Hurts to Flirt

A few weeks ago this customer came into the store. I was standing on the hard isle talking to one of my employees and immediately he caught my attention making his way down the isle right towards my department. I greeted him from afar, so as to secure my spot in the running for the title of "most helpful salesperson" and guaranteed myself a front row seat for the show that was about to begin.

His name was Andy, and at the time, he was on a mission. "It's a beautiful day outside," (one of the first of the New England "Springtime season") "and I don't want to be in here for long!" He told me he was looking to add a new suit to his wardrobe and I immediately new which one I wanted him to have. The fit was perfect. It was slimming and quite Euro, if I do say so myself. It was also a swatch that was quite distinct in and of itself. So he went with it. The tailor made their marks and off he went. It was quick, and easy, and it was over in all of 10 minutes. In the rushing of this process I had to assure him that it was a good purchase, indeed. He had never made a suiting decision in such a short amount of time but I made sure that he knew that I was confident in my choice for appropriate suiting.

When he came back to pick up his finished suit he mentioned that he wanted my assistance in picking out some ties and shirts, since I had been so helpful with the suit selection. While meandering around the Men's Furnishings department and talking about this style or the next we were at the point of ALMOST flirtation. This is an area of grey in the retail world. There is a thin line between actual and genuine flirtation and that of a great customer service story. Needless to say I am clueless when it comes to differentiating between the two.

I had no problem spending an ample amount of time with Andy. Even if most of what I picked out for him was too over the top, in his humble opinion, to wear for where he works. I understood and set out to make sure that our decisions were precise and distinct.

We enjoyed talking with one another and the exchange of useful ideas and knowledge was mutual. I could tell he was enjoying his shopping experience but at what point was he complimenting my "service" and at what point was he actually just complimenting "me". It was too soon to tell. At one point he did declare, "Wow, this is the best service I have ever had in any shopping experience, I don't think I will ever shop anywhere else again!" This was leaning towards more of an excellent customer service letter.

Then he took a phone call, he excused himself and took the call. While on the phone I overheard what sounded like the makings of a first or second date. "...well where do you want to eat? I am finishing up here in a bit but I will call you when I am done." His tone indicated that the date was NOT his most important priority and that finishing his "shopping experience" with me was in fact at the top of his list. After ending the call he apologized again for the interruption. There was a sadness in my affect that was more than likely apparent upon his return, because if you know me whatsoever, then you know I am not one to hide emotion. I was feeling let down because I figured we had reached the point in the transaction when I realize that he is straight and probably on the verge of proposing to his girlfriend that he has had since high school, or that he is in a "committed, but play" relationship with his "monogamous" boyfriend which still nullifies any preceding efforts on both of our behalves.

After apologizing, then a pause (hopefully noticing the sulking nature of my demeanor) he added, quickly, "I'm meeting my dad for dinner". I felt my eyebrows raise upon my face with anticipation of opportunity. I tried to calm down my facial muscles just the slightest bit so as not to give secrets away. I was happy to hear that he was the kind of guy that met his dad for dinner. He said that his mother was traveling and that dad was home all alone. It sounded much like that of my own relationship with my own father and in the end I was happy to think of a future with someone else who valued spending time with family.

Spending time with Andy was peaceful. I did not fear for the dangers ahead, which typically follows the time spent with any other random gay dude. The fear of a lack of commitment, the idea of non-monogamy. The fear of HIV and drug abuse. Oh what a tangled web they weave, and baby...I am nobody's Black Widow.

He has a calm nature about him and I feel warmth and sincerity in his voice. He is successful in his work and has a focus and drive to succeed and continue. He is everything that I could hope for in a mate. There is just one problem. I am a horrible flirt.

I am hoping that the solution to this problem is that he is a horrible flirt as well. I am hoping. I am praying. That both of us suck at flirting and that eventually things will just fall in to place for both of us. Time never hurt anyone and since for most of my life I have been way to anxious, this has become a situation where I do not mind to not rush head on into things that could (or could NOT) be.

It is almost fun not knowing. It is fun to think of a life that could happen. Aside from knowing that it could never be.

He came in more recently for this current sale that we have going on. We picked out another suit for him and this time mutually decided not to take as much time looking for shirts and ties. I like that he gives me push back, with reason, at the choices I pick out for him. I like that he knows a little bit about what he wants out of life, even if it is only in regards to the fashion choices that we make together concerning his own personal style. Spending time with him is absolutely delightful.

On this more recent go round I felt like we were both making flailing attempts at flirtation. He mentioned "cheating" on me while traveling to other cities that had bigger and "better" stores with more product selection. Then when ringing up the transaction he brought up his dog and mentioned that the dog's name was "Tucker" (my last name). He smiled really big. Then I said, "Oh thats a GREAT name!" His reply was, "Yeah...yeah it really is." This was how our time was spent. With inappropriate pauses and opportunistic blank spots. Was this flirtation or social retardation? I couldn't really tell you the difference. He asked me if I was working all weekend. I told him that I was off the following day. Then he asked if I had big plans. I thought this would be a great opportunity to feel him out a bit and see what his response would be, by telling him that I had a date that I was not looking forward to. Instead I said that I was having brunch with "a new friend", and would prefer to have brunch with "old friends". I mentioned the restaurant, "Gaslight" for brunch and his eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh really? I have eaten there for dinner but never for brunch."

This was one of those opportunistic pauses. I should have said, "Oh you HAVE to check it out, if you ever need some one to go with, I'm THERE!" But I didn't.

This line is officially on the back burner. When he comes in to pick up his clothes on Thursday, this will be my new plan of action. I will tell him that he really missed out on a great brunch. Then I will tell him that he has to check it out sometime and then I will offer up my company to him.

It will be neutral.

It will be Non-Committal.

It will be Non-Gender Specific.

It will be absolutely Genius.

Here's hoping I have the nuts to go through with it...

Chickenshit, Chickenshit,

Help me win,

Teach me how to flirt,

So I can begin...

I Get a Funny Feeling...

Do you ever get the feeling that the rest of the world is laughing at you? I get that feeling all the time. I have had that feeling ever since I was a child. This overwhelming sense of being made fun of with fingers pointing and laughter following. The saddest part about it is that none of it was ever true. For the most part kids are just awkward. They have no rhyme or reason for the things they do or say.

Are adults just the same way? I feel as though, at least in my dating arena, aka my own personal hell, that the audience (whomever they might be) is laughing at me. Pointing. And Laughing. I just feel like it is one big joke. Does anybody else get the punch line? I don't.

I guess this fear of people laughing comes from an unsureness that I have about my self. I can never tell when I am being hit on, or flirted with and more importantly I can NEVER tell when a guy actually likes me. I love to flirt but typically stick to the uglies and just use them for practice. When it comes time to ante up to the plate I turn to chicken shit. I freeze. I can't function. I explained it to one friend on a night out on the town. I told her to watch. It was awful. When I truly am attracted to someone I will go and hangout close by them. I will make eyes at them but am too nervous to smile or wink. So instead of looking flirtatious I typically look like I am plotting on following them home and stabbing them. To say the least, my actions are not as endearing as they are typically intended to be.

The same problematic flirtation devices come into play on a day to day basis. At work. At the Gym. At Starbucks. I can't flirt. My face gets tense because of how much pressure I feel inside and the result is an mean looking dude that looks like he hasn't taken a dump in 5 days. I look constipated. Stuck. Scared. Weird. Straight even! I get the feeling often times from gay guys that my intense demeanor is giving off a vibe of "Don't fuck with me, or I'll kill ya". This is NO GOOD I tell you! NO GOOD!

I can't help it. When a guy comes in to shop I stay focused on work. Even if I toy with the idea of what I would say if he were to ask me out for drinks. To date, there has been only ONE customer in my 8 years of working retail that has ever been so brazen as to ask me out for an after work drink. Take a guess at how interested I may have been in that one. NOT AT ALL! He turned out to be a really great friend but the entire friendship was weird anyway because it started on a whim of him asking me out on a drink date thinking that it would journey down a totally different road than it had.

That night that we had a drink he asked me straight forward and to this day jokes about my response, "I can't really say that I would see that happening; ever." He mocks my bitchy tone when he tells it to other friends but secretly I know he is bitter. He is that date that turned into a friend that if he drinks JUST enough he will try to hit on you again. NOT GOOD!

So regardless of this, I feel like the laughing stock of the dating world. The guys that ask me out lately are pitiful. I am trying to hold firm to a strict NO MERCY DATE policy but it is tough when you don't get hit on by the guys you keep hoping will slip you a "CHECK YES OR NO" asking "WOULD YOU GO OUT WITH ME?"

It's a hard knock life, for us...

instead of kisses, we get kicked...

Way back when, I had this friend...

I've been through a lot of friendships. I've been through a lot of heartaches and hardships. When I look back on the ashes in my wake I am impressed with the few that have stuck around over the years. I'm grateful for all of the experiences I have ever had along the way. They have turned out to make me value the close friends and hold onto those relationships for as long as I can.

Way back when, I had this friend. We'll call him Frankie. He dated this guy that was really quite awful. D-Rock. That's what we'll call him. The names are not that far fetched from the truth but all-in-all I don't really care. Frankie was really self-conscious. His parents raised him to be so. His father put a lot of value in the "power" of money. Frankie was spoiled and most of the time when he would "treat" us to dinner it was his father's money, not his own. If my dad were to read this he would laugh, I had my fair share of using my father's money growing up, but the difference, is that I grew out of it. Once I moved out on my own I realized the value of money. Especially when you are the one that is supposed to be making it on your own.

Frankie would take us to dinner at Steakhouses that we would have never ventured into on our own dime. It was the first time I was ever introduced to a dinner bill that totaled over $400. Frankie would buy rounds of drinks for the entire group all night long. At our local favorite hangout he had a running tab. He pretty much just left it open for weeks at a time. Frankie drove a BMW SUV and I never really thought twice about it. I thought it was a nice car, but big deal right?

I have to admit. There was a night. A moment of weakness. Frankie and I had had a big night of drinking. There were quite a few of those. We got back to his place to spend the night and while waiting for our late night snack to cook he put on David Grey. Blah, Blah, Blah, Teardrops and Dumb. David Grey is the worst thing to listen to after a night of drinking when you are trying to wind down. But as it were, at the time, Frankie always called the shots. I sat beside him on the couch as he broke down into tears. He spoke of his fear of his father. He spoke about how all that he wanted and hoped for was that people would like him. He tried to reason with me that people only liked him because of his car and money. I thought it was hilarious. As it turned out, I was now beginning to dislike him because of his car and money. It was always the center of attention.

One week, for our Spring Break, the group went to Atlanta. It is the Southern Gay Mecca. It was my first gay visit there and it was ONE FUN WEEKEND! Matt, Frankie, Brandon...all of us went. Brandon's mom got us a deal on a huge hotel room. Otherwise it would have cost over $300 a night. That weekend we had a lot of fun. Living it up. Spending Frankie's dime. Not a care in the world.

There were the good times, though. Seriously. There were times when he was a great friend. One year for my birthday he and Adair plotted together. He came and picked me up at my apartment. I remember he was talking down to me and being rude and mean to me as he usually had been. I remember thinking that I should just get out of the car and walk back to my apartment from the gas station that we had stopped at before getting on the highway. Frankie drove us to Adair's parents house in Greensboro. Adair had said that she wanted to throw a party for me at their house since they were out of town and invite all of her friends. I had met them here and there, but I can't say in all honesty that I liked all or even most of them. So I found it awkward and I thought it was going to be another awful birthday for me.

It was just Frankie, Adair, Katie, Katie's boyfriend, and myself in the kitchen. Frankie and Adair were being weird, making phone calls and sneaking off. Then Adair brought out a bottle of Hypnotiq vodka. At the time it was my favorite because Lil'Kim said that she drank it. It is pretty gross cause it is a mix of Cognac, Vodka, and passionfruit juice. It is one of the blackest things I have ever been a part of besides drinking Kool-Aid as a child. It was a sweet sentiment nonetheless. Then they acted like we were ready to leave and as we walked down the entire driveway I saw that they had gotten me a limo for my birthday. It was the nicest gesture anyone had ever done for me on my birthday and I loved it very much. We went to our favorite little gay club in Greensboro and had a wild time, but then we left and went to a straight bar with an 80's cover band. I actually had an amazing time there as well. It was one of the most fun nights I have ever had. Adair, Frankie and myself were three of a kind and we were thick as thieves.

When Adair graduated from college her mother rented us a hotel room down on the strip at Myrtle Beach. We went down a night early and Frankie met us the next day. He rented a car and drove it to MB so as to not add mileage to his BMW. Yeah, that was Frankie.

We had a blast that weekend. The first night Adair and myself went to this bar called Motherfletchers. It is a tacky bar on the strip. They have an outside bar attached to the club and you can sit right on the sidewalk and people watch, AS YOU DRINK! It was my favorite spot. We both took turns flirting with the bartender (just for fun, he was a native). Being a Native Myrtle Beachean he would flirt with anything that talked. He was fun though. He gave us a few drinks on the house. Then we mentioned how fun it would be if we had a joint. So he gave us one. That's the glory of Myrtle Beach. Ask; Receive!

Adair and I made our way back to our hotel room. When we got back to the room the first thing we did was put on our pajamas and headed down to the beach. We had too much to drink to finish our joint. I remember us looking out on the ocean and Adair made attempts to be profound. "Isn't it weird how the ocean just moves back and forth?" she asked me. "Well, actually, it is scientifically linked with the moon and there is a just cause and reason for the tide". She was not impressed. Adair hated how I liked to prove her wrong. When Frankie was around they could team up together. They could both take turns poking fun at me, or at the least have someone else to laugh at their dumb jokes.

During another weekend in Atlanta it was the weekend of the Madonna concert. My FIRST Madonna concert and possibly one of her best. The Reinvention Tour. Adair and I had bought tickets and brought along my then sidekick, Dale. He was underage at the time but had a fake passport that said differently. For the most part Dale always acted like someone that was older. So I had to constantly remind myself that he was not, that is, unless he reminded me first. He tried very hard not to let it show. He was embarrassed of his age. But when we ventured out to a 21+ bar that night he freaked out when he saw a policeman at the door. When we were about 3 people away from him he turned to me and said "I don't know about this," right in front of the cop. I rolled my eyes. "What an idiot" I thought. Of course you shouldn't know about it now that you just bitched out right in plain sight of the officer!

Dale was not let in the club that night. Adair suggested we all just go back to the hotel and order a pizza. I thought that was dumb. I didn't spend money on a hotel room and gas on a trip to Atlanta to sit in my hotel room with my little baby brother. So in my adolescence, I chose doing what was wrong as opposed to being a good friend. I went to the club while Dale and Adair made their way back to the hotel.

In my youth that was always my way of thinking. Fuck up now, have fun, and fix it later. It was a very bad way to deal with friendships. Then again, isn't that what maturity is for? learning from those godawful mistakes?

So in the bar, instead of getting to hang out with Adair and Dale I was forced to hang out with Frankie and his boyfriend D-Rock. Frankie and my friendship had been dwindling at the time and we were at the end of our rope. So needless to say, it was not turning out to be a fun evening. I shared a cab with D-Rock and Frankie to the next bar. At the time I remember thinking that D-Rock was too old for Frankie. When we got to the next bar, and I remember, it was Jungle back then, D-Rock was excited and anxious to take his shirt off. He was fit, for his age. But then again I had to add, "for his age". If this is your reasoning for someones level of health condition, then it is needless to say that they should better leave their shirt on at the club.

On the cab ride home I was in complete hell. Frankie pouted. D-rock graveled. They argued and I had to listen. I was disgusted with contempt for Frankie. Why would he put up with someone that angered him so much? That confession on the couch summed it up for me.

My tickets for Madonna's show made it up to me anyway. I had finally trumped Frankie. I was on the floor. I was a fanclub member. Frankie's tickets were in plain sight, way up away from the floor, of our seats. He watched Adair and myself through the entire concert.

My tickets trumped Frankie's by a landslide and on our way to Atlanta, we rode in my 1990 Honda Accord. As it turns out, the best things in life are free.

The Move Groove

I'm trying to get into it. I really am. It is tough though because one of the BIGGEST events of the year with my company is about to take place. Its a balancing act. I have about two weeks to get all of this in line and I am tired just thinking about it. My roommate and I have finally come into agreement after MANY conversations and emails back and forth.

I can't tell you how excited I am to just be completely DONE with this apartment complex. The staff, the area, and my neighbors. All the neighbors that I liked have either moved out or been evicted. The economy sucks for every one and I think it is funny that this is one apartment community that is losing tenants because they would prefer to evict than to award patronage.

Regardless I won't be dealing with it any further.

I am moving into a much smaller living space but I am anxious to become accustomed to what these people call "city living". My overall preference when this is all said and done would be to live IN THE CITY! and by CITY I mean the CITY of BOSTON. NOT NEW YORK. NEW YORK SHMU YORK!.

So hopefully living in a smaller quarters will help me figure it all out. I am moving into my friend Katie's sunroom. It will be dirt cheap and I will have a huge kitchen to cook in. I won't waste my leftovers because I can cook for my two roommates. I won't be the one to pay the bills or be responsible for turning rent in on time. I CAN'T WAIT! I am leaving all of my furniture behind in an effort to start anew. I am hoping to just wipe this slate clean and get the essentials for my new room; a bed and a desk. DONE.

I also think that the set up I am moving into will encourage me to explore the city a little more. I have toyed with the idea of getting rid of my car but I will probably miss it too much and feel stranded all the time if I have to depend on the bus or (God forbid!) the T! We will see how my adventure into the world of public transportation goes but all-in-all my car is paid off in October so that is one less payment I will have to face. Slowly but surely I am taking baby steps towards the life I need to be living right now. It is so damn hard to do.

I hope that I have a future in New England. With the way my company works you have to be willing to go where the opportunities are and I am just keeping fingers crossed that those opportunities will open for me in this area. I just feel like there are many things I want to experience here before moving on. I could definitely see myself in this area for another year or two even. I love it. It agrees with me so much. I don't know. Just ask me again after this next winter (that's assuming that we actually have a summer in between the new and the last!).

Family Ties

I miss my family more and more every single day. I don't know if it is just a part of growing up or what but it feels like I am closer to them now than ever before, even though we are all miles apart. My sister is in Japan and my parents and brothers' family are in SC (just south of the NC border from where we grew up). This year has proven to be a bit tougher on me than I had originally planned for.

Thanksgiving was the worst. On Thanksgiving day I made it a point to have many plans. In the morning time I went to serve food to people who did not have families or loved ones with which to share the holiday. In the afternoon I went to my managers house for some Blue Ribbon BBQ Catered Turkey and Mac and Cheese. Then I finished off the night by ending up at my kindred spirits' home with some of my closest friends I have made throughout the past year. While I was serving up sliced turkey and cran-sauce to the needy, my brother had called and left me a message. It was his entire family wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving and they each took turns leaving their own spin on the good tidings on my voicemail. First, it was Tommy, then Autumn, his oldest, and then Lily, the youngest, and the message finished out with Spring, his wife. I saved the message on my phone until just recently losing it when I made the switch to a new phone because I liked being able to hear all of their voices, whenever I so felt like it.

The Christmas holiday was a bit of a different story. I was busy at work all month (for the most part, despite this horrible economy), so it really helped to get my mind off of things. Then when the actual Christmas Holiday came near it slowly went downhill from there. My original plans were to visit my kindred spirits' for Christmas Eve dinner. This would be a repeat of the aforementioned Thanksgiving Crew. Then, in turn, kindred spirit and "immediate family" (which included her girlfriend and her gf's cousin) would join me for breakfast/brunch on Christmas Day at my apartment. On Christmas day we would relax over brunch and have gift exchange. I made stockings for all that were scheduled to attend. On the actual Christmas day, however, my kindred spirit and her girlfriend had an incredibly huge fight. Cut to me, standing in my kitchen, taking the finished egg casserole out of the oven and putting it on the countertop beside the french toast set up that I had prepared, and then the phone rang. I got the news that they were not coming. I had mounds of French Toast awaiting their arrival. I had prepared three stockings that were completely overstuffed with goodies and candies and had spent my last $150 to do so. On Christmas Day I sat in my living room, eating tons of French Toast and missing my family with every ounce of my being. The reasoning behind this set up was from my own history of how the Christmas Holiday should be spent. A little time here, a little time there, and a lot of time in between.

For the longest time in my family our Holiday breakdown had always been as such; Christmas Eve at Aunt Deborah's, Immediate family gift exchange afterwards at our house, and then off to Aunt Glenda's on Christmas Day, in the morning. It was this way for as long as I could remember, that is, until families started to grow and divide and eventually our time together became much more precious. Deborah's annual festivities began to turn more from family, into friends. As older generations passed Deborah tried to fill the voids with her friends that she had made along the way. Despite her better judgement and taste when it came to choices of social circles, we loved Deborah very dearly, yet in the end, we would have preferred to be with some of our own kind (to say the least!). So eventually we broke away from the Christmas Eve at Deborah's annual tradition, and began to have our own more intimate setting. We began to have a regular dinner at our parents house, typically we would have steak. Dad would boast of the new way he had found to cook/grill it, while mom would mention a new cake recipe she had discovered. As we neared the end of our meals we all knew what was about to unfold. Mom always had kind words of wisdom and virtue to bestow upon our family regarding thankfulness for a good year, or finding peace at the end of long road travelled. Then we would light advent candles and take turns expressing what things we were appreciative of over the past year. The last dinner like this that I can remember was the one when Jessica, my niece, and daughter of my sister, stood up on her chair and said, "Poopy, poopy, poopy!" Because she was delighted that she had finally mastered going poopy in the potty.

After dinner was the annual immediate family gift exchange. As a child I had always "played santa" so to speak, by way of being the go to person for delivering gifts to the appropriate parties. As nephews, nieces, and grandchildren arrived the role was passed on through the generations. The traditional family gift exchange became more focused on the kids. Attention was paid to the new betsy wetsys and to the Mega Lego Sets that "Santa" had bestowed. Yet this is what Santa had always intended.

As children, our plan, on Christmas day was that I would wake up. Knock LOUDLY on my brother and sister's doors to wake them. Typically my brother would stay in bed but my sister would wake up to help me rally up the troups. Then we would have to make sure to wake up mom and dad first before heading into the living room to see what Nintendo games and transformers that Santa had graced us with this year. As time passed and into adulthood we grew, Christmas mornings, of course, were mainly for the kids. By the time I made it downstairs for coffee Jake had already made it halfway through his lego set and Jessica was eating buttered sausage biscuits in the kitchen.

Glenda's Annual Christmas Day was always quite different from that of Aunt Deborah's. At Deborah's we would find ways to slip whoopie cushions underneath our 80-year-old Great Aunt Estelle, and try our hardest not to let Aunt Deborah "goose" our "fannies". We would listen to great stories of the mysterious "Bumpty Skeets" and overhear Deborah speak of her friends with names like "Cooter Rabbit". To us, Aunt Deborah's life was something of a fable or fairy tale consisting of colorful nicknames and grandiose ideas. This, of course, was our interpretation as children.

Glenda's house for Christmas was a little more tame. The relatives were a bit more prim and proper and on the contrary from the rowdy bunch at Aunt Deborah's there were no whoopie cousins within a 50 mile radius of Aunt Glenda's household. At Glenda's we typically sat around being quiet and peaceful and waiting for lunch to be served. We would talk to Uncle Jimmy's relatives who were definitely from a different side of the tracks than that of our own family but that's what being related is all about. Blood is thicker than water. Whatever the hell that means when you find yourself talking to grown women who still has a fascination with the character Mickey Mouse, and is absolutely passionate about everything Disney. It is awfully hard to hold a steady conversation about the Walt Disney Enterprise, when the last thing you remember about the company, as a whole, is that you were 8 years old when you last visited his theme park and that you haven't seen a Disney movie in the last 5 years.

Family is Family. I took both sides of this coin and grew up becoming accustomed to each of them. I have been honored to look back over time and see the VERY different train tracks that my mother and father have travelled on and been happy to see how great they have become when they unite. I like the idea that my immediate family is made up of a little bit of both of the Christmas experiences I had growing up as a Tucker.

My family is broken down as such 45% Tame, 45% Rowdy, and 10% pure whoopie cushion.

North Shore; No More...

Things I will miss about living on the North Shore...

*Cashier Nancy at Panera Bread in Saugus

*The Guy at Panera that always tells me to "Go-GETTEM!" while he drops the F-bomb making my breakfast sandwich

*The Crew at Starbucks (the newer one near Trader Joe's) - they know my name, where I work, what drink I order and what snacks I like, they always make helpful suggestions when I am at a loss for new endeavors

*My Kitchen

*My Parking Garage

*Shopping at Tah-Gette in Saw-Ghus!

*Malden Center T

*The terrible service at Stop and Shop (Take your pick of which one!)

*Showcase Cinema

*The Squire and the Golden Banana (even though I have never been to either, I always liked the idea of living close to two of the most seedy strip clubs/proposed organized crime hangouts)

*The North Shore Accent (I've grown accustomed to it)

Things I will NOT miss about living on the North Shore...

*My Parking Garage

*My Commute to Work

*My neighbors

*My Ghetto Apt. Complex

*Dog shit in the Hallways

*Apartment Complex staffing that sags their uniform pants and talks on their cell phones throughout the work day

*The Garbage truck pickup outside of my window

*Getting my cuticle skin cut off by the lady at the Gah-Den Nail in Saw-Ghus

*Walking in to a lady with her head down and sleeping on the job at the Garden Nail

*Square One Mall

*Driving to Malden Center T-Stop

*The North Shore Accent