I'm sorry, but i'm a pretty patient guy.

I can usually turn another cheek when struck, bite my lip when spoken to harshly and certainly, put on my poker face when I probably have redlined blood pressure from someone pissing me off. But frankly, if something lasts over the span of several weeks, even I have my limits. The staring contest that is my roommate situation, has caused me to finally blink and bow out. Moving is my only option. I'm kept it pretty classy for the last 8 weeks or so, but this is my rant.

Why is it such a big deal? Because i'm a man of reason. I could understand how someone had a falling out with a partner, or a bout of depression struck someone who was working a horrible, punctual, stress-filled job. But what excuse does someone have when it comes to seeing a grown woman quit eight full-time jobs over a year, consistantly sleep on the couch because she's too lazy to use her own newly purchased bed and live on a diet of Wendy's and gummi bears? None whatsoever. I realize none of these things have a real cause/effect on me personally outside of her recent "extreme makeover, 'Don't Lift a Finger' edition" idea.

What started out as a simple project to paint a bedroom and order some new furniture, has turned my beloved living space into a stagnent indoor garage sale that no one seems to be moving any of the merchandise. Imagine piles of outdated clothes, most of which probably don't even fit (yes, I think I saw a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt in there somewhere to gauge the word "outdated"). Next to those piles, shoes stacked on top of shoes, like some kind of national monument that would make any japanese tourist snap a 100 pictures at. Finally, the recliner that is no longer a recliner, but a cemetary for dresses and tops on hangers that will never see the common public because somehow they fall behind in favor to that B.U.M. sweatshirt. And that's just the living room.

My kitchen has been turned into a furniture warehouse as the once accommodating countertop and table space has been bullied by the newest residents of the room's decor... my roommate's new bedroom furniture set. Boxed out by two dressers and a night stand that block most of the counterspace, you wouldn't recognize the cooking room without the necessary stove in the middle of it because I found myself on numerous occasions believing that a liquidation warehouse had replaced my once useable kitchen.

So, why does all this clutter exist? And you think to yourself, "Has she even bought the paint yet to follow through on this project?". Oh yes. The paint sits in the living by the television, which apparently brings her more joy and pleasure than a permiscuous Fabio on Viagara. Every day that I walk through the front door, the untouched paint cans sit with no intention of migrating to the actual room that needs them. Of course, my roommate sits in a slouched position on the couch, usually reading a book, texting some 20 year old busboy at Red Lobster and trying to catch up on Guiding Light reruns ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Throw in her newfound love of drinking, I mean, with multi-tasking skills like that, there's no reason she can't possibly include swinging a paint-covered brush around a room too, right?

Regardless, much like the other 29,381 times in my life, I have to start packing up the truck and relocating my blue-collar life again. All because someone can't treat me like something more than some lower species of animal that apparently doesn't deserve the respect and consideration of someone who contributes to household chores and monthly rent.

Well, I hope she gets around to opening those cans of paint soon cause she's going to have two bedrooms worth renovating at the end of the month.

Family Affair

Staring at the Matterhorn that was July's weekends, I did it. I persevered through a visit with the mom/Tom tagteam, then powered through a visit by Joe Sr. and then Angela & Co. decided to be the icing on the cake by visiting my birthday weekend. Count it. Three family visits in three consecutive weekends. I mean, eat your heart out David Blaine. His underwater/frozen-in-ice schtick ain't got nothin' on me.

Ok. So, it wasn't that bad. But really, when you take all three entities and put them each in their own individually marked weekend, you gotta prepare for each differently. One likes to visit Manhattan and the fastest parts of the Asian infrastructure. Another likes the challenge of finding the least amount of concrete and dollar signs possible. And one of them, is my sister who doesn't really care either way. Without fibbing, i was plenty nervous looking at the agenda because I knew that each had never seen Long Island before and each had their own image of how my life looked based here. However, with due going to the island and giving me some options, I'm happy to say that I have 3 new fans of place. Without even driving more than a span of 25 miles, anyone has access to import markets, freshwater fish hatcheries, authentic irish food & drinks, a national park and monument, beaches on two shores and the bagels. Almost forgot about the bagels.

I must sound like some paid-in-full, B-list celebrity who's trying to fill a plug for the tourism division of Long Island on how "oarsome" it is. But as nice as being paid-in-full would be, I was just pleasently surprised how there really is something for everyone here...well, at least something for everyone in my family.

iBored

So, many people would think "Um, hey Joe. About this blog I just read (which I'm currently writing), I'm glad to see that you left 1983 behind and finally got an i-something." iDid it. iGot an iPod after all the prolonging and delaying and reasoning as to why iShouldn't spend the money on something that everyone seems to have at least 3 of.

Curious which one iFinally pulled the trigger on? Well, Nosey McSnooperson, iPicked up the 8GB nano with the little video screen. iFigured that since iAlready had about a bazillion downloaded songs from limewire, iShould probably find someway to carry them around with me than strapping my PC to my back and possibly resembling Egon Spengler.

So, what was the biggest surprise that came from this purchase? That iHaven't felt this shammed into getting a more naked product since Super Nintendo came out with one controller and NO GAMES. My main purpose for this iGizmo was to use it at the gym so iDon't have to listen to grunting, over-the-hill dudes and fat-bottom girls make the Bally's world go round. My gripe basically came from instinct, as natural as finding my mother's teet, that you have to get a hard case for the thing. Duh. Boom... $20. Well, iGuess iCan't just sit there and hold the stupid thing, so you gotta get the "active arm band" right? Bling. $30. Fantastic. Now I'm hooked up and ready to FINALLY start my new life right? No, Joe. When your done getting diesel, where would you listen to this graham cracker of a hassle next? In the car of course. And since we've moved past the cassette deck-to-discman days of 1996, my carkit isn't worth anything to me. Enter the auxilery jack for the iChild. $15. And the best part is... iDon't even get to plug the stupid thing into the wall like any other awesome appliance... like a toaster or Dust Buster.

iSuppose the kicker lies in that the only thing iDon't want to ultimately pay for the iCoaster is the music itself. Very iRonic. Ok. iQuit.