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My First Stint In Philly Part I by thefinn
I’ve been sitting outside the last few nights. The air here is getting a little crisp in the evenings, the mid to low fifties. It the perfect time to sit outside, enjoy a beer, and enjoy the sounds of the city around me. Some nights, a little streaming radio doesn’t hurt either. Kids playing on the sidewalks and streets, shouting and laughing and just being kids. Septa making their rounds. My new neighbors hanging out in their backyard, hanging laundry and speaking Tagalog. As much as I hate the summer in this dirty old town, its times like this during the other three seasons that really remind me of why I love it so much here. It wasn’t always this way. This is the second time I’ve lived in this town. And the first time was a whole different story…. As the previous century drew to a close, so did my first marriage. My wife and I had always had problems, much like other couples. We were both the oldest child in our families and, as a result, we were both stubborn and pigheaded. We were always used to being in charge. We were always the one who got the last word and always the one who made the rules. It wasn’t exactly an easy relationship.
It wasn’t long after we bought the house. We’d picked up an old stone house for a song. It was by far, the largest thing either of us had ever lived in. Soon afterwards, her nesting instincts had kicked in and when she’d gotten done decorating the place, she dropped the bomb. The house was far too big for the two of us, she argued. Wouldn’t it be nicer to come home to the pitter patter of tiny feet ?, she asked. Besides, it was in her plan. She was 25, she wasn’t getting any younger and it was the right time. I still wasn’t convinced that fatherhood was for me. I could barely take care of myself, much less anyone else. I couldn’t get up on time, I could barely cook. My shoes were consistently untied and my clothes were always rumpled. There was no way in hell that I could take care of a kid. But we came up with a plan anyway. I needed a new job, one that paid exponentially more money, so that we could save up and so that when we were dependent on my salary alone, we could afford the luxuries and house that we’d become accustomed to.
The gig was simple. Make Client X happy. Client X was a multinational that had had their technological heads in their asses for years and were in the process of paying the price. Full blown distributed environments contained to closets and shit cabling that ran nowhere. Distribution systems that didn’t talk to the rest of their network. An inventory system that was still, at its heart, a pen and paper system. Making them happy made me a very busy boy. Busy enough that I was traveling constantly, three weeks a month, at least. During my busiest year, I was away from home 320 days. Client X was ecstatic. My wife, on the other hand…. Life on the road wasn’t treating me too good. I tend to eat like shit when I’m by myself and I don’t sleep. I forget simple things like shaving and where I put that damn pen. It’s easier for me to become distracted when I live with just myself and focus on what’s in front of me, which in this case, was the work. And it became easier for my wife to come home to an empty house at night or go out for a night with the girls. I started drinking myself to sleep, often. And she was letting the dogs come into the bed with her at night so she’d have something to cuddle when she woke up from a bad dream at two in the morning. So, one sunny afternoon, after being on a plane for fourteen hours, I arrived home to find that I’d been kicked out. Where will thefinn go ? Will he see his beloved dogs again ? What actually happened while he was away ? Tune in tomorrow for the second facinating installment, wherein thefinn finds a place to rest his weary head and falls for a girl named Pearl.
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After a few years, I kind of eased off. It’s one thing to always be in charge and always be right and always win the battle. But, it wasn’t good for the relationship and it wasn’t good for us. So, unless I was adamant about something, I let her make the majority of the decisions. Looking back, that may not have been the best choice, but at the time, it seemed the most reasonable. She had decided, though, that the best thing for us would be to have a baby. 
So I looked for a new job and found one with relative ease. Remember, this was the late 90’s and the tech sector was huge. There were untalented hacks making great money and, as much as it pains me to say it, I had skills. I’ll be humble about almost everything else that has to do with me, because, honestly, I’m not that great of a guy. But my “kung fu” has always been strong, so it didn’t take me long to find something that was paying in the neighborhood that I needed to pull this plan off. And that’s when everything went Pete Tong.
Stumble It!
Comments
it all happened cause you didn't eat enough cheese steaks.....
i can't wait to read the rest of the story
Posted by: the turtle | September 13, 2006 1:11 PM
You hooked me. Can't wait to read the rest.
Posted by: michele | September 13, 2006 1:26 PM
Ouch. 14 hours on a plane is bad enough.... but to come home to no home? That must hurt.
Posted by: Dan | September 13, 2006 1:26 PM
i can't wait. no, i mean it i can't. will you email me the rest of the story?
it's the dogs that kill me. my best boy (dog) ever is still with my ex and in order to see the boy i have to see the man and that's just all too painful.
we tried doing joint custody. six months here, six there. ya. that sucked. the vet bills always came during my six months. : )
Posted by: kali | September 13, 2006 1:34 PM
that is him he is very cute...
Posted by: kali | September 13, 2006 1:37 PM
Like that spikey hat!
Posted by: Ernie | September 13, 2006 2:21 PM
He looks like a mighty chill dog... What's his name ?
And I don't eat steaks... No red meat, no pork... And while a chicken cheesesteak is a fanatastic sandwich, I have been informed by my South Philly brethren that it's not really a steak.
Posted by: thefinn | September 13, 2006 2:24 PM
his name is black sabbath
i love him so much it makes me wanna cry...
oh wait, naw that's just my period coming... heh.
Posted by: kali | September 13, 2006 2:38 PM
oh great
in my left hand, i got michele crying with her period and in my right hand i have kali crying with hers
this is a "go back to fucking bed turtle" day if i ever saw one
All I need is one of the other writers on here to cry today and I'm going out drinking. Or changing religon. Or maybe getting fast food.
one of the three
Posted by: the turtle | September 13, 2006 2:52 PM
And I don't eat steaks... No red meat, no pork
You are dead to me. Dead.
Posted by: Cullen | September 13, 2006 2:52 PM
And I don't eat steaks... No red meat, no pork.
Communist.
in my left hand, i got michele crying with her period and in my right hand i have kali crying with hers
Pretty soon all the women of FTTW will be on the same cyle and then you're screwed.
Posted by: michele | September 13, 2006 2:58 PM
oh christ
pril is up in about 2 hours with her post.
i think we need to start splitting up the writers by sexes. you know male, female, male, female all on one day so we don't get someone crying about how the flowers are so pretty while some dude talks about naming his pubic lice on how high they can jump over his penis.
"I'll name him Halfway the crab. He is going to be named "Lil Digger". I'll name that one "El Jumperio" cause he can clear my cock. And you! You my friend! You will be will be named "Mas Crabies" cause you are the biggest."
that would be a great post!
i'm talking out loud again arent i?
Posted by: the turtle | September 13, 2006 3:00 PM
Bear with him, guys. He got a timeout for the day on TotalFark and needs somewhere to put his pubic lice conspiracy theories.
Posted by: michele | September 13, 2006 3:03 PM
Communist ? Dead ? Zombie Lenin ? Run , it's Zombie Lenin!!!
This isn't some animal rights thing... I don't like the way red meat tastes and the pig is a filthy animal... I eat fowl occasionally and more than my share of fish, cause a growing boy needs his protein...
And by "growing" I mean, headed to fat.
And by "boy" I mean, crochety old man.
Posted by: thefinn | September 13, 2006 3:05 PM
ahahah turtle's in a timeout...
Posted by: kali | September 13, 2006 3:06 PM
Turtle that would be a great post, please write about lice is great detail.
Posted by: Dan | September 13, 2006 3:06 PM
ahahah turtle's in a timeout...
oh just bite me
it happens
17 more hours
Posted by: the turtle | September 13, 2006 3:09 PM
Dude. I know you've heard it before, but if you think you don't like the taste of red meat, you haven't had it cooked right.
Grilled lamb souvlaki with pitas and tzatziki sauce. It'll make you slap your momma.
After my guitar tries to kill her, of course.
Posted by: Cullen | September 13, 2006 3:17 PM
Cullen, no one hits my momma... She's 6'1"... From Kentucky... Who used to hang out in pool halls til morning time.
I thought about trying to hit her once. Raised my hand and everything. We were fighting about some stupid shit I did and I decided that I didn't have to listen to her anymore, I was my own man(at the ripe age of 15). So I raised my hand to her.
She knocked me off my feet, damn near broke my jaw and left my unconscious body sprawled in the dining room.
I knew it wasn't right when I did it, but the impusle to hit a woman has never crossed my mind again. Yay, mom.
Posted by: thefinn | September 13, 2006 3:30 PM
You know, your momma and your daddy
Saying I'm no good for you
They call me dirty from the alley
Till I don't know what to do
I get so tired of sneakin' around
Just to get to your back door
I crawl past the garbage and
Your momma jumps out, screamin'
"Don't come back no more"
I can't take it
My guitar wants to kill your mama
My guitar wants to kill your mama
My guitar wants to burn your dad
I get real mean when it makes me mad
Later I tried to call you
Your momma told me you weren't there
She told me: "Don't bother to call again"
'Less I cut off all my hair
I get so tired of sneakin' around
Just to get to your back door
I crawl past the garbage and
Your momma jumps out, screamin'
"Don't come back no more"
Later I tried to call you
Your momma told me you weren't there
She told me: "Don't bother to call again"
'Less I cut off all my hair
I get so tired of sneakin' around
Just to get to your back door
I crawl past the garbage and
Your momma jumps out, screamin'
"Don't come back no more"
My guitar wants to kill your mama
My guitar wants to kill your mama
My guitar wants to burn your dad
I get real mean when it makes me mad
Posted by: michele | September 13, 2006 3:34 PM
dun worry. I don't get weepy on the red tide. I just go get drunk. And then, after i've drunk everything i can get my hands on, i start demanding the booze from other people. "My drinks gone! Someone needs to buy me another one! Or four!"
Posted by: pril | September 13, 2006 4:27 PM
I hate to say it, but I can always relate better to a mean drunk than a weepy woman....
More experience, I guess...
Posted by: thefinn | September 13, 2006 4:30 PM
so that explains a lot about our relationship....bahaha.
Posted by: dynamine | September 13, 2006 4:33 PM
Like Kali, it's the dog that gets me.
I was super happy to get out of my Texas relationship, but leaving Beckett behind left me a damn near basket case. I loved the heck out of that dog.
I actually came very close to stealing Beckett from my ex (who was without a doubt her rightful owner) and I probably would've if I wasn't coming back homeless and penniless.
Posted by: gridley | September 19, 2006 12:21 PM