Rad Influence

I’m referring to my mom. The one thing that’s consistent is that in all of her years of wisdom, she consistently gives bad advice. With her being like that, it’s easy to handle. Most people ask their parents for advice on what they should do, how they should live their life or any tips that might help out in the future. In my situation, I ask advice for what I should absolutely NOT do.

Quite a few people think that it’s kind of insensitive of me or that I’m just being a jerk but it’s the truth. I grew up a very sheltered life. When I moved out of my house when I was 18, it took me several months to realize that I was extremely socially inept. That was the first time I knew she gave bad advice. When I told her I was moving out she strongly advised against it. She wanted me to move in with her and just look for work in the town she lived in. Moving out was the best decision I ever made. I made some great friends that I’ll probably have for the rest of my life and I was able to grow up and realize that the adulthood I was going towards was more of an extension of being a kid under a fascist regime.

Now that the fascist ruler has been dethroned, my quality of life has significantly improved and my day-to-day guilt has been diminished to barely noticeable. It’s taken some time to learn some life lessons that should have been taught growing up. I’ve learned how to deal with people who only call when they need something. I’ve also learned to deal with people who have a million excuses.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s not a horrible person. We just don’t see eye to eye on quite a few things. Okay, almost everything. I’m the type of person that if you’re going to reprimand someone, explain why and explain what could be done in the future to avoid it. She was the type that would say, “Well I’m the mom and I said so. That’s final.” Uhh, what did I get grounded for? She also always told me that she never wanted me to get married or have sex until I was thirty five. THIRTY FIVE. I’ve been masturbating regularly since I was eleven years old. Thirty five was NOT going to happen. That was when I was a teenager.

Fast forward to today, I am now contemplating about becoming a buddhist monk that meditates all day and not think of celibacy the way I think of prison. Why am I deciding to take this change? My mom got a new job. This might not sound like anything that would make someone denounce sex for the rest of their life. I guess I should clarify, I’m not denouncing sex for good, I’m just merely preparing for a life with the inability to get an erection.

Let me clarify. What kind of profession could a parent possibly obtain that could have this affect? Three words.

Phone. Sex. Operator.

It was a boring night just like any other. I had no plans for the evening, which was typical for my Friday nights. My phone starts ringing at around eight p.m.. Upon picking up the phone, I hear a familiar voice but couldn’t quite figure it out until she blurted out, “Hey, we’re drinking at the bar downtown right now. Want to join us? I met this guy off of MySpace and I think he was expecting to just get his dick sucked then leave. He’s boring as shit. Please save me.”

It was a plea from the hot girl that every guy at work fantasizes of. I had absolutely nothing going on that nigh, so like a desperate loser I was able to shower, change and get down there within thirty five minutes.

Upon showing up, I look around the crowded bar and can’t find her. Momentarily, I thought I may have hallucinated the phone call and played a sick joke on myself. I decided not to worry so I went to the bar and ordered a Corona and a whiskey sour. Once I had the drinks in hand, I made my way through the bar to look for her. I couldn’t find her ANYWHERE. The exact moment I started doubting myself and thinking that I did actually play a sick joke on myself, I felt my pocket vibrate. I knew it was her.

As I picked up the phone, I was anticipating getting shafted. She quicly muttered into the phone, “Listen, we just left there and we’re headed to the strip club. We’ll be there in about twenty five minutes because we have . . . . stop . . . ore . . . meet us there.” Damn cell phones.

“Fuck.” I thought. I am getting shafted. I forced optimism into my head. I figured that even if I do get blown off, I would’ve made a trip to the strip club for the first time.

I get to the strip club and try calling her to see where the hell she was. She answers her phone but is barely audible since the sound of drunken cackles were overpowering her voice. The only thing I heard out of it was, “Five minutes!”

She finally shows up and we enter the club. I was shocked. This whole time I had this perception of strip clubs being dirty, sleazy, creepy and gross. What I saw changed my life forever. The club really was dirty, sleazy, creepy and gross but it was overlooked because of all the hot ass gallivanting around. Life was never the same.

This is my first post. Welcome to my blog. I decided to start this blog because my friends are tired of hearing me rant and I think some of the things I have to say could definitely apply to the masses. This place is called “Rad Influence” because I’ve always been called a bad influence on my friends by either their own friends or girlfriends/wives. I don’t consider myself a bad influence and neither do the people that I supposedly influence. This blog is going to be related to me being a rad influence on my friends.

We’ll see how this thing goes.