O Christmas Tree

I know you've all been waiting and haven't been able to fully enjoy your holiday season. Well, let me remedy that with a picture of The Ghetto Tree....and a random shot of my living room and fire.








Ain't it a beaut?

NOW, you can have a Happy New Year!

He looks like a pink nightmare.

Just a quick hop-on to say that I hope everyone had a great holiday. I survived and, surprisingly, there were no casualties or snarkiness required. Perhaps I'm telepathic.

That being said, I would like to have the rest of the week off to recover both from all the festivities and the 86 gazillion pounds of food my mother insisted I eat and then bring home as leftovers too. Oof.

If I don't make it back around, Happy New Year, friends!

I miss Cousin Eddie

Well, Christmas is upon us with all its obligatory gatherings, overeating sessions, drunken promises to visit, hugs for people you really would rather choke and everything else that goes along with seeing family that you only visit once a year.

I've been to two functions this week and they were both small and very informal, and VERY annoying. Clark W. Griswold may have had Cousin Eddie and a houseful of lunatics, but I'm pretty sure I've got him beat.

Holiday etiquette lesson #1: If someone has done some regrettable things or lost someone that they sorely miss, try not to bring it up repeatedly throughout the evening. Especially if it's been 3 or 4 years, and you don't talk to this relative anyway. Or, to put it more simply, don't be a pretentious, self-righteous prick. I'm looking right at you Uncle R.

Tonight or tomorrow morning, I'm off to my mom's for the long weekend. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it. Not so much for the whole Christmas-y visit thing, but rather for the fact that her house is warm. And it's not costing ME to keep it warm. You know how Ebeneezer wouldn't give Cratchit another lump of coal for his fire? Yeah, that's about how my house is. But, in all honesty, it's pretty laid back at mom's. I'll eat too much, probably drink too much at least Saturday during the "party", and watch a lot of bad television. I mean, really, isn't that what the holidays are all about? Monday night, I'll force her to watch "A Christmas Story" even though she hates it. I think she's really a communist or an alien or something. I mean, I can find no other explanation for it.

Then Tuesday, after getting up and out of mom's and driving an hour and a half, I have to go BACK to my Grandma's because my dad wants to go on Christmas Day this year. No big deal, right? Understand this, however. We haven't been to her house on Christmas Day with the rest of the family for over 20 years. I have no desire to go back. None. A visit the week before is fine with me. But, she's getting old and he wants to go and it'll be easier for him if I'm there to make fun of people with snarky comments from the corner. Again, I'm looking at you, Uncle R.
Let me elaborate on R. He's a whiny child in a man's body. He read some nugget on Yahoo (and if he read it, it's the gospel because he knows everything and you know nothing) the other day about how people really aren't as depressed during the holidays as everyone thinks because they have memories and family around them. At this point, I looked up from where I was sitting on the floor and looked around and said "Huh! I reckon that just depends on who your family is." And went back to petting the dog. I thought my dad would choke laughing. The only thing better would've been if I would've jumped up and said "ZING!"

fucker.

Anyway, that's Tuesday, so I'm not thinking about it anymore til then.....

Now, if I can just get through today and get out of here. I would love to see it snow........and listen to Bing Crosby....

I hope all of you have a great holiday...whichever one it is that you celebrate...or none at all. Just have a great weekend and safe travels!

My life is on fast forward

My internet radio is skipping today. How is that possible you ask? I don't know either. It's driving me CRAZY. The great thing about it is that it only skips the songs I like. It'll play about 30 seconds of them and then go on to something else. All. Morning. Long.

And, what else? I need to go to the store this evening and I forgot my list. Me in the store without a list is like going into a strip club with $500 in singles. Except not nearly as fun. Not anywhere near. In fact, if fun was here, then the store would be Antarctica or some place really really far away. I know you love the comparisons. It's ok to admit it.

Have a good weekend!

I can't fight this feeling any longer....

I'm feeling/being ambitious at work. Somebody stop me before I end up screwing up this easy gig.

Why is my arm numb?

I went out and drank a few (too many?) beers last night at the local and it was fun. So fun, in fact, that I forgot to order the awesome dinner for which I had originally been looking. Upon waking up (late) this morning, I was also hit by Cheap Draught Beer Dodgy Guts and an intense hunger. After rushing through the shower and out the door, I stopped at Hardee's for my usual sausage biscuit. But, I was tempted by the upsell from the lady on the other end of the microphone. Would you like to try our Country Breakfast Burrito today? And then I saw it...ham, bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, AND gravy all rolled conveniently into a nice utensil-free meal. I went for it.

I think I might be having a heart attack right now.

God, I'm a winner....

ho ho ....... hum

You'd think that someone that spends 90% of his time alone and not talking would have more to say, wouldn't you? I mean, it makes sense really that there would be this Grand Thought or Funny Joke or Something waiting to burst forth at the first opportunity. But, yeah, you'd probably be wrong. Actually, that's not the whole truth. There are those things, but I can't seem to bring them forth. There's no reason either I don't think. Sure, I could blame Christmas and the Holidays and all that, but that's not it. I'm kind of digging Christmas this year for some reason. Maybe it's the new place, or a new sense of self that is my gift to myself, or something like that, but I'm not really filled with the usual nagging dislike of all things Holiday. I mean, I wish it would snow and I would have some sort of magical revelation like Jimmy Stewart, but I know that's not gonna happen. I suppose I'll settle for sitting beside my mom's fire and smelling her cooking and falling asleep beside her tree. (and listen to the same annoying conversation over and over, but that's beside the point) I even have my very own little ghetto tree in my house. I need to get a picture of it so I can show you guys and you can laugh as hard as I do everytime I look at it. It's one of those little live Norfolk pines that they sell at the grocery store that already has the balls on it. Then I bought a strand of 50 lights to put on because every tree needs lights. Except there are about 5 or 10 on the tree and the rest on the table around it. It's quite charming really. My friend, who hasn't seen it yet, figured that I had one with beer cans hanging on it. Ha! Maybe next year if I get a bigger tree.....It'd have to be a big one....

Or perhaps it's the fact that it was 65 degrees yesterday. Just last week it was 14. I don't get it. But, yay for global warming for saving on my heating bill.

Or perhaps it's that maybe, just maybe, things are ok and are gonna be ok and that's all uncharted water for me...


Besides, silence is golden ....or some shit like that.

Keep the change....

Ah, the best part of winter...

Watch these clips and get your laughs for the day. It almost makes me excited to get old.

If music be the food of love...

or something like that.......

I've been tagged by Mortar, so here we go. My Internetz isn't working that well today, so I don't have time or really the capabilities of tagging and linking anyone else, but if any of the 5 people that read this drivel wants to play along, please do. And let me know!!

The Rules:1) Put your iTunes/ music player on Shuffle2) For each question, press the next button to get your answer.3) YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT(this is in capital letters, so it is very serious. No hiding your showtunes, folks!)After you’ve answered all of the questions, tag 5 other people and then let them know they’ve been tagged to do the meme themselves!And away we go....


1) IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY? Moon Baby - Godsmack

2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY? American Bad Ass - Kid Rock (ha!!)

3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Hating Hollywood - Theory of a Deadman

4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY? Touch, Peel, and Stand - Days of the New

5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE? Brother - Alice in Chains

6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? Polly - Nirvana

7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Sympathetic - Seether

8) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS? Rain - Sevendust

9) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? Less Polite - Will Kimbrough

10) WHAT IS 2+2? Songwriter - Ken Maffeo

11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? June Bug - Alexis Harte

12) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? In the Park - Ned Massey

13) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? Man of God - Neil Diamond

14) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? A Girl Named Hannah - Forest Wayne Allen (scary, that one)

15) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? True - Spandau Ballet

16) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? Do Wot You Do - INXS

17) WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? Darkness - the Police (ha!)

18) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Blue Jean - David Bowie

19) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? Life in One Day - Howard Jones

20) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? Drive - the Cars

21) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Hold Me Now - The Thompson Twins

I didn't get a good shuffle because I use internet radio at work, but still kind of interesting I suppose.....

You say you want...

a highway with no one on it, treasure just to look upon it....

all I want is you...



Probably my favourite U2 song ever.

Please, step into my office.

Please allow me, if you will, to walk you through my day. I come to work between 5 and 6 am every morning, turn the machines on, read the internet for an hour or so, and start to work. It's a good routine. It works for me.

Lately, however, my main machine has been screwing up my program. No problem. I still have time to get all of my reading...er, work...in.

The main problem of late? It's gotten cold outside. No more a/c for me. My machine bumps the temperature in my office upwards of 85 degrees. And there's no air movement. I'll say this again in italics because it will become important later. No. Air. Movement.

Do you know how smells seem to linger when the air is hot and stale? Hi there. Welcome to my office. Come on in. Oh, that smell? Well, we'll get to that in a moment. Here's a list of what I've encountered so far today. It's 12:20, by the way.

1. woodsmoke
2. B.O.
3. dog turds
4. feet
5. stale parmesan cheese
6. a perm
7. wet dog

Believe me, it's very Funktastic in here. It's like one of those Febreeze scent circulator things has been possessed by the devil.

The best part? Wait for it......

It's all coming from the woman in the next cube. Talk about a hostile work environment. At this point in the day, not only am I hot and miserable, but I'm gagging too. Why can't I be surrounded by good smelling, hot women? I think I've died at some point and that this is my hell. I'm pretty sure nothing I did was bad enough to deserve this.

And they wonder why I like to leave work early all the time.

My Black Friday Trip....or one more reason that I'm awesome

I trust everyone had a good Thanksgiving. Mine was one of the better ones I've had in awhile :-D

Wednesday evening kicked the festivities off when I met some friends for $3 pitchers at the Mexican restaurant and plenty of laughs. And, it was an early night as I was home by 9:30 or so. That's always good. Of course, I stayed up milling around the house til 2:00 or so because for some reason I couldn't sleep. That never happens.

Thursday, I woke up around 7ish and decided that I HAD to clean up because my friends were coming for the holiday. I washed clothes, did dishes, vacuumed, etc. etc....watched a good bit of the Thanksgiving Day Parade on tv....oof. I don't know why I couldn't seem to quit watching it as it was pretty annoying, but anyway there I sat. Around 11:30, the pregame show for the NFL games came on, and in the spirit of the season, the first beer o' the day was cracked open. Game on. Around 1:30 or so, my friends showed up and THEY BROUGHT PRESENTS. That's always a good sign. They weren't holiday presents, but rather housewarming presents. New fluffy towels and pj pants....my 2 favourite things. We had a few beers and headed off to another friend's house for dinner and entertainment. The food was great as was the company. We headed home around 11 or so and stayed up til 4...the scheduled departure time for Hell-Mart.

Perhaps it was the fact that I was at the store around 4:15 or it was the fact that I'd been up all night drinking and laughing, or a combination of the two, but it was an easy and successful trip. I stood in line for the tv (I was third) and got a little christmas tree and a stocking for the fireplace and bolted for the door. I feel sorry for the 20 or so people in line for the tvs, though, because they only had 5. You wanna talk about a riot? Imagine me being #6. Luckily for all of us, I got mine and was out the door and home on the couch by 5:15. That might be a record even for a normal trip.

Friday consisted of football and a fire and not much else.

Saturday consisted of football and a fire and beers...and not much else.

Sunday consisted of football and a fire and beers...and not much else.

And now? Well, it's Monday and I'm totally excited to be back at work :-/. And already counting on next weekend....and no more shopping.

just hear those sleigh bells ringing...

It's that time of year again. The holidays are upon us. Not only did a couple of radio stations around here start playing Christmas music 2 weeks ago (or earlier I think), but now my mom wants me to go to Wal-Mart Friday morning for her. Friday as in Hell Day and Wal-Mart as in Satan's Lair. And when and why you ask? 4-9 am for a television that's on sale. 4 am. On my day off. On the day after a holiday that is pretty much centered around eating and drinking and being thankful. Well, one thing I'm thankful for is that I don't have to get up early the next day. But, in the spirit of not having to listen to her complain about it, I'll go. I meant that to say "in the spirit of the season." Really I did.

In other news, a warm fire, Frank Sinatra, Norah Jones, and big glasses of wine could cause me to lapse into total winter hibernation.

Tonight is....are you ready??....Charlie Brown night

I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday and finds at least one thing to be thankful for.

Saturday

The air blew through the window cold and crisp as I wiggled further beneath the blanket. I reached across and groped for the pillow and felt her hair on it. I started awake, wondering where I was, who this was. Soon enough it came back to me. Sitting up, I thought that this wasn’t normal, not how it should be, not how it was. Her shape was outlined, warm, next to me. She was sleeping soundly again. Good. I rolled over and opened the blinds and lit a cigarette, feeling the morning’s breeze blowing across my face. As I lay there, focusing on breathing in and out, exhaling the smoke, inhaling the birth of another day, I wondered why she came, why she stayed. She knew me, had for a long time. Too well, I’m sure, but she stayed despite that. Or maybe because of it.

I eased out of the bed and padded across the cold floor to the kitchen for some coffee. Lighting another cigarette and pouring my coffee, I looked back in at what was once a goal, a dream, a plan. I turned around then and looked around the kitchen, the table scattered in papers and books and notebooks of wild scrawling, empty beer cans and full ashtrays stacked in the corner. They seemed to know me too. Or at least know how to call my name and get my attention. Last night’s notes were still lying folded on the table, the napkin crumpled but strong. I don’t know if she read these things when I was in the bathroom or already asleep or not. I don’t know that it would’ve mattered anyway. The vacuum that is my mind kept me insulated from such trivial things.

Was this going somewhere? Had it already been? Is it just something that was/is and nothing more and nothing less? Did it really matter anyway? It was too early in the morning for my mind to be racing like this. I poured another coffee and looked out the window at the yard where a few birds were poking around in the heavy dew. Early birds, indeed. The smell from the coffee pot was warm and welcoming and comfortable. I’m surprised she wasn’t awake yet. Logically thinking, I should wake her up and get her out the door. Logically thinking never has been my specialty. Rather, I got a skillet out and fried some sausage for gravy. A journey of a million miles at least warrants a good breakfast.

* all characters in the above story are fictional....noone wants to sleep in my bed and I don't have any sausage to cook.

ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

I don't think we spend enough time sitting. Not sitting at work or on the couch or at the bar or at the table or in front of the computer or tv. Just sitting. Thinking, remembering, forgetting, listening, letting the sun warm your face, eyes closed. The autumn sun is a wily character. It heats the day, and your jeans if you sit still long enough, but only for a few chosen hours in the afternoon/early evening. The wind rustles the leaves around the corner and against the house. Kids scream and laugh somewhere down the street. Traffic, always rushing, noisy intrusions, continues like a motorized river on the other side of the house. But in the back, there's nothing. Sunlight and breezes, leaves and whispers. It's easy to be young again. 7, 12, 17...young and in love, restless, free. Peaceful without realizing it. That's what the sun does...rejuvenates. Gives life. The remnants of all your baggage blow about on the ground, but it's better not to track that back inside with you. You don't need them. Sometimes you have to remember that though. Or forget it. Or forget to remember. Or just sit.

Tag, I'm it

OTV "tagged" me and here's the rules for doing this:

A). Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog...

B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...

C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...

D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog

7? Ok, I'll try to cut the list down some.

1. I have an insane obsession with tire pressure. As in I am always peering at mine and checking them to see if they're low. Or anyone else's for that matter. I generally won't check someone else's unless they're my friend though.

2. When I take my shoes off, they have to be facing the same way and in the correct order (L-R) and straight.

3. I love to cook, but only if someone is going to be there to eat it. When I eat alone, it's usually an apple or peanuts or something junky from the freezer. Or just beer.

4. I went to 3 colleges in 5 years, but only actually was enrolled for 3.5 and graduated from the one I started in.

5. My 2 best friends have been my best friends since 6th grade.

6. I grew up in a grocery store and lived off of soda, candy, potato chips, etc. I rarely eat/drink those things anymore.

6.5...that probably explains my weird eating habits now.

7. Contrary to my comments/blogs, I really don't talk a lot in real life. Given my 'd'ruthers (ha! look that one up) I'd probably go days without speaking.

Now I guess I need to tag some people. Hmm....

TK, ha ha, Jeff, Val, Brooklyn

ok, I'm only doing 5. All this linking is making my brain tired.....

Good grief.

Yesterday evening began just as many a Monday evening does, except I had one more movie from netflix to watch because I was too lazy to go get it Saturday from the post office and Sunday I was too. Go figure. I kind of pride myself on my ability to be ok with not leaving the house some days and not bothering to change out of my comfy pants. Eh, anyway.

So, I settle in with a High Life and start to watch House of 1,000 Corpses. I'm probably one of the few in the world that is just now getting to this, but in my defense I did watch The Devil's Rejects last year. Anyway, I like humour on the twisted side, so I'm rolling along pretty well with this movie. And since, it's Halloween (almost), it kind of fit. I was feeling all Halloweenish and Autumn-y, and was just grooving with it.

Flash forward to 7:30. Jeopardy comes on. It must be retard night, because I'm kicking ass at these questions. Go me. Lord knows if I ever got on there, it would be Nuclear Physics Night or some shit, so I take pride in my small victories from the comfort of my couch. After that, I flip over to How I Met Your Mother which I generally enjoy. Last night's show seemed to center around shopping too much and credit cards and blah blah. Ok, that's a little too real. I prefer to think of Doogie Howser as a ladies' man and go for the full on suspension of disbelief. So, I changed channels again. If you've read this far, congratulations and thank you and I'm sorry. Here's the good part, though!! Friday the 13th Part 3 was on. And I watched it. Like I'd never seen it before. Oh. My. God. Unbelievably craptacular. My favourite part was the boyfriend that met the main character at the camp on her first return trip since the "horror" happened to her (last year?). First off, who comes back to a place where you were almost murdered by a mask wearing psycho? Secondly, as a boyfriend in the early 80s, it is apparently proper and ok for you to only care about getting in your girl's pants as soon as you see her. Not after unpacking. Not after alleviating some of her nervousness. In fact, it helps if you ridicule her and talk to her like a porn star. And, if you play your cards right, you just might get a little action before the chopping begins. This guy must not've tried hard enough. He got chopped.

Then I encounted the "biker gang" which consisted of a Sheila E. knockoff complete with banging on random objects hanging up in the barn like they were drums, a "greaser" with permanently affixed cigarette, and a black guy with a headband (I think) and a vest. They were a motley bunch, indeed. Also chopped.

At this point, I think I fell asleep. Hey, it was cold in the house and my new blanket is all snuggly warm. Never fear, I woke up later around midnight or 1 and it was back on. Right in the place where I fell asleep. So, like any red-blooded American, I finished watching it. Nervous chick from the beginning lived but went bat-shit crazy. In case you were wondering.

This is really pitiful.

Tonight is It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which I consider the pinnacle of all Halloween programming. I need to stop and get some candy today...and perhaps a life.

Who ARE these ad wizards?

Remember my last foray into the world of potato chip marketing? Well, if you don't, my feelings are hurt. It was quite the expository piece.



Today, though, you have a chance to redeem yourselves as I bring you part 2(!) of Chip Marketing Tips.



These were laying in the breakroom this morning.



Now, I'm all about the buffalo wings. In fact, I like all kinds of buffalo-type treats. It's actually a lot better than beef. Wait, different topic. Moving on. I am a hot wing connoisseur (try spelling that without spellcheck). I also am a potato chip freak. Well, I was. It seems you can't get a good chip anymore, so I've resorted to plain tortillas loaded with cheese and chili and salsa. I thought to myself this morning, however, that hey, it's chips and wings combined and you haven't had breakfast yet, and it's FREE, so why not? Oh, self, you deluded bastard. This is the same self that thinks that cheese sticks make a suitable dinner. I should know not to trust him.



Seriously, though, let's examine the package together, shall we? First we have the flames signifying HOT and FLAMEY and whatever else that's supposed to mean to me. Then we have the chips themselves. Ridged, barbecue looking chips. Not bad. Good for dips and whatnot. But, let's not forget the piece de resistance! The Wing. The wing that looks half cooked and is oozing some type of red sauce that I can only assume is supposed to be "buffalo" style. I don't know about you guys, but I don't like my wings to ooze. I'm pretty much anti-oozing in all aspects of life, actually. Yeah, I'm weird like that. Sue me. I'm not sure though how I'm supposed to make the leap from an oozing wing to a chip and back and still be hungry. Diving in though undeterred, I suspend my disbelief and take a bite. They taste like salt and vinegar chips molested a bag of barbecue chips. My tastebuds kicked me in the nuts for giving them this travesty just now. Don't even get me started on the Doritos version of hot wing/bleu cheese flavour combo. It's like they threw cool ranch and regular in a bag and said hey, throw a new label on this and no one will know...they're so drunk by the time they're mauling these things that even if they do know, they won't care. Bastards.



In conclusion, it turns out that you can judge a book by its cover after all. Ha! Told you mom.

I'm just askin'

My friend and I were pondering a very important question the other evening.

At what age are you when a MILF stops being a MILF and becomes an attractive woman? I mean, we're not getting any younger here and some of these women are younger than we are...Of course, that's in years, probably not mentally. At least I hope not.

In other news....Absolutely nothing. No news is good news, I suppose. But, seriously, I am either living the dullest life ever or am suffering from the largest case of "writer's" block ever. I don't know. But, this eerie calm is a little comforting really. Maybe that means that I've finally grown out of the existential angst that has seemed to plague me forever and accepted who/what I am. In that case, go me!!

The World Series starts tomorrow night. I can't wait. I do, however, wish that it would start at a humane hour. Watching a game til midnight or so and then getting up at 4 is not user-friendly. Even if I do quit drinking even before the game starts. Yes, I did try it both ways last week. Hey, it's called science and experimenting. Or experimentation. Or whatever. Actually, experimentation sounds a little too much like something that is not gonna happen at my house...

You know, it's great living alone. Great, I tell you. The only downside is that there's no one to get aggravated with and then write about or tell funny and embarrassing stories about except me. And, I don't ever screw up, so there goes that idea. Well, at least since I stopped using the oven after 8.

Erasure's "A Little Respect" is stuck in my head now, much like on the Scrubs episode. "I try to discover a little something to make me sweeter..." There, now I hope it's in yours too.

open letter part 2

Dear Josh Beckett,

Congratulations on pitching a great game last night. They should clone you and let you pitch all the time. I wish you would've kicked Lofton's ass though. Oh well.
Moreover, congratulations on dating this girl ....you, sir, are indeed my hero.

Sincerely,
J.

an open letter

Dear Boston Red Sox,


You. Are. Killing. Me.


That is all.

sincerely,

J.

sing us a song, you're the piano man

Hi. My name is J and I'm a lyrical snob. Whilst waiting for the rerun of Wed. night's South Park, I flipped over to Fox at 9:30 to catch the end of "Don't Forget The Lyrics!" which is similar to the show that the Fat One from NSync hosts on some other channel. This one, however, has Wayne "I sure miss riding Drew Carey's coattails" Brady on it and apparently has a Who Wants To Be A Millionaire twist to it. Crap. Double Crap. Shit. That means the people get up there and instead of just answering the question or singing along or whatever in the hell it is that they do, they also give you incessant babbling about how they know this or have seen that or blah blah blah-kill me now. Last night, this dude comes out in a yellow shirt with a welcome back Kotter moustache and YELLOW ALLIGATOR SHOES and proceeds to ham it up through about 3 songs talking all the while about how he's a musical aficionado and everything. Uber annoying. Yes, I just said uber. It's really the only word to describe it. Anyway, after blowing through 2 out of 3 of his "lifelines" or "backups" on some song I've never even heard of (yet he managed to try to hit all the falsetto/female parts of), he finally gets to the safe point of $25K. That's a lot of money. Well, to me anyway. Of course, the r&b song previously mentioned would've blown me out of the water. Of course, I'd never have chosen that category, but anyway. His $25K lock category? Billy Joel. BILLY. JOEL. The question? PIANO MAN. Yeah, Piano Man. 3 missing words were all he needed to fill in. 3. Mr. Macho Music sang along and he was doing really well until he got to the part where it mattered. The line was "We're all in the mood for a melody and you've got __ _________ _________." Well, every drunk out there that's ever been in a bar or at karaoke or anywhere remotely associated with a beer and good times knows that line. Or, if you've ever listened to oh, I don't know, any classic rock radio station. It's so obvious. Let's break it down into context, shall we? Mr. MM got the last two words right. "feeling alright". Pretty good right? His first word? ME. Ok, read the sentence back. WE are in the mood for a melody. WE. As in all of US...more than one, etc. Context clues people...they teach it in elementary schools (or used to, anyway). I almost fell off of the couch when I heard him say ME. He didn't even think about it. He went on about being originally from Long Island like Billy and how he's heard this song millions of times and all this shit and locked in his answer without hesitation. Of course, Wayne goes backwards through the answer because even Wayne knows it's wrong. The guy's all pumped up and bragging and smiling...and BLAMMO. Nada. Wrong Answer. Off the show with $0 and an assload of humiliation for messing up one of the most popular songs probably ever. I would chalk it up to nervousness had he not been overly cocky from the beginning. Now I'm just going it being too damn funny. It's a shame too, because $25K would've bought a lot more of those butt-ugly shoes. Laughing and self-satisfied, I promptly switched to South Park where they designated Bono as a piece of crap (literally). Ah, good times. Thank you tv, for making me feel good about myself. I may not have $25K, but at least Billy Joel knows that I know his songs. Billy if you're reading this, call me.

Laugh it up, furball

I liked Star Wars growing up. I like it now. I don't count the 3 new "old" movies in Star Wars. They're more or less just 2-3 hours of tripe. Anyway, I think this girl liked it more than I did. Check this out...and be amazed. Or scared. Or both.

There comes a time...

I think there comes a time in everyone's life when you have to ask yourself certain questions. They can range from the ultimately serious What in the hell am I doing with my life? to the trivial, but still very vital, What in the hell am I going to have for dinner? There are about a million other things that you can ask yourself about, beat yourself up over, and agonize on for days, weeks, months, years on end. But, I'll leave you to fill in your own list. I don't know if there's such a thing as redemption or, rather, a karmic scrubbing off of past deeds by newer, more improved deeds, but I'm willing to give it a try. That push to be a better person to everyone. Well, not everyone. Some people are just assholes and need to be kicked in the nuts. Eh, you get the idea.

I had a good time over the weekend at my buddy's party. We stayed up entirely too late both nights and drank entirely too much. Well, he and his wife didn't. They're actually responsible parents. The rest of us...not so much. In fact, my response to their questioning of my bringing drinking games back into our lives was Hey, I've tried the responsible route for 12 years or more. I'm now regressing into youth. Oh yeah? How's that working for you? Very well, actually. Can't you tell? Now roll the damn dice, it's your turn.

I watched them with their kids and my newly married bff and his wife and the ride home was long because I was alone and knew I was going home alone, but strangely satisfying at the same time. Satisfying I think because while they all live good lives, I want something else (what that is, I don't know exactly) but I'm pretty sure that that's not the path that it's on. I don't know. That's just it; I don't know. Does anyone really? Or do we all just bounce and roll around and put ourselves out there and pull ourselves back and do whatever the situation at hand calls for? Or do we pick a course and steadily sail it, no matter how rough the water? I don't know. But, maybe the mystery IS the fun part.

Nothing says fall like grilled meat

This weekend, tomorrow actually, I'm off to North Carolina for my friend's annual birthday party/pig roast. Well, it's not a roast per se, because in NC they call them Pig Pickins. Around these parts, they're called roasts. Whatever. All I know is that there's a big cooker and an 85 lb. pig smoldering in it. Topped with gallons and gallons of delicious homemade vinegar type sauce. The guy doing the cooking, dubbed Pig Jim (so as not to be confused with one of the guests one year named Big Jim), makes the best sauce. In fact, the recipe is a secret known only to the family. Once he gave me a good one to use when I was roasting here, but it wasn't the same...

I searched for a picture of a pig roast, but all I could find were pictures from catering companies with flayed bodies and the heads grilling. Hey, we don't do the head, man. I mean, we're not cavemen here. It is odd though how much a pig looks like a small human. I try not to think about that as I'm standing there picking ribs out and trying not to spill my beer. Or maybe I do...hell I don't care. If humans taste that good over an open flame, I will never go hungry. That took an odd turn. Moving on.....

Possibly my favourite part though is the early morning Saturday when I rise from a too late Friday night in the comfort (ha!) of my motel bed, shower, grab a quick breakfast from the greasy Waffle House clone next door, and head over to help in the preparations...the lighting of the fire, the placing of the pig, the smell of the leaves mingling with that first sizzling scent. And the beer at 10 a.m....because hey, it's a long day and what else are you gonna do? I mean, you have to sit there and keep the fire under control. Man, I love Autumn.

alive and kicking...

I'm still alive, but oddly quiet. Not quiet in that brooding miserable "I don't have anything to say to anyone" way, but more in a "I don't have anything to say because nothing's really going on and for once that's good." I guess I'm finally getting settled in without settling and it's kind of a new experience for me. And, I'm getting my umbrella and overcoat ready because generally when things begin to sort themselves out and go well, the shit storm isn't too far behind. I caught a glimpse of a brown cloud this morning, but I'm choosing to ignore it. Period.

Living alone will be the death of me....literally

Literally...a fiery, smoky, charred death.

Friday night, I'm sitting around having the Friday beers and generally just enjoying the evening. I watched one of my favourite shows and then started playing my football game on the playstation. Yes, I am a dork. A charming, witty, super attractive dork, but a dork nonetheless. Anyway, not paying any attention to the time, I get hungry. With a capital H. No problem, it's Friday and it's only midnight, I'll order a pizza. Nah, I think, I have a frozen one here. I'll save some money and just make that. Beauty. I get the pizza out, turn the oven on, slice my hot peppers for the top and put it in the oven after patiently waiting an eternity for it to preheat. Back to the sofa I go and I flip through the channels looking for some stupid movie to entertain me while I wait 25-28 minutes for the pizza to be ready. I watch the clock diligently, even getting up at 23 minutes to check on it to see if by some chance it's ready early. No dice. Back to the couch...I figure I'll give it 6 minutes or so now. Fast forward to me flying off the couch and looking frantically at the clock. It's 4 am. The pizza has now been in the oven for....do the math here...3.5 hours. It looks like a meteorite. I don't think the Smithsonian has prehistoric rocks that are as black and hard as this thing is. The kitchen's a little smoky, but not bad. My pizza pan survived the incident as did the inside of the new oven that I just got. That day. (thank you landlord) I get it out and set it in front of the window to cool as I lumber back to the bed to deal with it all in the morning as I'm just glad not to have caught the house on fire. That's when the smoke alarm goes off. Twice. Silencing that, I now have a splitting headache. Two tylenol later, and I'm back asleep, alarm set to wake me up for errands in the morning....oh what a night.

Saturday morning, I tend to the remains and head off to town for some very unproductive shopping. Back home at 12, I have my Octoberfest pack of Sam Adams and am ready to watch the WVU game. After I find my glasses. I had them on last night. I didn't go anywhere. My apartment isn't that big. I looked for them for an hour. I moved the couches, took the cushions off, even dug through the trash. All to no avail. I don't have any idea where they are. Apparently, they have fallen prey to the midnight gremlins that are fueled by alcohol and that suck things into the abyss that is centered in my living room. I'll probably find them in a week or so in pieces somewhere.

Then, watching the game, one of the idiot announcers made the bold statement as if it were a fact written in stone somewhere that Deon Sanders is the greatest player that's ever played in the NFL. Now, I don't know who I would consider the greatest, but I'm pretty damn sure it's not that flashy, overrated waste of oxygen. I mean, did he do anything specatacular other than run his mouth more than anyone else in the league?

Sunday, I hear another brilliant commentator say about Brett Favre's tying Marino's touchdown record "so, does this compare with something like Bonds and the homerun record?" No, jackass, it doesn't. Brett has never been in the middle of any scandal and has been (as far as I remember) a stand up guy and not an asshole. Those are 3 things Bonds can't say. But, anyway, I'm gonna start muting the game and making up my own commentary. I'm going to have to I suppose, as I can't see the screen like I could...actually, the money for the big screen tv is well spent now. Go me!!

In summary, make sure your smoke detectors work and when you want something to eat late at night...just order it.

Can you hear me now?

Dear Sprint:

We've been together now for quite a few years, and I've become quite reliant on you. In fact, I ditched my long time phone company for you and have since not even used another service. I've always paid my bills on time and not complained about how much you rape me with this charge and that charge. You see, I'm holding up my end of our relationship. I'm trying to make this thing work. And that's the problem. You're not putting your effort into this. Things are getting very one-sided and I find myself apologizing for your behaviour all the time. I'm making excuses for you like the abused spouse does, or the non-drinking spouse at a party. Sure, you're putting in your appearances what with all the flashy towers and the bars on my phone, but I see through you. I see what you're doing when you think I'm not looking. I see the 4 or 5 bars I used to have all the time jump to 2 or even 0 repeatedly when I don't even move the phone. I know it's you that's hanging up on my friend 10 times Tuesday evening. 10, Sprint. I moved everywhere I could to try to talk and still you wouldn't cooperate. What did I do wrong? I moved into the city from the country thinking that you might be happier if we were closer. I guess not. Turns out that maybe I'm too close for comfort? I just don't know anymore. I know that I can't depend on you and that makes me sad. And furious. I've invested a lot of time and money in this relationship, but I'm afraid there are other people involved now. Verizon and Cingular are batting their eyes at me when you're pouting with no signal. They're promising free calls to my friends that are already dating them. They're lulling me with their sweet sirens' song. What's it going to be Sprint? I'm a creature of habit, and for better or worse, I'd like to save this relationship. Or be set free. Call me (if you can).

Sincerely,

J.

I can feel it in the air tonight..well, this morning anyway...

Do you know what that smell is? No, not the strange odor eminating from the cube next to me, the one outside? yep, it's Autumn. It's right around the corner. I could feel it this morning, smell it in the air. And I can't wait. It's football on the weekends, pots of chili, warm dinners instead of whatever happens to be convenient. Jeans and long sleeved shirts...fires...good beers that sit a little heavier on you than the light ones you drink when it's a million degrees out. Fall is also a time of rebirth for me. People think of it as a time of dying, preparing for the cold of winter...but I always look at fall as the beginning of the year. I guess that stems from starting school and all that in the fall. But, it's a great time for me. A comfortable one. Soon it will be hunting season (which amounts to sitting on the porch with my step-dad, a 12 pack, and some guns, but still...) and the leaves will change and cover us in a multitude of colours. And the air is so clean and crisp and the sky so blue. And, this year instead of walking around sniffing for the first person to build a fire on a cold night, that person will be me. I can't wait. I even saw 3 deer walking this morning...through the intersection on the main road that I cross to get to work. In the city. If they're not ready for fall, no one is.

All over the map....

There's a chicken processing factory in the town where I work. It's not the killing factory...that's a few miles away. Boy, oh boy, let me just tell you how good that smells on a hot, humid day. Anyway, the plant here in town handles the frozen, mostly precooked stuff like those little chunks of heaven Chicken Nuggets and the like. Most days it smells like lunch all the time. But, for some reason when it rains it smells like hot dogs. Not the hot dog goodness that is a chili dog with everything on it or anything like that. It's more like they're using wet dogs to make hot dogs. I don't get it.

I know everyone's seen those damn Quizno's commercials with the slogan "MMMM....Toasty" on it. If you listen to it, though, shouldn't there be 5 Ms? These are the things that keep me up at night.

And, now, to take this blog to the next level. There's a guy here that goes to the bathroom every hour on the hour. Like I mean, you can set your watch by it. WTF? Every day, every hour. In an eight hour day, he sacrifices 2 hours (not counting breaks and lunch) to the porcelain god. Seriously, wouldn't you go to the doctor or be concerned or something? Or maybe just try to eat a little better or maybe just eat lots of cheese and stuff. I don't get it. At all. It used to be funny, like 2 or 3 years ago. Now it's just annoying. I don't know, maybe I'm the freak, but even after a weekend of steady drinking, I can't compete. Oh, the mysteries that are this life.

Now, aren't you glad you read this today?

dammit

I spent a pretty low key weekend messing around the house, and after West Virginia finally showed up to the game Saturday at some point after halftime, it improved a little more. But, I do have to ask...why in the hell did they start the game at 11:00?? WVU and Marshall are 2 of the hardest drinking schools on football weekends that I've been to. In fact, my local university had a game this weekend and I saw ONE banner celebrating that fact. One. At a place of 20K or so students....Who cares if the team isn't a championship contender? It's still football. The beer tastes the same, win or lose. The grill still cooks wonderful meaty magic either way. I don't get it man. For the record, they may be really good...to be honest, I don't know. It's nearly impossible to get tickets and I'm not tailgating alone, unless it's on my porch. Which brings me back to Saturday. The first half of the game was a little rough and leaving me a little unsettled and I caught myself going beer for beer with commercial breaks. There are A LOT of commercials in a football game. A Lot. Later in the half, as my chili started cooking more, I started focusing on that and laundry and such as it was nearing halftime, so everything evened out. By 2:30, now working on an early evening if I didn't find something else to do besides sit and stare at the television, I decided I needed to eat and go do anything other than sit in the house. Early sleeping averted, I salvaged the rest of the day.

Anyway, the point of this post is this...I woke up early Sunday morning. By early, I mean 4:30 with the right side of my head locked up so tight I thought someone was smothering me and trying to drown me at the same time. I stumbled to the kitchen, took a claritin and was now awake. So, I watched a movie or two. I watched Sideways, the mid-life crisis/wine tour movie. It was pretty good overall. In parts, though, I didn't mind getting up to get more coffee. I like wine, but I don't love it and maybe that's part of it. And the mid-life part? I get it, man. Trust me...I get it. Meh. But, the thing that got me....if you've made it this far through the rambling, congratulations!!....the guy's a "writer" and trying to publish a book. The title? The Day After Yesterday. Asshole. I had originally thought of maybe calling mine that. Guess I won't now. Of course, the cool girl that he liked in the movie kinda made fun of it a little, so that turned me off of it too. Still, though, what are the chances of that?? Or, am I essentially that guy and that's what the movie was telling me...at 6:00 am on a Sunday?? But, I've other ideas for a title and I don't drink wine very often....

A Friday Treat

These chickens crack me up. Thanks, Doug Savage for bringing a bit of humour to the cubicle farm.

National Museum of the Boring

I suppose I should type something to fill this empty space because I know you all have been waiting with baited breath to see what's been going on here in Wonderland...except nothing has. Nothing. I can't remember the last time that this has happened...this lull where nothing irritates me, nothing makes me mad or upset, and nothing is really hilarious. It's actually, albeit boring, quite nice for a change.

Sunday I did go to the National Museum of Natural History or whatever it's called in Washington. Other than it being asshole to elbow with screaming, running kids it was very interesting. I was surprised at how much of a geek I am deep down. I could've stayed in there reading exhibits all day. Oh, and the Hope Diamond? Meh. It doesn't look real. I wouldn't be surprised if it's just a big farce perpetuated through the ages. But, back to the kids. Parents, I know you want to educate your kids and that you need stimulation too other than the idiocy that is children's television, but seriously, when a kid is under 8 or so, they're not gaining a lot from the whole museum experience. But, perhaps I'm biased. Either way, I bullied my way through, glared at the parents, and went on with my day. Oh, and People From Foreign Countries, I'm pleased that you want to learn about science and history and are experiencing all that our capital has to offer. But, please remember that this is America and we believe here in a little thing called personal space. In case you're not familiar with it, it's the idea that since I don't know you and we're not going to sleep together later, I would rather you not stand right on top of me. Thanks.

Saturday I watched football and Monday I bought a book or three and watched movies...Oh! And I think I'm going to try to get some stuff published if I can talk the publisher of this poetry book I bought into it. I think he just doesn't realize that he needs me on his list. I'm going to send some stuff to him as soon as I can rummage it out of the 4 or 5 notebooks laying haphazardly around. If any of you know publishers looking for someone, pimp me out, yo.

I love short weeks! Today is already Wednesday, meaning tomorrow is my weekly battle with Junk Man, and then it's the weekend again, baby. I can't wait!!

My Nemesis

Batman had the Joker. Superman had Lex Luthor (I almost typed Lex Luger, the wrestler...I promise I'm not a dork). Spiderman had the Green Goblin. Jerry Seinfeld and Newman. Ross (Friends) had the whole pretending he's not gay thing. Well, friends, I've finally found my nemesis. Don't let the fact that he's a 70-something (or older) fat old man with a cane who can barely talk above a raspy whisper. He's a crafty bastard. You see, since I moved I've been going to auctions with my dad and buying things for the apartment. One man's junk is another man's treasure they say. But, seriously, you can find some cool shit there. Some of it could be antique, but mostly it's just old quirky stuff that no one wants anymore. Eh, either way. I'm kind of like quirky old junk myself. Almost classy, but mostly just odd and maybe a little cool. Ok, I'm a lot cool, but I don't want to brag. Anyway....for the past 2 weeks there have been a couple of things I was hunting for. Last week was a coffee table, which was subsequently damaged on Saturday, and this week was either another table, a bookshelf, and/or a fireplace tool set. Lo and Behold!! There was a fireplace set there. Rock on! All night, things had been selling for a buck, $2.50, $5...etc. There were some very expensive things there, but since I don't care about age or resale value, I buy the cheap stuff. Enter the nemesis. These cheap things are the things he buys too. The kicker is that the old bastard has a used furniture store in town that's so crammed full of this shit that you can barely find your way through it. If there was a fire in there, you'd burn to death before you could even turn around and head for the door. And, he's a millionaire. So, when I'm scraping pennies together to bid $5 for something and this ass runs my bid to $10 or $12, I get a little miffed. You see, I budget my money. He's wearing a shirt from 1970. And not in a cool Kramer way. This is when I know I'm my father's son. I get feisty. I don't want to pay too much for something, but I don't want to let him walk out with it either, so I keep bidding. I've watched him for a few weeks now and I know his limit...and it's right around mine, so I have to be careful...but I push him as far as he'll go because, well, it's damn worth it! I think next week I'm going to make up a super-villain name for him and start calling him that....

I did manage 2 metal chairs for my porch, a fireplace kit, 6 board games that are brand new (ok, maybe I am a dork), and my very own backgammon game in its own vintage briefcase. ha! Take that Junk Man!

to whom it may concern

Dear City-In-Which-I-Live,

Hello, it's nice to get to know you after living near you for so long. I've been here about a month now and so far, so good. I'm getting used to the noise and having people around and walking through my yard and the crazy traffic patterns that seem to grow more and more congested at the exact moment that I'm trying to get somewhere, and really I'm ok with it all.

I do, however, have a couple problems. I get up early, see, but sometimes I like to go buck wild and sleep late...til, oh I don't know, 5. City, I know this doesn't sound like a lot since usually I'm up at 4, but sometimes that extra hour makes all the difference. So, if you could stop dumping dumpsters at 4 a.m., I'd appreciate it. And, tell the people next door to be on the porch and ready when their rides show up at 4:30 so there's not all this horn blowing going on. Thanks.

Also, stoplights. I understand the functionality of stop lights in the whole traffic flow situation. I get that they're timed and regulated and whatnot to make traffic movement efficient. In theory. I'm pretty sure a monkey with a laser pointer could set up a system better than yours. And, again, at 5 a.m., is it necessary to just randomly change a light to red on the main street when there are no other cars around but mine for a mile? Seriously. Why am I sitting at a red light when there aren't even lights on in people's houses? People are asleep, City. They don't need to make a left turn. I, however, need to get the hell to work. Oh, and that old man that I see running/walking every morning. Tell that old bastard that regardless of his reflective vest I'm gonna run him over one morning unless he gets his old wrinkled, big-eared ass up on the sidewalk where he belongs. If he's not going to use that sidewalk, can you move it to my street because I surely could use one there?

Thank you, City, for your consideration in these matters. I appreciate your ongoing effort to keep me safe and happy. At this time, too, I would like to toss a special Thank You to the fine police officers that feel it necessary to ride up and down my street eleventybillion times a night at high speeds. The speed limit is 25. If I was going 27, they'd pull me over. How is it that they can come through there pulling a good 45? It's not like they'd have time to notice if something illegal was going on anyway. They're already making the turn at the end of the street by the time you see them go by. It's like watching a drag race...But, enough moaning about my problems. Have a nice day, City and keep those dumpsters clean!!

Sincerely,

J.

the storm of the century

Did you know that a thunderstorm with driving sideways rain can blow through a window in the back corner of the room 10-12 feet through said room to the opposite corner and thereby soak the floor, rug, the front of the couch, and cause water to stand on your coffee table? You didn't? Yeah, me either. Saturday afternoon. Saturday evening, after returning from an afternoon of melting in 105 degree heat, I learned this lesson. The storm ripped my back door open, causing leaves and sticks and water to be standing on my back porch/laundry room floor, soaked my bedroom carpet, burnt up a fan, and drenched the living room. Upon telling my friends about this freak of nature (I was 10 miles away at the time and saw nary a drop of rain), their first question was "It didn't hurt the tv did it?" To which I replied, "No, you would've seen the mushroom cloud over the city as my head exploded had the tv gotten wet." Stupid summer storms. I still like them, but resent them at the same time as now I'm paranoid and feel like I need to shut all my windows when I leave the house. Dammit. But, it's drying out, well it should be dry by the time I get home today, so all's well that ends well....but man did it throw a wrench in Saturday. I should've been home anyway. The Weather Channel was saying "stay inside" "stay out of the sun" "drink plenty of fluids"...all of which was my plan as I had a case of beer in the fridge and there was a baseball game coming on tv when my friend called wanting to go hit a couple golf balls. I don't play golf. Haven't since I had a phys-ed class in college to teach me how. Yeah, I haven't improved since then, but I haven't gotten 12 years worse either. I suppose that's something. I enjoyed playing a little though...I guess I should maybe learn? I don't know. I don't like all the other pretentious assholes out there. We played on a public par 3 course where there's no dress code or anything like that and we had 2 travel cups filled with a lovely margarita type drink, so that helped the fun factor a lot. But, to play on a real course? Nah...I think I'll stick with my usual recreational activities...making fun of people that take themselves too seriously without having to actually be around those people.

A Pattern, perhaps?

Yesterday's post got me to thinking...well, that and yesterday's beers on the porch and watching the colleges move back in...about other times that involved porches, rain, and beer. Shut up about recurring themes here. A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away, I was in college with my best friends from home and a few new guys who mostly fit right in with us. We were in Morgantown, WV at WVU (Go 'Eers!), the land of afternoon drinking. Speaking of which, WVU is rated as the No. 1 Party School this year again! Way to get back up there guys!! Anyway, I digress. We were sitting on the porch watching it rain and ran out of beer. This being college, money wasn't readily available to us. One guy, however, had parents that were loaded. We didn't ever bum money from him, but if he offered to buy something, we didn't say no. Anyway, we were bemoaning the fact that he had the only fake ID and all the cash and that he should go down the hill and buy us some beer. Milwaukee's Best Light I believe was the fare of choice that day...and by that day, I mean most days. I was so happy when I finally got a job and could buy good beer and I haven't looked back since. I'll eat Ramen noodles to avoid going back to the Beast. He said he would go get it, but that we'd have to earn it. He bet us a 12 pack each (a whopping $10 now that I think about it) if my buddy and I would streak up the road in the rain to the stop sign and back. Eh, screw it, I thought...it's free beer...and we'd already had several at this point...So, we sent Ritchie (named for the county he came from...he never said a town name, just that he was from Ritchie County. Maybe they didn't have towns there.) to scan the street and make sure no one was coming at the time back from class or anything and up the 45 stairs to the street we went. Well, good old reliable Ritchie forgot to mention that the hot neighbor girl was sitting on her porch too. With her dogs. Big dogs. They started barking and made like they were coming to the street after us, at which point my buddy chickened out and went back inside. Not me, man. I wanted that sweet Beast. Besides, I was already almost to the stop sign. I spun around at the stop sign and that's where it all went bad. My worn out shoes couldn't hold up to the flood washing down the hill (everything out there is on a hill) and down I went...SMACK....right on my left hand/side. As long as nothing important hit the pavement, I didn't care at this point. Shaking it off (literally, I suppose) I hauled ass back to the house to find everyone there laughing that gasping, silent laugh and pointing and wheezing and I'm pretty sure trying not to piss their pants. I hastily dress and dispatch the guy to the store, because holy shit, I need a drink. It was about this time that I noticed my hand really hurt. Eh, no matter. It's just a bruise, it'll go away. Besides, here came my 12 pack up the hill. Later that night, my hand got more and more sore and started to look like someone had shoved a baseball under the skin. Damn....I put ice on it, held cold beers against it, anything I could do to try to alleviate the swelling. To no avail. I figured it would go away the next day. Nah. It got worse. And worse. Finally on day 4, I gave up and went to the hospital. You guessed it. I had shattered my knuckle and the bone under it. There was nothing they could do at this point because I'd waited 4 days to come in. He asked how I did it...I said I slipped on the stairs coming down to the house. What was I going to say? It was obvious from the road burn on it that that wasn't the fact, but still. He taped my fingers together and gave me some pills for the swelling and a nice fat bill for $500 that the insurance didn't cover. I told my mom and dad the same story about the stairs, but I don't think they bought it either. That was the most expensive beer ever. Even moreso than the $14 Guinness at the Pig and Whistle up there in NYC. To this day, I still have a little scar and my middle finger on my left hand doesn't work quite right....But, ah, the sweet Beast made it all ok......

I don't have a problem at all.....

So I get home yesterday and open the old fridge to get a frosty beverage and realize that SHIT! THERE ARE ONLY 3 LEFT. Well, see, I have this thing where I hate to run out of beer. It doesn't matter that I only want 1 or 2, I need to have a bunch in there because, well, you never know. I think it's from growing up and having to find people to buy it for you and it being such a hassle that we always made sure we had plenty. Or I'm a drunk. Eh, either way. So, as the afternoon's thunderstorm passes (it's been raining every day right after I get home and it's soooo beautiful), I decide that I'm going to walk to the store at the end of the block and get some more beer. No problem. The sun's coming back out now. You can see where this is going, right? I get to the end of the street and am immediately filled with the dread that can only be known by someone that is as lazy as I am and also as thirsty and also is frustrated with the "moral sections" of this community. Yep, you guessed it. The gas station at the end of my street? Zealots. No beer. As I picked up the remains of my heart from the sidewalk, I now realized why it always takes that old guy down the street so long to get back with his beer.....Yeah, the next place to buy it is at the end of the street I'm now standing on. Niiiice. I can see the roof of where I'm going, so it can't be that far right? Off I go, fighting traffic, because why would the city need sidewalks? Pfft. I get there, and pull a Frogger to get across 6 lanes of traffic because there's a crosswalk but no walk lights. Again, why would you need that? I forgot that when you're in the crosswalk, it's kind of like in Young Guns when they were in the Sprit World. Beauty. I go in, finally, and get my beer and am then standing in line behind a girl that is as big around as a pencil and covered in crack sores on her face....counting change for a soda. Counting. And then putting one back because she didn't have a nickel and the stupid clerk wouldn't just give her one. I never carry cash or I'd have given it to her. Damn, man. Back up the street I go, but uh-oh...what's that? Thunder? Nah...it's just the storm moving on. That drop of water on my arm? Blowing off of a tree, surely. 3-2-1...MONSOON. I swear at this point the rain was blowing sideways. I know the people driving past are laughing...mostly because I could see them slow down and stare at me with their mouths open. Bastards. I think about my 12 pack. The cardboard's getting soaked. And you know what happens to cardboard when it gets wet? It's about as strong then as a piece of toilet paper. Well, not wanting to have to pick up cans of cold beer from the raging torrents of water now running down the sides of the road and over my ankles, I cradle my beer like a baby for the rest of the walk home. Thus garnering even more looks from the people driving by. I make my street again finally and can see my porch....when it quits raining. By now my sandals are so wet I can't keep them on my feet and I have to cross the street in front of the Nascar qualifying round.....Up on the porch and inside to put something dry on ....1/2 hour later and I'm home. Not that I mind walking in the rain, but next time I need beer? I'm totally driving.

Give my stomach to Milwaukee if they run out of beer

"but please don't bury me down in that cold, cold ground"

I went to see John Prine Saturday night and learned a few things.

1. There are some really cool and wild older people out there.
2. Loafers should not be worn with shorts.
3. Just because you remember John Prine and enjoy his music doesn't make you less of a douche when you're talking about work while I'm trying to listen to the show. I didn't pay to hear your fucking mouth, asshole.
4. Old guys are impressed when a young punk like me knows all the words to all the songs.
5. I saw Amish Hipsters. Well, they weren't technically Amish because they were drunk as all hell and covered in tattoos, but they had the Amish clothes thing rockin'. And were incredibly funny.
6. I'm in love with the downtown area of the city the show was in. In. Love.
7. That being said, I will never go into the overly trendy bar that I stopped in for a few preshow beers and a snack ever again. Their appetizer? Bread with olive oil for dipping. I liked it, don't get me wrong. I'm not a caveman. But, something fried would've been a whole hell of a lot better.
8. Going to concerts and drinking beers by yourself is fun. The drive home...not so much. I get very sleepy with no one to talk to.

I left early Friday because I had a couple errands to run and nothing to do here, so I thought to myself "Self, let's get the hell outta here." Self, of course, was out the door before I could clock out. He's not much in the restraint area. No motivation, no willpower, just a huge urge to do fun things. I think that's why we get along so well. Anyway, so I go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond because I want some stuff for the house and I need a good spatula. It's insane how much I love that store. Also insane are the prices there. Then, off to Walmart where I, much to my surprise and Self's glee, the college girls have come back to town. I'm going to sound like a pig here, but I don't care. You see, where I live there is an incredible shortage of anything that's pleasing to the eye. If I was talking about paintings, living here would be like living in a Home Interior catalog. There are a couple nice things, but mostly not so much. But, all that changes at the end of August. And, to the man that invented the short plaid shorts and gray tshirt look....Thank. You.

So, being distracted in Walmart, Self could only manage to pick up a couple cases of beer and the bare essentials. At this point, time was ticking and I had to get home to meet a friend. Fast forward to hungover Saturday morning when I really wished that I would've gotten a couple more things Friday evening so I didn't have to go back out. Saturday's trip cost me a pile of money as I broke down and bought 40" of Liquid Crystal Display (or whatever it stands for) glory. I'll probably regret spending that much money, but hungover Self will not be denied things that make him feel good. And, High Plains Drifter did look damn good on it Saturday afternoon.....

The moral of the story: Don't shop when hungover with someone that has no willpower....

now he needs WD-40

Apparently Billy Ray Cyrus is not the only Man of Wonder coming out of Kentucky. Speaking of Billy Ray, I once got a haircut in the very shop that he used to frequent before becoming a “famous” “musician.” No, they didn’t give me the royal treatment and make my hair look like his either. Luckily.

Anyway, back to our story. This man was arrested for robbery. Note the mask. Made of duct tape. I know it’s a very useful thing to have around, but, um, isn’t it going to hurt when he takes it off? What’s next? Duct tape underwear? They should’ve let him go free because he obviously needs the money. The poor guy can’t even afford a proper mask. No wonder he got caught. It’s nearly impossible to do a job right without the correct tools. And when you’re robbing something, a mask is pretty damn important. Plus, he’s obviously bat-shit crazy. He put duct tape on his face. His Face. Face. Duct tape. Sticky, hard to remove (especially in the heat) duct tape. Speaking for all hillbillies out there, I’m sorry that this guy made the news. And, I’m sorry, Kentucky, that your name once again is associated with this kind of foolishness. I choose to not think of this idiot and Billy Ray but rather remember fondly drinking beer by the light of the flames from the refinery.

because it's one of THOSE days

Since Midwesterner is live blogging today and I'm caught up in that like a crack addict, you get random bullshit. Enjoy.

So I'm walking back through the breakroom from my umpteenth break of the morning when I notice a table filled with snack machine goodies. They take the "out of date" things out when they restock it and just leave them on the table for us. Brilliant! What in a snack machine wouldn't last through a nuclear winter and still be lip-smackingly delicious? Exactly.

I picked up a bag of Honey BBQ chips and made my way smugly back to my desk with my newfound wealth. Opening the bag, I noticed the furious looking bee on the bag chomping on a chip. He looks totally EXTREME (whatever that means). Plus, he's totally ghetto, posing against a brick wall/honey comb with the graffiti type lettering at the bottom of the bag. I mean, are people this stupid that they think that this packaging is attractive and that they MUST. HAVE. THESE. CHIPS??? I mean, come on, I wouldn't have gotten them if it weren't for the fact that they cost FREE. At this point, I was expecting a shitty BBQ chip with a tang of honey (?) or something that was supposedly sweet...I. Was. Wrong. These were some of the best chips I've had. Surprisingly smooth and sweet with a bite of decent BBQ flavour. Go me. I went back and got another bag for later....

But, seriously, check out this bee. What in the hell is his problem?

now I have to clean potato chip crumbs out of my scanner.

**today's blog brought to you by Herr's Honey BBQ Potato Chips

To sleep perchance to dream...

After sweating myself to death all day Friday, dropping more F bombs than Samuel L. Jackson, and listening to a grown man scream/sing along with Cindi Lauper while scrubbing my floors, I'm finally moved in and almost settled. I still need to hang pictures, but that can happen anytime as I find it nearly impossible to make a decision.

Does anyone try to stick one in you more than a mattress salesman? Seriously, they moved up the list to right under car salesman as People That Deserve A Special Seat In Hell. I understand that a good mattress costs at least $1000. I paid for one not 2 years ago. It was like sleeping on a cloud. The mattress I have now is like sleeping on a very lumpy rock. Except possibly harder because you're expecting that sweet mattress softness. So when I see an ad for a similar mattress for $300, I run into the store like a guy with a fistful of dollars into a strip club. AND, they're having a buy one get one free sale. I don't need 2 mattresses, but if it's free, I'll sell it to someone for 1/2 of what I paid. BONUS! I'll pause while your anticipation of reality crushing my dream yet again builds.....Ok, now that we're all on the same page.... The $300 is only for the mattress. The box spring is another $300. If you buy just the mattress (who in the hell would do that anyway?) it's even higher. And, that one doesn't count in the buy one get one free deal. To get that, you have to spend $1000. And, the free mattress? Go ahead, guess at the quality of that one. It's very much like mine except with a new tag on it. I wouldn't hit a dog in the ass with it. I mean, if someone's getting hosed on this mattress, I want to be the one doing the hosing....While I know it's worth the money to have a good mattress and get a good night's sleep, and $600 isn't a bad deal, let's be honest here. I fall asleep in front of the tv most nights on the couch. And, for $600 + a couple more, I can have a 52" television to sleep in front of. And, what's gonna get more use? The tv or the bed? Judging by how things are going, the tv's the best bet here in that scenario. I think I'm going to use my Bed Bath and Beyond coupon to buy one of those feather toppers and put it on my old bed and watch a new television while I save money to buy a mattress later in the year ....

In other news, not much. And I love it. I got home yesterday and unpacked some clothes and promptly repacked them to be taken to Goodwill, watched a little mindless tv, made dinner, and went to sleep (eventually in the bed)....Sheer beauty, friends.

Where IS that damn white belt to go with these shoes?

I HATE talking about the weather. HATE. IT. It's the one thing we all have in common and the one thing that we can't do a damned thing about, and it's the first thing people turn to when they don't have anything at all to say. Trust me, I'm ok with silence. But, as I'm getting older, I find myself turning to it too. I know, right? I caught myself yesterday.

Speaking of which, it's Africa Hot here today. Already. I mean, I know people live in hot places all over the U.S., but this midatlantic region is "temperate." Where's all this global warming in the winter time when my heating bill goes haywire? Gore, you idiot. I wouldn't mind the heat so bad if I were, say, in Florida or Mexico or on an island somewhere laid up on the beach with a frosty beverage in one hand and a tanned bikini-clad girl in the other. But, as it is, I'm sitting at work with what could possibly be the largest collection of ugly women under one roof outside of a Circus Freak Convention. And, that fact coupled with the heat = me losing my mind.

In other non-noteworthy news, the Big Move 2007 is scheduled for tomorrow. I remember things such as friendship and fun and taking days off to help buddies move. I'm going to be doing the bulk of it by myself tomorrow until someone can see fit to come over after work and help with big things. Assholes. I'm SO not buying you beer now. I would've before. That's just a given. A prerequisite, really. Especially when it's hot. Getting older sucks. That or my friends do. Or both....or maybe I just call in to work indiscriminately whereas they feel some sort of loyalty to their jobs....eh, tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to. Either way, I'm gonna be settled in that place tomorrow night, most likely after making a midnight run to the store to buy an air conditioner and then trying to install it in the window without dropping it to the ground below, causing me to have to rebox it and take it back and tell them that it was broken when I opened it and nevermind about the grass in the fins and just give me another one because what kind of racket are you trying to run here?! Um, not that something like that has ever happened....

There's free beer involved if any of you would like to carry boxes tomorrow!!! I know it's tempting.....

edit: I hate to give this piece of shit any mention or thought in anything I do or say or at any given point throughout the day, but this is the best Bonds story you'll read and one that won't appear in "sports" journals.

take your seaside arms and write the next line...

There's a girl that comes over from time to time and laughs. And sings. And quotes random movies and song lyrics. And eats my food. And sometimes drinks my beer. And lays on my floor with big toothy grins and bright blue eyes longing for something, hair spilling over my pillow leaving her scent (marking territory?). There are songs we love and songs she won't listen to with me that may or may not belie something bigger that cannot be. Sometimes she'll hug me when she comes over, then again later, and then when she leaves...sometimes she lingers. Sometimes she falls asleep on the couch and I bring her a blanket. And she laughs. And sings.

hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ

I've found my calling in life. Well, if not my calling, at least a part-time vocation. I want to be a DJ. Not one of those people that run down the preprogrammed playlist and read the weather and news and pre-record their shows at 8 am to air that night at midnight. I want to be the late night guy, the evening guy, the guy that's there while some poor stiff is working the midnight shift. I want to be THERE. That way, should someone be bored or lonely, a friendly voice with his/her favourite song is only a phone call and an airwave away. Plus, I'd be great at it because there'd be none of the crap music playing that oozes out of the radio stations here. No buzzkiller music. I mean seriously, don't they know that people are sitting around drinking beer and cooking out in the evenings? How can you follow a good time, good vibe song with something utterly sappy, romantic, and/or suicidally depressing? Buzz. Killers. I would keep the upbeat mood going all the time. Or, perhaps, we could have theme nights...and if you didn't want to tune in on "I hate my life night" then you wouldn't have to. But, it surely wouldn't be sprung on you unawares in the middle of a good joke and a cold beer. I was on my way in this morning listening to "Don't You Forget About Me" and holding my fist in the air because, yeah, that's what you do when you hear that song and planning my day and my evening and my weekend and generally feeling good because it's Friday when all of a sudden Jewel came on. She's ok, but she has a time and a place. 5 am isn't it. I don't need to hear about broken hearts and misery and sappy love and how everything's gonna be ok in some magical place we'll call "the Future" and blah blah blah because shit, man, I'm on the way to work and I want, nay NEED, to feel good today. Turn that shit off. And in the same breath, what's up with John Tesh? I wish he'd crawl back under his Entertainment Tonight washed-up ass rock and quit trying to make me gay and afraid to go outside for fear of germs or offending someone or some other ungodly terror that lurks outside my door. Jesus.

I'd even do the DJ job for free. Well, not for free. They'd have to get me a cold 12 pack of beer....and then, the game would be on. Tune in, turn on, and drop out!

an epiphany or an affirmation?

I realized yesterday after not doing anything all day and going out to eat the most wonderful crab cakes I've had in a long time and drinking a pitcher of beer with my dad's friend, that I'm so not ready to grow up and all that jazz....because after dinner we came home and sat on the porch and another friend stopped by and we drank some more...coffee. I could've done with another bunch of beers myself.... I feel better in responsible shoes, but they're just a little uncomfortable sometimes.

At least I don't live in the basement...

Well, after 2 days of moving (read: sweating and cussing and finally throwing things willy-nilly into the storage unit), I'm done. Moved, cleaned, and Sold. It was approximately 150,685 degrees yesterday as I was packing such important items as the shampoo from my shower, the paper towel rack, the bathroom rugs (which most likely I will throw away when I unpack....next week), a cutting board, etc. You know, all the things that you forget you have until you need to move them somewhere or after you throw them away and then must re-purchase them at a highly inflated rate. It seriously took 1 hour to move all the big things with mucho laughter and a few beers on Monday evening, but Tuesday took a shit all over me. I got an early start and made one fruitful trip, ate lunch, and then was left to my own devices for the rest of the day. Bad idea. I'm not good at working on something alone when not getting paid for it. I'm totally the person that wanders around the house for an hour or two...ok, maybe two...with a box in my hands or a roll of paper towels or both muttering and rubbing my forehead because I just don't know where to start or whether to just burn it down or throw everything away and lock the door or curl up into the fetal position. Thankfully, a well-timed phone call and the realization that after 3 months of not doing anything, I now had 3 hours to finish EVERYTHING. I walked out at 4:55...just as the buyers were pulling in to do their final walkthrough. We closed this morning. I may have danced a jig (a la the Last Boyscout) on my way out of the room.

That all being said, I'm now staying at my dad's til I move again next Friday. But, I have a neat little room with my own personal air conditioner and since I'm off work today, absolutely nothing to do. Sure, I should pitch in and cut the grass or something, but to that I say hell no. I don't get a day off during the week very often...unless you count, um, yesterday...today...and next Friday.

When the a/c units kick on upstairs, the lights flash. Just like in the old prison movies when someone gets fried in the chair. If I see a mouse or a really, really big black guy, I'm getting the hell out of here.

Frank Sinatra's on the radio now...all music, all day...fitting for an antique shop, or shoppe if you prefer...but it's not the same without a glass of wine. Of course, it IS 2:00...hell, I'm having one.

zippity do dah....

Things that make me feel good today....or, I'm not focused enough to concentrate

The Chieftains playing a traditional reel was the first song on my radio this morning .
It was followed by The Highwaymen singing I'm gonna live forever .
I had my favourite mexican dinner last evening and even have some left over today.
I spent some good time with my dad last night.
He actually approved of the apartment I want and managed to "negotiate" $25 off of the rent. I had no idea that was possible.
I'm going to take the apartment...provided it's cleaned VERY well and the chimney is cleaned out too so I can use the fireplace.
It's a VERY old house, so the spacing and layout leaves a little to be desired, but I think I can make it into something very awesome.
I think I still get a month to live stay at dad's while the rental agency gets the place ready.
I should save a good bit of money every month by not having the house.
My friends are driving here this weekend instead of me going there because it's my last weekend in the house.
It's my last weekend in the house!
Soon I will have The Awesomest Porch Ever!
I need to buy a WVU flag to fly.
I'm wearing my Championship Vinyl t-shirt today and since losing a couple pounds, I resemble John Cusack more than Jack Black. And that's always good.
Did I mention that this is my last weekend being saddled with in the house?

Have a great weekend everyone!

that's a bitchin' camaro!

I, admittedly, am not a fashion plate by any means. I mean, I know what looks good and what doesn't, but I'm not overly concerned with what's new and hip (does anyone say that anymore or did I just really prove my point when I didn't mean to?). I never really think about it because my wardrobe consists mainly of black tshirts, shorts, jeans, and the occasional khakis or some similarly colored/styled "nice" pants. I like it this way because it keeps all that pesky decision making at 4:30 a.m. to a minimum. And, I've never had to think about it when it comes to getting haircuts because either there was a girl there telling me how to cut it or what would look good, or the stylist knew me well enough to say "this is what we're going to do, you'll like it." Besides, I thought hairstylists were like doctors with some kind of Oath that says they won't intentionally let you look bad when you leave. Maybe not. They should have one though. Apparently, they need one. The lady that works next to me got her hair done yesterday and boy did they do a number on her. She looks like she has a Def Leppard tape I need to borrow. Oh. My. God. If she had some acid washed jeans on, it'd be like a time portal in here. Actually, I'm sure there's a pair in her closet waiting (working?) for the weekend. Don't get me wrong, I love all things 80s. But, there's a line when it comes to hairstyles. Unless it's a mohawk or something equally wild...I always wanted blue crazy hair like the dude from the Cure...but I digress. How can the stylist knowingly commit this act of fashion murder? I think she went to high school with the stylist, so maybe they were just keeping it real and harking back to the good old days or something, but damn, man. When she got back yesterday, my friend and I were leaning on the big processor in my office and had to turn and run back into my cube to keep from busting out laughing. So far today, I've kept contact to a minimum because I'm not over it yet. I figure it'll be at least a week. Til then, I'm turning up my Van Halen and livin' on a prayer .....

xoxo,
J.

anthony works in a grocery store...

If that's movin' up, then mama I'm movin' out.

I called yesterday about an apt. and rode by to look at it and fill out an application for it. I don't know why this seems like such a big deal to me. I mean, I knew it was coming and it's not like I'm moving across the country with $4 in my pocket...although sometimes I think that would be easier for some reason. I think I tend to find comfort in the extreme. I'm just waiting now to go back and actually see inside it. It has a working fireplace and a big porch and is on a side street in the "city." I think I like it. I think I'm really, really excited...and really, really scared for some stupid reason. I think some of that is the fact that it doesn't quite gel with my timeline that I had planned and now I have to figure an all new one and blah blah blah...Obsessive much? No, not me.

This is the first time I've ever done something like this on my own. Usually, although I'm the one doing things and getting things and setting things up, someone's there to handle the tiny details and hold my hand and tell me that I'm gonna be ok and to quit freaking out. Jesus, it's 10 miles from where I live now if that. It's not like it's a radical change or anything. But, at the same time it is. On a different level. On a more internal level. It's more than just an apartment and moving. This is the beginning. A beginning of something that I actually can't see how it's going to turn out. I know I'll have more money in my pocket so maybe my dinners will improve. I know that I'll be about a mile from downtown so I can walk places instead of sitting around wishing there was something to do. I know that I'll be able to see people from where I'll be sitting. I know I haven't even seen the inside of it yet and don't know if I'll like it or not or if the people upstairs walk like they have cinderblocks for feet, but I'm already making plans for the fireplace and football and chili and porch sits and tailgates on Autumn Saturdays. Yeah, I think this is going to be good....

are you talking to Me??

I have a confession to make. Apparently, I'm not as big of a bad-ass, wicked awesome person as I may have earlier thought. Rest assured, I'm still very awesome, or perhaps even more awesome than before, but right now I'm not completely sure. I may even be a little embarrassed, but maybe not...and I guess it doesn't matter because I'm pretty much putting this out here for the entire world to view...*sigh* well, let's just see.

Friday I was sitting at my favourite bar, which now offers Half! Price! Drinks! Every! Friday! Afternoon!, minding my own business and trying to down a few big beers before the price went back up when all of a sudden someone was sitting next to me talking. This is kind of unusual because I tend to sit away from other people and concentrate mainly on people watching and/or eavesdropping and mostly just want to be left alone. But, no...here was this woman sitting next to me. Chatting me up. Me! Hmph. I wasn't sure what to make of it and thought she was being polite and everything up until she said that since the half price time was over that I should come back to her place and drink for free. I looked around to make sure that, you know, I was in fact the person she was talking to, picked my jaw up off of the floor, and lit another cigarette trying to channel James Dean or someone equally indifferent and cool and used to these kinds of propositions. You see, dear reader, this is the first time that this has happened to me. I was largely out of circulation for most of my young life, so lately I'm kind of reborn, if you will. Either way, I could've been 16 and fumbling at this point.

I laughed it off and talked my way out of it though...Maybe it was too many beers, maybe it was too much change over the past 3 years, maybe it was a hundred different things, but I realized that for once I think I'm more interested in conversation and stuff like that than anything else. I know, right?! It scared me too. I beat myself up Friday night/Saturday morning over it, but the more I thought about and as Saturday dawned blue and clear and beautiful, I knew I made the right decision and was actually pretty proud of myself. I'm pretty sure this means that I'll die frustrated and alone, but there are worse things I suppose. Especially after talking to my friend, who's a nurse and she explained all the hazards of hooking up with people...geez. Gross. Anyway....we'll see I suppose, but now my favourite bar is tainted for awhile and I think I'm more upset by that.

are you done with that?

You know what I hate? Well, there's one hell of a list, so I'm just going to assume that you don't know the whole list and we really don't have the time for me to get into making one, so let's just start with this one thing, mmmkay?

I hate people that don't eat all their food. I went to a bar/restaurant yesterday after stopping at the grocery store, spending $20 and still having nothing I felt like eating, to have a beer or 4 and use my Free Appetizer coupon that they gave me the last time I was there for filling out some survey and telling them how awesome they are. Yeah, I lie pretty well in surveys...especially when free shit is offered. Anyway, said chain restaurant is not the coolest place ever, but the bartender recognizes me when I come in, the mugs o' beverage are 1.50, and it's pretty close to my house. And, usually it's pretty empty when I get there. Well, not yesterday. Not only am I being bombarded by these god-awful talk shows on ESPN (are there no real sports left on ESPN? It's like the MTV of sports), but there are people everywhere. Skinny guy sits down next to me at the bar, orders a bacon cheeseburger and a sweet iced tea. Dude. You HAVE to drink a beer with a bacon cheeseburger. It's a law. If not, it should be. No, officer, I'm not drunk. I mean, I ate a bacon cheeseburger for dinner and had the required beers with it. Oh, ok, sir, be safe and have a good night. Anyway, he proceeds to read the paper and "eat." For half an hour I had to smell this wonderfully delicious hamburger and watch him pick over it like some kind of bird picking at worms in the grass. Finally after he ate the now cold french fries and half of his burger, he slides the plate away and pays and leaves. Note: I'm now STARVING. Across from me, an older couple have like 3 salads between them, an appetizer, and 2 steak and shrimp dinners. The lady boxes up 1/2 a salad, starts in on the appetizer, pushes it aside and begins work on the steak and shrimp. There's about 1/2 to 1/4 of the steak left when she pushes it away from her. I glance over and her husband has done the same thing. WTF? I could live off of these people's scraps, man. Diagonally, another couple. Same deal. I don't care if you don't eat it all...some people are not gluttons like me, but at least take it home with you and feed it to your dog or throw it away there....Guys like me that have to scrounge free appetizers don't need to see a perfectly good steak go to waste. Not when they're $20 a pop. Plus I was raised with the waste not-want not philosophy. I'm 33 fucking years old and still haven't figured out what that means. I just know it meant that we didn't throw anything away...ever. My mother still doesn't. It's scary some of the stuff that gets recycled into 3 or 4 meals from her refridgerator.

I'm glad today's Friday...now I can go home and hide out from these freaks here for 2 days and try to regain a little composure. Or, maybe I'll go to the store and grill myself a steak...and eat the whole damn thing.