Content: Malcontent

Greetings, true believers.

Well, since yesterday was a holiday, you’re getting a weekend recap a day late. That’s right, it was Canada Day this Saturday (so we were given Monday as the day off from work at my company).
The weekend itself wasn’t that crazy or out of the ordinary, but I did get a two-fer with Ian – which was nice. We hung out on Friday night, having a few drinks at home with M and then heading out once we were sufficiently buzzed. I think we just went to Woody’s, if I recall correctly and eventually met up with Gillian. It was a good time.
(On a side note, I think it’s pretty sad/cool/weird/scary that everyone I hung out with, save Ian’s friends from work, is part of the blogosphere.)
Saturday was my hungover day. I was expecting my parents to come out and stay the night, but I was informed, after having gotten up early to do their laundry, that they’d not be staying. Ah well, no biggie. I did end up meeting up with them for dinner and a movie – we went to see Superman Returns, which was pretty kick ass (in an inferior and pretty blatant rip-off way to the original film, which is my favourite movie ever made, but no matter). I may post a review of it at a later date – until then…suffer.

Sunday I didn’t do much of anything, sinking into a deep, Cheeto laden depression, only getting off the couch to toke up, come back inside and fall asleep again. It wasn’t that bad – it just felt that way. In all seriousness, I ended up going out with Ian again on Sunday, which was great. We headed to Woody’s, as usual, but ended up leaving fairly early (after 1 pitcher) and moving onto Cellblock. A large line was waiting, as expected, so we headed back north to Pegasus.
I used to hang out at Pegasus a lot – like every day after work until 8pm and then later on weekends. It was great for a long time, but then I moved in with a friend of mine from Pegasus and that went sour, as is well noted in my archives. Before it completely degraded, however, I decided it was time to stop hanging out at the place as much as I did – not only because it was a) cheaper, b) less time draining and c) less damaging – but because my roommate was (and still is, based on recent reports) a raging alcoholic and hung out there, seriously, MORE than I did. Seeing him there and at home made me realize there was more to life than hanging out at one bar every single night. Also, his boyfriend at the time and he were a nuclearly-fused beast, inseparable and never to be seen as an individual human being. I believe they came together to form the Anti-Polkaroo not unlike this:

As soon as one left the room, the other vanished into thin air and if one entered a scene unexpectedly, the other one would suddenly appear from behind a telephone pole via bad, 80s splitscreen effects.

Anyway, back to my point – I reduced the number of times I went there, eventually only going on weekends, which later on was reduced to pretty much never going there. It just got boring, stale and repetitive. I haven’t been back in ages, although I still hang out occasionally with a couple people from there and Ian and I have never stopped hanging out, no matter what the location.
When we did end up going in it was the second time in a week that I’d been there, having visited the Sunday previously, but in such a drunken state that I barely remember who was there or who I talked to. Nothing had really changed – it was quite fun, actually. Ian and I played darts which is an activity that fizzled to nothingness a long time before I stopped frequenting the bar. I managed to talk to my good friend Doug, who I love, but barely get to see because he’s the third light fixture on the left when you walk in the place. I actually have seen Doug a couple times in the period where I didn’t go there.
The whole reason for this is simple – when I used to first hang out at Pegasus, long before Ian and I started hanging out, I sat at the table Doug sits at with a group of people. They were all good in different ways and some I got along better with than others, but on Sunday night with Ian, I found out that one of them, the one I liked the least, said some shit about me a long time ago – like 8 months ago…and it bothered me ALL DAY on Monday. Seriously…why do I care? I’m pretty much done with it now as I write this, but moreso than the comments, the fact that I was so bothered by it disturbed me. The fact that the only thing I could think of on Monday was going back to the bar and telling this person off. Why? What does it matter? I didn’t give two seconds thought to this person the entire time I wasn’t hanging out at Pegasus and now without them even being in the room, I was pissed. Ah well. Time heals all wounds, no matter how pathetically insignificant they are (and believe me – this one is).

On a related note, after we’d left Pegasus, I made Ian wait outside the video store while I went in to rent something to keep me company on Monday (as I knew it would be humid as hell and I’d be hungover). I went in and notice this guy behind the counter. Again, this is a guy I used to SEE at Pegasus when I hung out there regularly. He was never a friend of mine, nor did I know anyone who considered him a friend. He is a gamma-male personality with alpha-male ambitions, but unfortunately no common sense. He thinks by being a vocal racist, sexist twit who confronts people with his buying power (by incessantly talking about real estate – despite having no holdings) that he’s making himself better than whoever he’s speaking to. That’s fine. I always took everything he said with a grain of salt – even when he’d come in and start eating a sub sandwich at a table full of people, even when he said black people were idiots in a full elevator as I rode up to my apartment (he lived in the same building as me briefly), even when everyone insulted him, made fun of him behind his back, laughed at him for hanging out a bar and not drinking a drop, I didn’t say much. I pretty much have never said anything negative to his face or done anything rude to him. Capiche?
Well, I walk into this video store and he’s behind the counter. Talk about a comedown. In any event, I didn’t even acknowledge it with my eyes, I just headed to the section I was interested in. I honestly didn’t think he even saw me walk in. I grabbed a couple DVDs and headed to check out the new release section which is in the center of the room. As I walk up, he’s got an armful of DVDs to put back and we pass each other. Just after moving past me, he mutters, “Asshole” under his breath. I didn’t even react, but I laughed to myself thinking, “What the hell just happened?”
Ian eventually finished his cigarette and I left the store post-haste and told him what happened. It was truly fucked up and honestly freaked me out considering I’ve done nothing to the guy. He’s got a screw loose or something and that had become apparent from his dealings with people at the bar we hung out at. In any event, that again bothered me all day; wondering what I’d said, what I’d did. I really can’t remember ever doing anything bad to the guy except disagree with him on occasion.

I think that may be it – I’m not someone who deals with people of low intelligence or no character imposing authority over people who are supposedly ‘friends.’ I consider all of my friends on the same level as me, not worthy or unworthy of different treatment no matter the situation.
I never really found the video store guy that interesting to listen to (that’s right, he did most of the talking), in fact, he was pretty yawn-enducing. He was rude and obnoxious and his pinkie length list of ‘friends’ proves it.
The first person I mentioned earlier had great issues with the use of the word ‘bitch’ and ‘cunt’ while at the table and also found a lot of things so morally reprehensible that they had to be argued, no matter the context.
I don’t handle people who are offended by ‘words’ – these are the same people that see the word ‘nigger’ and their heads fucking explode – no matter the context. I neither get it, nor am I impressed by it. Most importantly, though, I tend to disregard it on purpose for the sake of tormenting uptight people – my second favourite pastime after sitting in bed and complaining. I guess I did that a little too much and combined with my extreme inability to kiss the ass of a douchebag, I was put on the shitlist for ever more.
Here’s my entire point, though – why do I care what this person thinks? What does it matter? How does it effect my life???

It bothers me that second-hand comments can be so damaging.

Bottom line – I’m over it and to be honest, it pretty much just proves what I thought from the beginning about both people. I should have been content to know I was right.

But I wasn’t.



~ by seangstm on July 4, 2006.

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