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.