Entry 07/04/2010 09:52:21 PM – Mentat 576
While school is out for the summer in most parts of the world — it would appear that the drama and scene spillover from those days has entered into dAmn with a vengeance. In the last couple of days, it’s gone from quiet and relatively well behaved, to scene queens making all sort of noise, bored teenagers and tweens creating unnecessary shit-storms, or my personal favorite, attention whores a go-go desperately trying to suck up any sort of attention they could get, both positive and (more often times than naught) negative. It’s been quite a chore having to brush up and use the /ignore feature of SuperdAmn in order to bring chat on the whole back to what I’ve been familiar with while the kids had been in school… But more on that in a moment.
Emancipation Day has come and gone and I enjoyed myself following in the tradition that I routinely do for my personal holiday. Got together to stick and grass straw fetishes. One with a razor blade (to symbolize the emos and emotional black holes that I routinely dealt with), and the other with a paste-glitter and rhinestone tiara (well, it turned out to be more like a hat, but it was close enough for government work) for the drama and scene queens, and on a popsicle and twig raft, went floating down the Blackstone River to its inevitable end at the waterfall over on South Main Street.
The fun part is that my aunt and uncle never figured out that I had stepped out before sunrise, as they usually hear my comings and goings anytime the sun’s up near to the homestead. Which meant I saved myself the million and one questions of what I was doing out at that time, and the re-explanation of why I do what I do for Emancipation Day. So for those of you that don’t know and the new folk that follow me hither and yon, I’ll explain the story one more time for those of you that ever wonder…
Years and years ago, I used to work at New England Pest Control. It was an all right job for someone just out of high school, and not wanting to go to college (and some years before I actually did), and while the pay was pretty low even back then — it was enough for me to afford my portion of the rent and utilities for the apartment I used to have in Woonsocket (and before I moved to Cranston). At the time, I didn’t have all that many friends, and was as introverted as I was in high school — although I had been making more friends that were gay than straight (or women).
So enter Michael F. Apparently gay (the GAYdar wasn’t anything as it is today, and even back then — it was pretty damned obvious that he was; in spite of his public denials at work). Seemed sort of all right — enough to want to befriend but definitely nowhere near to my visiting the moral dilemma of dating someone from work.
Michael F. moved up from Newport and didn’t know the scene at all. Introduced him to the few friends that I made, and the clubs that I had go to after work. Thing went pretty well, and he and I got along all right.
Come the winter — Michael F. tells me that he has an interview coming up in Boston and asked me to give him a ride up to the city (as I’m pretty damned familiar with the layout of Downtown Boston). We talked about it a little, and I would have needed to take a day out of work. Didn’t think much of it as I had sick time accumulated and hadn’t taken a day out of work in the better part of 6-months, so I said what the hell; and agreed to take the day out as we were supposed to also go shopping after the interview.
So I picked up Michael F. at his apartment in Pawtucket, RI… As we’re driving up to Boston I ask him where this hotel was that we were going to. He tells me the name of the hotel and that it’s off of Mass Ave. An hour later, I’m on Mass Ave in Boston driving up one end and down the other and not seeing any hotel by the name he had given me. After another almost two hours and stopping at several gas station along Mass Ave, none of which ever heard of the hotel.
Looking over at Michael F. I asked him whether he got the name of the hotel wrong, and he stated to me that he confirmed three times the name of the hotel and the location. Looking at his paper, he didn’t include the exact address — instead putting directions just to Mass Ave.
Scowling, I decided to trust my instincts and instead of continuing to drive all over Downtown Boston, wasting gas and not having the money for another filling of the tank — decided on parking the car at the Multilevel Public Garage over by Faneuil Hall Marketplace (after all, we were supposed to go shopping afterward, and it was the most prudent thing to do). Asked a couple of employees working at the food court whether they had heard of the hotel while getting something quick to eat (as my sugar had been dropping pretty low). One heard of a new hotel being opened, but it wasn’t off of Mass Ave, it was in Alton (across the Charles River). Didn’t know the directions, but did confirm that the T went by it and it’s easy enough to get to by commuter train.
I rushed up the stairs from Government Center to get to the train so we could take advantage of the time, get Michael F. to his interview and back here to do the shopping that I had really wanted to do. Halfway up the stairs, I heard Michael F. screeching at me. Turning around, I saw that he had fallen while trying to keep up with me, ended up ripping his coat, and muddying his light-tan pants.
Brushing himself off, he thought that his outfit was completely ruined, and throwing a drama moment, demanded to go home because he didn’t want to go to the interview looking like a wreck.
By this time, I had spend half my day getting to Boston and trolling around a major street that didn’t have any signs of this hotel on, and I wasn’t about to have this trip completely wasted by him throwing a queenly hysterical dramatic implosion and cutting off his nose to spite his face. I told him to get as straightened out as he could, because I would be go to hell driving back home after this wasted trip.
Michael F. got indignant, but he did straighten himself out, and off we went to the T-station talked with one of the concierge workers and found precisely where the hotel was… it was 3 miles off of Mass Ave, on a road that we had passed by four times. Of course, there was no signage for the hotel — as it was newly constructed and probably wasn’t completely open. The worst part of the walk was that it was about a mile and a half from the nearest train stop and crossing the Charles River, I can remember vividly that half of my face was seriously numb from the biting and negative wind-chill cold.
I got Michael F. to his interview, and after an hour or so there, he came out smiling and all excited and told me that he had a second interview in a week, and needed to come back here. I smiled without any warm feelings and nodded. Congratulated him, and told him that I wouldn’t be able to take another day out, and that he’ll need to make arrangements for someone else to take him, and on the way back to Faneuil Hall, asked whether he was up for some shopping.
By this time it was about 4 PM and looking at the time, said to me that he had to get to work, as his shift was at 6 PM.
Yes, he was working telemarketing at night, and yes… I was going to be driving him back to work — the same place I told people I was sick as a dog and had to take the day out.
Pissed (and covering it up well) I nodded, and asked him to simply talk to me on the way home, as I was pretty tired, and needed the company to ensure I didn’t end up veering off the road or anything. Ten minutes out of Boston, he passed out and was snoring in the passenger seat.
Fuming, I didn’t need his company as I was mad enough to keep me up and getting him to work, he ungraciously thanked me for bringing him to the interview, and without another word sashayed into work.
A couple of weeks later, friends of mine are telling me strange stories about this trip to Boston. Seems that Michael F. was telling friends that I had made a pass at him during the trip, and when he turned me down, I stopped talking to him and was saying all sorts of ugly things about him at work.
Looking at Michael S (who was the first to tell me this), I laid out the story of what happened when I took him to Boston and how scatterbrained he had been about the directions to this Hotel. Also included how he had used me exclusively to get him to the interview, and was simply backing off while I cooled off about being used the way he did. Also told Michael S that I had positively no interest in him as he was too pretentious for my taste.
Found out though shortly after my chat with Michael S. that he had been backstabbing me to the girls at the office, telling them the same horrible stories and telling them how evil, manipulative and underhanded I was in trying to get him fired from his job because he had turned me down.
Turns out — he was fired from his job for his poor job performance, and lack of organization skills. And the girls in the front office were glad to get rid of him given the stories that they were telling me of the backstabbing he had been doing with them as well.
A couple of weeks after that — Michael F. landed a job as a waiter at the No Name (thanks largely to the good words Michael S. had put in for him). And the pattern repeated, with Michael F. telling the new friends and the circle of friends that we had been part of that Michael S. brought him someplace, and afterward told everyone that the reason why Michael was being a bitch to him was because Michael F. turned down Michael S. advances.
Finally, on June 25… So many years ago… Michael F., having been fired from two other jobs and going through all the friends that he had made by using them and then accusing them of making advances at him, disappeared from the Providence scene, and was assumed to have gone back to Newport never to be heard from again.
Michael S. and I threw a party for the circle of friends that had been burned by Michael F. backstabbing and the way he had used us all. Michael S. being the DJ played such campy songs as "I Will Survive" and "Ding Dong, the Witch is dead"… And me? I quietly let go of all the anger, frustration and the feeling of being backstabbed by a two-bit queen I had been feeling.
It has been a tradition of mine since.
So as I was saying earlier — it’s been horribly dramatic in the channels that I haunt. Got one that says he’s ugly and Goth, but the only thing that he proves to being is completely emo. I means really… He has the word "cute" in his nick, and the thing is that all he did for almost 45 minutes straight was poll everyone in the room about how ugly he was. Cupcake… it’s not fooling this old man, given you have the word "cute" in your nickname. False modesty and false self-depreciation just don’t fool anyone with a few brain cells to rub together. Though the cherry on the sundae came a couple of days later when a very well mannered Irishman came in and seeing his nick asked him whether he was Gothic… His answer? "I wear black".. For which the well mannered man said, "anyone can wear black, but that doesn’t make one Gothic." He got extremely defensive and flipped the hell out of the channel for the remainder of the evening.
Then we had two teenage girls that were simply ragging on about how people make up their illnesses in order to make themselves feel damaged and different. Of course, it was basically trolling in the room as no one was talking about that sort of thing and the two of them were completely dominating the chat, with the monitors doing nothing about controlling the two of them, other than weak and flimsy warnings with nary a kick in site for the two of them. These two had dominated the chat for a better portion of an hour slamming into everyone and anyone that had a contrary comment on the topic.
Then there’s the gaggle of scene queens that were shrieking about relationship drama that they don’t even have a relationship with the person. They’ve never met in person, they’ve never chatted on the phone… And yet, their lives will come to a complete end if they can’t keep that person (who they’ve known all of a week) in their lives. *eye roll* What makes it worse is the amount of drama implosions they throw into the channel if things don’t go exactly the way they want.
Finally was my favorite from a couple of days ago; and something that routinely haunts Internet chats for as long as I remember in the last 21 years I’ve been online. Someone comes online half-drunk sharing the kind of news that should not be possibly be shared in a public forum…. Someone died only a couple of hours ago (from the time they come in and said all this crap). When urged to go offline and grieve with family and friends, the person tells me (and the others in the channel) they have no phone, and no friends and is looking for one specific person (who is significantly younger than they themselves could be, given the bomb that they had dropped). *sighs* This sort of shit has gone on so much and has proven to be fake more often times than naught — it’s impossible to take even the drama bombs of this nature seriously, even for those that are sympathetic/empathetic.
I think I might wander out and adventure a lot more, and wait ’til the kids go back to school. That way I can deal with them behaved more and having normal hours online.
Well that’s about it for the time being… Off to finish up on a couple of flames and then it’s the ride home.