Thursday, September 19, 2013

Doorman's 100th Post!

After combing through all of my posts, it doesn't add up to 100, though factoring in the condensed series-type stories, this will be the 100th one. One hundred. This was only supposed to a temporary position, and lately I've felt the effects of overstaying my welcome, though nostalgia has set in as I go through all of these stories. It's been a fucked-up two years, for sure. To avoid sounding like a broken record, I won't go on and on again about how much this blog has meant to me, but I'd like to revisit my ten favorite posts, in the order in which they happened. (For you new readers, this would be a good place to start.)

Here we go: 


Vile, disgusting, rude, 100% true. This was the first of the "Concierge Stories", and I thought a good place to start was a story about me shitting my pants at work. My friends and I had tied one on big-time the night before, and it still serves as the worst hangover of my life. Of everything I've ever written on here, this is the one that I re-read the most.


This was the first time I deviated from doing strictly work posts, and started crafting actual stories. This was my "move to NY" story, and it all happened as I was training for this job. All things considered, it should have ended much worse for me, but holy fuck did my Manhattan residency get off to a rocky start. Having won the court case, the money I sued this bitch for is still collecting interest, though I'm not counting on 800 bucks from some drifter junkie that probably wouldn't even remember my name. 


Suicidal thoughts and a mental breakdown during a gay cowboy movie? Yeah, that's me. I've never been the most stable person, mentally. I've been to therapy, battled serious bouts of depression, had meltdowns, flown off the handle, but taking Acutane turned me into a complete psychopath. This blog has always served as a cathartic therapy for all of that, and it's nice to be able to laugh at such a ridiculous series of events all these years later. A few hours after I posted this, my mother called me crying. I had to assure her that I was okay, and that posting the story was the best thing for me to bring closure to that part of my life. And it makes me laugh, though I'm pretty sure I'm in the minority in that regard. This happened in 2005, and I've been suicidal-thought-free ever since. Yay! 

This was the post that gave the blog legs, and it keeps with the motif of alcoholics shitting on things. I posted this one in the afternoon, and by the evening, traffic on the blog increased by the thousands. From that, I learned that you've gotta give the people what they want - stories about angry southerners smearing feces and menstrual blood all over public places. 

  
While the first DVTD featured a fucked up story about a cabbie refusing to take a sick baby to the hospital, and the third was one of the funniest fights I've ever been in, this post was something out of a fucking action movie. For weeks after this incident, I'd listen to my friends bitch about work, to which I'd ask them, "Oh, really? How many taxi's dragged you through the length of a city block today?" I'm lucky I wasn't killed. Our paths have crosses several more times, and I've taken great joy in calling him awful obscenities every time he pulls up to the hotel looking for a fare. He just laughs and takes off. It's gotten to the point where we're almost okay with each other. 


Trying to score a Japanese girl threesome on my roof? Welcome to living an awesome bachelor life in New York City, regardless of one's profession. I've been trying to get "Brian" to write a companion piece since it happened, and once he does, I'll be sure to post the fuck out of it. 


There's no question that I'm a fanboy, and Batman is a childhood hero of mine.  Of all of the "revenge posts" I've written, this one is my absolute favorite. If nothing else, I have an entertaining story where I get to play Batman. As an actor, that's incredibly satisfying (even if I had to take a beating from a gaggle of six-year-old Staten Island brats to do so). 


This dude inspired me like no one else, and lit a fucking fire under my ass. It was because of him that I started writing screenplays, which eventually evolved into the idea for the TV series. 


For all you Breaking Bad fans out there, this was my "Heisenberg" moment. There have been many instances where I came close to scrapping with people in front of the hotel, but this was the one that broke me. I didn't return to that Chipotle for at least six months, and have still yet to see that asshole around the neighborhood. 


There are plenty of posts about me being demeaned by a variety of awful people, but this little monster was the worst person I've ever dealt with. Broken up into a three-part series, this post about family values was responsible for the highest single-day traffic I've ever seen on the blog. 

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