My Inner Monologue is showing!

I have been writing the next great American novel for the last several months, and it was my brilliant idea to give a survey at school. I asked for unlimited and explicit questions regarding gay culture, history, or experience. I don’t like to refer to it as a lifestyle. To be honest, this is what my lifestyle is truly like. Today I…

1) Woke up at 6:54 a.m. on a Saturday even though I didn’t get to sleep until 1:00a.m.

2) Was the first asshole at the blood lab to get my blood drawn. They don’t open until 8:00 on Saturdays. I thought that I was being slick.

3) Some eighteen year old prick cut in front of me in line, while talking on his cell phone.

4) I stood in the freezing rain for a half hour, only to find out that the blood lab was closed because Monday is Memorial day. I didn’t realize that modern medicine took holidays. Son of a bitch!

5) So, I got back into the car, drove two blocks to the hospital. (This blood work is important. The doctor may come to my house and roll me if I don’t have it done on time.)

6) There were 30 people ahead of me. At least that’s what I assumed since I was holding lucky number 31 in my hot little hand. I held on to that laminated square for dear life, as though some old lady was going to fight me for last place.

7) When the surly woman called me to her cubical I was the last fucker standing in the hallway like modern art. A stupid look plastered to my face, like I was surprised that I wasn’t senile before then.

8) The receptionist took my lab slip and the bold number 31. Then she tells me that there isn’t information about me in the computer. I give her my social security number, address, and a list of how many times I piss in a day. I’m thinking “Is there anything else you would like to know? I make wages below poverty level. It is a well known fact that I snore and talk in my sleep. I lost my virginity at thirteen, then again at seventeen. No, I don’t like tomatoes, but I do like ketchup. Go figure!”

9) Now I have to practically beg for someone to actually take blood. If that’s not ironic, I don’t know what ironic means.

10) I was waiting in the sitting room, and I moved to the waiting room to sit. In a strange twist of fate the rooms kept getting smaller. Now I sandwich myself between mathusala and the bitch who beat me to the hospital from the blood lab line. I’m thinking, “Where did she park her car?”

11) Finally, a kindly woman sticks a needle in my arm to extract the sweet nectar of life and vacuum seals it in six little glass tubes. All of which took about 45 seconds. How much does life suck? Sometimes I forget.

12) Ahh! But it’s not over yet. Next we went on a mission to find 34inch mini blinds. Not an unreasonable request in my view. Should be simple right? Wrong!

13) First we take a drive to Big Lots. There are three kinds of blinds against the back wall. None of them are right. We leave.

14) Second, we stop at Home Depot. They have to have the blinds. After all, the fucking place is called HOME Depot. We walk to the back. I’m feeling slightly nervous about the large boxes and heavy metal tubing looming above our heads. That would be my luck, to be crushed to death in a frigen hardware store. They have the blinds, but they’re WAY too expensive, and they only have them in white and alabaster. Dude this bites.

15) We pull into the K-Mart parking lot, avoiding the idiots who drive through all of the lanes with out looking. (You know who you are!) If one of those bastards ever hit me, they had better be a good sprinter. I’d chase them down and bitch at them until they cried. The delightful K-Mart employee points us in the wrong direction, and we pass a drunken man muttering to himself. Although that was somewhat amusing, still no damn mini-blinds.

16) Okay, so the trip to HOME Depot and K-Mart didn’t pan out. Next we head to Valu with the misconception that they even SELL mini blinds. Nope, and we’re off again.

17) We stop at the Family dollar. I’ve seen a limited selection of blinds in there. I’m so fucking tired at this point that I want my damn blood back. They only have white and alabaster, and none of them are the right size.

18) Next it’s across the street to Dollar general. They don’t even have any white and alabaster! Bastards!

19) We stop at home to call Sears, Wal-mart, and J.C. Penny’s. After repeating myself to the moron on the other end of the line and listening to an instrumental version of a Captain & Tanile classic, we got back into the car and headed over to Wal-Mart.

20) Finally, the right fucking size, the right fucking color, the right fucking store!

21) I get home, and the damn things aren’t the right size!

So, when people ask me about my lifestyle I’ll just tell them this story. I’ll tell them to imagine their life as a frustrated homosexual in a hardware store. It shouldn’t be that difficult to understand. Since life sucks for everyone sometimes.