atleastihaveafrigginglass

Have you seen this emoji: 🤘🏼? It’s the Rock ‘n Roll hand sign, and it’s been one of my faves since I discovered it. Very heavy rotation in my various messaging and social media apps. Definitely Top 5 at any given moment in the recently used list, keeping company with 🤓, 🥸, 😂 & 🤡. But for the life of me, I cannot recall anyone using it on me in messages. Until today. Three times! That’s three…

My last post was about small kindnesses – and I’ve enjoyed hearing the stories of others’ similar experiences both in the comments and in person. I’ve also found that just acknowledging a small positive has put me more in tune to other examples of the same phenomenon. Maybe I’m just more attenuated to it now? Perhaps I’ve created a self-fulfilling environment that is just funneling more of these…

Did you ever think you’d live to see the day where you found an optimistic tone on atleastihaveafrigginglass? Don’t get me wrong, if there’s a biblical flood on the horizon for humanity, I’m here for it. As a matter of fact, the fuck took so long?!? Oh, right, right…god is a construct. Stupid, old Xtopher. How silly of me to forget. But just now, in a moment of – I don’t even know what to call…

Welp, after the collectively hushed – possibly even non-existent – tones that greeted my WordPress return, this seems like a safe place to share something hideous. My thinking is this goes one of two possible ways: A) The courage sharing something so disgusting takes could draw my audience closer over its raw depiction of the human condition; or… 2) It could simply reinforce the accidentally…

It was just…apathy, and plenty of it. I seem to have an endless supply of ennui. Someone <glares at reflection in phone> took advice from a professional and all heck broke loose. I’d thought my susceptibility to this type of personal mayhem was behind me. No kidding, I have a list of doctors who will back this up. My standard response when a doctor advises me ranges from mild hostility – think…

Siri: Uh-huh? Translate Jamal Khashoggi into English. Siri: I believe that would be Jeffrey Goldberg. That’s what I was afraid of. Siri: …for now. I may have to amend the supposition in my last post about who would be on the receiving end of what just has to be incipient political violence. It might be some innocent bystander bastard after all. For the wreckord, that is neither better nor…

Figured I’d better document this in case for when it eventually/inevitably takes off. And if you’ve followed for a bit, you know I can’t resist a good portmanteau. So much so, friends just call them Chrisisms. There have been a few – and close friends have heard me bitch and moan when one of my orphaned witticisms finds life in the pop culture lexicon. Don’t get me started on shituation. So…

Yesterday, certainly not for the first time this week, month, year, decade or even century I had a thought: “Wait. What?!?” I’m damn sure it won’t be the last time, either. But it got me thinking, maybe we should take a good, hard look at the mottos that define or describe our country. Don’t get me wrong, our current slogans have served us well for a couple hundred years, but maybe it’s time…

Boy howdy…am I your damn guy! Look, if Shakespeare wrote me, this would start out something like, “It should have been the best of times, but this is dumb old Xtopher we’re talking about here, so manage your expectations”. But he wasn’t in charge of me today because, well…he’s dead, isn’t he? It’s Sunday night on the West/Best Coast in the States. Today was supposed to be a rest day for me…

I was walking back from breakfast this morning with the Silver Fox and made one of my trademark inane observations. One does hate an awkward silence, and this one’s a giver. “Fire truck.” Which I then followed up with a bit of context for clarity. Another of my generous and never requested habits for all mankind. “The pickup, not one of the big rigs.” Which is a fair point. No one in my…

The day after Election Day in 2016 is, hands down, the most epically brutal hangover I’ve had in my life. And you have to keep in mind that I went to college and drank in gay bars (IYKYK) when I was younger, so that’s really saying a thing. I have no idea how the 2020 election was as close as it was. I know how the 2016 election went sideways. In my mind, it will always come down to the Bernie…

It’s officially here: the Rainy Season. No more Fake Fall, Indigenous Peoples’ Summer, or Second Fake Fall. No, once we fully embrace the darkness by adding an extra hour of it to our day, it’s officially the Rainy Season in the PNW. Of course, we know it’s coming. There are signs. For me, the first sign I’m usually aware of is the change in my sensitivity to the temperature. Indoors. During…

Or…Slipsey Russell? Or should I find my own alter ego and not corrupt this genius? If you never got to experience America or TV in its big Game Show era…you really did miss out: Nipsey, Charles Nelson Riley, the Family Feud with its herpes spreading kissing introductions…”Uh, in the butt, Bob”? There will never be another like it – lumps and all. To be clear, though, I’m not nostalgic for the…

What was that…motivation? It’s kind of startling, when it comes out of nowhere. But I just plugged my personal laptop in. It’s been unplugged for a month or two. Unused far longer. Unplugged since I decided to make my dining area a reading nook since I never eat at my table and when I entertain…it’s both rare and rarely outside the bedroom. Unused since…well, a long time. I thought the…

And Stewart, for that matter. Those were my tertiary thoughts upon abruptly coming to Friday morning. My primary thought was “When did I (or Apple) get a Star Trek alarm tone?” The secondary thought? “OMG, some Trekkie broke into the house and didn’t silence their phone…I’m gonna die!” Look, it wasn’t a great sleep week for me, ok? You’ll have to give me a break for my first three thoughts…

How did you come up with your blog name? AtLeastIHaveAFrigginGlass? I dunno…seems pretty transparent to me: I’m a next-level optimist. It’s doesn’t matter if your glass is half-empty or half-full…at least there’s a glass. And you know what? They’re fucking refillable! So, there you go. If your blog was a person (fiction or real), who would it be? Oh, so many people. But mostly fictional…

I’m considering changing my name. Legally. The prevailing candidate? Señor Moment. CRS just doesn’t have the same impact it used to – and honestly, I’m getting tired of telling people after the fact about my affliction: Can’t Remember Shit. Plus, I think people just assume I’ve re-styled the spelling of my given name when I say “CRS”. I guess I’d also be changing my heritage in that scenario.…