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.