Since Friday

Went to work Mardi Gras party at Noon on Friday and got back to the office at two. Looked at my computer and decided any shred of productive fire had been doused by two Coors Lights and two Coronas. I was also subtley aware of a new Gluten free beer from Anheuser-Busch. It's called Redbridge and is lumped in with their niche brands. They own everything. Here are some other brands that they make: Anheuser World Lager, which apparently is made here and imported to Europe, I guess. Drink the beer of the country you hate, Europeans. Bare Knuckle Stout is another brand, but I've never seen it. Rolling Rock is in there. Never heard of it. Bud Extra and ZiegenBock are the last two. Since the rediscovery of Lowenbrau, it may be time to seek out and find these wonderful brands, I'm sure. I have fallen in love with Budweiser Select, so I firmly pledge my allegiance to the WifeBeater flag when I'm not drinking Ketel and sodas with lime. So delicious.

Anyway, packed up my office and headed home, stopping to buy some of the aforementioned Budweiser Select, and played some FIFA '07 to get up to date with the current season. I'm playing as Arsenal in Manager mode and I'm averaging about 8 goals a game so I'm going to increase the difficulty level pretty soon to Semi-Pro because that's how I roll. Four beers later, I made plans to go downtown with a friend and hit some of the usuals realizing that if I had one beer, my car was having a slumber party with downtown, so I needed to make sure I didn't park in the Farmer's Market parking lot. A person will do that about once and never do it again. Talked to girls wearing barely anything and managed to offend two or three. One conversation that I'm rather proud of went like this:

Girl: Do you play soccer?
Me: Yes, why?
Girl: Well, you're wearing a soccer jersey. Did you play today?
Me: No, last Wednesday was my last game.
Girl: Are you playing later tonight?
Me: No. (At this point, I realize where she is going and scramble for a comeback.)
Me: Do you plan on having sex later tonight?
Girl: What?!
Me: 'Cuz you are dressed like a slut.
Girl: (Looks at my drinking partner) Your friend is cute, but he's an asshole.

We left after meeting some people from the O.C. (the place where the airport is, not the show) and discussed armband tattoos or something. I'm only pointing it out because I believe that's how one of them described themselves. It was vile.

Went to the English pub downtown and played five bucks of the best jukebox down there while drinking two pints of Boddington's and then grabbed a cab and called it a night.

I was tore up the next day so could not enjoy the beautiful day as I intended and had a search and rescue mission for my car. Organized for a ride and went to breakfast where my skillet with sausage and mushrooms was subbed out for sausage and onions. It was gross, but I got a chocolate milk with breakfast because I realized it had been like three years since I had had a glass of milk and for some reason when the waitress asked, chocolate milk came out. Not out of the waitress and not actual chocolate milk, but the word came out of my mouth to order it.

I went home and watched In the City on BBC America and loved it. It's my new The OC. I'm also realizing that I really want an English girlfriend now. I'll even eat weirdly named English candy and canned meats to get one.

Went to bed at nine and woke up too early on Sunday. Went out to my parents' house for a compilation birthday party for relatives, but I don't remember which one's were having birthdays and gave some old Star Wars toys, in their original packaging, to my nephew. I realized I did not need a lightsaber anymore...unless there was an earthquake and my flashlight was broken. Shit! I might have to go buy a new one now that I thought of that.

Anyway, I've got some Uncle Dean stories on that and a blood on the curb when I drove up story; it was good to see everyone. I'm kind of getting into being an Uncle myself now and don't want the kids to remember me as weird or drunk when they get older. I know why the caged bird sings. So, now I hold them and talk to them and help them out with stuff. We drink root beer together and can hang out now. Dean story and bloody lady story later. I'm seriously about to pee myself.

I'll finish this later. What a waste of a blog.

Don't Ask Why I Think This is Awesome

I'm surprised my family didn't invent this. The divorced ring from the divorced jewelry company. This is a quote from the site " We created a line of rings with a separation in the normal 'never-ending circle'. This symbolizes a point in ones life when some type of separation came, whether by divorce or by the loss of a loved one." To tell the truth, I find it a little morbid, but could respect the idea.

The only thing is that I can't stop imagining some caricature of a cat lady sipping a chardonnay telling her story in a biker bar while trying to get a piece of some construction worker dressed up as a guy on a Harley. Or, for the ladies, Milhouse's dad.

Upon further investigation, there is an apparel section which is sadly lacking a shirt that says "If You can read this, the bitch fell off." I love that shirt not for what it stands for, but for it's lameness. There are shirts that say "Divorce Happens","Divorced and Loving It", and "I Got Out of the Box." Again, a little disappointing that they don't have a shirt that says "Got Divorce."

Just got a lightbulb in my head and these shirts would make for brilliant C-rags. Pro Tip!

New Technique. Take Note.

Leveraging technology to its fullest is how I roll. Consolidation of technology is how I don't roll. I refuse to talk into a PalmPilot because it feels like talking into a banana and makes you look crazy. A bluetooth headset is for in the car by yourself, like singing, because of the crazy factor again. If you walk down the street talking to yourself with your bluetooth on, you should be kicked in the guy balls or girl balls for being a jackass.

I think I'm creating a stance in support of the specialization of tools with one exception in the form of The Leatherman. I think the evolution of cool shit goes like Fire, the wheel, the cotton gin, Swiss army knife, magic shell, string cheese, Star Wars, cell phone in a briefcase and then the Leatherman. The Pontiac Trans-Am and Burt Reynolds fit in there somewhere, too.

So, why was I ranting and tangenting on this? Oh, I got a whiteboard for my fridge and will write stuff that I need to do or pickup at the grocery store, Trader Joe's or hair produck store (do not call it a beauty supply store). It seemed inefficient to write all of it down again, so I take a picture of it with my phone and transfer it via Bluetooth to my laptop at work and then print it out. I think it's quit Brilliente. That's Mexican for brilliant. Here is today's list:

Go Here (Do This)

There is a great art exhibit in Culver City at Corey Helford Gallery. Juxtapoz had something about it in their blog. It's kind of awesome. The concept is to take a paint-by-numbers painting and then paint your own stuff on it. According to the Juxtapoz blog, all the paintings will be put on eBay to be auctioned off for charity. Awwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Holy Snap (Another YouTube moment)

When I first saw The Wall, I was on acid or mushrooms like you are supposed to be. When I first saw Fantasia I was just drunk and I wish that it was more like this:

Genesis Reunion

The Police opened the Grammy's last night and were awesome. No brainer. Yeah, it's kinda the Sting show, but Stewart Copeland is awesome even when he was dressed up like a college history professor into sci-fi and prog rock. Can't wait for that tour.

Then you have DLR (please light the van halen torch RothArmy) back with Van Halen, but how can we ignore the fact that Genesis has reunited and is playing a free show in Rome to end their world fuckin' tour? Here is a little reminder of the genius and absolute distillation of the band Genesis once Peter Gabriel left the band and they had such hits as "Illegal Alien","I Can't Dance", and "Land Of Confusion." We shall not forget. You gotta love the Bugle Boys reference at the beginning of the I Can't Dance video. I think it competed against "Stay The Night" by Chicago at the MTV video music awards that year.

The Weak Minded Exploiting The Weak Minded (American Idol is Back)

The irresistibly, rubber-neck inducing, travesty we call American Idol has started again. Beyond Ryan Seacrest, being more annoying than a dentist performing a job interview with you while he polishes your teeth, I can't figure out if the Paula Abdul (check break.com) mess was just too generate publicity. So, after the show struck gold with its reject editions of the auditions, they now drag it out into two weeks of rejects with a smattering of decent karaoke. Watching misguided and oversheltered people from all corners of the earth...and the Midwest cry is just depressing. Yet, I keep on watching.

Meanwhile, I have my third cold of this year and it's driving me nuts, even though I refer to it as a sever case of allergies at work and then cough all over the people that come into my office to ask me questions. Worst joke ever was overheard at work today and I think it was even said for my benefit. Here it is: " Wow! Paper jam? How about some paper peanut butter to go with that?" It was awful.

Next, I found this pad of paper from when I was off of work for the holidays and it has a bullet pointed list on it.
-Body Double. - I watched this on Comcast On Demand and must say it was awesome. Meleanie Griffith was actually hot at one time and the stalker was the good guy. A murder takes place with a drill and there is a really cool house in the Los Angeles Hills in the movie. It was almost like David Lynch at some points.

-The Odyssey. - I tried reading Ulysses for the second time and got hung up again, so decided to read The Odyssey again to help me understand James Joyce more thoroughly. On top of that, I will probably have to read Gravity's Rainbow again, as both are based on the Odyssey. Gravity's Rainbow is the bomb, yo. It's a desert island book for sure. The reason The Odyssey is on the list, though, is that the mini-series was on the Sci-Fi channel while I was off and I DVRd it and watched the whole horrible mess starring Armand Assante from Fatal Instinct.

-Future World. - Futureworld was awesome. it was what people in the 70s thought the future would be like. The people of the 60s were thinking folding cars, pill meals and Jetsons. The Disco era was thinking about nothing, but clones and theme parks. Look for a young cola-bottled Peter Fonda, Gwyneth Paltrow's mom and Yul Brenner dressed up as a cowboy. We'll also see if it doesn't really happen like The Lorax is going to. This is one of those movies that you have seen in the video store since they were owned by mom and pop's and there were three sections: one for Betamax, one for VHS and one for porn behind some beads. There also might have been a laser disc section.

-Rocky Balboa. - This movie was fucking awesome. Worth ten dollars if you go see it in the movies or happen to know an awards screener and can watch his copy. I felt like a kid watching Rocky IV all over again at the end. While Jason Schwartzman's mom wasn't in this last installment, they added the guy from Heroes, which was pretty cool.

-The Counter. - If you are not eating at this restaurant, you may suck. Burgers, beers, indie rock, sweet potato fries, and shakes with some Bailey's in 'em is delicious. I also talked the bartender into breading me up some pineapple rings and frying them. Different, but genius when paired with an apricot dipping sauce.

-Lightnote Coffee. - While I don't like to reward the elimination of the local coffee house, I do like to reward consistency in a cup of coffee. The temperature has come way down since litigous idiots started pouring coffee in their laps, but some freshly ground Lightnote coffee from Starbuck's is my favorite. As a consolation, I make it at home most of the time, so I get it hotter and for less than $1.35 a cup. Also, their breakfast sandwiches are great for a hangover.

-Rolos. - Santa brought me some and eating one brought back memories of that old Rolo's commercial with Rolos rolling all over the place. Don't forget about the Rolo, lest ye be forgotten. By the way, the commercial link isn't the commercial memory, but you gotta love youtube. Pray with me that youtube does not end up like Napster going from awesome to n'awesome.

I still didn't talk about my new electric toothbrush, my moustache that I grew, or the Aggrolites, but trust me, all were awesome.

Let Me Be The First To Say...

Armed And Famous is awesome. There is only one way that it could be better besides full frontal nudity and that is having Steve Guttenberg as part of the show. Who droppped the ball on that one? They have Erik "Ponch" Estrada on the show so it makes sense. Actually, a step further would be to put together a show just like this called X-Cops and have it be all guys who played cops on TV. I'm kind of an idea guy.

Highlights of the debut episode are as follows:
Jack Osbourne and guns. He's a really good shot.
Latoya calling Jackie and name dropping her bothers including Michael as if he take her call.
Latoya Jackson name dropping Mr. Chou's in the same sentence as Spago.
The super hot cop from Muncie, Indiana that got paired up with Erik Estrada.
The starstruck, crack dealing grandma who keeps calling Erik Estrada Ponch.
Trish Stratus getting tazed. A blind person would get way more out of that scene than I did.

All in all, nobody has pulled a jackass move yet, but we'll see if Tawny Kitaen shows up.

Aluminum Foil Hat Theory #1

First, everyone is talking to themselves at work today. It's a little unsettling and weird.

Second, I have not slept through the night in a while now and wake up super sweaty every night and cold. I'm calling out a Whitley Strieber played by Walkenesque abduction by aliens a la Communion. Super weird dreams, too. This is the part where I wake up tomorrow and refuse to leave my room as I metamorphasize into a giant silverfish.

Third, conspiracy theory #1: The reason that there is always a line in the In N Out Burger drive-thru is because they pay people to sit in line all day to make it look like they are always busy. It's a pretty basic concept that can be seen all over metropolitan areas in the form of the velvet rope. In order to get busy you need to be busy. Nobody wants to go somewhere where nobody else goes anymore. Look what happened to Arby's. So, to the haters who don't believe this to be true, go ahead and sit out there one day and mark down license plate numbers, but I'll let you know ahead of time, that sometimes the drive-thru line new cars are brought in by corporate.

Finally, for the single man's fortress of solitude, a tv that can be tuned in to someone's prescription makes a ton of sense. Yes, when other people came over to visit, it may be polite to dial it in to their prescription, but a prescription tv would be awesome for the individual when watching the shows that he watches when no one else is around.

Vast Indifference

Last week, I found out that I was still "legally" married. It was a little unsettling, but the ex is being very cooperative and we are getting along through it at this point. There are small under the breath verbal jabs at each other, but that's to be expected. It's due to a feeling of indifference. That's the part that lets you know that you are getting over it. At the same time, it stings a little bit because you realize all of the stuff that was between you two is pretty much dead. Beyond that, the marriage officially went over two years, so I don't feel so bad about it any more, however I feel bad about all of the "technical" cheating that I partook in.

The next thing is that fucking Bud Light commercial that my friends and I invented three years ago at the first domestic macro-brewed beer festival. It's the beernata - A pinata filled with pills, airplane bottles of booze and can beer. First of all, I realize, someone must have come up with this before we did. Nothing is truly original, but still.

Finally, I think I'm going to go to the Palo Alto Library tonight and here are the requirements for a library card. It looks like a pretty weak library considering Palo Alto Poverty is $90K a year, but whatevs, it's a library with free books to read that have been in multitudes of bathrooms and are covered with fecally tainted airborne pathogens. Note that the limit of books is "all that you carry" with a 100 book limit. Wait...What about an Internet service called Bookflix that let's you put books in your queue and then send you books that you read and send back. Negatives- shipping would be a little more and turnaround would be slower depending on the reader. Positives - no piracy. In fact, my ex-sister-in-law or supposed-to-be-ex-sister-in-law kind of did this anyway with Barnes & Noble by reading and returning books with a week or two. Shady.

Awesome Youtube search

Youtubing "Ghost Ride The Whip"

Also related is an article on sfgate detailing the two ghostriding the whip-related fatalities of 2006. One in Stockton and one in Modesto. Proof that there is nothing to do in the valley. Hyphy ain't easy that's for sure. Make sure you stay with the article to the end where Snoop talks about sideshows becoming the "ghetto NASCAR."

Oh, snap. My new external harddrive from Buy.com just arrived. It took no time at all and using Google checkout, I got 320 GB for a C-note.

Now, a couple of other things real quick. I don't think Erin Gray has a myspace page, but if she did, I would add her as a friend. James Bond marathons make the day go by a lot faster.

Nothing Hotter

Than this...

Rockin' Ray & The Frisbee Dogs

Frisbee dogs are awesome. Here's some pics of Rockin Ray and the Frisbee Dogs.

Good news this morning:
$16 Million for a season. That's like a million a game that he'll play. I'm going to go out and get a Fremont A's hat as soon as possible. Yahoo Bonds Story

We will fight your bombs with our bees and your biological weapons with our llamas. This explains my helper monkey dream last night. Yahoo! llama story. On a side note, if I ever raised llamas on a ranch, I would call my ranch Lorenzo's Llamas...and it would be awesome.

Dude, this sucks. Yahoo! condom story

Not news, but everyone should be reading Mark Morford. Here's a link to this week's article.

To work.

How To Be Awesome: Chapter 1

Go to work at 7:00 in the morning clutching a plastic Safeway bag. Dock your laptop and power it up and then go into the break room with your plastic Safeway bag. Place your bag on the counter and start making coffee for the office. Only make ten 6 oz. cups because if you make twelve you risk getting grounds in the coffee and that just ruins it for everybody like Herpes did in 1978.

While you stand in the break room with gloves still on watching the coffee drip-drip-drip, acknowledge your co-workers with light conversation regarding how fucking cold it is, the duration of the week left before Friday and whether you did or did not bring a lunch AKA "What's in the bag?"

When asked about the bag, reply "Oh, that's my lunch. I almost forgot about it." While the person is still watching, take two Diet Cokes out of it and place them in the door of the refrigerator and place the bag in the garbage. Exit the room immediately and log in to your laptop and start work for the day.

By following this routine repeatedly, co-workers will fear you and expect your manifesto within twelve months. If within said twelve months, you decide to distribute your manifesto via the company e-mail, send this:

My 2007 Manifesto By Hugh Voltage

1 lb. lean Ground Beef

Salt and Pepper to taste

Hot Sauce

1 large Red Onion chopped

1 can (16 0z.) Refried Beans

1 can (4 oz.) Green Chiles chopped

2 cups Cheddar Cheese shredded

1 cup Monterey Jack Cheese shredded

1 lb. Mission® Tortilla Triangles Chips

1 large Red or Green Bell Pepper chopped

1 cup Sour Cream

1 cup ripe Black Olives pitted

3/4 cup Taco Sauce

Recipe Instructions:

1. Cook ground beef until brown, drain fat and season to taste. Add 2 to 3 drops of hot sauce and onion. Spread beans in a large 9"x13" rectangular oven-proof dish and top with cooked meat. Sprinkle with green chiles, both cheeses and taco sauce. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes in a 400 degree F oven.
2. Remove from oven and garnish with black olives, sour cream and bell pepper. Serve with Mission® Tortilla Triangles around the edges of the dish.

Do not actually make this recipe. It's awful. If you do make it for the pure thrill of following instructions with a semi-predictable outcome, half the cheese portion.

The Burning Smell Lets You Know That The Condom Is Working

Being a single and safe individual, contraception and prophylaction are of interest. This, however, is not. It is the spray-on condom. Thank you Gizmodo via Digg. As a bonus, here is the page translated.

So, let's see "Soon there is no more reason to rather make it without." That's good because now I rather make it without, currently. Next, "The new condom comes from the spray can and adapts to each member optimally." So, it's like Weight-watchers where they customize a member's weight enhancement program because they are just a curvy BBW right now and don't really need to lose the weight because they are fine just the way they are, but why not just try and even look better. Is there an acronym for BBMs? Apparently not, unless it is a supergroup with 2/3 of Cream in it.

Here's more from the translated site: "The advantages of the spray condom are obvious: it is easily and fast applicable, adapts to each Penisgrösse and form individually and offers apart from stretcher comfort, optimal protection with the sexual intercourse." So, first penisgrosse is so true, they are just not good looking. A penis kind of looks like a turkey neck. Dude, stretcher comfort sounds awesome. Hammock comfort would probably be a step above that, but I'd take stretcher comfort.

And here is the best part: "Still condom testers are looked for, which already gained experience in handling condoms. Prospective customers can announce themselves on this web page anonymous."

Spray rubber on your penis in the name of science? I could think of worse things to do with a penis. One thing would be to rub it on a toilet seat. That's how you pick up STDs.

Back On This Blog

I'm going to start this blog again. The digs need some serious work, but I will, hopefully, get some time to dust off my dynamic html skills from 1997 and clean it up a little bit and start posting again about everything from being STD-free (so awesome) to happy, positive and freakish things that start happening around me, like my experience with the boneless buffalo wing drought of Seattle in October of 2006. It's crazy that Seattle is such a great city and only 27 people live there. I mean, shit, they have a Monorail and a Space Needle. What more could people want? Seriously, it's my number two city to live in if the Bay Area wasn't so super stellar. I would like a space needle, locally, though.

Also, on a space needle tip, my sister outclassed me by a hundred times by paying to go up on the space needle and then immediately taking a dump as soon as she got to the top. I fucking love her for that.

Dirty Words

Good Stuff

I thought I invented the word AssFuck until I checked out this link. Apparently, I was wrong and the peronalized NFL store had already thought of it for the back of a jersey and banned it. You also can't get "Ass Whore" or "Ass Puppies." Other classics on the list are "Axing The Weasel," "Jesus Christ," and "Lucky Camel Toe."

If this list is real, I don't know what to say. Actually, I have a whole bunch of new things to say.

See Me. Wouldn't Want To Be Me (Nice Dreams)

Copied this from my myspace blog and myspace is still for perves.

When I was 8, things were way simpler. An ice cream machine was a flipped over big wheel and bad dreams involved Boogie Mans, Ghosts, Aliens or Sasquatches. Now, bad dreams are far worse and consist of myself, Mexcellente and Pinch at a frat party where an old man gives me his cell phone number as I try to leave and tells me to put it in under Herman Hesse so no one knows it's really him. Then, I walk Pinch back to her room and go home. That's the part where I wake up at 4:00 AM and toss and turn for the rest of the morning, pissed that I am going to have to drag through the day supertired. Now, here is my weekend in bulletpoints and this is why you don't want to be me.

Friday, 5:00 PM
-Leave work.

-Sam meets me at bar of choice and mentions she hasn't been drunk in a long time. I say it sounds like a dare. We drink shots of Crown Royal until we are semi-blind. The bartender starts pouring Jack Daniels in my beer when I go to the bathroom.

-Dude calls and says that he is going to a metal show in Oakland and he'll pick us up from the bar and take us. We say sure.

-We end up in a car with a German dude who names the Scorpions song everytime Sam whistles one.

-We get to Oakland and everyone in the car pees on the street, practically. We go to the show where the band is so metal that they don't have a bass player. I call one of the guitar players out on it and Sam takes a picture to clown later. She also points out that I am the only one in a white shirt in the club.

-I call my little sister who comes and picks us up in Oakland and brings us back to Palo Alto. We go to other bar of choice and the next thing I know I wake up in my bed and there is a bag of Jack In The Box in my trash. I have no car and Jack In The Box is too far to walk to. So, figure that one out Encyclopedia Brown.

Saturday
-JD takes me to my car en route to a horseshoe tournament in Livermore. He points out that he can see my nipples through my wifebeater.

-I drive by my grandma's old house where I spent years four, five and six and also drive past Mr. Goddammit's house since I am in the area.

-Hang out at horsehoe tournament and explain myself to friend's girlfriends and wives. An explanation of my singleness. It feels like everyone feels sorry for me because I don't have a girlfriend or a wife. They shouldn't. Nobody likes to feel like someone feels sorry for them. Personally, it makes me feel like a hobo or something. I Drink lots of water throughout the afternoon and rehydrate

-Take off around 5:00 and go pick up back pack from first bar of choice and go home.

-Watch last two episodes of Battlestar Galactica and sleep at 11:00 PM

Sunday
-Get up at 9:00 and talk to mom right when I get out of the shower, while hair dries to the point that it cannot be fashioned. It's gonna be a hat day.

-Clean apartment and vaccuum. The bathroom counter is spotless. Get coffee and paper and plan on just chillin' all day. Maybe do the crossword and cryptoquip. The Sunday Sudoku is too complicated. I really am looking forward to reading an article on soy beans and how they can be harmful if too much is taken into the human body.

-Girl with a boyfriend TMs and wants to ride bikes and get gelato. That sounds good.

-Pappy calls and wants to get a cocktail. That sounds a'ight. I just want to go downtown and get an Oscar Wilde book so all three can be accomplished.

-I call girl with a boyfriend and tell her to make sure she wears undergarments as Pappy will be there.

-After an episode of Always Sunny In Philadelphia, we go to the New New Old Pro and it's closed.

-Plan B is Compadres. After 3 pitchers, the bartendress recognizes me as "You're the guy that was in here and drank an Adios Motherfucker that one night."

-Five minutes after the comment, an Adios Motherfucker shows up at the table. Still unsure if she was trying to hint at me to leave.

-Pappy and girl with a boyfriend call JD to tell him that I am passed out as they joke about how he will never call back. He doesn't. This escalates to saying that they are visiting me in the hospital while I get my stomach pumped. I think it's gone too far and text him that I am okay.

-We move into the bar at compadres after we settle up because it is time for dollar margaritas. What could go wrong?

-At this point some equestrians from Stanford sit down next to me and girl with a boyfriend is annoyed that I am talking to them, at least I think. She reads this so she can give me shit about it. Anyway, girl with a boyfriend clocks me in the jaw while I am smoking.

-Girl with a boyfriend has had it and things are getting sloppy so we scrounge up some cash and call her a cab.

-Dr. Finn, medicine madman, shows up at this point and gets something to eat while Pappy and I are at two dollar margaritas.

-The good doctor drives my car to other bar of choice where we last about long enough to get a quesadilla to bring home to girl with a boyfriend in case she is hungry.

-Pappy passes out on the couch while some shit goes down in the kitchen. I hear Pappy leave and go to sleep.

-I Wake up at four or five with bad dreams.

That's pretty much everything in a nutshell. Hope girl with a boyfriend doesn't get mad about the blog. I also never ended up getting the book or gelato and instead have a sore jaw. Man, I really shit the bed on that one. In case you are keeping score at home, Sunday is not the new Friday either. You can also mark me down with an error.

Coming Soon

Quitting the myspace blog and moving back over here very soon. I miss the anonymity. Plus, myspace is for suckas and pervs.

The War At Home

First, the TV show War At Home is a crappy, rehash of Married With Children that promotes negative parenting and shows no redeeming qualities related to a family dynamic.

Second, this is disgusting, but I think I may have caught something from a girl who used to be at the house a lot. She had a dog like Little Orphan Annie and her dog may have had fleas because I just found my third one in three days. It makes me absolutely paranoid and freaked out, too. So, I have to napalm my apartment on Saturday or I am going to end up just throwing everything out and starting from scratch. I find myself vaccuuming everyday like I'm on diet pills and constantly scouring for another flea.

I'm thirty one and had a good run, so it's not the first time I caught something from a girl. It's how I met my ex-wife, kinda. Actually, not kinda, and it was probably a pretty good indicator of what was to come, but love is dumb if not blind. Those days are behind me, though, so now that I've grown a tiny bit more responsible, I'm still dealing with catching stuff from girls, however, now it is fleas. Also, a prescription of antibiotics is way easier than powders and bombs to eradicate something. A funny related story is when I thought I had something really horrible and went to the health center at the college and had to put my penis in some woman's hand to be told that it was Dickne.

Starts with cooties and ends with fleas. It's the circle of the social life. Meeting people is easy, but it takes a 24 hour period to kill the fleas.

Worst case scenario is that I have fleas which is totally plausible because of the beard which was nearly shaved this morning because it is horrid or horridle, if you will.

Mutual Fun!!!

Chuck Palahniuk once said at an in-store that he knew he was an adult when he bought new furniture. Add a divorce and a few other changes, if you talk about me, the story's the same one. The real defining moment of adultness outside of dropping $60 into a PGA Tour video golf machine and watching Justice League Unlimited is monitoring and taking pride in my mutual fund.

My Real Estate fund was a go-getter last year, but I was anticipating a slow down, so I pulled a lot out and put it in Blue Chips hoping for market resurgance. The dark horse that I got cheap and has tripled is the Japan mid cap fund. That thing is kickass there was a small shakeup on the Nikkei, but it's getting better. Anyway, a 12% return on my investment last year. That was awesome and it has been slow this year, but my YTD has tripled in the last week from almost nothing.

So, why talk about mutual funds? I think I use it as a substitue for something. Some women will get a cat or a dog and have this weird personal relationship with it trying to fill some sort of gap they are experiencing. If that works, cool. I, on the other hand, am pretty happy with being alone for a while. I'm over the textbook path that I was given a long time ago. I'm over wife, kids, and picket fence. What do I want with my life? I was thinking about picking up an external hard drive, getting a couple of picture frames to hang a couple of prints and maybe buy some new kitchen stuff. In the long term? Maybe pay off my credit cards and buy a new car. These are my goals in life at this point. Oh, also drink less and be more productive.

Natural concerns would be being bald and alone at 50 years old. I'll just have to go with it. If I am unhappy with being alone at 50, if that indeed does become the case, I can go volunteer, write something, paint fire hydrants green until they catch me, it really doesn't matter at this point. I'm over babies, marriage and fences and I'm quite good with it.

De(comp)pression

Hung over today and don't even know how I got into my house last night as my house keys were in my car this morning. It's kind of weird. I'll have to have a chat with my neighbor. I kind of needed to let off some steam last night, so it's juat as well and justified that I got blown out on a Wednesday. Now I just need to find one of my credit cards at one of the three bars I went to last night. I leave cards around too much. I need to go to a cash only policy.

Just talked to the ex-wife who is moving to San Diego to be with her dude and it felt all right...finally. It also turns out that I screwed up the divorce kind of. I was supposed to request that she be served, but it's my first divorce so I'll do it right on the next one. Sometimes it trips me out that I am technically married still.

Speaking of that, I'm kind of single again and that's good. I got a bit freaked out when there were tampons in my medicine cabinet and realized that things were moving too quickly with my last relationship. Plus, I had gained five pounds buy getting on that making dinner for two thing. I've since filled the void with tons and tons of work and it feels pretty good. I'm getting awesome in the workplace again. It's looking like I could be in a spot to win again. In the meantime, I will be fostering change in the organization because that's how I roll. I also swear before 9:00 AM now. So, there are still a few things to work out, but pretty soon I should be right around 90% and I will take that.

Why would anyone read this? I am writing to myself.

What a Sucka Dick

I recently heard/imagined that, Dick Cheney, in lieu of his recent public relations forest fire, planned on giving back to the people by introducing a new forty ounce beer variety. It will be brewed by Halliburton Breweries/Chemical Warfare division, but he had nothing to do with securing them the contract to produce the product. What is it? What makes it special? Well, it is a forty that features lottery scratchers on the label and is to be sold in poor inner-city areas throughout the United States and even Canada. It is to be called Dick Cheney's Blottery Beer.

When reached for comment (imaginarily) Dick Cheney said "I thought that this would be a good way to a) take even more money from the American people while giving them a brief glimpse of hope in the shape of financial freedom and then crushing their dreams of wealth and b) add one more notch on my evil belt." It was then reported that he ate a handful of hundred dollar bills, had the blood removed from an eight year old boy to fuel his black heart and shot someone in the face while kicking a puppy.

In other news, I was hanging out watching TV and my friend who shares my bed from time-to-time in order to be efficient like those that shower together to save water remarked to me that I should have a talk show on TV because I talk a lot and I'm funny. Clearly, the charming things are not annoying to her yet. I sat on that for 12 seconds and imagined how awesome it would be. Here's the plan. Due to my utter self-absorption it would be brilliant and follow the normal talk show formula. I would have a monologue where I talk about what I did in the past 24 hours or week. Then, I would have some celebrities on to be interviewed. Here is where my show is unique. Because I am self-absorbed to the point of nausea to listeners, I turn all of the celebrity stories into stories about me. They end up promoting nothing, feel unimportant and I get to talk about myself. Also, for college students, they could create a drinking game where they take a drink everytime I say "I" and a shot if I ever talk about playing in a band.

I see this as a win-win for the general populous as we take the wind out of the overblown celebrity market and get back to real people that have funny stories about their weird uncle. Only problem would be that nobody would watch, however, that is becoming the mark of brilliance on TV so I'd take that. If you have a high-rated sitcom on TV right now, you are most likely using canned laughter so your retarded audience knows when it is okay to laugh and you are also probably going for no-brainer jokes that are obvious from a setup almost two minutes before you drop the punchline or sight gag. I will miss you so much Arrested Development.

The solution to this is to start funding educational programs at a young age and get the noses pulled out of US, People, and In Style magazines for the girls and I don't know where the dudes noses are, but based on recent research, I don't think it is Cargo magazine.

Recommendations: Happy Tree Friends and Attack of The Show on G4, Blueberries, Battlestar Galactica, Hating on MySpace, but still checking your e-mail, and NoisePop SF 2006.

Super Great

I just got the news that I wouldn't be getting a bonus for the first time in three years at work because my performance was not a usual extraordinary over the last eight months. If you do the math, you figure out where it dropped off. Granted, in the last month or so things have improved greatly at work, but that's not enough to make up for the lost time. On top of that, I've gone from being considered for supervisor to getting a supervisor. The thing is I'm getting what I deserve. I don't expect it to get handed to me because I've had to endure a rough few months.

On the other hand, when I started writing this I had dropped fifty or sixty pounds, I wasn't sleeping anymore, I wasn't eating, I was coughing up blood and I was taking Tylenol PM to sleep every night. On top of that, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, I was battling alcohol and I felt alone in a crowd. So, outside of work, I have been doing extraordinary and I guess that softens the blow. Plus, I have all of this year to do better and get back to where I was. I can't blame anyone. I should've been stronger than this and no one should be responsible for your performance besides yourself. Learned some important things this year that will come in handy way outside of work and way down the line. I also figured if I let this go on the Interweb I could let it go out of my head for now.

I Don't Know What I'm Doing

I've been focusing on work today because I realize in regards to dating members of the opposite sex I have no idea what I am doing. No idea. Flying blind.

Right Into The DANGER ZONE

Good news: found the gray area of drinking and I am absolutely comfortable in it now. I'm smitten like seriously head over heels in a gay way for a girl who is way too hot, witty, smart and good for me. I haven't felt like this for six years. It feels good, but scary

Bad news: loose ends are going to have to be tied up somehow and I am going to have to prepare myself for about 45 "You are such an asshole. I hate you"s in order to tie them up. Smitten is scary because women can be evil and ruthless if you put yourself in a position to let that happen.

Anyway, went from zero to four in a week and now have to figure out how to get it to one. I suppose the equation is relatively simple, you just minus three, but I am struggling with it today. I guess the key is to always be okay with being back at zero no matter what happens, but I swear to god this girl is so awesome I would fuck her brother if she had one. That's super scary.

Making New Friends and Influencing People

Well, it's tax season and many people are concerned with write-offs so I thought I would address it. Recently, it has become more evident than ever that I am going to have to rebuild a pretty good empire of friends that were built over an 18 year period in some cases. I have salvaged what I could, but I have not seen many friends in what is approaching a year. Some broken acquaintances have been by choice and others are a result of being excluded because people would be taken out of their comfort zone for reasons that I am a little bit more than indirectly responsible. I'm not a finger pointer, but I can't have the whole blame rest on my head. On the other hand, if I was that awesome it probably wouldn't be a problem.

So, has begun a period of rebuilding and I should be right back where I was as I approach 50. I really shouldn't let it bother me, but sometimes I miss some of those friends and while I understand, it still sucks sometimes as I try to adapt to new ones and build new quality friendships. I'm just still alittle bit stubborn about accepting the situation and I still tend to find friends that may be not of the standard that I am looking for. It feels unfair sometimes, but I don't really believe in unfair anymore. It's not a matter of fair vs. unfair. It is a matter of this is what you got, so work with it and make the best of it. The art of faking it eventually will become an art of day-to-day living.

Black Scabbath

I went to therapy for the first time in six weeks with the intention of breaking up with my therapist because I felt like I was doing better. A friend had referred to therapy as picking a scab the other night and I'm starting to believe that to be true. He was in a band with me off and on for seven or eight years and is in therapy for a similar situation to mine and we joke about how almost everyone who was in the band is in therapy now. If we ever start a new band together it would have to be called "Fourth Session" at this point. I would have to get a tattoo touched up, but then at least it would be consistent. After recent events the tattoo is more like a scar than a badge of honor. Well, it was never a badge of honor, but it was never a scar of shame and regret before.

Anyway, in the session after bleeding my inner self, filled with doubt and concern, all over the rug, it became kind of apparent that I may need more therapy. On the other hand, I was feeling a lot better when I wasn't being forced to talk about it every two weeks. It would seem that I have an old problem that could be serious that I thought I was beating. Yeah, you could chalk it up to the first holiday alone, but alcoholics are brilliant excusists in their own mind. If I don't deal with it now, there are a couple of excuses coming up in the next three months that could prove to be very dangerous to my psyche.

Meanwhile, post-therapy today, my productivity has grinded to a screeching halt and I find myself staring at a screen and nudging a friend over IM all day. It sucks. Then, I tell myself that I will just go home and get some work done, but Marissa's sister is coming back to the O.C. and I told my sister I would go to dinner with her. Apparently, she is concerned about things, too. Today is reminding me of the old days of this blog, but a little bit better. I ate lunch today and I quit Tylenol PM, so I'm still moving in the right direction, I'm just tripping on stuff here and there.

I'll recharge tonight and kick ass tomorrow and then pick up dry cleaning and stay home. That is the key for this weekend. Just stay home and be productive. Maybe visit family, but whatever I do, I do not need to go to the bars and meet people that I will not remember the next day. Here's how it works. Lonely. Go out to a bar and drink. Meet people. Talk to people for a while. Get wasted. Go black. Wake up next day and have numbers in phone without a clue of who they belong to. The driving problem is conquered at least as I don't even bring my car keys with me anymore and instead, have assigned a set of keys for drinking that consist of house key, laundry key and mail key. Seems brilliant some days and sad on other days.

Uncanny Resemblance

I hadn't posted a graphic in a while, so I pulled this out of my archive. Thought I would post it and let anyone know that I am working on splicing the DNA of a unicorn, a dog and a corndog to create the world's first Unicorndog. The body of a horse, the head of a dog and a horn of a delicious corndog. A few kinks so far in obtaining DNA from a unicorn, understanding any type of genetics as well as the difference between RNA and DNA and determining whether a corn dog has DNA at all.

Grey Stoked

I don't make resolutions. No cliches like quitting smoking, starting to work out, or quitting masturbating or anything lame like that. This year I am making an effort to make some slight adjustments. I want to learn to live in the gray area. Just exist at point zero on the number line. No love, no hate. I won't get mad at anyone or anything, but I won't like anything too much. That means no overplugging of good bands or telling anyone that anything is brilliant. I guess it's okay to feel that way about some things, but I am going to try to keep it to myself. I will never eat more than makes me full and I will not eat too little either. I won't talk too much and I won't be too quiet. No happy and no sad. I won't oversleep, but I will get at least seven hours every night. I won't call you ever again, but I won't try to not call you. I won't drink too much, but I won't quit drinking. I will clean my apartment once a week, but no more than that. I will do laundry once a week, but I will not separate the colors and wash it in warm, not hot or cold. I will watch less TV, but I will watch worse shows. I will eat one unhealthy meal a week and go to lunch when I'm at work rather than the gym. I will fuck up and do something stupid once a month. I will exist as an individual, but not be a hermit and avoid friends and family in observance of Obi-Wan weekends.

It's The Most Wonderful Time

So, Christmas time. I've been off for what feels like a week. It's only Tuesday. I've been trying to keep busy by buying things for people and a frame for myself to put a picture on the wall. I've been staying up late and was so bored that I watched Alien Nation last night until one in the morning. The movie sucks, but I had no idea that Jane's Addiction's cover of Sympathy For The Devil was used in the alien strip bar scene and I really like that the aliens get wasted from rotten milk. Honestly, James Caan's best performance since Sonny in the Godfather.

I was just sitting outside my apartment having a smoke and pondering a little bit of everything. I ponder when I smoke and that's probably why I still smoke so that I can ponder some. To tell the truth it's been kind of a crappy year for a lot of people I know or knew. One of them got sentenced to four months in jail today. They deserved it, but it still sucks around Christmas, but these things have no sense of time. One of the worst nights of my life to date happened on my 30th birthday in Vegas. These things are not planned. I guess you could call them surprises. I guess the key is to not be scared of what is in your future and to not be scared of trust even when it feels like everyone wants to take a piece out of you when all you want is a safe place to rest your head and someone to tell you it's all going to be all right even when they are watching your car get towed away outside the window and know that you don't have underwear to wear to work the next day. It's worth it for the brief moment of feeling secure, loved and at peace.

My point is this, if five years ago you walked up to me and said don't get married because it is going to result in a year of pain, feelings of betrayal and feelings that some would define as depression and loneliness, I would still have gotten married. I mean, to tell the truth that's exactly what I thought marriage was about at the time because of my experience with it up to that point. So, I would still get married even believing this would be the outcome. Of course, I would be assuming with blind faith that there would also be times of walking in the rain and then getting inside the apartment and holding each other close to warm up. I would assume that there would be times when I was unemployed and felt lost and someone gave me the confidence that I needed to keep on fighting and not give up hope. I would assume that there would be times when I got to help someone else get through a time when they felt like the world was going to end everyday. I would assume there would be someone to calm and hold at three in the morning when they woke up from a horrible dream and thought they were paralyzed when their arm was asleep. Lastly, a warm lap to lay my head in at the end of the day when the day kicked my ass with a pointless conversation sprinkled on top. Through all of that I may have fooled myself into believing that maybe everything would actually work and last forever. Would I do it again? There is no answer to that question yet.

Crazy Five Year Olds

I just got off the phone with my dad. We hadn't talked in a couple of months. He is miserable and debating a third divorce. Not fun talk. It makes me unhappy. To paraphrase a friend or at least a friend of a friend I need to get over my dad-shit or it's going to ruin my life.

He left when I was five and it still kind of bothers me. My gut reaction as a well traveled five year old (I had recently run away to Long John Silver's in Manteca with a penny to buy dinner for the family and the therapist says that that speaks volumes about the way my personality developed) was to destroy and rip apart all of my Star Wars figures, records and record player. A little crazy destructive five year old who had recently become the man of the house. I guess that is when the cracks started to show. Still, to this day, I will check to make sure that the doors are locked in any house that I am in before I go to bed. I always know.

Now, this may seem crazy, but I don't think that little shit has ever left me. There is some duality going on internally and I suspect, he is the one screwing everything up. Just when I think I have it dialed in and have figured out how to be content if not even happy, he starts to move stuff around in my head leaving messes for me to constantly clean up. Or, even more subtle things so I don't even know that I am in the middle of a huge mess at all. It's like taking the batteries out of someone's remote or leaving their car window down inthe middle of a rainstorm. It's not too much, but just enough. He is the yin to my cartoon angel on the shoulder yang, constantly battling any good that I find and want to exploit. This could be why I have trouble sleeping.

Externally, I am riddled with fakery. I am a people pleaser and will say anything to manipulate someone or even hurt them for unconscious personal gains of some sort. I destroy things and hurt people without them even having any idea that it was me, in most cases. An emotional ninja who will flip out on you and then rock out on a guitar. Rocking out on guitar being an obvious trait of a well-schooled ninja. Another trait being Chinese stars or shurikens.

The fakery is who I want to be and the smoke and mirrors to distract from who I really am. That is why some can see right through it and spot the fakery right away. They know the comments are meant to appease and are miles from genuine. It has gotten to the point where I don't even really know what's real or fake anymore. I may really like you or I may just be faking it because I don't want to upset you. I don't want to upset anyone, ever.

It would all be great if it satisfied me somehow, but it just lays layers and layers of guilt on me that have to be continually peeled back to make me comfortable with myself when I am alone. Somebody told me that my problem is that I don't value myself and put myself at risk constantly for some reason as if I am daring myself to fuck up. Other people have made me feel like a fuck up lying in wait in any given social situation, especially with booze involved. That combined with utter self-absorption mixed with a fear of saying or doing something to hurt someone leaves me feeling like a Dr. Jekyl/Mr. Hyde type entity. So, when I get home today I will do my best to leave my box of Star Wars figures intact and see that as a step in the right direction of personal growth. I'm a laugh riot today.

Maslow's Hierarchy Vs. The Millenium Falcon

It's no secret that I am fascinated with time travel. Yeah, it could be used to go back in time and fix atrocities that societies have experienced throughout history, however, I'm pretty sure that anything that got fixed would just create more problems. All those horrible events in history, we supposedly learned from and had they not happened, we would be doomed to make the mistakes anyway because they had to happen in order for us to develop the tools we need to avoid them in the future. At least, we are supposed to.

Of course, I would use it to go back in time and see the Commodores play live and probably go to the US festival to see Van Halen play. Another good use would be to go back to 1978 on a Saturday and watch cartoons and then maybe go pick up some awesome vinyl and a really nice hi-fi. This all looks good on paper, but what if you never moved beyond those wants and needs from the past? Would you truly be able to move forward into your adult life. It would be like being 30 and still wanting that Millenium Falcon or Evel Kneivel wind up toy that you put on layaway at Mervyn's. Or, the guy who goes out and gets a kickass El Camino this year and leans on the tailgate smoking cigarettes while he listens to Bad Company in the parking lot at work. Let it go. Check the baggage and never claim it when you get to your destination. Just walk away. You have to let these things go to evolve into an adult and develop wants and needs for new, adult things. I think these adult things are babies, cars, houses and other things like that.

According to Maslow's hierachy of needs, the Millenium Falcons and Cabbage Patch Kids develop into Physical, Security, Social, Ego and Self-Actualization. In order to get to self-actualization, the other needs must be satisfied first. Seems easy. Air, water, food seems like a no brainer. It should be like the 200 points on the SAT for writing your name, but what the fuck do you do when this is your stumbling block? You are pretty much getting your shoelace stuck on the starting block when the starter pistol goes off. Peers and contemporaries start to pull away, leaving you far behind with one shoe untied. To compound the problem, say you start backwards and work from the top down. It would be like building the roof of a house first, which makes it nearly impossible to build a sturdy foundation to support that roof and everything just falls apart.

On the other hand, say that you take the time to go back and get all of those things that you wanted, which to a child or teen seem like needs. Tickle-Me-Elmo's were the equivalent of air and water for many kids a few years ago and in their eyes, these were needs. All you had to do to see evidence of this was look down an aisle in a toy store and see the mom or dad trying to drag a crying kid out of the aisle. Or, for the teen example, you go back and make out with Alyssa Milano from Who's The Boss and imagine how pissed Tony Danza is going to be when he finds out. This also probably leads to the adult behaviors that you can see in front of a Fry's the night before the X Box 360 comes out. The thing is, these guys did get and still have that Millenium Falcon. They probably still play with it, too. So, you fulfill those needs in a modern setting with the same desire even though, the boxes smell stale and the same luster is not physically there, but you see it. It would be like dating Erin Gray now and seeing her as she was on Buck Rogers. People would look at you like you were dating an old lady, but in your eyes she would be walking around in a white jumpsuit and heels. Would this give you closure and allow you to move out your state of self-imposed-frozen-in-time-crutch?

I tried to think of anything that I wanted in high school that I didn't get and I think it would break down to the Seve Vai signature Ibanez. They only made 777 of them and each one was numbered and signed by Steve Vai. They had a DiMarzio PAF pickup on the neck and bridge and a single coil Dimarzio in the middle position. They were desert sun yellow and had a handle cut into the body. In retrospect, they were kind of horrid. The thing is, I remember one Christmas, my mom went above and beyond and tracked one of these down for me. I was probably 15 years old that Christmas. I had snuck around and found it under the bed in my parent's bedroom and my bedroom became like an ER waiting room while I paced waiting to get information on a loved one except my loved one was guaranteed to recover and have some kind of bionic super power in one week's time. Christmas morning, I was in no rush as I sauntered up to the tree and saw the guitar case and opened it up and found a pink, Japanese Fender strat inside. You could almost hear an audible Buwah-Buwah. I think that was the moment that I learned about sure things, as well as taking things for granted which I have excelled at ever since. I think the saying is never count your eggs before they have been cubed.

On top of everything, my mom had traded in my first guitar that I ever owned (a red BC Rich Warlock) to get the pink guitar, so you can probably sprinkle a little loss on top. I'm not playing a victim or feeling sorry for myself, those are pointless exercises of hurting yourself and people will wait in line for the chance to hurt you, so you really don't need to do the work or take the enjoyment away from them. Had I got the guitar that I wanted, my life would be no different. I am sure of this. I was 15 for chrissakes. That guitar was a little much for a guy who was having a hard time playing Smoke On the Water, which I think they are training monkeys to play right now. What I missed at the time and can see now is that I should have felt gratitude and love towards my mom trying real hard to get me what I wanted and then when that couldn't be done to try her best even though she was risking disappointing her spoiled brat kid. This would have set a foundation for building the second and third tiers of Maslow's pyramid, both the security and social part of it. Throw Christmas dinner underneath those and I would have been on track to be 60% there.

So, when you find that pair of shoes you have been looking for forever and the store has the wrong sizes and you try them on anyway, hoping they will fit, don't be pissed off that the shoes don't fit. Also, don't buy and wear the shoes that don't fit trying to trick yourself into believing that they are comfortable and they are for you. If they don't fit, they are not and never will be. Just be happy knowing that there is a pair of shoes out there somewhere that they make in your size and there is even a chance that you may find them. In the event that you don't find them, just be happy that they exist at all and that should give you the hope and faith you need to get through everything in between.

This is the point where you become aware that there are doers and sayers. The doers don't need to say anything and let their actions and their histories speak for themselves. Sayers have blogs.

This article is from AP and it is kinda awesome.

Sometimes you just have a really bad day..
Tue Nov 22,11:07 AM ET

A German man drank too much, wet his bed and set fire to his apartment while trying to dry his bedding, police in the western town of Muelheim said Monday.

"He was too drunk to go to the toilet," said a police spokesman. "The next morning he put a switched-on hairdryer on the bed to dry it and left the apartment." When the 60-year-old returned, his home and belongings were in flames.
Firemen eventually put out the blaze.

Just when you think it is safe to go back in the water...

What happens that makes bad feelings sneak up on you and kick your ass when you stop looking for them? Sitting here and I have had the best couple days of work in a while. Was seriously kicking ass and then it just started coming in waves. Started small and then a rogue wave hit me in the back of the head with a tire iron. Did I mention that I am not a strong swimmer due to my heritage.

So, I am sitting here trying to wade through it and affirmate myself out of it. There is really no reason for it. Things are pretty good. I haven't drank in a week. Obi Wan weekend which consisted of hiding out in my apartment for 48 hours was a grand success. I watched some movies, read a self-help book and got my computer back to pirate mode and things seemed pretty good. Got to work on Monday recharged and it felt great. I'm starting to think that since Wednesdays are my bad days, it's because this is a three day week and today is technically Wednesday. T-giving (not just another day) is starting to get to me, too, I think. Plus, on top of everything, I stumbled upon my marriage certificate in my car while trying to find an annoying squeak coming from the backseat. I need to move on. What's done's done and what'll be'll simply be. This week will be the test to see if I Wellbutrate for the rest of the holiday season. It has always been hard for me even when I am happy, so we'll see. Perhaps it is just mild seasonal affected disorder symptoms, but what do I know about any of that stuff? It's like Astrology in my eyes.

In other news, I have given my myspace password to someone which is basically like letting them see you naked. Wait...I guess it is the next step past that. Not bad for someone with severe trust issues.

Anyway, if I can't pull it together, I plan on driving my car to an old mill and gymnastic dancing. It worked for Kevin Bacon, why wouldn't it work for me? If that doesn't work I will have to buy a motorcycle and ride it past jets taking off and landing. If that doesn't work, I am going to have to fly a giant puffy dog around named Falkor. Obviously, I consider the present the Act II before my miraculous movie-style ending that I am planning on, to the point of watching rolling credits while I bask in my triumphant return to awesomeness. The only problem is that I know the sequel will probably be a bomb.

As a side note, I am really looking forward to Act III which will obviously be a montage of myself working towards awesomeness and it will either be set to Jukebox Hero by Foreigner or The Gentle Art of Making Enemies by Faith No More.

Found This

I found this spread in an old issue of Guitar World magazine with Steve Vai on the cover. It was from January of 1990 right when he got the Whitesnake job. I also was in the middle of doing the Steve Vai 10-hour guitar workout when I decided to post this. The clothes section is the best.

Plane Awesome

I just grabbed this article from SF Gate. I think he will get the award for excellence in dedication to the love of smoking in 2005. I am just wondering if the time he was sentenced was for the assault or the smoking. I get it for the assault, but for just smoking I figure a year ban and like a $200 fine. It looks like he smoked more than one, too. This guy is nuts. I wish there was more information about this/him. Is it right to throw mad props at him?

Now, cigarettes will get banned from planes, though. Watch. It will happen. Smokers are the last unrepresented and slandered minority in the United States. Where is the ACLU for us? You (the non-smoking American people) have pushed us out of your homes into the cold where we are forced to fend for ourselves while you sit inside breathing your warm clean air. We are people, too. Plus, it's common knowledge on the Inferweb that it is third-hand smoke that kills. Second hand smokers are the ones that should be feared. First hand smokers just smell bad and have yellow teeth.

Man Gets 15 Months for Smoking on Plane
Thursday, November 17, 2005

(11-17) 14:41
PST ATHENS, Greece (AP) --
A Greek court sentenced a man to 15 months in prison for smoking on a plane, and then hitting a male flight attendant who told him to put his cigarette out, court officials said Thursday.
The 50-year-old Greek resident of New York was also convicted of endangering the aircraft. He was traveling on Olympic Airlines Flight No. 412 from New York to Athens last week.
Flight attendants said the defendant had been smoking in the main passenger area of the plane and in the toilet.

The man, who remains free pending appeal, said a 45-minute delay in takeoff from New York had made him nervous.

Sweet Dreams Aren't Made of These

A running theme here is developing with dreams. Last night, after only two hours of sleep I awoke from a horrible dream where my ex was essentially dragging me through broken glass as I was tied behind a horse and cart like in an old western. I got back to sleep after a little bit and awoke with this dream on the tip of my brain.

I was in a spelling bee trying to spell "Hypocrite" and I just couldn't remember how to spell it. As I sat on stage sweating unerneath hot and bright lights I looked over at the judges with anxiety and pain from not knowing the answer. The judges were a husband and wife. The wife was a wine connoisseur, if not an afficonado of wine and the husband was a pot farmer, NRA member who had helped me find a jazz record at a four year old's birthday party on Labor Day and then listened to it with me on top of a washing machine. As they both stared at me, analyzing me, the anxiety built until I had to just completely drop out of the competition and give no answer at all. All of a sudden, there were no right answers to be given in the situation and it seemed like a better plan just to shut up and walk away. Then I woke up with no resolution to the dream situation. I tried to go back to sleep to find out what I had done, but there was no luck because my brain had already switched to work at that point.

Weird Dream

I had this dream last night that a Chinese man and his daughter knocked on my door. The little girl was holding a violin and was crying. I asked them what was wrong and the Chinese man said that his daughter was crying because she could not practice her violin because I was snoring too loud. I apologized and asked which apartment they lived in and he said that they lived above me. I thought about it for a second and then started yelling at him claiming that he had concrete feet and stomped around all the time and then he hung up the phone and disappeared. It was a dream so that would explain the transfer from the door to a phone call. Anyway, super weird. It may be coincidental, but Sunday I got a fortune cookie with no fortune in it. David Lynch is totally going to steal that scene from me, too.

I had my first two or three hour phone call since high school last night, too. That was different. It was nice and pulled me out of a funk a little bit. I would've been fine without it, but it was kind of like strawberries on angel food cake where the cake would be all right by itself, but it would be better with strawberries. Shaved onion might be good, too, but I had to let that go. It's for the best.

So one day...

...you wake up and realize you have slowly been destroying yourself. The smoking, sleep deprivation and not eating have slowly been deteriorating everything you ever wanted to be and everything you wanted to do.

When I was five I went to kindergarten with firetrucks on my boxers. I wanted to be a fireman. The other kids made fun of the boxers when I went to the bathroom and I was mortified so the dream of fighting fires died when I switched to tighty-whiteys.

The next dream was to become a magician like my mom's uncle Harold. Even to the point of having people call me by middle name, which was coincidentally Harold. I'm sure I would have put magnificent in front of it or something which would have cushioned the future blow of people calling me Harold. That died, too.

I saw Evel Kneivel on TV and then I wanted to be a daredevil. When I cranked my tiny Evel and shot him across my grandma's back patio it seemed completely plausible. Then I went out front to jump on my bike and do some jumps and it was gone. Somebody stole it.

At that point, I started running out of ideas of what I wanted to be. Still trying to figure it out, but I know I'm not really going where I want to be going. So, starting tonight when I go to bed, it's on. I don't want to be a hero, daredevil or even Neal Schon's hair. I just want to be the guy who no one notices. The guy who shows up by himself to a Christmas party with a bottle of wine who everyone asks who he knows there and then immediately forgets his name. I want to add nothing to conversations and make no one laugh unless they mean something to me. I want to sleep eight hours a night. I want to like Jack Johnson and Dave Matthews. I want to think that Meet the Fokkers was comic genius. The show needs to end and I don't want to perform for strangers anymore. It's a waste of time and drains me. Here's to tomorrow.

Point. Counter Point.

Question: Is there a point to fighting/arguing after splitting up with someone?
Answer: A completely useless act. The point B of the whole event is nothingness. It's proven in the third law of happiness as proven by Franklin Russellbaum. How can so much energy result in absolute zero? Technically, not absolute zero, but guilt and anger would be considered negative energies, hence having a less than zero value. Trying to stay positive, anything less than zero should be considered bad. Counterpoint to all of this is if you wanted to go for it, you could totally win a fight or an argument if you have no vested interest in person B anymore. There's the rub. Probably should join a debate club instead of arguing or fighting anymore. By the way, word on the street is that I'm a jerk. Prove it.

PegBoy

So, a pirate walks into a bar...and starts buying rounds for the whole bar last night. I kept getting him to talk like a pirate and almost peed myself laughing. Then, he started trying to give hundred dollar bills to strangers and I kept telling him to put his money away and telling said strangers that he's wasted. Then he got weird. Proves you can only do so much. Oh, and I am also banned from playing Jump by Van Halen on the jukebox at the bar from now on. It's fine because I negotiated to still be allowed to play Unchained which is my favorite Van Halen song anyway.

Also, why don't people understand that modern country is watered down, shitty rock? Even when you explain it to them. I sent two people home last night with a homework assignment. They are to listen to Hysteria by Def Leppard and then right afterwards they must listen to Shania Twain or something like that. Shania Twain is cheating because she actually does make Def Leppard records because she is married to Mutt Lange, their producer. Anyway, the country will sound just a little shittier, but not that different than the Def Leppard record. Finally, at the end of it, put on any Johhny Cash album and notice the drastic change from new country music to real country music.

I think what sparked that conversation was that punch-in-the-nuts halftime thing where Tim McGraw sings a song about the past weekends football games. You are ABC and you merged with Disney. That's the best you can do?

As usual last night, I was talking to some people and they wanted me to get in their cab with them and go partying. It was a Monday. Can't do that. It got me thinking, however, that people try to put me in cabs with them a lot. The only problem is that even with the 25% of the times that I have accepted nothing good has ever come out of it. Weird things always happen.

Moral of the story: Don't ever get in a cab with a stranger...That shouldn't even need to be a moral. It's so obvious. God, I am so stupid sometimes.

I'm a Whore

I was auctioned off last night for $120. I don't know if that is bad or good, but be good for goodness sakes. So...Christmas spirit in October.

The event was to benefit Hurricane Katrina victims and was a costume theme. Nobody told me the costume part, so I kind of stuck out. Nobody told me that I would be the only bachelor to auction off either. So, I got kinda bombed. Things about last night get blurry, but blurry for a good cause. I woke up this morning in a pretty nice hotel room I don't want to say where. There were two women in the bed next to the one that I was sleeping in and there was a woman in the bed that I was sleeping in. If I remember correctly, she was dressed up in a very hot outfit that I will not say what it is just in case someone could read this and put it all together. Nurse with giant boobs smashed together and Sexy Witch were in the other bed. You've got to love this Gay Christmas (Halloween) holiday. That's where things start coming back about what went down last night after the party. I remember the three women taking me to a bar in downtown San Jose............................We went to bed at 5:00 this morning. Seriously, I was expecting to wake up this morning in a bathtub filled with ice and missing a kidney or at least have my wallet stolen and have to pay for the room or something. Things are coming back today as it drags on and the night is getting weirder and weirder as I remember more stuff. One would think it was scripted.

I was worried about karma this morning when I went and got one of them a soda from the vending machine. I put my money in and hit the button and I shit you not, Cokes just kept coming out. I had six in my hands when I stopped pulling them out of the machine and could hear them keep coming out when I walked away. I think that is good karma. I'm a helper. A giver.

I think I forgot to rinse my conditioner this morning in the shower. That sucks. I'm super tired today and have a wedding in an hour and a half to go to. That should be interesting. I must stay in tonight and get sleep or I think my head will explode.

Freezy Money

It is so cold in my office right now that I am thinking about cutting a Tauntaun open and sleeping in it. Can't feel my hands.

The World Are you Serious?

Kinda sick, but events starting at 5:00 pm tonight have absolutely demanded a blog. First of all, Michael McDonald, Wynonna Judd and Halle Berry''s "sex addicted" husband, Eric Benet (sp?), plus one other person sang some new let's go America we are awesome song before the game. Then, they chase that with Michael McDonald singing the most soulful rendition of the national anthem that anyone has ever heard. The man still has it and could take Huey & The News anyday for the national anthem performance. Yeah, I call him Huey because I met him in fifth grade at Cal-Expo in Sacramento. He kind of smelled like weed. Seventh inning stretch had Aaron "I don't know Much" Neville singing God Bless America and after that I thought I could just coast through the rest of the game without the Banana Splits jamming through the outfield and what happens? Steve fuckin' Perry in a White Sox hat with Don't Stop Believin' playing in the background. Now, the man that sang Lights is a Chi Sox fan? WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I mean big props that he found baseball in 2002. Some band guys never do, but why not the Giants or the Modesto A's or something. Joe Buck went on about how during the season the Chi Sox would listen to Journey to keep them inspired this year. So, as a result, they requested that Steve Perry attend all of the World Series games. Don't you think that Neal Schon would have something to say about this. The guitar lick on the intro gets no credit over Steve Perry's vocals on that song. Smell of wine and cheap perfume? The movie never ends? What are these lines in comparison to Neal Schon's Crescendoing hammer-ons in the beginning of that song. I'm enraged. I will have to add to this when I have recovered. I am absolutely spent by having to think about this travesty.

Charm Wrestle

So, I was in the lobby waiting for my bi-weekly dose of therapy. It's funny, I spend an hour every two weeks talking about my lovely ex-wife and she spends an hour every two weeks talking about herself. There is something there in between the lines. Also, I think she may be the only person reading this. Not the man of mystery that I never was. I digress. I was sitting in the lobby reading American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. It must have looked like a manual in that environment. It felt awkward.

So, last night I had an idea. After softball, I would go have a beer and then go home and watch Lost. I had told the owner of the bar I would come back and we could strategize about his Wednesday and Thursday nights without going to the karaoke step. Well, we ended up hanging out for a while and I realized I was at the cab step. So, then these nerds in their Palo AltFits (blue/black pants and white or blue button up shirt) challenged me to arm wrestle for shots. So I did. I wasn't into it so I ended up having to buy one of the guys a shot. Then, they decided they should take me to another bar and I went with them. At the next bar, I bee-lined over to the bar to order a beer and started cracking up these two girls by bragging about my credit cards as a joke. I was pulling out my Safeway Club Card like I was going to pay with it. They cared for it and started asking me questions off of their Laffy Taffy wrappers like they weren't jokes, but actual questions. "Why do demons and ghouls hang out together? Because demons are a ghoul's best friend." I was berated for not knowing the answer to that. So, we start bagging on all the guys that I walked in with and calling every one of them Patrick Bateman and stuff when they would come over. We had decided that one of them was crazy and trying to figure out which one it was. Then some Lithuanian who was honestly like six feet ten walked up to one of the girls and asked her what he would have to do to get her to make sex to him. He was awesome. Good times. I think I have one of their numbers and it turns out it is real and it's from Ohio. That was fucking Wednesday. In retrospect, horrible decision, but who says fun can only be had on a Friday or Saturday.

Frigidly Devoted To You

I have the coldest office at work. It starts off comfy in the morning and then by about noon I can't feel my hands. The theory is that my work loves me so much that I am being cryogenically preserved. It's just kind of embarrassing when I have to take my giant clown Pez dispenser and close the vent when people are in my office.

I so have birdflu. I had a cold for all of last week, woke up in the middle of a Tylenol PM trip and thought I was going to die when I passed out on the bathroom floor at 5:00 AM and I still am not feeling better. It culminated with me losing my voice Saturday morning. Now, I would be lying if I said Friday night I didn't sing the shit out of "Running With The Devil" by Van Halen, but still, I used to be able to do that very frequently and not have this happen. So, birdflu. Now, I would also like to point out that I did not have said birdflu before my ex started communicating with me. Coincidence?

Things that are stupid:
1. Rocky VI - It's been joked about and I heard Mr. T will play an announcer in it as Clubber Lange, but it is still a horrible idea. It would maybe be good if in it Rocky Balboa executive produced a show about boxers that was so horrible they had to move it to MS-NBC for it's finale. Stallone is grasping at straws at this point. I'm thinking this will make Judge Dredd look like Citizen Kane.

Things that are scary:
1. Bigfoot, AKA Sasquatch. - Scary and don't think for a second that he or she is a myth. They are just smarter than us humans with their link to their instincts. If we weren't so soft from reality TV we could go out and not only find a Bigfoot, but then wrestle it to the ground and expose it to the world. I'll add that to my to do list. That makes Laundry, clean bathroom, and capture Bigfoot.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Honestly, right now, I would spend $3 and 63 cents to fall asleep. Two Tylenol PMs and I can't catch one z. Still sick, can't sleep. Talked to my ex for a little over an hour tonight. I can't fix any of my mistakes and I just sit there in bed exhausted thinking about them. Not a wink. This blog it now my bitching post, I guess. There is something so creepy about working on a computer in the dark, too.

I think I am going to go have another go at it. Actively sleeping.

Tylenol PMsnt

Still sick and I feel like the only person on earth right now so I thought I would write to myself. The Tylenol PM isn't working. It usually knocks me out, but as I sit in a dark apartment typing I feel like a cast member from Night Of The Comet. The tagline is awesome: "The last time it came the dinosaurs disappeared." Sounds like something the news would use to get you to watch a story on E Coli or something.

A weird thing happened tonight. I found myself pulling for the Yankees tonight and even Jeter. Is it possible to hate the Los Angeles of Anaheim in California, USA Angels that much? I hate Jeter. I don't know how this happened, but I might bring it up in therapy.

Also, had a talk with my mom tonight about stuff and she told me that she talked to my dad after he left us (my mom, my sister and I). She said she was single for five years. I really hope that one skips a generation. I will go crazy by then or just totally cut myself off from everything outside of work probably. Regardless, it looks like a fight with drinking is brewing again. That was awesome I used brewing in the sentence about drinking. I just need to figure out what I want to do. There must be something to immerse myself in that is productive, fulfilling and positive.

I'm also thinking about putting my torches out for my current run through Bridgetown. I received some gentle prodding tonight on that issue from an angel that used to be on my shoulder. I will never fall asleep at this rate. I wish I had a copy of The Notebook on DVD. I might have to put on Logan's Run and see if that works.

Life's A Breach

God, is breach spelled like that? Put that on the list of things that don't look spelled right. Chased a cold all over San Francisco at all hours this weekend. Caught it by this morning. I thought it was a just a combination of hangover and Tylenol PM. I even got ready for work and walked to my car before I decided that it wasn't right.

So, been at home all day and I tried to do some work, but my eyes are burning and my head hurts. This is when you miss having someone who cares around just to come give you a little what's up? and kiss you on the head when you have had no interaction with anyone all day. This is just the first time I have been sick and single. I really don't care for it. Also, the blog has been breached. Man of mystery, nothing.

I've played six games of FIFA Soccer 2004 (that's sad, but Arsenal was better that year) and watched The Incredibles.

Now, the Incredibles was a good movie, however it is one of those movies that parents just go on and on about because it is actually bearable to watch and their kids love it. The parents are following the plot in this case, and going "Oh, that's a lot like the fantastic four. Oh, I get it. Fantastic - Incredible. There are four fantastic fours and four Incredibles. Wow, how witty and look my child is laughing because the guy's window broke. That's not even really funny."

Not bagging on kids. Would love to have one someday to pull out of this rut and have somewhere to direct all of this restlessness and idle energy. Kids are like guns. If you put them in the wrong hands they are ruined for everyone. So, here is a bottle of pills and a helmet for all of those kids being ruined by those wronghands. There could be one near you for all you know.

Anyway, suns out. I need to put a big smile on to break through my miserable fog and quit being so super grumpy today. Thought about trying the Wellbutrin today, but it might be more appropriate to cut some chemicals out of my diet before I add anything else in. It's already complicated enough.

Th pic is totally unrelated to anything, but I can't believe my mom left me with those two coaches when I was 9 years old. They kept the equipment in old army bags and drove an El Camino to every practice and I'm just guessing, but I think they have seen the Scorps live. I wonder what Round Table they are managing right now.

Next blog, gonna bring the news and something of value.

Are you going to murder me or stage an intervention?

I know you are watching me.

I know you didn't check back twice.

If I were Superman, I would not be drinking Johnnie Walker Red for sure, but I suppose the red goes with his outfit. I would like to see General Zod come down to the same bar with Supes all tore up and get a bottle of at least Blue Label and just be like "Son of Jorel, your scotch kneels before Zod's."

All for now. Here's to nice times.