The More Things Change...

I hate that I haven't had time to catch up on my blogs. Both mine and the ones I follow. Lord knows how much juicy and extremely entertaining tidbits I must've missed out on by now. Truth is, I love reading other's blogs because I live vicariously through them. While that isn't a problem, (or shouldn't be anyway), it does become a bit odd when that's all one does. Living vicariously through another's eyes is perfectly fine so long as one has a life of their own to live. If not, if you're just racing home after work to read what others have done, you need to get out more.

That being said, I've been neglecting my blogging because I've been getting out more. You know what? I'm almost regretting it. (Almost, but not quite.) I had forgotten why I'd turned into a recluse and hermit for a few years until I walked into my old stomping grounds a while back. Fucking drama! Drama, drama, drama! Left and right! Up and down. I had forgotten that interacting with others can sometimes spark a real life reality show to spring up from out of nowhere.

Hanging out at The Wild Rover Pub, I'm already allegedly fucking my brand new BFF Daisy*, am a gossip and spreading rumors, caused someone to lose their friend (I really don't get that one because the only way I lose my friends is the old fashioned way--Death!) and God knows what other hate is aimed my way. It's enough that I can sense it sometimes but I get it so often that it's almost second nature to me to feel hated when I walk into a room. (So why do I continue going there, you ask? Keep reading.) Regardless of that, you can't have everyone like you and, more importantly, the Rover is holy ground to me. (And I guess deep down inside, I really do love drama.) I missed my old stomping grounds. It's just like I left it.

I hate that part of living life but I don't care. Scratch that! I don't hate that part of living life so much as damage I cause. But fuck it! I have to get out and be a part of the world again. I feel like I've been couped up and hidden away in an attic somewhere. Time to stretch my legs; time to get back to what I'm good at. Chaos! LOL! I laugh but I'm being serious too. I destroy the things I touch and/or come in contact with. To quote one of my favorite comic book superheroes:

"I'm the best there is at what I do. But what I do isn't very nice."

If you see me on the street, you may want to cross to other side. Especially if it looks like I'm enjoying myself.

When I Get Bored, I Get Thirsty

I had forgotten how much this little cluster of towns had to offer. Everything is so fucking close together! While that may seem like a bad thing, I think it's fucking awesome. Bergenline Avenue alone boasts a wide variety of South American cuisine. Seriously, I think every fucking country is represented. Incidentally, between that and my mother's cooking, I'm getting fat again. Correction: I'm getting FATTER again. I was already fat to begin with.

I had forgotten about the endless amount of dollar stores, mom and pop shops and bodegas, bodegas, bodegas! It's good to have options people. That's all I'm saying. However, for all of these options, there isn't a decent pub within spitting or pissing distance. Sure I can go to the Whiskey Bar, Black Bear, McSwiggins or any number of pubs in Hoboken but I must confess, I've gotten spoiled living in Little Ferry for so long. I miss having a bar that's literally right down the street. I'm not saying there aren't any around here in Union City but a majority of them aren't even pubs. OH! And some of them aren't even legitimate businesses. A tell-tale sign of that is when you're in a bar and it doesn't show up on any Google or Yelp business searches but you know for a fact it's been there over a year. Also, if there's a shitload of security for such a small space, either get the fuck out or take your chances.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

Mannix, Mannix! Why, oh why is drinking cold, draft beer at pubs your only form
of entertainment?!

The answer is simple: there aren't enough comic book stores, firing ranges, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu dojos or strip clubs around to keep my overactive attention span occupied. Ok well, actually there are but they're also ridiculously expensive either in one sitting or over time and, as much as I want to have fun, I must remember that I have to save money because I can't allow this whole "living at home" thing to become permanent, but I digress.

Actually, I don't know why I love pubs and bars so much other than the fact that I'm a tempered alcoholic. (I have to remember to coin that phrase.) However, having moved back to my old stomping grounds and having not only Hoboken but Manhatten all the more closer to me, I've been attempting to discover newer forms of entertainment. The problem is, well, I'll be damned if I know what I'm really passionate about. Let's go through the list:

• Beer
• Sex
• More Beer
• More Sex
• Comic books
• Video games
• Mixed Martial Arts
• Firearms

Hmm...maybe I should broaden my horizons before I start contemplating being passionate about something. Then again, I love doing the pub thing. Last night, in Elmwood Park, I visited my friend Jamie but as she was busy pouring drinks, I realized that I loved people watching and listening in on all manner of conversations both casual and slightly odd. I loved it.

So, while change is good and discovering new things would be a boon to my imagination, why should I stop doing what already makes me happy?

That being said, I'll see you at the pub!