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.