Independent Life

I have wanted for so long to live independently, and I finally am. I, of course, still require help from my mom to pay for a phone, health insurance, and the occasional lunch tab, but I am, for the most part, on my own. I used to tell myself that I would be responsible when I moved out, that I would clean the house regularly, do the dishes every few days. I had a cleaning lady and a mom that was really nice to me before, so I never knew that I would do neither of these things given my independence. Especially with a roommate such as Grant, it's gotten a little out of hand how messy the house is. I won't go into detail.
Aside from Grant's and my destruction of our apartment (I leave out the 3rd roommate, Ben, because he's hardly at home when he's awake and does all his dishes immediately after dirtying them), I thoroughly enjoy living on my own. I can now have my really weird sleeping habits without having my mom asking why I was up at such a strange hour. I can invite friends over to MY house. I can look outside of MY front door and actually see the ocean. And I can stock the fridge and the pantry with booze and not worry about someone reminding me my family has a history of alcoholism and diabetes.
I also feel like paying rent and doing laundry at a laundromat is pretty valuable experience. I've actually been able to impress myself, juggling a car payment, rent, drinking, and eating badly. This also comes with a nagging feeling that I need to utilize my gym membership, and a newly found appreciation for my job. While I really don't like the actual job of waiting tables, it pays the bills and allows me to sleep in. And as for doing laundry in a coin-op, I don't do it right. I don't fold the laundry when its done, and I don't separate the whites and colors. Insert integration joke. Important part is, I've learned how to do about 4 loads of laundry in about an hour and a half. My, how stimulating the bachelor life is.

Probably the Millionth Blog Post About Armageddon, But Fuck It, It's All Going to End, Right?

I dunno if any of you have read exactly what May 21st is supposed to be, but apparently Jesus comes back later today, and the Rapture begins, so, what, like 100 people (people who are actually good Christians) are going to Heaven, while the rest of us rot in chaos for 5 months, until October 21st, when the world actually ends.
To me, it sounds ridiculous, and I hope I'm right. I mean, I know I'm a good person, but God is really strict. And jealous. And mean. So if Jesus really is coming back, I'm doomed.
I really hope I get to talk to God before I get sentenced to damnation and give him my case. I was raised by a Buddhist mother, whose womb he injected me into. If he wanted me to be Christian, he should have made sure I would be one. And don't give me the free will argument. God is omniscient, he knew that I would not be a Christian before I existed. This point, I think, really makes God a huge dick. Everybody he sends to Hell, he knew would be going to Hell before they all existed. Stupid loophole in the fire and brimstone idea.
Which leaves me at this thought: I don't believe in God necessarily. I definitely don't believe in Christianity. I'm open to the idea of a higher power, some kind of creator. A lot of things just don't seem like coincidence. And I guess the vastness of existence is just hard to imagine coming into being just out of non-existence. But I think that the whole Armageddon thing is dumb. It's all prophecy, and I know I could be eating my words tomorrow as a crow pecks my eyes out. I'm just being optimistic.
Finally, I'll admit while I don't believe that the world will begin to end tomorrow, I have thought what it would be like if the world was going to end tomorrow. And all you guys are definitely the first to come to mind. I love you all. And I've decided I'm going to live my life in a way that I wouldn't be sad if Armageddon were to fall upon us. Maybe God just wanted us all to have a revelation like that one.

It's Been a While, But I Finally Have Experiences Worth Sharing

I'll start with tonight at work. I gave someone else the Heimlich Maneuver! I'm really good at it, it only took one heave, like last time. And it was a guy who was choking, and his wife was screaming from across the room, "Help! Help!" And my friend Rey was looking like he didn't know what to do, he said later he felt like he wouldn't be able to do the maneuver right. And when I ran over there, he said, "Oh, OK, Spencer's got it." And I did. It feels really good to basically save someone's life. What was weird, though, was I think the guy was really embarrassed because nobody said thank you or anything. They tipped 20% (it was my table that choked), but come on, really? He probably wouldn't have died, even if it weren't for me, but you can't even say thank you? People suck sometimes.
Anyway, last night, I went to Tijuana with some work friends. It was one of their birthdays, and he goes to Tijuana like every week to bang hookers and do coke. So, needless to say, I was really nervous. I don't want to bang hookers, nor try coke. But it was one of the best nights I've had in a while. Maybe one of the best ever. It was mostly due to the fact that I went with a big group with some guys that knew their way around TJ, so we had good food and cheap drinks. And I successfully avoided drugs and prostitutes, so I have my morality intact.
What made it fun was getting hammered with fun people, listening to mariachi and (trying to, at least) singing along to some songs I've heard at work. We ate seafood, played pool, went to an Irish bar (yeah, they have them in Mexico too, weird), then everybody went to a whore house, including me, but I was blacked out and wandered out of there, so I freaked everybody out. I don't even remember being in there. Woopsies. And what's funny is, they all thought I went off and got a hooker on my own, but first thing I remember is thinking, "fuck those guys, I'm just gonna sleep here in TJ for the night since they didn't care about sticking with me." So I checked into the shittiest, shadiest hotel room I've ever been in, saw it, then walked out. Pretty sure I didn't pay anything for it.
Then I realized everybody was calling me so I eventually met up with them, got some tacos from a taco stand, and went home.
I attribute my extreme drunkenness to the shot of tequila I had at dinner out of a container with dead rattlesnakes in it. Really good tequila, by the way, I wonder if the snakes actually make it better or if it was just good to begin with.
I don't know if I would go to TJ on a whim, but if you have some friends that know their way around, go to Mexico. It's a blast.

What Happens in Vegas Doesn't Have to Stay There

If you guys want to, I'll spill the deets on Vegas. I find the details to be a little embarrassing, not because of what I did, necessarily, but because of how little I did. Sure, I don't like clubs, and I didn't have a lot of money to spend, but I feel like all I did was drink too much. The vacation was over way too quickly, and the only thing I took home with me was a stupid cold, just like every other time I've gone to Vegas.
And before you call me unappreciative of the trip and wonder why I'm being negative, stop thinking that. I had an awesome time. I just wish it lasted longer, and I was a little more adventurous. I'd like to be able to think, "Man, I hope I don't have herpes," and then not have herpes, obviously. But to be able to wonder that would mean I'm doing something right. Right?
So here's a quick recap: show up, go to Steiner's across the street from the hotel, it's off the strip. We get good food and good beer, then catch a cab to the strip. We get drinks and walk around with them outside (awesome), play around on the escalators at the Venetian, and eventually end up at O'Shea's for beer pong. Call me a simpleton, but that place is fun.
Next day, we got home at around 6 30 or 7, so I woke up around 2 30. We go to the pool, they have a water slide. Shit is sick. Already start drinking too many Evan Williams and coke cherry zeros at the room, then go to Steiner's again, where we sit at a table with Guiness and Harp tapped INTO the table. They charge a flat rate per pint on the table. That was seriously one of the coolest things ever. So then we go to the strip again, meet some douche bag kids on their 21st bday, a couple of 2nd grade teachers from Chicago, and I thought they were from Wisconsin. They were confused. I played some poker, and won 15 bucks, and cashed out. Then we ended up at O'Shea's again, where my night gets fuzzy. Rewind just a couple hours: I drank a 4 Loko and a 32 oz fruity drink.
Next morning I felt like shit the whole day. I puked out of Grant's car, and in the bathroom of Chili's. Morning Spencer is way worse when he's hungover. Sorry Spencer and Grant, once again. But hey, everyone needs a break from the grind. I'm thankful Vegas is around so I can be a shitshow there and get it out of my system.

Rambling About Relationships

So I watched this movie called After Sex. It is a series of exchanges with different couples, all of which just had sex. It was like watching a bunch of mini plays all with the same premise. I thought it wasn't very well written and some of the actors sucked. The best part, by far, was Mila Kunis and Zoe Saldana being bi-curious, and lesbian (respectively) college roommates. I think it was the only situation I could be happy with them being not heterosexual. Because I'd like to bone both of them.

Also, I thought it was overall very pretentious because she had mostly couples that would be seen as edgy. There were two gay men couples, and one old interracial couple that used to be swingers in the 60's.

What it did do well though, was make me think about relationships. As weird as the old swinger couple was, they were extremely happy talking about gang bangs and smoking pot after having had sex in the woods. Or some park by a lake, I dunno. Like I said, they were weird. But it was a cool couple to aspire to be. And no, I don't want to do gang bangs. I really don't, I've turned one down before. But I do want to grow old with someone who deals with all my shit.

As for one of the gay couples, I thought they were extremely weird too. One was a high school football coach who didn't seem gay at all, and one was a hair metal band lead singer who seemed extremely gay. And very douchey because he wore his stupid wig and make up around the house. The interesting part, though, was when they had a discussion about who was going to be the bitch and the butch. Because they were both butch, they just happen to like butt sex.

While I am not a connoiesseur of the butt sex, in my experience, most relationships have a bitch and a butch. Or, a better way to describe it, I think is the chased and the chaser (heard that from some movie too, I dunno which one). It seems like so many relationships have to have an order to them, with someone leading it. In my dream life, I want to find Rashida Jones and have a beautiful relationship that is perfectly equal. Although, if she were the domineering type, I wouldn't mind submitting to her that much.

Point is, I think it's cool when really odd couples work. I haven't seen it very much, but I think the next time I see a dude walking down the street with someone who is way more attractive than him, I will salute them both.

I Am Awful At Waking Up

There is now widespread knowledge amongst those who know me well that I am not a morning person, especially after a night of heavy drinking. And if matters could get any worse for Morning Spencer, they have this semester.
For the past few weeks, I will tell myself, OK, tomorrow morning (usually means that same day, but later, about 5-7 hours later, at 9 or 10 am), I will wake up, make coffee, make a good breakfast, and get ready for the day just like everyone else. And then, I will wake up to my alarm at 9 or 10, and have no desire to do anything productive. I will look at my grey, cold room with disdain and think, "wow, I would love to sleep for 15 more minutes." So I do so. Again. And again. Until it's been an hour of waking up and hitting snooze. I have a problem.
However, one cool thing has been my dreams. I'm currently taking antibiotics because I had strep throat. I don't have it anymore, but I have to finish the meds. But I think they might be making me have really weird dreams. Last night I was driving in my car across a bridge, and huge tidal waves kept crashing over the side of the bridge, and I thought I was gonna die. But I wasn't afraid about it, I was actually laughing, like, "hahaha! OOH MY GOD I MIGHT DIE RIGHT NOW!" And then my car made it across, and was floating around with these families and kids swimming in flooded streets. And I was worried about my car running them over, so it just kind of disappeared, so I was just floating around past them.
And then this other dream, I was playing football for some type of organized team that was sponsored by Disney. And we were playing in a huge stadium with no one in it. And my coaches told me to go up in these huge rafters to help out the team. So I go up there in a convenient elevator, and when the other team was close to the endzone, they passed the ball and I just caught it, so their recievers couldn't get a touchdown. And then I thought I was gonna fall off, and had one of those, "am I dreaming? I dunno, I better catch myself, just in case, so I don't die," moments.
Now it's 2 am and I am going to resolve to wake up at 10: 30. We will see how Morning Spencer fares later this morning.

Not to Make This A Completely Negative Blog, But I Don't Like Valentine's Day

I'll start off with something positive. Andres and Spencer are home and I'm loving it. I like my job and I like my classes, and I'm doing well. Life is good. Today, I skipped my first class, went to my second class where I watched The Kids Are All Right, and I liked it. And then I went to my Jewish Studies class, went to Savanna Grill for some drinks and some delicious fish and chips. Awesome day.
But then Valentine's Day had to aim its stupid representative bow and arrow right at my bubble and burst it. Savanna Grill is great because it's cheap. Half off drinks and appetizers after 8 or 9 pm, some reasonably early hour, every night. Except Valentine's Day. Because restaurants make ridiculous amounts of money because every couple has to try and make February 14th special every year so they go out to a restaurant to have a romantic evening. Don't get me wrong, romance is cool. Going out to dinner is awesome, I do it all the time. But the fact that it's a huge custom to go out, buy flowers, jewelry, chocolate, puppies, cars, houses, however grandiose of a gesture you're trying to make, I think is unnecessary. And I'll say I'm also all for buying these things for a loved one if you are able to financially. But don't do it just because you're pressured to by a holiday.
For one, it strains relationships. Every couple has expectations going into Valentine's Day, and a lot of the time, it's just a normal night out to dinner followed by normal sex. And the next day is even more normal. A lot of couples probably think, "man, why can't we be romantic on Valentine's Day, it's supposed to re romantic."
In My opinion, romance is cool because it's unexpected. Make me a steak dinner and sex me up without warning any day of the week, and you are the most romantic person I've ever met.
And getting back to the most important part: stop going to restaurants for this so-called holiday. Because I want to spend 20 dollars at savanna grill for dinner and two beers, not 32.92.
Finally, I'll clarify that I think a steak dinner and sex is very romantic. That is way more intimate than waiting for a table at a restaurant for an hour for crappy service and buying flowers that will take up valuable vase space and die soon.

I Hate This Music Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mC2ixOAivA


If you haven't watched Chris Brown's latest music video, Yeah 3X, it's linked above. Or don't because it's really stupid. And if you don't want to watch it out of principle, it's OK, because I'm going to talk about just about all of it right now.

I'll start by saying I already don't like Chris Brown for a few reasons. One, because he hit a woman. More than once, I think, that's just what I remember. Or maybe I just assumed so. Either way, that's really shitty. And two, he hit Rihanna. Rihanna may not be that talented of a singer but she's really hot. And I have beef with anyone that hits Rihanna. So yeah, I hate you, Chris Brown. And if you want any other reason to not like Chris Brown, how about that he's really rich and successful despite being a woman beater?
Needless to say, I wasn't going to like this video from the get go. And on top of all of my bias towards the douche bag, his new song is called Yeah 3x? Really? You didn't want to call it Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, so you thought Yeah 3x would make it sound like a better title? Fuck you several times over, you rich, woman beating faggot.

So now all that's been said, we have a bunch of little kids on an urban street excited to see Chris Brown, as if he's a worthy role model. That's just terrible marketing ethics. And then throughout the video they're singing his song and dancing in the background. And it's a club song about wanting to fuck a girl. And then it gets dark. OK, cool, they've been singing, "Yeah, yeah, yeah," for hours, having a good time. But some asshole decides to open the fire hydrant when it gets dark? Wouldn't that have been a better idea to do that in daylight when it wasn't so cold? Obviously not because Chris Brown looks way better when he's dancing, wet, at nighttime, than in daytime.
I never watch music videos, and this is one of the reasons I choose not to. Because most of them are extremely stupid.
And Rihanna, if you ever stumble upon this lowly blog, I would never beat you.

SDSU Sesh

It's been 3 years since I was at SDSU full time. I remember being really annoyed all day and hating my classes. I have since changed my major twice (unofficially, too. I really should get on changing it for real), taken a bunch of community college classes, and have now done what I should've done a long time ago, which was study what I really like. So it's official, I'm a television, film and new media major. I'm taking 2 prerequisite classes for that major, where I will watch movies and stuff like that, which will be awesome. And I'm also taking bowling and a Jewish Studies class (and a writing class, but fuck that one, it's stupid). Bowling is awesome, that was to be expected. And Jewish Studies is kind of a wild card. I am one of 8 students in it, at least that's how many were in it our first class session. And the teacher is really cool. However, I took it kind of expecting an easy A class, but we already have a lot of reading, and the syllabus says we have to eventually write a 10-page paper. So I'm thinking it won't be as easy as I thought. But it did give me something to think about.
There are (according to what I remember my professor saying) about 18 million Jews in the world. That is not a lot of people relative to the world population. Yet, they are all over media because they're all funny. And I've come to the conclusion that they just might be chosen by God to do His work. Just a sidenote, "Israelite," means "soldier of God." That's badass. Jews are ballers.
Christians have already made a very strong case to not be ballers. I am walking from my car to my first class today and hear some douche bag playing his guitar and singing. I literally thought, "Oh Jesus, this sounds like some gay Christian worship song." And sure enough, it was some Christian douche bag singing while this other guy handed out a thing for a Christian fraternity.
AND THEN
I was approached twice to be invited to a Bible reading at 1:15 today. I know they're going to approach me, they have that zealous look on their faces, looking around, like, "Alright, who next? This guy, who is clearly ignoring me. But I'll just be super friendly and maybe he'll come talk about the Bible!"
Hey, I don't like people handing shit out to me when I'm clearly uninterested. But when you try and get me to come to a religious meeting twice, I'm gonna be really turned off. Christians, you have enough people to talk about Jesus with, chill with the talking to strangers shit. And don't put your shitty music so readily out into the world, people will think you're a kumbaya fag.

I Saw A Guy Last Night With Pauly D. Hair

I just had a Facebook conversation with Ryan Guzman about Jersey Shore, some of you may or may not have seen it. It quickly prompted me to want to write about that stupid fucking show.
Now, let me just say, I've seen very little of the show. I saw the reunion episode of the first season, that's the only complete episode I've ever seen. But from what I gather, it's about normal guidos from Jersey going to clubs and hanging out, hooking up, and coming up with (or just repeating what they've heard in Jersey, I don't know what their culture is like) catchy phrases or buzz words that have to do with clubbing or whatever they do. And of course they're entertaining to watch because they're obnoxious and dramatic and all that. It's like juiced up "The Real World," and yeah, pun intended.
Anyway, last night I went to the Junction where I was drinking with my male friends, complaining about how loud the music was and not trying to fuck skanks with too much make-up on. We were playing shuffle board. And even if we wanted to find some skanks to fuck so that we can try and satiate our insecure egos, there were none. There were middle-aged East County women playing pool. And a girl with her boyfriend that looked like she was twelve. That being said, there was a group of guys in there dressed like they were in a club. And one of them had Pauly D. hair.



















Just in case you don't know what his hair looks like, there it is. It looks like action figure hair on a G.I. Joe. And who puts the word "Cadillac" on their body, to remain there for the rest of their life? What if Cadillac goes out of business and in 20 years no one knows what a Cadillac (or Pauly D., by the way) is? He'll be like, "Oh yeah, back in da day, deese cars were da shit. Dey were awesome man, dey stood for quality. So I was like, yeah, I'm quality piece of ass ya know, so I got it tattooed on my side like dat. Did I mention I was a reality TV star? We should knock boots."

Fuck you, Pauly D. And fuck the show, "Jersey Shore". I'm sure not everyone in Jersey Shore is as big of a douche bag as you and the rest of your untalented crew of fuckfaces.

Old Town Low Down

Most days of my life these days are spent at work. This would be a terrible thing for most people, but I still really like work. I'm getting pretty chummy with a lot of the guys there and I really dig these people. Two of these chums of mine I would like to note are actually illegal aliens. I didn't know at first, one of them went to high school here and the other I knew was from Mexico but it just didn't occur to me that he could be illegal. I guess he came here 8 years ago on a tourism visa and it expired. And for whatever reason, he hasn't renewed it, I imagine it's a pain to do it. But he has no papers, can't drive a car, and can't go past border patrol checkpoints. So he's stuck in San Diego until he gets married. Which almost happened, and not for love, but this girl was going to help him out, just marry him for his citizenship. But I guess the girl turned out to be a crazy lesbian and didn't go through with it. Or something like that.
Reason I bring this up is that Old Town Mexican Cafe is apparently under some type of investigation and they might have to fire any employee without a valid social security number. So that means that a bunch of kitchen people and a few front-of-house employees could have to find another job. Most importantly to me, these two that I mentioned. And I actually don't care that they're illegal with jobs. They're really cool and they're really good employees. Yeah, they're taking American jobs. And yeah, one of them used our country's public education. He dropped out though, so he saved us some money. And on top of that, all of these illegal employees pay taxes and social security, and they won't ever even get to use the social security money when they retire. So they're helping us all out, in a way. And then on top of that, I would be really disappointed if they get fired and their replacements are some douche bags or what have you that I might not like. I kinda think that if people can get by the border patrol, they should get amnesty. Like, "Hey, you win. You're a sneaky motherfucker, go find a job and pay us taxes. That way, we're not letting just anyone in. And so the border patrol people still have jobs and the people getting through the border are probably pretty resourceful people, it's like natural selection.
On a less serious note about work, tonight, one of the cooks saw me eating one of our delicious homemade corn tortillas with chips and salsa in it because I was really hungry but I didn't have a break for a while. So he gave me some fajitas that were a mistake and would otherwise be throwwn away. That was awesome. And then later, I was out back of the restaurant with one of my friends and I saw one of the cooks jump up this cement portion next to the stairs outside. It's pretty high up, the top of the cement is about up to my chin. And I wanted to see if I could jump up there with no hands. So I did, and landed fine, but I totally ripped my pants. And I finished my shift with ripped pants. And now I can no longer procrastinate going clothes shopping.

My Last Will and Testament (Just In Case)

It may be kinda weird, but my funeral has come up in conversation a couple times, and I just wanted to put it into writing in case something catastrophic happened, and I had to leave this worldly body and move on to the next stage of existence. Before I list my dying wishes, I want everyone to know that I love life and all the people in it, and if I am a ghost, I will do anything I can to do cool ghost stuff, and help you guys out. Like, when I open all the cabinets in your house, it won't be scary, it'll just be when you're looking for something and it will have a productive purpose. And if the Buddhists turn out to be right, I hope I see you all in the next life, as futuristic revolutionaries fighting against Big Brother and his oppressive thought police. And if the Christians turn out to be right, I'll see you all in Hell.

-I wish to be cremated, not buried. And my ashes will be put in something that is not an urn. The coffee can deal in the Big Lebowski was not only funny, but I completely agree with Walter Sobchak. An urn is a way to take advantage of people in mourning and make way more money on those things than they're worth. So in short, put my remains in a shoebox or coffee can or something of the like.
-I wish to be scattered in a couple places. A little bit in Rancho San Diego, on top of a hill would be cool. It's my hometown and I will always love it. A little bit at a beach because I just like the beach. And a little bit at some place really pretty. I'm not picky, just pick a place that's really nice and you guys would think I would like my burned up body to blow into.
-At my funeral, I want my eulogy to be given by anyone who wants to say something. I don't want just one person to have the pressure of giving my eulogy. Also, I want the ceremony to be short. Once it looks like everyone is there, just start the thing and make it quick. For the last part of the ceremony, I want "Trill Niggas Don't Die," by UGK, to be performed by a really big choir. And a full band.
-Once everyone leaves my funeral, my wake will have an open bar and it will be a party. And I want everyone to go and have a good time, don't just go home and sulk about how you're gonna miss me. I would try my damnedest to do the same for you guys.
-All of my possessions will be up for grabs, just take whatever you guys want. And give my PS3 to charity.