Ten Years Ago Today…..

(It’s been awhile since I posted. Sometimes my life happens at a rate that is difficult for me to document in real time and I’m ok with that.   Thank God I have a good memory.)   Speaking of which…

I found this old MySpace blog today.  It’s dated right around the same time as it is today, but ten years ago.  I had to go back to New Jersey because my Mom was sick, or there was a issue with her and I needed to be there.

I don’t know exactly what I was thinking, but it reads like I was ok with the idea of having to go back to NJ for someone else even though I didn’t like it there when I was younger because it reminded me of what a shitty person I was. That’s pretty much the bottom line.

I’ve changed a lot since then though, in fact I’ve changed so much just within the last 90 minutes.

Now, I know who I am, I love who I am, and  and I’m proud of where I came from, which is one of the many reasons I’m moving back there this summer.

I’m from Jersey, and I fucking love that about me. #NJALLDAY

Anyway, here it is:

Screen Shot 2017-05-31 at 10.10.54 PM


Do You Think You’re Better Off Alone?

About 18 years ago I first heard this song called “Better Off Alone” by Alice Deejay. I remember hearing it in a club, in Atlantic City, high af, and you could say it came into my life at a time when I questioned the exact title to the song. At that point I had had enough of living in NJ, not knowing who my friends really were, and I didn’t feel like there was anything left there for me. In some ways, I felt like I was better off alone.  So I chose to be alone, and I left the East coast for good.

I moved to Seattle in July of 2000. I was barely 24 and I wasn’t there more than twenty five minutes when my friend picked me up from the airport, got me stoned, and played a version of Better Off Alone I had never heard before. I remember being driven back to his parents house slightly nauseated from the night before and incredibly inspired knowing that I made the right decision in life because that song found a way to follow me to my new place. I might have thrown up in the toilet downstairs the fist day I moved to Seattle, but I was fucking ready for my next adventure, and for the time being, I was better off alone.

I lived the next 18 months of my life impulsively, purposefully, and spiritually. I came to the point where I fell in love for the first time again, and I experienced all these emotions and drug fueled responses to the idea that maybe, I wasn’t better off alone and perhaps having someone in my life to love and to trust was becoming a better option. I found someone who would listen, and someone who would talk to me, unafraid of becoming too exposed to the hard truth of being honest.

For one reason or another that time didn’t last forever, and as I was packing up my Mitsubishi Eclipse on a warm rainy day in March of 2002, I again thought to myself, I know I made the right decision. Perhaps I AM better off alone, and I knew I was. It was the only way for me to protect my heart and my feelings and not allow them to be broken or distorted again. I got really good at just moving on in life and only relying on myself and being ok being alone.  In some ways I am really proud of that independence, but in other ways, it made me so jaded and lovesick for years that it’s hard to see how it did me any good.

Years would go by and I would move to southern California and I would forget all about this song. I would get so wrapped up in the idea of living in Hollywood and pursuing my dream that I wouldn’t have time to question it, reflect on it, or even think about the fact that maybe I was wrong. Was I better off alone?  I didn’t really care at that point because I was surrounded by other people doing the same thing.

It’s such an empowering and extremely lonely thought at the same time. Am I better off alone? I don’t know. The parameters of deciding whether or not I was have changed so many times in my life. Now it had been 7 years since I heard that song and one drunken night in the summer of 2008 I started listening to electronic music again and thinking back to those times almost a decade ago.  I needed a reason for every action, a cause to fight for, and I questioned everything in life as I  wondered, Am I?

Now it’s 2017, and life has reached it’s point on the circle where it becomes full like the moon. Here I am again  in the living room of  my apartment in North Seattle, questioning the answers and provoking my thoughts yet again.

Am I better off alone?

That’s the question right? For years it has been Yes, then No, then Yes again,  but I can assure you that I have felt nothing but the epitome of aloneness these last few months and it fucking sucks. I’m tired of being alone.  I’m tired of being so far away from my friends and my family. Sure, it’s been wonderful to have experienced all the things in life I have had the chance to experience, but for the first time in 17 years I’m thinking that no, I am NOT better off alone. I want someone to share these experiences with. I desire the familiarity of a place I know like the back of my hand and as much as I love the Pacific Northwest…it ain’t gonna happen here. I’m not better off this way, and finally I know now that it’s time to come home.

I will always love this song, no matter what remix I hear. I will always remember how instrumental the lyrics are for me even though they haven’t changed.  They remind where I’ve been, and where I came from. They remind me to always take stock in the fact that even though I’m independent, I still have the desire and the need to have people around me to love and keep me inspired.

This song gave me the mindset and the strength it took to leave New Jersey in 2000, and the wisdom and knowledge to know that it’s time to return in 2017. I can’t think of a better example of  life coming full circle than that.

Do you think you’re better off alone?

Not anymore.


Signum remix:

original mix

dash berlin remix

heavy trance remix




I Always Get What I Want

They say:

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you get what you need.

I’m not a huge Rolling Stones fan, however even though I understand that philosophy, I politely disagree. In some ways, I always get what I want, and I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.

We have this suspended belief in life that it is somehow a selfish act to want something, then go out and get it. Personally I don’t see how this is a bad thing at all, unless you are royally fucking someone over in the process of getting it,  and I don’t mean like making plans and then breaking them to do something else, I mean it’s a bad thing if you pull a 2008 housing market crash to get what you want. Wanting more money isn’t inherently a bad thing, but if the act of getting it hurts someone else in the long run, to me that is inexcusable. It’s not money that is the root of all evil, it’s greed.

I consider myself a honorable friend and a good person. In no way will I deliberately fuck over someone for personal gain. How do I know this? Because I’ve done it in the past and I didn’t like myself afterwards and I promised myself I’d never do it again. I was a shitty person for awhile when I was younger and even though I tried to cover it up or make excuses for those selfish actions, the truth always comes out in the end. Sometimes in an inconvenient way.

I’ve had rifts with my lifelong friends that I never want to go through again, and each day since, I try my hardest to avoid those perils in my life.

I’m honest, but I’m not transparent. I’m supportive, but I’ll always speak my mind if I disagree, and even though part of my job is to bullshit with people, I’m not a liar and I’ll always say what I mean because the world needs to hear it.

I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character, but my experiences this last year living in Seattle has left me with the notion that when it comes to matters of the heart, sometimes I let shitty people into my life, but not anymore. I want people who are honest and who are trustworthy and who understand that it’s not always important to be right, as it is to be fair. And like I said before, I always get what I want.

I have always lived my life for me, and in some ways I have always gotten what I wanted, although it never happen exactly the way I planned, or it’s never precisely what I expected. I think that’s alright as long as I realize that my wants must be genuine, and my actions to get them must be honest and commendable. If that’s the case, then I don’t see anything wrong with the idea of putting yourself first to get anything in life, especially if it helps someone else.

Maybe the Rolling Stones were on to something with that song, but I feel like the lyrics need to be tweaked just a bit to fit into my personal experiences. Perhaps it’s like this….

“You can’t always get what you want, but you will always get what you deserve.”

As someone who has proof of that concept, I like those lyrics a lot better.

Sometimes, Rabbits are Jerks

Recently I was in Hollywood to decompress, visit friends and help one of them move, and to figure out the answer to the question..”What do I want to do with the rest of my life?” While I was in L.A. part of my job was to watch Tasha’s bunny Rocco for a few days while she was moving stuff out of one apartment, and into another. I had a great time hanging with Rocco, playing with him, and feeding him his daily cheez-it treat, but I found out something new about this bunny that I never saw first hand. Sometimes, he can be a real jerk.

Rocco and I got along famously when Tasha and I lived together and shared an apartment a few years ago. he and I bonded, took selfies, and played and watched TV. He would occasionally get into little amounts of trouble by chomping on the walls and trying to eat power cords, but that’s expected with a bunny.  However I never expected the acting out in a blatant spiteful way like he did my last morning in Hollywood.

Tuesday night I brought a pretty bird back to my hotel I had met that weekend. Keep in mind I mean the slang word for “girl” and not an ACTUAL bird. Ok, now that we got that out of the way, I introduced her to Rocco and he liked her immediately. Rocco is a flirt, and loves attention regardless of if it’s male or female, so when she and I were making out on one of the queen sized beds in my room at the Hollywood Super 8, Rocco would jump to see what was going on and to try and “get pets” from us by forcing his little head under one of our hands. It was cute, and it was kind of funny, so I played along for awhile. Then I noticed something. He was getting a little bit….jealous.

When we went back to making out and stopped paying attention to him, he decided to jump on the pillow and started scratching and ripping it up as both our heads were using it. I shooed him away and he ran to the chair where I had my leather bag and jacket. I look up a few seconds later and he’s trying to eat my Kenneth Cole messenger bag so I scold him like any animal guardian would, and make him get off the chair and back on the floor where he belongs. He proceeds to jump up on the other bed in the room, and starts nibbling on and ripping up the cover sheet, like a jerk. Like a way of saying, “Fuck you Christian, I’m gonna do what I wanna do.” A bunny after my own heart.

I don’t care at this point about the $5 hotel sheet this rabbit is ruining, so I go back to my grabbing and pawing, and Rocco goes back to the destruction of property.

At around 5am I wake up to the very loud sound of Rocco eating a road atlas from 2012. He is tearing out the pages reminiscent of that scene from Dead Poets Society when Robin Williams tells his students to rip out the first 15 pages of their textbook. Rocco is TRYING REAL HARD to get me to notice him, obviously.  I get out of bed and walk over ready to question his motives, but what catches my eye is not the damage he had done to the bed sheet, it was the 23 little perfectly rounded poops that he left at the scene of the crime.

First of all, he knows better because he’s litter box trained. I’ve seen a few turds here and there over the years, but this was an epic shit fall that I know was pre meditated. Rocco was clearly not happy that I had a girl over, but why would he act so sweet in one moment, and then so ridiculously like an asshole the rest of the night?

I know animals can be jerks, I mean just look at chiuauauas and other little dogs like that. Most of the time they are just yipping little dickhead rat dogs with Napoleon complexes. But Rocco and I shared time. He’s my boy, my pal, my bunny confidant. Why was he being such a dick?

When Tasha picked me and Rocco up, I had to tell her what happened. She has always told me Rocco can have an attitude sometimes, but I had never seen it first hand. It made sense that he wanted attention, but did he have to try and cock block me too?

“He was mad at you because he knew the girl wasn’t his Mom.” Tasha said.

Now it all started to make sense. When Rocco, Tasha and I lived together years ago, he never really saw me or Tasha with other males or females. He certainly never saw us making out because we had evolved to being best friends, but we also never brought over a significant other out of respect. Plus it would probably be weird to say to a date “and here’s my bedroom where I sleep 3 feet and one queen sized bed away from my ex girlfriend. Wanna make out?”

Rocco was pissed at me because he probably thought I was doing something bad like cheating on Tasha, hypothetically. If I’m a rabbit and I see my “father figure” touching on a girl who isn’t my mother figure, I’d be pissed too, especially if I had never seen two people hook up before. He acted out and ripped up that bed as a way of protesting the fact that he wanted more attention and he probably thought I was doing something wrong, which clearly, I was not. This was just a case of misunderstanding, and a funny way to find out that Rocco can really be a jerk sometimes.

Dear Rocco,
If you’re reading this blog, I sincerely apologize I didn’t pay you enough attention that night. I know you’ve never caught feelings for a girl and maybe as a bunny you have a lot of pent up sexual tension. So destroy whatever sheet, bag or book you want next time, but please don’t shit on the bed in a motel like a a vagrant. Have some class. Remember that Tasha and I had a chance to neuter you, but decided against it. You’re welcome


I Just Don’t Care Anymore

I don’t feel like doing anything for the rest of the year. In fact, I don’t feel like caring about doing anything for the rest of the year either which relieves me of any guilt, and therein lies my self fulfilling prophecy.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not sad, I’m not depressed, and I’m certainly not feeling like the world is coming to an end, although if you look at my Facebook feed, you would probably think otherwise about the latter statement. Simply put, I just don’t care about the stupid shit that I used to care so much about. You know, girls, Hollywood, politics, the state of the world, etc etc., and I have to say, it’s truly been a relief not caring about that shit. It’s actually quite liberating.

For years I hustled and I cared about looking younger, attracting the right girl, being in the best shape as possible, being successful which equated to having a lot of money, having a major artistic goal to achieve and doing things in an effort to gain an advantage over someone or something for a job. In the end, it really didn’t get me anywhere other than a few thousand dollars in profit, 20K in debt, some amazing life experiences and stories I’ll tell til the day I die, but overall I feel pretty much frustrated and worn out.  I guess you could say I was hustled by the hustle.

Fast forward to now…

I moved up here 9 months ago to find out who I am, what I’m supposed to do, and to find a better quality of life for myself.  I think I gained the knowledge to know who I am and I’m definitely living a better quality of life, but the “What I’m supposed to do” aspect still lingers.

But who really cares? I would imagine I am the ONLY one who would be the most invested in figuring out that part of my life, but for some reason, it doesn’t bother me not having a plan for the future. I mean, the future for me is as simple as what am I going to make for dinner tonight, and do I have enough wine to compliment that dinner.

I may not be living the life I had planned out so many years ago, but recently something dawned on me. What if in a past life I was incredibly successful, but totally miserable at the same time? What if I had all this money and power, but felt utterly alone every night I came home to my empty house? What if after I died, when God asked if I wanted to be reincarnated I said “Yeah, but I can be a hot bartender with tattoos who doesn’t look his age, with a talent for writing who lives in Seattle in his early forties?

HAD THAT BEEN THE CASE, I am living my reincarnated life right now and I’m ok with it. Right now, I choose not to care about my status anymore. Truthfully,  if I take a look around myself now at what I have and where I am going, I’m actually quite happier.  I think my previous life on this planet would be proud of me.

I’m proud of me. I went though some shit last year and then some life changing shit in the last 9 months and maybe I just need some time to let all the shit sink in. Maybe I need to step back and observe everything instead of trying to grab life by the pussy. (Sorry, I had to)

Ultimately, it’s my life, and there’s no one telling me what to do. Has there ever? As long as I have a job, I pay my bills on time, and I’m generally nice to people, I think I’ll be ok.

So as I hunker down for my first Pacific Northwest winter in 15 years, I’ve decided to not care as much and indulge in who I am and do things a little differently. If I’m feeling guilty about eating that third slice of pizza, I’ll probably eat that fourth one now. If I worked out on Monday and Tuesday, I may just take off the next three days because I feel like I earned it, and I do own a lot of sweatshirts. And if I wanna just lay on my couch and watch 11 hours of football on Sunday, the only thing that will make me feel guilty about that are the thirty minutes of the game that I missed because I was taking a nap.

Life is quite comfortable, and for now that’s how I like it. I’m vegging. I’m not in the mood to go out and change the world, and I’m not in any rush to get to a certain point in my life where I can feel like I “accomplished” anything cause I’m already there. My only main goals are to gain a little weight during the holiday season, make some money, and catch up on some sleep. So far, I’m three for three today and it feels pretty fucking good. It feels good not to care.

Let’s Start With a Bang

Lately, I’ve been singing to myself…
I  d o n’t  w a n n a   be here no  more.”

October is over, a month that made me wax and wain with a purpose. A purpose I’m still trying to figure out as there is a goofy sideshow election going on that perfectly represents what this country, like myself have become. Divided.

I’m divided in half like a bi-polar nightmare and I don’t know if I keep challenging myself to see how far I can go, or if I keep making the same mistakes because I know it’s a challenge I can win. I started with a bang seven months ago and blew up my world by moving to a city I haven’t lived in since fucking George W. Bush stole the election in 2000.

I got a job that pays me well, and pays me benefits. I found a great apartment, some cool friends and a pretty girl and I loved that I loved everything in my life until it all stopped reciprocating that love to me right before the short lived summer of Seattle, 2016.

It makes me wonder… was it really love at all?

Maybe it was infatuation that changed my world and turned me upside down. Maybe it was the start of something new, and the journey to get to the destination that once I got to, I subtly started questioning if I really wanted to be there. It was obvious by my actions, so naturally those actions have caused me to question the reaction I’ve been having to my troubled, self inflicted life. Maybe I don’t know what I want, and maybe that’s ok.

What if instead of living a bi-polar life, I am living a world of multiplicity as I’m pushed and pulled into half a dozen different scenarios in my mind. Jesus Christ was NOT perfect, and neither am I, but I don’t think it’s wrong to be a saint and sinner simultaneously, just like him.

I came back to the west coast last week with the option to leave early, but since those first  72 hours have past me by, I’m starting to think that maybe I need to slow my roll and give it a chance. Maybe I need to stop trying to blow up my life and start trying to piece it together through finding out what I want, a little bit at a time through observation, and the patience to see it through to the end, or the beginning depending on how I look at it.

After all, I spent 13 years in that God awful place they call L.A. and I didn’t sell my soul for anything less than a million dollars of my own self worth that comes in the form of credit card which I don’t really care about anymore. It’s not real, it doesn’t really matter, and really the only thing that I can do is take a deep breath, maybe get a little artificial sunlight and go out there and live my life and discover what it is that comes next. I got to admit, It’s kind of exciting that I can still be this much of a free spirit in the summertime of my life.

For awhile I’ve been singing to myself
I  d o n’t  w a n n a   be  h e re  no  more”

…but I’ve been flowing like a samurai and stinging like a butterfly. Now I don’t feel the need to blow up my life again, but I do love the excitement, so for better or worse, let’s start with a bang.



Confessions From a New Jersey Park Bench

The truth is… since I posted this blog I shaved off my beard and the bench I’m sitting on isn’t at a park at all. I’m sitting at the outdoor area at my hotel room, but the truth is, I think I like it here.

It reminds me of how something so familiar can help to ground you back to earth like that black wire on a car battery that needs a jump start.

The truth is, I remember that I love being able to know where everything is, and how even though I know there are deer lurking about, I hadn’t seen one for sixteen years until she jumped out in front of my rental car tonight.

The truth is, I enjoy my single Seattle life, I like getting into innocent trouble with millennials, and I look forward to the near future when I might look back on this blog and think it was all in my head, but the truth is, I know it’s not.

It’s just like that song I used to sing or that phrase I always hear about how much greener the grass is on the other side of the coin, the choices I make in my life, or the option to leave early at the end of my shift.

The truth is I’ve been finding out more about myself by simply stopping the action of “trying” to find out more about myself.

I may be living somewhere else physically and dwelling somewhere else mentally, but this southern suburban sprawl is pulling on my heartstrings and the truth is, that’s not a bad thing at all.



A Message From The Editor

It’s been awhile since I posted a blog, but I just wanted to say that I appreciate the new followers, likes, and comments I’ve received over the past month, regardless of my lack of new material.

Over the past 30 days I’ve been lost and found, confused and focused, and questioning every little thing I’ve ever wanted.  I don’t look at this as a bad thing though.  All artists go through times when they can’t find something to create, all writers experience a form of block, and all athletes get injured and have to rehab for a few weeks.  That’s what this is.

I’m heading back to the East coast on Thursday to spend time with friends and family, regain some level of direction, and celebrate my friend’s 40th birthday.

I know there is something stirring inside of me, and pretty soon I’m gonna find out what that is.  See you all soon.


-Christian Marc

The Love & The Hate

Is it possible to love something so much but go through fleeting moments of hating it too? Like for example, I love my life, but I hate the fact that I’ve been so complacent about it recently. It’s like I know I can do better than working at a bar and writing an interesting blog, yet although I’m glad I’m writing again, I hate the fact that I am writing this blog about how I’ve resigned to feeling nonchalant about my life.

I got to be honest, I haven’t given it 110% in the writing part because all summer I worked like 40 hours a week at a hip (or sometimes very UN-hip) rooftop hotel high volume bar, and I’m 40 years old and been doing this for 16 years so in my eyes, 40 plus 40 plus 16 equals tired as fuck on your days off, and all I remember doing was drinking, eating and watching TV.  Thank God it was an Olympic year.

I was physically and mentally exhausted, but now I know that the physical demands of my job are slowing down as the bar does in the fall and winter, and my mental problems have gone away on a vacation for awhile. With this new found level of calm, my goal must be to kick the complacency, try something new, let go of the issues I had this summer, and not allow them to come back.

No more hate.  I want to fall in love with my life again.

On the other hand, I can love and hate things outside of my life to fill that void of feeling the desire to love and hate things.  For example I hate Nicki Minaj, but I LOVE this commercial she is in, and I also simultaneously hate the fact that I love it.

There’s something about her that annoys the shit out of me,  but maybe it’s because of the way she is portrayed in the media.  Plus, I know everyone raves about her ass, but  I think her butt is just not that attractive.  It’s too big for me anyway.   I don’t know.  I’m trying not to objectify and make light of her, but come on…it IS a little obscene don’t you think?

But wait. Before you judge me, here’s the point of me bringing up her ass and how it perfectly reflects my life right now.

MY ass has gotten too big from not doing anything constructive on my days off.  I mean figuratively, because my butt isn’t actually larger or anything like that.  In fact I’ve actually lost ten pounds this summer, so I can’t really complain, but what I’m getting at is although I have been ecstatic about cruising through my life and having the means to do extravagant things with extraordinary people, I hate how complacent I have become and how I have spent my free time not learning anything new, with the exception of how to relate the size of a pop star’s derriere to my current state of life affairs.

The bright side is through all the love and the hate I have learned how to protect my heart and I learned how to be alone, and now I have the understanding and mental capacity it takes to be ok with BEING alone for right now.  I suppose those are two important things to remember how to do, even if I’ve tried to do them before and failed like a champ. I think I’m ready to stop hating the down cycle, and start living for the upswing.

So what’s the upswing?

I’m still in debt, and I  need to work five days a week to pay all my bills and get ahead of it, but I think what it comes down to is I’ve been missing that connection with something outside of love and hate. I want the passion back, the passion that comes with admiring who you are and what you do in spite of the fleeting moments of indifference.  Some days I’m really proud of myself, and other days I know I could do better than me.

For now, every time I see that Nicki Minaj commercial, maybe I will have to cause it to remind me to be a little more proactive in my life and stop hating the fact that I have been kind of lackadaisical. But what if it was necessary?  Maybe I needed it. Maybe it was therapeutic.  Maybe it was the next step, like a purging of old ideas but maybe enough is enough and now it served it’s purpose.

I should pat myself on the back for escaping from the drama pretty much unscathed, but not too confidently as to cause me to be cocky. In the most sincere and humbling way possible, I’m ready for the next phase of my life, whatever that is.

I’ll tell you…sometimes I hate trying to figure out my life at 40, but I love the fact that at least I still have a life to figure out.

The New Inspiration

I have a dilemma going on in my life and the problem is that lately I haven’t found anything inspiring to write about. Scratch that. I have plenty to write about, but I feel like I need to be a little more cautious and use a new level of discretion when I choose to write about the things that I write about. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not uninspired, but recently I realized that when I write about my personal life I’m at my best, regardless as to what’s going on or going wrong in it.

But some of the characters in my blog are also the friends and people that are reading my blog, which means we’re in the middle of a conflict of interest, a sometimes double entendre, and the reality that they may or may not end up as a character in it. I once wrote that I couldn’t do this blog without my supporting cast so I guess all I can say is, I told you so.

But let’s be honest, not EVERYTHING in my life is “blogable” just because this blog exists. Some things I try to keep private as I attempt to follow a level of ethics that I live and write by. For instance…

I want to to write about my ex girlfriend of mine who puts headphones in her ears at night and lulls herself to sleep by listening to the soothing sounds of white noise, but I know people will gossip the fuck out of it if I did.

I want to write about the PYT from the 90s that is flakey as fuck, but loves the movie Heathers as much as I do, but again, it’ll all turn into talk, talk, talk, and at some point I want to at least try to protect her anonymity.

Then there’s the wide eyed, congenial lawyer I had many wines with, and how half of a glass ended up on my knee at a baseball game, but even though she doesn’t read my blog, there’s always the possibility that she might one day read my blog… just because it’s out there.

However, certain things that affect my everyday life NEED to be written about which is why I have no qualms to mention the Bumble girl I dated for a minute who read through this website and then psycho-analyzed me on dates number two and three. It never got past that night when I accepted an invitation to go to a wedding with her, then rescinded that invitation three hours later, and haven’t seen her since.

It was my call, obviously. Reading my blog and then trying to figure me out by getting drunk and calling me out on stuff I wrote about is reminiscent of people who go out to Irish bars on St. Patrick’s Day and drink themselves stupid. Fucking amateur hour. I just wish she would have taken this for what it is….a moment in time I document about my life, which she is no longer in anymore.

Maybe I was being too harsh, but a part of me was pissed that night. Who does that shit? I mean, it’s not really fair to me is it? Anyone who dates me, or knows me, or is in my circle of friends knows I write this blog and it’s pretty goddamn personal. Am I unable to be brutally honest? Do I have to censor myself now? My life is basically out there for people to read and come to think of it, I should have everyone I meet sign a non disclosure agreement stating that they won’t use the information in this blog against me, or like the Bumble girl. Please don’t drink hella tequila and start verbally attacking me, repeating the phrase “I don’t give two shits.” seventeen times in eight minutes, then regurgitating some line about how you know all this stuff about me like I’m bad in relationships and a “hopeless romantic”

No shit I’m a hopeless romantic….you read that about me on the first page of this website. I should probably update that because come to think of it… I’m definitely NOT hopeless.

I guess for now, I can try to filter the truth through strategically playing the right pawns and rooks, but you might suggest that I have to come up with more creative ideas than writing about my three muses because lately it’s been all work, wine and women. I need to get back to having an experience outside of all three of them.

But ultimately, if you give me a reason to write about you, I’m going to write about you. Just don’t do anything stupid and please don’t get offended. This blog is half satire, and that should be taken with a grain of salt, or an entire shaker for those of you who know me.

However, if you do choose to get offended, remember that it’s your choice to feel that way, and it’s my choice to not feel the need to apologize for any of it because this is MY story. I shouldn’t have to censor myself or say I’m sorry for the things that someone else did to me. I’ve got to tell my story in the most sarcastic, ironic, bitingly funny and dreadfully dramatic way possible, without cause for concern about who may or may not get butt hurt along the way. And that will have to be my new inspiration.