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11/13/08 07:01 pm - parking woes

Anybody know of a decent monthly deal for parking around Market and 7th? Need 24 hour access, very preferably covered. Looking at possibly moving and there's no parking for that building, because that's how SF is.

10/13/08 08:58 am - Pill find of the week

I really wish I had a camera on me at all times.

Found an ecstasy pill molded into the shape of Bart Simpson's head.

9/16/08 05:48 pm - the nasty

It's been a while since I've written any stories so here's one from this past weekend.

I am in charge of a room with maybe 60 or so customers. That particular room's womens' restroom has about 10 stalls. With no employee bathroom in the club, I must share the filth of everyone else every time I need to relieve myself. I am now the master of squatting.

At one point I decide I need to pee quite badly. I walk into the bathroom and there's a line of maybe 5 girls, which is quite long for this bathroom. One regular walks out with a disgusted face, so I look at her questioningly. She responds with a gesture of puking and points. Aww fuck.... I look and there's a mountain of large chunky vomit on the floor inside one of the stalls. Awww fuck!

So this girl had puked while sitting on the toilet, the mountain sitting in front of the toilet spanning from stall wall to stall wall. When I looked, she was still sitting on the toilet. She walked out of the stall wiping her mouth with some toilet paper and spat out the remaining vomit residue into the trash can. The vomiting seemed to have sobered her up quite a bit, so I didn't request for backup to carry her out. Instead I called for the floor guy to notify him that there was some vomit that needed cleaning up.

"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I just drank too much."
"Oh really?"
"You want to go outside for a little bit?"
"I'll go outside, don't worry."
"You want some water?"
"No thank you, I'm fine."
"Ok, well promise me that you'll spend a few minutes outside."
"Don't worry, I promise you, I will definitely go outside. You took care of me last time, thank you."

Sure she looked vaguely familiar but hey she acted grateful enough for the help I suppose I gave her whenever the last time was. But fuck if I know which time that was. The worst part of all this was the fact that as she said thank you she gave me almost a hug, keeping a good distance seeing how she had just vomited, and was rubbing her hand on my back affectionately, my back which of course had my hair all down it. Oh god, her hand!

By the time the floor guy arrived there was already another girl in that stall. He saw that the stall was occupied, set his mop against a wall, and left. Uh, where are you going? I waited and watched this new girl finish her business, and have to hop over the vomit in order to get out of the stall. Hey floor guy, come baaaaaaack~ I watched the floor guy sweep up the chunks with a broom into a dustpan and then mop up the rest. Can I pee now?

My most repeated complaint is the fact that shit always happens when I need to pee. The more badly I need to pee, the more complicated the situation is. This is just one example.

9/6/08 06:42 pm - FUCK THIS HEAT

Fuck this heat. I haven't been keeping track of what the exact temperature is, and it is probably better that way. It is so hot I cannot get much more than 6 hours of sleep a day, and as someone who works 11 to 18 hours in a row with few precious hours in between this is just fucking retarded.

Last weekend was long and strenuous. This weekend is not bad other than the crazy hectic last night. Next weekend will be even more strenuous than the last, whether it will feel longer or not I cannot predict.

In a way I am thankful for the variety of events I work, the variety of social cultures (if you can indeed call some of them genuine culture, but then I suppose that depends on your exact definition of "culture") that I am dealing with in the course of these three weeks of which I am only in the middle of. As much as I dislike socializing people I do value experiencing people, if that makes any sense. It makes me feel more aware of the world, of life. At the same time, it can be painful and torturous, because unfortunately my work by definition is dealing with the worst aspects of these people. So really, I must question how much of people and culture I really am experiencing.

I have written somewhere a long time ago that I deal with the best of times yet the worst of times. Best because ideally parties represent fun, enjoying your life, enjoying your friends and people around you, to sum it up, happiness. Worst because alcohol and drugs cause you to lose control of any common sense as well as inflating your ego to superman levels, causing you to act incredibly stupid yet feel genius about it, to sum it up, an asshole.

Jeremy would like to view these clubbers as people who are innocent until they fuck up, but that's him as a light tech. I, as security, can't help but view clubbers as those who have all fucked up and just haven't been caught yet. That's just how it goes.

What word would be the best to describe the feeling of the situation where the highlight of a night is a girl who ingested a fabulous cocktail of drugs and alcohol, ended up in the alley with no top, thrashing around like a fish out of water, screaming about how she is dead and other bursts of paranoia, all to the climax of fishing her tampon out and throwing it down the street, only to find it and attempt to put it in again?

How sad are you to be so fucked up to have your husband leave you at the club, causing you to throw yourself desperately on every male in sight, have unquenchable urges to climb trees and stand on top of rails? Or really how sad are you to be the guy who is rejected by such a girl? Or really how sad am I who couldn't feel an ounce of pity no matter how hard I tried?

I have this incredible desire to take a vacation in Iceland.

I don't think I will be able to sleep again before work tonight. Looks like more Red Bull shooting time. Customers beware, I am very irritable this weekend.

8/21/08 03:45 pm - I don't think I'll ever catch up on rest

Yesterday I finally finished my right arm. Both arms are now completely sleeved. In October I start my next piece. Happy happy joy joy.

Towards the end of my tattoo session two Russian women came into the shop, for piercing something or another. I was lying on my stomach, Barnaby was working on the back of my upper arm, my face was turned towards him and so away from the rest of the shop, my free arm dangling off the chair. All of a sudden I heard these women get real close, talking right on top of my head. I figured they were putting their faces some inches away from my dangling arm, talking about it. Immediately I thought, if one of those bitches touch my arm right now, I will grab her wrist and twist it as hard as I can. Granted, in that position I wouldn't be able to twist it very hard, or very much as I wouldn't want to move the rest of my body, or, for fuck's sake, the arm I was getting tattooed. But my experience with random strangers who see that there's ink underneath the skin and their incredible desire to touch it had me prepared for some backlash.

A few seconds later I heard the piercer say "Don't touch it. That is very very very rude." I thought, oh ho ho, that was a close one.

What is it with people who must touch exposed tattoos? I was well warned about this long before I considered getting my arms tattooed. As tattoos are purely visual, what logic connects with touching? Is it a scratch-and-sniff sticker? And I can't even narrow it down to American stupidity. All people do this, whites, blacks, Asian fobs and twinkies, European vacationers, they all have an uncontrollable impulse to touch the marked skin. Even some people who have tattoos themselves will do this. The only exception is those people who have a large piece or are heavily tattooed themselves. It makes absolutely no sense but I will be bearing it for the rest of my life. Maybe I should start slapping them. "Sorry your face looks ugly I thought maybe I could fix it."

Ah the price you pay for body art. No way in hell I'd take it back.

8/18/08 01:38 pm - live to be an asshole for another day

An exhausting week of stress an anxiety, but here I am again, lying in bed and being lazy.

My steady losing of weight(?) has drawn various compliments(?), which remind me just how unhealthy my life is, that it really is time to get more exercise during the week, if only just to help me eat more. Going through five days a week of long hours of work and not much intake more than cigarettes, gum, and caffeine, no real meal in between, not much sleep... yes, of course I'm losing weight.

I've been playing this game again, it's been a few years since I've touched it so I'm rusty, and they've changed a few things, but it's still addicting.

Korean girl: You're so skinny! So skinny!
me: I know.
Korean girl: It's ok, make bigger, make look good.
me: wow

I really should clean up my room. I don't think today is the day.

This Wednesday I should be finishing up my right arm. I am very happy.

8/4/08 08:03 pm - arg frustrations

Yay for virus/spyware/malware problems that's been eating up my computer. I now face a strong possibility of re-formatting the entire hard drive, which is not fun.

In other news, The End Up is now open on Monday nights, which allows me to work five nights regularly. With Monday nights I can now take Saturday mornings off which allows me to get decent rest before Saturday night/Sunday morning, which gives me at least six shifts a week. Good times.

It's amazing the reasons people get into fights for, be it involving girls or guys, like "that bitch lied to me about the pill she gave me" (thankfully that didn't develop into a full fight). It makes me think, "so... what do you want me to do about it?"

A couple of weeks ago it was a goldmine of fake ID's, all horribly made, all in one night, to the point where me and the other door guy were having fun just laughing at all the dumb kids. Did you seriously pay for this? You might want to go back to the guy and kick his ass because this is hilariously badly done.

"But that's a real ID."
"Look, we are laughing at you because of how bad it is."

Drug busts are always amusing yet exasperating when they try to get themselves out of the blame. Same thing happens with smuggled alcohol. You can never forget the classic line: "it's not mine! ...Can I at least have it back?"

For the past few weeks I've had random customers come up to me and compliment me about how I seemed to have lost weight. Every time my response is "eh?"

E-pill makers are getting cute with their pills, I found one last week shaped like a Transformers logo.

7/10/08 05:52 pm - only we would have conversations like these

(8:51:08 PM) me: ok explain this to me zed
(8:51:16 PM) me: if you put two socks of the same pair
(8:51:26 PM) Zed: yes yes
(8:51:26 PM) me: through the same washer and dryer
(8:51:30 PM) Zed: ok
(8:51:31 PM) me: how does one shrink and one not?
(8:51:35 PM) Zed: wow
(8:51:49 PM) Zed: one eatting the other
(8:52:10 PM) me: one goes up a little further than the other
(8:52:16 PM) Zed: lol
(8:52:21 PM) me: or am i going nuts and all i did was pick two different socks
(8:52:31 PM) me: they look the same...
(8:52:45 PM) Zed: are all your socks the same color(yes)
(8:53:19 PM) me: true
(8:53:26 PM) me: but they're all unique in their own special way
(8:53:30 PM) me: i have snowflakes as socks
(8:53:44 PM) Zed: riiiiiiight
(8:53:51 PM) Zed: meaning some are older then the others
(8:54:28 PM) me: hey shush
(8:54:39 PM) me: it's all about length and thickness
(8:54:42 PM) me: like penises
(8:54:51 PM) Zed: its about how you use them!
(8:54:52 PM) me: different size for different needs
(8:55:09 PM) Zed: do you always need a pair :D
(8:55:13 PM) me: ok i'm having way too much fun with a conversation about socks
(8:55:20 PM) me: yes i require two to satisfy me
(8:55:30 PM) me: otherwise i feel off balance
(8:56:13 PM) Zed: :D
(8:56:19 PM) me: and they all gotta be black
(8:56:26 PM) Zed: i can never wear two different socks
(8:56:27 PM) me: or else it's not good enough
(8:56:29 PM) Zed: it always feels odd
(8:56:34 PM) me: no whities for me

...So it turned out that I was indeed wearing two different socks.

7/7/08 06:58 pm - good morning

I know I've taken a break from writing, three weekends ago I was drunk, two weekends ago Paul Van Dyk packed the main room, and last weekend Paul Oakenfold was overloading the mixers. Now that I've finally had some sleep I remember bits and pieces of these last weeks, mainly involving weaving between insanely packed crowds. With pride week following fourth of July, maybe this week will finally calm down somewhat.

I just got offered ecstasy by a neighbor, I am amused.

The night following Paul Van Dyk was Colossus, a big gay party, after which I realized I had been taking for granted the true beauty of the layout of The End Up. The reason why The End Up is so popular as a hang-out spot and not just a danceclub, is because half the club is outside, open to free air, allowing you to smoke as you wish and breathe the fresh air from the winds. After spending endless hours in a giant room filled with sweat and alcohol, I realized just how much I truly appreciate the outdoor aspect of The End Up. At the same time I also truly appreciate 1015's massive air conditioning system, because I know all too well how much worse it could have been.

It was great when we heard a call for an EMT about half an hour after opening, and my coworker said to me "someone needs a tampon already?" I looked at him, "they have tampons?" and he replied "well they must have some sort of gauze."

One of the regulars came up to me one of the early mornings and asked me about a flask he left at the door. "Do you remember my flask?" "I didn't take anything at the door today, go ask at the front." "No, you took it from me, do you remember?" "I haven't been at the front door today." "No, it wasn't today." "When was it?" "Six weeks ago." "...pfft"

Did I get enough sleep? I sure hope so.

6/18/08 04:55 pm - it all makes sense now

I saw a Vietnamese guy hand over some $100 bills to a Chinese guy, which the Chinese girlfriend explained "he owes him money from the casino". This is the same Vietnamese guy who approached me out of nowhere a few weeks ago exclaiming "you have two jobs to support your boyfriend's gambling?? Gambling bad! Tell him not to gamble anymore! He doesn't gamble anymore right? Gambling bad!" So as soon as the Chinese woman said "casino" I thought ah, it all makes sense now.

Similarly I had another Vietnamese guy approach me a couple of weeks ago asking me why I had two jobs. "What are you supporting?" "Uhh, me." "No way, you must have a child or something." "Nope, just me." "What, a pretty girl like you?" "Hard to believe, I know."

It reminds me of the Chinese woman who introduced me to her boyfriend, and said to me aside "he's not very handsome, but he's got money."

It reminds me of another Chinese woman, the girlfriend of a drug dealer, who asked me if I was single, and when I told her no she explained: "I ask because I really like you. I want to introduce you to someone really nice. I have a lot of brothers, all very rich and very nice, they would treat you really well. But if you have a boyfriend, it's ok."

It reminds me of the various times I've been told by the Chinese and Vietnamese regulars, girls who told me they don't work, their boyfriends and husbands prefer them not to work, they just spend their significant others' money.

It even reminds me of the time when I chuckled at a Vietnamese couple, when the boyfriend came up to the girlfriend and asked for his own money. "Where's the money I gave you earlier?" "I don't have it." "Yes you do, you have it in your pocket." "I don't have it." "Ok, so I'll just charge your ATM?" "Oh here it is."

Am I traveling backwards in time? But then I have to remind myself than when I lived in Korea I knew very few women who worked, as most women were mothers who stayed at home and spent their husbands' money on clothes and jewelry and purses. More women work now, but mostly due to economic demands rather than the actual social trends changing. So I think, but then I'm not too sure. But hey, I'm not one of them, which is... a good thing? Sure the idea of a sugar daddy sounds all fine and dandy, we have all joked about it, we have all laughed about it, but the reality never hit me until I got to know about these people's lives. It's sort of...interesting yet unsettling.
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