Monday, March 28, 2005
broke on a Monday
I am in a very crappy mood today, for several reasons:
1) It's Monday. Fuck.
2) The weather. There's nothing like 40 degrees and heavy rain to add that extra spring to your step in the morning. It's March 28, and the forecast for the next week is 50 degrees and rain every day. I know it's early, but I don't know what happened to spring and I miss it. Growing up, I remember months of sunshine and temperate weather sandwiched between the extremes of winter and summer. However, I haven't seen a decent spring in a long time. Like last year, I know it's going to be 50 degrees for the next six weeks, then we'll have one week of 70 degree sunny weather, and then it'll be 90 for the next ten weeks. I know this and I hate it.
3) Work. It's becoming more and more apparent that I'm not cut out for the 9-to-5 lifestyle.
This morning I woke up, saw that the weather was cold, gray, and rainy, and thought to myself, "God, I am so fucking tired. I can't wait until tonight so I can go back to sleep again. I hope something good happens today, because I'm hanging on by a thread here." Fortunately, God must have been eavesdropping at the time, because on my way to work I saw a bike messenger almost get hit by a bus and my stomach still hurts from laughing so hard. That, and on Saturday night I was drunk and ate a pizza box. So we're struggling in the stomach department. Big time.
This same type of thinking goes on on Sunday night, as I lay in bed, hoping my sleep apnea doesn't finally get me. All I can think about, besides having sex with some girl's boobs, is that I can't wait until Friday evening when I'm done with work and the weekend starts.
And to be honest, I don't hate my job. In some ways I actually like it. But as much as I "like" my job, I like waking up at noon, eating a giant stack of pancakes, going back to bed, and finally getting up and leaving the apartment at 4pm much, much better. Thinking about this leads me to a sort of quasi-existential crisis: What sort of life do I lead when I'm constantly waiting to go to sleep again or waiting for Friday to come? And why do black people get tattoos in black ink? Shouldn't they instead get tattoos in white ink, so that they'll stand out more? I mean, you can even make out what they are most of the time. Do you see white people getting tattoos in white or pink ink? I don't get it.
And so all sorts of things go through my head:
[Scene: Two Jason Mulgrews in a basement rec room, sharing a joint. Jason Mulgrew 1 sits on a bean bag, drinking a can of Budweiser. Jason Mulgrew 2 stands over the stereo, which is playing Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine", looking through cds.]
Jason Mulgrew 1: "Dude, let's quit our job and try to write the blog professionally."
Jason Mulgrew 2: "Are you crazy? 'Write the blog professionally'? What the hell does that even mean?"
JM1: [angry, defensive] "I'm not sure what it means, but I'm just trying to help. Let's face it, we don't have many marketable skills and we're not very good at anything, except for writing racist propaganda on the internet. We're also pretty good at making enemies."
JM2: "Well it's a stupid suggestion. And you are an asshole. And it's not really racist - you know we totally want to have sex with a black chick."
JM1: "You know what? If you're going to place yourself above the discourse by spewing invectives at me, then I'm just going to leave." [stands to leave]
JM2: "First, you're high. Second, fine, go ahead and leave. Third, I hate you."JM1: "Well I hate you too. I'm going to masturbate." [moves off camera]
JM2: "Oh, that's your answer to everything, isn't it? Any time there's a problem, you just run away from it to pleasure yourself. When are you gonna stop with that and face your problems instead of running for the moisturizer?"
JM1: [kneeling over toilet with pants down around ankles and Maxim on spread out on sink, beating off and sobbing] "Not now."
4) Money, as in I have none. This weekend, my roommates Brian and Ben went home for Easter, leaving me to my own devices in the apartment. I was thrilled to be alone. It's not often that it happens, so I try to take advantage of it when it does (note: by "take advantage" I mean "make milkshakes with double stuff oreos in them"). My plan was to go on a three day bender and it started promisingly enough, as on Thursday night I met up with my buddy John for a fantasy draft (our team is stacked) and then went out for some drinks and some basketball watching.
But while home alone on Friday afternoon, I decided that I would look into my finances. Bad, bad idea. I knew this was a terrible decision the minute I logged into Citibank and checked my account balance. And that was probably the best part. Let me break it down for you:
- Current monies in bank account: -$1,673.23 (I have a $2000 overdraft, so that means I have $326.77 until I get paid later this week. Well, technically I owe the bank almost $1700 and have nothing, but thank god for overdraft)
- Current debt owed (including student loans, credit card debt, and computer left to pay off): $29,304.14
- Amount spent per month on debt and rent (not including food, booze, entertainment): $1,899.58
- Scale, 1 (least fucked) to 10 (most fucked), of how fucked I am financially: 8.6
This is not good. Not good at all. I took me about 45 minutes to figure this out, and 2 minutes after learning this I was on my hands and knees on my bathroom floor, throwing Xanax, Bayer, and NyQuil down my throat in a last ditch effort to keep my heart from exploding and my brain from saying, "You know what? Later" and leaving me entirely.
But I know this is all entirely my fault. I make decent money (though not that decent), but I stink at saving/spending. For example, while thinking about money-saving tactics, I thought, "When I go home to Philly, I'm not taking Amtrak anymore. It's pointless to spend $50 each way when I can get home and back from $30 on NJ Transit. Also, maybe I should go to the Caribbean. Maybe I can do a long weekend in Vermont in the spring, Oktoberfest in the fall, and the Caribbean next winter!" I then spent the next 30 minutes online looking for Caribbean vacation deals. God I suck.
And my weekend was ruined. I didn't go out Friday OR Saturday night, making me the biggest loser in the world. Instead, I sulked around the apartment, smoked ALL of my roommate Brian's pot (sorry dude) and felt sorry for myself. And now it's Monday, it's cold and raining, and I have a full week or work ahead of me. Crap and crap again.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, and so I have made a decision: I'm selling everything. I realized that I have a lot of junk that I don't use, and so I'm getting rid of it. And to prove that I'm serious about this, I'm going to sell one of the most important things in my life, something that formed me as a person as much as any teacher or relative did, something that has always been there for me, through thick and thin: my porn collection.
I have in my possession 13 VHS tapes of pornography that I have collected over the past ten years. Each tape is special to me and has its own story. Each has given me a lifetime of good memories and boners. Each has given me solace on many a cold, lonely night (or day or whenever). But they must go.
The rise of the DVD, coupled with the computer revolution and the emergence of file-sharing, has made these porno tapes near obsolete. Sure, they're still good and viewable, but I hardly ever watch them. I do have a VCR, but it's a combo TV/VCR with a 13" screen, a purchase I made at the nadir of my loneliness, and it's used only to view these tapes. I can sell these tapes and the TV/VCR, make a decent buck, and use the money to pay down some of my GINORMOUS debt.
But please, do not inquire as to whether you can purchase the tapes. Because of their sentimental value, they can only go to a select few people, people who I know will take care of them and treat them with the respect and reverence they so right earned over the years. A have a few buyers in mind, and I will begin to contact them shortly to arrange a deal.
In the meantime, I will do my best to scrimp and save. I'll start slowly, and work my way up, because I know it will be a longer process. For example, today I stole an apple from my cafeteria. Score. Maybe next week I'll steal a bag of chips, and before you know it I'll be walking out of there will a frozen yogurt machine. Patience is the key. Patience is my friend.