RIP

They finally got me on the twittah. Probably one of my own niggas too. The fact that when I searched my name and it wasn't full of people mourning me was quite a shock. Fuck you all, all of you all.

I have an alt account, several actually, but after that betrayal I wont be sharing. Sorry.

If you see a low follower account calling some sports writer a faggot that might be me. Who knows.

I might come back here more, now. I haven't decided. Time will tell. I kinda like this place now because I have killed off the blogs following. It's more peaceful not having readers.

Godspeed, gentlemen.

The Finals

JHL playoff hockey finals. Made it back. Won the first game, even. Need one more win to take home the championship.

Get the email today: "Hey guys, we are going to be very short players today..."

Fuck. So close, and then this. Myself, I'm suffering from the flu. I will not be a good player. I can see us losing this game, and then losing the rubber match. That's how sports and life is. You get close enough to taste it, and then they snatch it away.

It's just beer league hockey right? Who cares? Well, I care. I want to win this league. The only time I'm happy lately is when I'm on the ice or when I'm walking my dog. And there are no championships for walking your dog.

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I was drinking Neocitrin yesterday, and my dog runs up and headbutts the cup. Love is a crazy thing. The hot liquid (I had literally just poured the boiling water into the mug) spills all over me, burning me, and what do I do? I check on the dog to make sure none of the water fell on her.

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Tales from the office: A client brought a girl in to see me, I think to introduce us and see if we had chemistry, and I end up violently coughing throughout the encounter. I'm must be sick.
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Tales from the office two: "Hi I've already done my taxes but I want to know if I can pepper you for questions for an hour on how I can do them better and what do you mean you want to bill me for this?"

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I haven't really watched a lot of the NHL playoffs, but I have a feeling the Flames would have been embarrassed if they had made it in. Maybe a blessing in disguise that they missed.
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Playoffs

It's weird what we get excited for. Getting up for stuff that really has no impact. But nothing has an impact. One day the sun will become engorged and this world will burn to a crisp. So, really, it isn't weird that we get excited over the meaningless. It's normal.

I play in the Jewish Hockey League in Calgary. Despite the stereotypes, there are some MoT's that can really play. I am not one of them, but whatever. It's a good time, and I enjoy it. My skillz have improved tremendously since I've been playing. Four or five years now.

I think this is the third year we have used a team format. The first couple of years it was a pick up league. So with the team format comes playoffs.

The first year we had playoffs my team didn't make it out of the first round. The second year we made it to the finals, and lost. I make it to the finals and lose in lots of the rec league sports I play. You start to really get sick of being second place.

This year, I'm on a good team and we might be able to win the whole damn thing. That's the goal, at least. We are currently up 1 to zip in the first round. Best out of three. Need one more win to go to the finals.

It's weird what we get excited for. I deleted the pussy apps from my phone, but I don't think I deleted deleted them. I still get emails about 'so and so is into you!', so I must still have a profile out there. I used to get really excited to get those emails, but now, not so much. Part of it is actually meeting some of the girls who use those apps. Part of it is work. And then the other part of it is having other shit to get excited about. I went to sportscheck and bought laces for my skates. Couple bucks. I was more excited for that than anything I have purchased recently, save the red leather jacket. You'd think I would have yawned through the lace purchase and been excited about the female interest, but no, it was the other way around.

Sports is weird like that, and that's why I like sports. The competition is what is good. I use to be a sports nut when I was younger, and by that I mean I was really interested in the professional league. Now, not so much. I watch them still, but I like watching them to learn moves, to learn the thinking behind certain plays, if that makes sense. Now I watch to appreciate. Cheering for the laundry is still fun, but I don't get into as much as I used to.

Anyway, I have a game tonight and I'm sitting on hold so I'm writing to bleed off some of the nervous energy. If I don't win tonight my mood will be sour for a month, even if we end up winning the series. Shit is weird but it isn't.

E Thots

Tax time starts March. At the start of March I deleted Tinder and Bumble and whatever the fuck else I was on. I have a habit of chasing pussy, and the internet brings pussy to you with these apps. So I'm on these apps when I should be doing other shit, like working. So I deleted them.

There is a bit of withdrawal because instead of swiping for pussy you start thinking about all the pussy you are missing out on by not swiping, which isn't productive either. And when you work longer hours than you usually do you get tired so you don't get out as much. So you really think about not swiping for pussy.

But you get over it, and you still want pussy, so I've been forcing myself to go out even when I am tired. Nothing cool. No bars or clubs. I should but I just haven't felt into it. So like, the mall, the grocery store, little lunch places, smoke pits, dog parks, places like that. And I've been approaching. That's like half the battle. Just going up and striking up a conversation.

Not giving a fuck is another big chunk of the battle. Chicks can tell if you try, and if you try it must mean you either like them, or you aren't getting pussy. Chicks hate guys who like them ("who could like me? He must be weird") and they hate guys who aren't already fucking ("If he isn't fucking he must be weird"), so you gotta act like you could care less. Which is fine because I can actually do that because my perspective on life is kinda in that wheelhouse anyways. So I've been getting blowed out most of the time because I'm having fun teasing these girls and I take it too far. Grenading, if you will. But sometimes the chick is into it and I get a number.

Chicks on Tinder are vapid airheads. Even the educated ones I bagged...you'd never know it. They all act the same. And if they are a little cute they have an army of guys sending them messages all day every day. You compete with the chemical rush they get when their phone makes a sound. And because you don't even need to be that cute to have an army of thirsty guys pining for you, all the girls have an entitled attitude. Whatever, you are just trying to fuck and not really interested in anything more so you put up with it. But you notice and it gets to you. Having to deal with a woman who lives in fantasy world, I mean.

So I figured since I deleted the app I would get away from that. I'd meet normal girls and we could act normal and go about courtship in a normal way. Except what the hell is normal? Normal is freakish, it doesn't exist anymore. If it ever did.

What am I even getting at with this post? Well, I've met two girls in the last two weeks who have an army of instagram followers. Like, tens of thousands. I'm not super familiar with IG, I have it on my phone and I use it to scout some of these chicks, but I don't really use it myself. But I mean, I met an iraqi girl at the park the other day and she had 13,000 followers. What? The girl I just met at lunch had 19K followers. What the fuck?

So I deleted the internet pussy apps and then all the girls I have met since are E-Thots anyways. Can't win for losing.

You Think You Have It Bad

I hate tax time. I hate it. Kills my soul.

I'm sitting on hold with CRA. They keep you on hold because 1) they hate fucking tax time too and 2) they want everyone to use the online shit so you stop fucking calling. Thing is the online portal doesn't have all the information and 'tools' that a phone call has. Sometimes you have to call. And they hate that, so they make you wait. And wait you do.

The music changes. The hold music, I mean. Sometimes it is classical and sometimes it is modern. Today it is modern, I think. Like elevator music version of pop 40. I don't listen to new music unless I take a young girl out and then have to. I just don't like it. Get off my lawn, and all that.

Seriously though, rap today is dudes talking about how they got the sadz. What is that shit? Rap used to be about fucking a basketball players girl and then robbing him when he got home.

Anyways, I'm sitting on hold, and I hate my work. So I use it as a break. I log onto twitter but I don't see anything there that is holding my interest. Favourite a few thots and move on. I log on to kijiji, and because I miss that stupid fucking girl, I click around on community. She lied about being into volunteering (she went once and made it out like she was Momma Terresa), so I notice the volunteering link. Clients tell me it's a good place to meet women. So I click.

I'm expecting to see wanted ads or something. Please help with the puppy parade, or help out at a soup kitchen, or whatever it is people do when they volunteer. I guess I was expecting normal. You and I have been around long enough to know that no one is fucking normal, not anymore. What was I thinking?

Instead of 'help out at the old folks home' I see "female models needed". Fuck, why didn't I think of that? I don't click because I'm mad I didn't think the scam. I keep scrolling, which was a mistake.

"I have a large family and I just lost my job and I need someone to pay for dogfood."

"My Mom is dying from cancer and she's stuck without running water or heat at a farm in the middle of nowhere and can someone send money?"

"My daughter and I are really hungry. We have nothing, and nothing to eat. Please, can someone help us?" (I have a soft heart. I assume these are all scams, but that one fucking got me)

"Can anybody help? I'm a single mom with three kids and no job and easter is coming up..."

"Single father of seven needs help..."

"I'm a newly divorced mom of three, can anybody pay for my vacation?"

"Volunteer needed to pack my stuff as I am moving" - What? What is wrong with people?

"My diabetic dog is going to die please send money"

"Wanted: Free furniture"

I get to the third page of this stuff. And then I see it.

"Volunteer to help children in India"
"Volunteer to build houses in Nepal"
"Volunteer to teach english in Ghana"
 "Volunteer to _____ in _______"

God...Is it bad that that looks so appealing?

Click to the next page. "Old man willing to spend time with young women and teach them to drive"

Done

The girl I like, well the girl I get the closest to liking, hates me.

Except that's not what it is. If she hated me I could find colour in that. If she hates me, she loves me. There would be something there, I could work with that. A man can survive that and turn it around. There are stories about people who love and hate and love again. I've seen it with the clients. Hate equals hope. And that's the problem. She doesn't hate me.

She doesn't even remember I exist. That's what kills a man.

I creep her media sometimes. She is back with her LTR. Fine. She's probably bored as fuck and running around on him again. That's how she met me, after all. But I'm pissed she doesn't even ask me if I want to hang out. I don't know if I would, but I just want to be asked.

The only reason I care is because she doesn't. What a mind worm.

I have a buddy who makes fun of me for being in love with this woman, but I'm not. I know what love is. But this is worse. I'm pining for the attention of a woman because she has withdrawn it, and I'm never getting it back. Does that make sense? Her withdrawal is what has be enticed. I didn't like her this much when she was with me.

Don't text her, don't call her, delete her from your phone. And I don't text her, and I don't call her, but I can't delete her from my phone. That would be permanent. I'd have to accept my failure then. I never fail with girls, I always kick them off. Maybe that's it.

Got me singing the Blues though.

Poor Girl

I got her number at the dog park. I go everyday. I leave my dog at my parents when I go to work, and pick her up after I get off. And then we head to the park. I have two I usually go to. They are situated on either side of the valley. Sandy Beach and 15A. Rich people parks. Women are there, wives of rich men, accomplished in their own right. They don't marry down, you know? Sometimes there is a nanny there. You're cute, but I have a boyfriend.

Of the two, there are more normal people at 15A. Last time I was at Sandy Beach there was a rich man there talking about how the rich school he sent his daughter too was accusing him of touching his daughter. That's rich, I thought. At 15A I've seen people break up or talk about how they hate their boss or some other mundane thing. Normal.

My dog is a GSP. She's black and speckled. She should be brown. She's a mix of a GSP and a Musterlander. She's a mutt. Like me. I only ever get mutts. She's the first dog I didn't get from a rescue, and sometimes I feel bad about it. When I went to the pound all they had were pitbulls, and a dog that looked like my dead one. When I saw it I cried. There was a big rough biker looking guy there and he put his arm around me and said it would be ok. No homo.

She's very independent at the park. She runs around and goes 100 yards away from me and all the way back. She plays with all the dogs and tries to climb trees to get to birds. She pulls sticks off of trees and runs around and plays. She is joy personified. I like watching her at the park.

Is she field trained? I turn to look and I'm surprised. A cute face is asking me. She's wearing a white toque and she has big black prescription glasses on. She has brown skin, not like an arab or sri lanka though, like it's tanned. But it's not a tan. Maybe she's Mexican. She's shorter than me, and her eyes shine with a sweetness. Fuck me. Just my type. I don't even look at her body other than a quick check to see if she's fat. I can't tell, she is wearing a coat. She isn't obese though, and might even be skinny. I'm in trouble.

No. Just train her myself, and I never train her. She's a natural, you know? Like me. I say that with a smile. Back off, man. If you like them they don't like you. So I stop smiling and keep walking. She keeps walking too. Fuck.

I talk to her. Can use the practice. Ric Flair said he still flirts and he's fucked ten thousand of them. If he goes through the motions so should I. I ask her about her dog. She asks about mine. Where'd I get her? Pure bred? Mutts are better, anyways. Maybe she is a mutt, like me.