all the recent bullshit that has presented itself in the most unkindly fashion. This sparks a rage in me and I spend the remaining hours of work all tense and pissed off. I guess I should probably start getting things off my chest on a somewhat regular basis to avoid unfortunate angry tangents as a result of bottling shit up for too long. But, what the fuck ya gonna do?

I get off work around 4:30 and am hungrier than a son bitch. I cruise next door to the burrito place and grab a steak burrito to enjoy when I get home. On my way to my place, I shoot Joey a text to see if he still wants to come by and help fix up Drinks to help get ready for the premiere. He says he'll meet me at my place soon. I gun it home, head inside, destroy my burrito, and then chill out on my couch for a bit watching Kingpin and waiting for Joey to grace me with his presence.

Joey arrives and we get to work, fixing some of the hot audio levels in certain scenes and figuring out which scenes need some minor color correction and other little details on par with those. We also discuss ideas for the 2nd trailer we are putting together, which will show at the premiere of Joey's flick, Effacé, right before the film. Nothing like shamelessly plugging your project during your buddy's night to shine. But Joey acted, produced, and was the DP for my flick, so it helps him out in the long run as well. That, and he's just a good dude who likes to help his friends out whenever he can. Gotta love the guy.

Joey cruises after a few hours, and I continue to do some more work on the flick. I get a call from Justin around 8:30 wanting to know if I had any interest in seeing X-Men: First Class at 9:30. I tell him I'm good to go and we make plans for him to come pick my ass up in a bit for our man-date. Tool comes home and I bullshit with him for a bit while I work. Hart joins us not long after and the bullshitting ensues. Justin gets to my place, I put my baby to sleep (movie), and we head out to see what will hopefully be the epic return of the good entries X-Men franchise.

It most certainly was. The flick totally made up for the last two entries in the franchise, X-Men: The Last Stand and X-Men Origins: Wolverine. With the latter being full of five-minute character cameos with little to no character development, and the other one being left in the hands of the director of the Rush Hour flicks, it's no wonder they sucked major bung. But this time around, they brought back Bryan Singer, who wrote and directed the first two X-Men movies, to help pen the screenplay, and gave the directing reigns over to Matthew Vaughn, who was responsible for directing one of the most entertaining and irreverent flicks in the last decade, Kick-Ass. The movie was insanely entertaining and breathed some new life into the franchise. I won't go into a full-out review, but I will say I would definitely pay to see it again.

I get back from the movie a little after midnight and an feeling fuckin' exhausted. I bid Justin farewell and head inside to do the nightly routine. I set my alarm for the next morning and proceed to pass the fuck out while watching The Crow.