queer and loathing

New Definition Example: “Bummer”

bum·mer (bmr)
n.

1. Slang. Something that depresses, frustrates, or disappoints: ex: While cleaning his apartment, Vincent found a hidden Valentines Day card he bought two days before the intended recipient broke up with him. What a bummer.

pssst.

Shhh. I stole a roll of toilet paper from Napoleon’s Itch last night. Uhg. It’s getting that bad.

Yeehaw.

In case you didn’t get the memo: Every fag in new orleans is a cowboy now. Uhg. There’s so many cowboy hats in this bar, I’m a little paranoid about getting lynched as I walk out the door. Really people.. even if you can’t quit him, you can quit the cowboy hat… I doubt you’ve ever seen a sheep in person before… much less a cow.

I got the coolest pants.

I got the coolest pants from the,. *sigh* Gap.. they’re all two tone blue and stripey. Normally I’d think they “wern’t me” and all, being but I liked them too much to pass up. I also got a jacket that is pretty cool, but needs to be altered because the sleeves are too long. Getting a gift card is pretty cool. Free money! Free clothes!

I started not one, but two jobs today. I’m training to Board Op at WRNO again and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be working at French Quarter Computers starting sometime soon. I’ve been going in to FQC since I moved back and everyone there is super nice, so I’m looking forward to being part of the team and such. WRNO/Clear Channel however seems to be the same ol’ same ol. Radio is so much sterile than when I started just in ‘94. I’m not like, an old timer or anything.. but the coolness factor, for me at least, has pretty much been sucked out. You just sit there and record call ins into the computer. Ah well. I like the people and it’s money - which is what I need at the moment.

I’m still trying to decide if I’m gonna go-on-take-the-money-and-run when I get my FEMA grant. $10,000 will go a long way towards building a life somewhere. Is New Orleans coming back? I’d like to think so, but it’s a gamble either way.

DC seems to be my best option. Alberto lives there and so does this guy I met last night that seemed pretty cool. Great eyes. Eyes like Ed Harris. Oooooooooo, how I love those deep blue eyes. :)

Anyhoo. Im at FCQ now, and this ain’t free. Better go.

Some of my best friends are Mexican.

Ok maybe not… but I want to start this rant off with a little disclaimer: I do not dislike Mexicans. I am among those that are grateful that there are in this city, rebuilding and doing jobs that most of us are too self-absorbed and coddled to do ourselves.

I like to think of myself as a reasonably cute, intelligent, unique kinda guy without being all trendy or snobby. I’m a pretty good conversationalist once I get going and I am able to converse about a wide range of topics. I try not to be unapproachable, but neither do I force myself upon someone until I get some sort of signal that the interest in mutual.

This being said, why the fuck are the only people that talk to me in bars are Mexicans? Now, don’t get me wrong.. I’m not talking about nice well spoken articulate hombres from south of the border…. I’m talking about the guys that live behind the Texaco station at Lee Circle who can’t speak English and feel this kinship with me that compells them to ask, repeatedly, in broken english, about my citizenship. Do I look like a fucking illegal alien?

Case in point, last night:

Me (To bartender): What time is it?
Bartender: 1am. You just getting out?
Me: No, I went to the Rocky Horror Picture Show at Oz.
Bartender: Cool.
I look over at said Mexican who is looking at me through drunken eyes.
Mexican: You from here?
Me (Looking away): Yes.
Mexican: What’s a matter, no talk to me? Do you speak English?
Me: Excuse me?
Mexican: Oh, I see. You speak good English. Where from?
Me: I’m from here.
Mexican: Oh, you citizen?
Me: huh?
Mexican: I go to bathroom. I come back and we talk and then have fun. Ok?

Or something like that. Ugh. It’s so fucking annoying. Mucho.