What a Real Shit Day (Figuratively At Least) – Pointless Uber, Broken Trolley, And Rejected Story – Roommate Get’s a Car And Brozo a Guitar

Oh boy!

What a shit day I had.


Hold up.

I don’t have my coffee yet.


Checking on my coffee!

And fuck!

The coffee maker was unplugged. No coffee still…

Mmmm I’m smelling it now.

Mmmm shitty coffee!


Alright.

Closing Reddit.

Let’s do this.


Starting to where I left off yesterday.

Yep. The dude I was supposed to meet switched times to earlier, I couldn’t possibly meet him when he said, so I told him anytime tomorrow. Now I’m meeting him at 2:30 in a place TBD. He seems rushed in time. I don’t think I’ll be able to get as many pics as the editor told me too…

So that cancellation actually allowed me to watch the Mexico vs Germany match.


Yes. Mexico lost. And it was sort of humiliating and a sad match since it’s Germany’s “B team.” But hey. It was a thoroughly entertaining match. No wonder people that aren’t from Mexico love to watch Mexico play. No matter who they play, it’s going to be fucking entertaining. But yes. They lost. No more Confederations Cup. Well, the last game for third, but no one watches that.

Final. Chile vs Germany. We already saw this match during the group stage. I think Chile is going to take the cake. Mexico exposed Germany’s game. They just couldn’t score.


SOCCER SOCCER SOCCER.

That’s not what made my day shitty. And I mean shitty figuratively. Fortunately, the literally shitty is cured and I feel back to normal. Yep. Drinking coffee without fear.


Nope. It wasn’t the soccer match. It was a series of stupid events.


I needed to pick-up shirts from my brother’s workshop to bring up to my roommate and I have to pay for my friend Carlos’ internet because the dumbass accidentally paid for mine in a weird mix-up. After paying for the internet, I got an Uber to go to my brother’s workshop.

EXCEPT I’m a fucking idiot, and I directed the Uber to his old workshop! He moved out of the workshop a couple months back! It didn’t even cross my mind until I got there and saw that the door was closed that I was like “OH FUCK. I’m an idiot.”

Took the Uber to his new workshop (which is close to my place). So HOORAY! For wasting money in an unnecessary Uber ride.

Finally got to the new workshop, grabbed the shirts and realized “Oh fuck, they are not going to fit in the bag that I brought.”

Again, Uber back to my place to grab my giant messenger bag. And then to the border.

GREAT!

Went around the city on an Uber for no fucking reason just wasting money.

At least the driver was cool. He had a weird name. I never called him by name because I wasn’t sure how to say it. Deciderio. Just looked it up. It sounds like The Decider. Weird name. Better than one that we met whose name was Wyndix.


Border time!

That was fine.

Bus time!

That was fine.

Trolley time!

And I got an email.

And that’s when my day really turned to extremely shittiness.

My heart sank over that email. It hurt. Beyond my ego. My wallet. My trust in my own abilities. It hurt a lot.


Yep. My article that I worked whole last week and I’ve been waiting to hear back got rejected.

If you don’t know what rejection of a 2,700-word article feels like… I’ll explain it in monetary ways.

For an article of that length, I get around $500 or maybe $600. Now I get $0.

You feel that?

Not only that. It’s like my whole week went to waste. More like two weeks because I’ve been waiting for a reply this whole week. And with the excuse that I’ve been really sick, I didn’t do much work but emails and phone calls.


It’s not all a waste. I told the editor I understand but asked if it could be rescuable. He said to talk to him again next week after the 4th.

So now I have to wait another week. And I feel stuck. But I can’t. I need to make money.


June has been fucking shit.


Oh. And on my way up to downtown San Diego to Brozo’s castle… the fucking trolley broke down.

I stayed on E Street stop for a good 15 minutes…

And I was fucking hungry.


The day picked up a bit though. It wasn’t all horrible.

I had a bunch of shit waiting in Brozo’s place, so I picked that up. New toys. Continuous light studio with umbrellas, stands, a backdrop, clamps, and new battery for my camera.

Everything seems to be in order and complete.


Hanging out with Brozo, as brief as it may be, it’s always cool. He got a new guitar. A really nice fucking new guitar. I’m jealous. Though it’s not a 9-string like I dream, it’s a nice semi-hollow Taylor. The kind of guitar I would buy if I had the extra money, but not the one I desire. It had a nice Rickenbacker feel to it. Yep. I would get a Rickenbacker semi-hollow instead. But that Taylor. Damn that Taylor was nice.

Could fuck right off with the whammy bar though.

NO WHAMMY BARS. Only tapping!

And the neck is so nice and wide, perfect for arpeggios and tapping. What a nice guitar. I enjoyed it. It made me want to play more, which I haven’t done at all.


The roommate was supposed to meet me at Brozo’s. He wasn’t anywhere near there. “I’ll be there in 30 minutes,” he said. It took him more than an hour.

And Brozo had to leave, and I was starving, so he dropped me off at Monkey Paw where I was going to meet my roommate.


This post needs a picture. And I took the only pictures at Monkey Paw.

This is an example of a bad pic.

The light source was from the window so it would have been best to take it from the other side.

But…. I was hungry. I was having a real shit day. And I feel like I had already made a scene from carrying a gigantic messenger bag with shitty studio lights and a giant plastic bag with 20 shirts. Oh. I haven’t shaved. I probably looked homeless.

So yeah. That is a shitty picture of a decent sandwich.


About the sandwich, I got the South Park Steakbomb. It was between that or chicken wings. Everything in the menu sounded horrible for my delicate condition on my stomach. But I was fucking hungry and said fuck it. Give me the most expensive thing on the menu (that sandwich for $15.75).

It includes white American cheese, beef, genoa, salami, spicy sausage, grilled onions, peppers, and mushrooms.

I imagined a sub with all those ingredients nicely placed. Nope. This thing was a beast of undecipherable melted meats. It was also smaller than I thought it would be. But oh well.

It was decent. Nothing out of this world. Expensive at that price. But I knew Monkey Paw was expensive. I mean, almost everything in fucking San Diego is expensive.

I ate half and the roommate arrived. I gave him the other half in fears that my stomach would burst and I would have to go to the shitter in a brewery. Fuck that. I need my comfortable toilets.


As for beers.

I got the Beat LA IPA. Their menu is huge and has tons of options, so it took me a while to decide. I wanted a pale ale. And… I felt pressured. So I just said the first IPA I saw (Beat LA).

It’s a good IPA. I feel like I say this with every IPA I have nowadays, but yep. IPA. Nothing memorable. It is more aggressive than your usual IPA. It does not linger in the mouth. It just kind of hits you with hops and you don’t even feel like you drank anything. But it’s good. Not a good IPA for people that don’t drink IPAs.

After I got my beer, I read the menu in a more calm manner, and there were at least five other beers I would have ordered instead of that one (the Red Ale and a different IPA were calling me).


Roommate bought me another beer in exchange of the sandwich.

SOUR TIME!

Gose beer. Real good gose beer. Served in the proper glassware instead of a point like some people still do in Tijuana.

Guh. I’m bitching about proper glassware on beer. You can go ahead and shoot me now.


It was real good gose beer. I’ve been liking those more and more now. Easy. Drinkable. Good beginner gose.

They had another version of that gose with peppers. I asked the bartender for a sip of it. I should have gotten that one instead. It was way more interesting. Basically same beer but with a hot sauce aftertaste. I liked it. But I didn’t want to risk the stomach.


Roommate’s girlfriend arrived.

We went to the Chee Chee Club. One of roommate’s favorite shitty dive bars for some odd reason. That’s close to the trolley, so it was perfect for me.

One more beer while we caught up on things and stuff.

Motherfucker got a car.

Just like that.

He went to a job interview last week. Nailed the interview. Got the job. Got a car just because he needed a car.


So the day did picked-up thanks to friends. But I’m jealous of their accomplishments which makes me feel like shit.

June was shit. Two steps forward twenty steps back. That’s how June was. Fuck you June!


And today.

Today I have to work all day.

The only money I’ll make for the past two weeks will be this because my story got rejected.

And from all the emails I send inviting people to the Reader’s festival, only ONE has entered. That’s a dozen places that I have invited and all rejections.


Coffee, push-ups, emails, breakfast, shower, cross the border, SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP from virtually 2 pm till 10 pm, come back home to a sleepy girlfriend.


Sigh.

The motherfucking rollercoaster of a freelance life.

With a side of word vomit.


 

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