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Vlog Entry: Sherlock vs Elementary

Vlog Entry: WV Stereotypes

The Catering Job

At one point in high school, I vowed never again to work in the food industry. While the hours and pay weren't bad, the job itself was very mentally and physically exhausting.

Fast forward several years later to my sophomore year of college and a friend of mine, named Ben, calls me and says that he has a job offer for me.

He explained to me that to make some money on the side, he worked on and off doing catering jobs serving panda tears mixed with the blood of Christ to rich, white people (or something along those lines), and asked if I wanted to help him on a special event. I accepted after realizing that the only thing I had better to do that night was read a book, play chess against myself, or reconsider my worth as a human being.

So here's the briefing. A man and his wife are throwing a private holiday party at his house and Ben, another one of our coworkers whose name I can't remember but for now let's just call him Suzy, and I are to act as bartenders. Ben, Suzy, and I arrive in an upper-class part of town dressed in black about to handle our business. We set out the wine bottles and other assorted liquors as to prepare for the evening's shenanigans.

I had feared that we would be glorified bus boys. Filthy peasants to do the wealthy's bidding. However this couldn't have been farther from the truth. The party was great and everyone was surprisingly friendly to us. Sure the alcohol may have had something to do with it, but shut up I'm trying to tell a story here.

One man puked all over the bathroom, one woman fell flat on her face just outside of the house, one woman started suggesting several different sexual positions to Ben and me, at which Ben laughed, she laughed, and I died a little on the inside because my sex life works out about as often as Western European peace treaties (highbrow joke).  Ben and I also sang along with the song "Somebody That I Used To Know" by Gotye, which was one of the highlights of the night according to the host. Speaking of which, the host got hammered and payed us way more than we were due, and his wife apologized for slamming a bottle of wine onto a desk.

Overall, the catering job was a good experience. Getting paid to sip drinks and flirt with sheltering, suburban, desperate housewives? There but for the grace of God go I.

Summer update and video blog announcement

Since it's been a while that I've updated my blog, I suppose that I should alarm all five of my readers that I am indeed alive. I have just finished another semester of college, and this one was a semester that was about as much fun as a kidney stone. However, now that school has blown its load and rolled over on its side of the bed for a snooze, summer has popped out of the closet to give me a spirited midnight quickie. Yes it's that time of year again, and as per usual I do have some big plans for the summer which I'll get into as they roll along. More importantly, however, I want to make an announcement of my upcoming video blog (or "vlog" as you younglings call it nowadays). This vlog will basically be a podcast that will run on my youtube channel. The content will parallel the content on my blog as I will discuss everything ranging from sports, film, game, and book reviews, and general rants about my life and events that take place in it. I will begin this video blog within the next week or so. Keep checking the Toasty Domain for more updates!

College Life Thus Far

College and I have a complicated relationship. Sometimes it's been a good and loyal friend, other times it's bent me over the sofa and whaled on me with a steak tenderizer, but I take all of that in good faith because I know that it's going to lead me to bigger things in life.

For better or for worse.

I'm currently a junior at (UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE WHICH NAME WILL NOT BE MENTIONED), in which I am currently studying (UNSPECIFIED MAJOR THAT ALSO WILL NOT BE MENTIONED). I still commute to classes on a daily basis meaning that I can almost see the gas companies shaking hands with (UNSPECIFIED COLLEGE) as they suck every cent of paycheck out of my pocket. Commuting can also sometimes make college feel more like extended high school which only makes me want to speed up time between cradle to the grave. 

I know that what I'm about to say may be difficult for some people of my generation to understand, but I very much appreciate everything my parents do for me, so I try to help them out as much as I can. I work two part time jobs to afford the essentials (food, gas, cell phone bill, etc.). I don't fancy being a burden on anyone, and this especially goes for my parents. So if you want to call me lame for trying to afford having responsibilities and attempting to help my parents out, please do so. Then go hurl yourself out of a plane and land ass first on the spire of Winchester Cathedral.

As for the classes I've taken, *ehh* well they haven't exactly been terrible. Some have been major intensive, others have made flicking playing cards into a hat seem like a better time-waster. I've had good professors and bad ones, but that's the nature of the business, I suppose.

In conclusion, I will continue this journey for as long as I can, but what you need to know is that if you spread yourself too thin, you risk losing a sense of structure, which is something I obviously need to work on. Be safe, and work hard on whatever you decide to do, but don't get too overwhelmed.

Toasty's Club Opinions and Experiences

*breathes a heavy sigh* I've never been a fan of clubs. The only time I've ever gone is if I'm with a group of friends and they hit on the bright idea to go, or if I have a friend that is DJ-ing that night at a local nightspot.

Why am I not a fan of clubs? I'm not sure where to begin, honestly. I don't know what's to like about paying a cover charge just to be packed like sardines into a dance room with tons of dudes and girls acting as if they had to share one half of a brain cell. I don't understand why people at clubs seem to enjoy overpriced drinks that have become the norm at these places. I also wish someone would please explain to me this new ritual known as the "twerk" so that way I could make my way out of that god-forsaken place as soon as I realize it is being performed.

However, recently it was my 21st birthday which is just a way of saying that I can now legally do everything I've been doing since I was 17. A friend of mine named Jason (known as DJ Twin) sent me a message via Facebook and informed me that he was DJ-ing at a local club the weekend of my birthday, and as a gift he could put my name on a list so that I could get in for free. There was no way I was going to turn this down, even though it was at a club because Twin is a really nice person, and a hell of a DJ. He's done so much for me and he has never asked anything in return. So I try to support him any chance I get. Unfortunately this did mean I would have to take a break from my nightly routine of attempting to rationalize my fear and disgust of other human beings.

As I approached the club doors, one of the first things I see is some young guy being thrown out for picking a fight with security. The kid was relentless, though, even going as far as to threaten the security guards with a brick (yes you read that right). I expected the encounter to end  in disaster, and lo was it so. Then I got bonus points when the kid was knocked unconscious by security.

Perspective thus gained, I walked through the doors of the club right after not paying a cover, and immediately approached the bar to buy a beer, wherein the bartenders looked at me as if I were lost. Oh I see, so the status quo for clubs is to buy a shot of something that rivals the taste battery acid, or something that's so fruity that it's pointless.

I then made my way through the cluster fuck that was the dance floor resisting the urge to mosh pit the hell out of everyone and approached the booth where my friend DJ Twin was playing music. I shook his hand, thanked him for everything, and then went to get him a drink as I figured it was the least I could do in return for the gift, plus I had finished my beer at that point and needed another.

As I made my way back to the bar through the dance floor, I began to notice how many random girls would start to grind on me as I was walking by. Due to the likely probability that  they all had boyfriends and just wanted to see a fight,  I would nudge them out of the way and stroll by as to obey the Toasty international law of go fuck yourself. I got to the bar, bought the drinks, and noticed a five dollar bill sitting on the bar that someone was just giving away, that is, not supervising.

I took DJ Twin his drink and luckily no cosmic twerkers descended from on high. Afterwards, I stuck around the club for about another hour, being surrounded by annoying sorority sisters who kept finding the urge to scream after every alcoholic shot they took, before I noticed the insides of my ears were leaking brain fluid. So I decided to call it a night.

In conclusion, I would like to thank DJ Twin for inviting me out, as well as going through the effort of getting me in for free. He was a spot on DJ and made going to the club more tolerable than it could have been. But let it be known that the day I go to a club on my own free will is the day I swallow barbed wire, pull the end out of my ass and floss myself to death.