Vice Monkeys by 

SHAG

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2005-05-10

Monday, Monday, can't help that day

This morning I was just startled by the cleaning service. I was sitting in my boxers, a t-shirt, and socks eating Honey Nut Cheerios and watching Wedding Story in the den when I realized there were people in the house. People with backpack vacuums. It was a little bit farcical, actually.

Saturday night my cousin came to pick me up. It�s ritual at this point, and not one that I can easily get out of. I would have preferred to stay at home, go to bed early, prepare myself for a quiet day for Sunday. But no. I had spent nearly the entire day reading in the living room with my Father while the yard guys did their pruning. It�s funny how my father has a service for everything. He drops his laundry off, people come twice a week to clean his house. He has the lawn fertilized. Someone to mow it. He doesn�t have a girlfriend that I can tell, so I imagine he has a service for THAT as well, though it�s not something that I would want to either dwell on, or bring up. I find the whole thing amusing that though he lives alone he has this whole support system that allows him to function. This mini fiefdom he keeps going with serfs. It�s a touch elitist of me to say so, and I�ll fully acknowledge it. I don�t know if I would like that kind of solitude. At times I think that I am built for it emotionally, I enjoy my space and my privacy, but I fear that it would become all encompassing. It�s small wonder that we don�t communicate, he�s very much out of practice.

We pulled up to the club in his yellow M3 and he did some stupid alarm trick with the valet. I felt a little underdressed in a pair of black cargo pants, pink long sleeved t-shirt over which I had paired a dark gray tee with a pink silkscreen of Patty Hearst in her terrorist days. The club seemed a little bit LA, and my cousin was dressed for it, looking like Ryan Seacrest in the jacket/t-shirt/jeans. I thought I was being a little bit daring, wearing pink in the south, but it seems that pink has infiltrated everywhere. We met his friends inside and started the �fun� part of the evening were I merely sat back sipping bottled water while he proceeded to pretend he was in a rap video. The place had karaoke and a lot of drunk frat types singing Creed songs. The books had South Park figures emblazoned on them and the guy running it could not get laid if he was the last man on earth. Any surviving women would ask for a deposit and wander off behind some bushes with a turkey baster first. My cousin was in rare form. He grabbed a waitress and we were kicked out, to hit up yet another club, his slurred drunken directions getting us lost before suddenly we were found again. I overpaid to have the car parked close and we were again enmeshed in a typical evening for young jack asses with too much time and money on their hands. His crowd was more of the same, and there wasn�t anyone for me to talk to. At least not on my level. Or even a level that I was willing to stoop to. Their insults and comments were inane and uninspired, their conquests people just like them. I did attempt to talk up a goth chic because I liked her stockings, which ended at mid thigh, a good two inches before her school girl plaid skirt started but she took one look at the crowd I was running with and it was all over. My cousin wanted to get a hotel for the night but I refused, my shouts about going fishing being misunderstood for some lewdness involving one of the twins that had arrived, an Amy Lynn and a Tara Lynn. I dragged him home as well, considering that it was too far for me to get a cab, and I wasn�t about to call for a ride. I�m sure that they will discuss it at mass on Sunday, they go to the 4pm service, a group of Real World cast offs pretending to be pious because if they don�t show it will be reported to their Grandmother, and she�s where the checks come from. Trickle down Catholicism. At least I have an excuse not to be there, and my unwillingness to take communion would no doubt also cause a stir. It would be nice if it was a real gathering, if they met up for lunch or coffee or something beforehand. Treated each other like human beings, and then went and had their faith recharged for the week ahead. But they don�t, and it really annoys me. I find it frustrating that I�m looked down on because I work, because I�m not sitting around on family money flitting away my life with parties, toys, and booze. I used to think it unfair that such largess was wasted on them, but now, I�m kind of grateful. That I didn�t end up like them.

Now I think I�ll go throw on some carpenter jeans, a replica cowboy shirt, and a pair of airwalk shoes I found in the closet and meet my dad for lunch.

Look at us, we're beautiful (3)

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Email Entry, Just for Laughs - 2006-01-25
Stupid Names - 2006-01-03
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