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.

The Circus Is Falling Down On Its Knees

There always was something magical about the summertime. I think it stemmed from all those years spent in school, trapped inside for the beginnings of Spring, but when the weather turned warm, we were set free. I think that's why we were drawn so much to the night. The sun would start to set and a breeze would pick up, and once that generator started up, the show began again. Standing there under the flashing lights, smelling the food, surrounded by music and voices and the roar of the rides, we spoke without saying a word. A quick glance, a fleeting touch in between barking our entertainment to the masses...the smell of perfume mixed with cotton candy, dirt, and sweat. These things were summer. These things are summer. Coloured flags are flying now right down the street, the moon sits heavy and yellowing in the night sky as the crickets chirp...and in the midnight silence, I still see you in my old worn flannel shirt (linus, you called it because you never went anywhere without it)...slipping your hand into mine as we leaned against the car and smoked one last cigarette in the aftermath of a night's chaos, and you'd turn and say come on buddy, let's go home. As much as a real adult life stepped in, I think a part of us still runs those roads, walks those midways, and dances in the lights. Maybe we grew up too fast. Maybe I never did. Hell, I don't know. Maybe I'll meet you again beside the game trailer and just for a minute we won't remember that we're not still there.


----for some reason I can't get her out of my mind lately. ----and now back to the regularly scheduled drivel.

It'll cure what ails you....

I'm here today to talk about America's drug problem. Not the drug problem of pot smokers eating all the pizza and leftovers and 2 months past the expiration date peanut butter *cough* um, not me *cough*, or the meth heads that make it impossible to buy cold medicine at Wal-Mart so you have to stand in the eternal pharmacy line for 25 minutes and show an id when all you really want to do is lay on your couch in some pill induced haze....No, I'm talking about prescription drugs. There's a prescription pill now for everything. You feel bad? You hate your life? Here, take this pill and you'll be all sunshine and roses and won't care about a damned thing. Have anger issues? Don't take this one, though, because it'll make you into a killer zombie. Take this other one that will pack 25 lbs. on you out of nowhere, but you'll be so numb that you won't give a shit anyway. Besides, we have another pill you can take that will melt that weight right off. The shakes? Oh, don't worry about that and the blinding headaches. They're side effects that only occur in a few people. Can't get it up? Here, take this one. Just make sure it doesn't stay up for too long or it'll damage you permanently. Also, you might get the shits, so keep an extra pair of underwear handy and don't drink too much with it either. As a matter of fact, most of the prescription drugs out there tell you not to drink alcohol with them and carry a risk of stomach discomfort, headaches, etc. It makes no sense to me. I drink beer. It comes with the euphoria of the antidepressants (at least til I pass out), some slight discomfort in the morning (depending on how much I drink), and a severe desire for a greasy breakfast at 3 a.m., but other than that, it works pretty damn well for what ails me. And, the upside? Other people can join in it with you and then you're all in the same boat. It's a social lubricant. Win! And Win!

What sparked this conversation, however, is a totally new drug, a new side effect that almost made me roll off of the couch laughing last night. Restless Leg Syndrome is apparently the newest super villain to be fought off by the Hall of Prescription Drug Justice League and there's a new Super Hero stepping up to take on RLS. Of course, I can't remember the name of it now, but the side effects include nausea, headaches, grogginess or just plain passing out (so you can't drive or drink or both when you're taking it) but here's the kicker.....it may cause intense gambling and/or sexual compulsive urges. Gambling and sex? Compulsive? I'm pretty sure at this point, they're just putting alcohol into pill form. I can see it now.....

Jesus, honey, I'm tired, but I've got the jimmy legs tonight. All I want to do is to go to sleep, but my legs are pulling a fucking Fred Astaire down there and it's killing me. Here, darling, take this pill...it'll calm you right down and we can get some rest. Thanks, babe. 30 mins. pass...Whew, I feel much better. What say I tie you to the bed post and ravage your body with these kitchen instruments and then we head to the track? There's a horse running tonight and it's a lock!

Now, I'm not making light of the jimmy legs. It happens to me once in awhile too. It's miserable. A-1 miserable. But, I think people should consider having a couple beers after work before dinner. Then, once you eat, you feel all full and lazy and can just turn on some mindless drivel on television and fall right to sleep. That's my prescription. 6 beers, a big hamburger, and the discovery channel (or one of those forensic shows...those guys have the quietest voices...puts me to sleep everytime). It's free of charge and apparently a lot healthier than all these pharmaceutical remedies. Now I just need a superhero name.......

Here's to your health! Cheers!

No special sauce for me, thanks

I stopped at McDonald's for breakfast this morning on the way to work (because I'm a health nut) and opted for the combo meal with coffee. Really I just like to see how much abuse my body can take in any given week before it revolts and forces me to eat a salad or something. Anyway, I was sitting here staring intently at the coffee cup (because that's how hard I work) when I noticed little selector things on the side for marking how the coffee's made. It had an oval for each of the following choices: Cream, Sugar, Sweetener, and Other. Just what in the hell is Other?? Are they putting shots of whisky in coffee now at Mickey D's? Or is that for when you really piss off the counter person? I'll just take mine black, thankyouverymuch.

The night life...that's the life for me...

After a less than eventful Saturday afternoon of actual work in the sun, I found myself heading off in search of air conditioning, dark lighting, and a cold beverage in front of a baseball game. What better place to find all 3 of these things at the same time, you ask? Why, of course, silly....a BAR! But, alas, my peace was shortlived as I soon realized I was sitting across the way from 2 of the most annoying people Ever. Seriously, ever. Here's a helpful hint for anyone that wants to go out on a Saturday afternoon and not be annoying. Don't sit at the bar and brag about your "business" or talk about all the influential "boys" you have all over the place. Chances are if your friends are that important and/or influential, you wouldn't refer to them as "my boy so and so (insert stupid ass nickname here)." You fucking dolt. I didn't think I would even be able to finish my first beer; they made me that sick to my stomach. It was like a pissing contest of losers. But, since I'm no quitter, I stuck it out and they all eventually packed up and left. Thank God. 3 big beers later, and I headed out to meet my dad for his birthday dinner. Hey, at least I didn't get smashed and go!

After we had a very pleasant and comical dinner, I decided to make a trek an hour or so up the road to see my best friend and some other people for another birthday celebration. At the point of my arrival, it was 8:00. This is usually the time I'm either a) winding down for the night, or b) drunk to the point of not wanting to do anything. I'm an early riser and therefore my day starts a lot earlier than most. The people that start earlier than me? I think they call them unemployed and/or homeless. Or, in the case of my grandfather, retired. Anyway.....I roll in to his house and find him and his new bride watching a movie and getting ready to eat dinner. Enjoying my new role as Show Up Out Of the Blue and Demand Entertainment Friend, I provoke them to go out with me to meet everyone else. By 9:15, we were on the way downtown listening to the worst music ever drowned out only by The Loudest Talking Girl I've Ever Met. I had a headache within 10 minutes of meeting her. 10:30 rolls around to find us walking to yet another bar to see Jimmie's Chicken Shack (yes, the 90s band). They put on a hell of a show and it was really a good time. We're making laps back and forth to the bar and I'm chatting with an interesting girl inbetween making fun of people with my friend and the next thing I know, they flip the lights on. 2:30...and we didn't have to go home, but we had to get out of there. Fast forward to walking all the way back to the car to try to find someone to drive home and with it being too late to stop and buy beer, we're forced to go back to my friend's place and raid his fridge. We stayed up and talked and laughed and told stupid stories and played the stereo too loudly and when I heard the first birds of the morning start chirping, I politely informed them that I was going the hell to bed. 5:15 am is late enough for me. Of course, then morning J. kicked in and I was up at 8:30 and pacing the apartment wondering when they were going to get up and fix breakfast. By 10:30, I was back on the road to my house and ready to get on with the day. But, by Sunday evening....I. Felt. Old. I mean, drained, man.....

The moral of this story? Apparently if I'm going to go out and live it up on the weekends and experience how "normal" people go out and do things, I'm gonna have to get a job on the graveyard shift......

partly sunny with a chance of beer....

You know that Seinfeld episode where George equates sitting in his boxers and eating a block of cheese as big as his head with the pinnacle of single life? Yeah, um, apparently I'm now Costanza. I woke up this morning on my couch to the old Star Trek theme music blasting from the television and saw a block of cheese on the end table. Fuck me. I believe my internal monologue went something like this: Jesus. Christ. It's. 5. a. m. I. Have. To. gotoworknow! Ah, Shatner, you acting genius.

Yesterday, you see, was one of those days where the evening was just perfect...not too hot, breezy, and Thursday. I was sitting on the porch having a beverage or 12 text messaging with my long distance friend and lost track of time. The next thing I knew it was 10:00 and I was looking for something to have for dinner. Well, in my fridge right now there are condiments and beer and a bottle of wine. Oh, and obviously, a block of cheese. I gotta go to the store tonight.

Earlier in the evening, the ex stopped by to "pick something up" which oddly she neglected to take with her. Instead, I was subjected to an hour or so of inane ramblings about Things I Could Give a Shit About. Looking back, this probably led to me being stuck drunk and without dinner. But, I digress. I'm all about being friends, being nice, being whatever...but I don't want to hang out. Really. Sometimes I wish it were all business and she hated me. I wonder if it wouldn't be easier....well, at least for me. And that's all we're really concerned with anyway.



In conclusion, I'm now George Costanza. Let My Summer commence!

If this is reality, I'm revoking my subscription

I'm laying on the couch last night trying to coax as much air as I can from the ceiling fan and the a/c and come across a reality show on the television. I don't watch reality shows. Period. I don't care what the premise is. It could be a show about me getting to beat the hell out of all the annoying people that sign up for them and I still wouldn't watch it....although I would gladly participate. Anyway....America's Got Talent was on. If that's talent, holy shit, we're screwed. And no wonder people hate us. Hell, I hate us. There was a man dressed as Shakira, a skinny gender non-descript boy that flailed about and called it dancing and a hot girl that was a ventriloquist. Guess which one didn't make the cut for the next show? Yeah, the hot girl. Hoff or no Hoff, they just lost one more viewer. I mean, seriously, what in the hell is wrong with people that Man-kira has more "talent" than the hot chick? At least she was pleasing to look at. I doubt even a blind gay man/transsexual/desperate housewife with odd fetishes found Man-kira appealing. Christ.

Next up was some show with a title so ultimately crappy that I can't even remember it. But, it starred Joey Fat-One of NSync "fame." The point of this show was to sing the correct lyrics to a song that the "band" would start and then quit, leaving the contestant to finish it. Hey, it's a good concept. I used to like Name That Tune as a kid. To be little, I knew and learned a lot of music from that show. Yeah, I'm a dork from way back. If that tidbit excited you, feel free to email me. I'll clear my inbox now. Oh, back to the show. They're going through these songs and I'm a lyric geek, so I knew most of them. At the end, however, I was appalled at the winner who had to finish 5 songs for $50,000. 50. Thousand. Dollars. 50. 5 fucking 0. Yeah, he did it, but one of them was "Do You Love Me." Whatever. Even people that don't listen to the radio have been inundated with that song through Dirty Dancing and commercials and everything. It's hardly worth 50 thou. So, in my disgust at being smarter than him and still broke as all hell, I flipped back over to watch some stand-up comedy, because watching a fat guy make fun of himself is REAL talent, bitches.

And, thus ends my foray into network/reality television. I think I'll stick with Andy Griffith reruns from now on.

Home, home on the range

So I go over to my friend's house Friday after work to help him babysit (i.e., drink his beer) because hey, it's Friday and I don't have a damn thing else to do. He was on "vacation" all week. Let me detail this and then I think you'll see why I would rather work (and he would too, apparently). His week entailed a delivery of 2 tons of landscaping gravel, digging out drainage ditches from his gutters (that should've already been done) and various other miscellaneous homeowner duties. Add to the equation the fact that he was babysitting his two kids for the last 2 days and you have a recipe for insanity. His and mine. And, this funk that I'm suffering from that makes me feel like I constantly have my head submerged in a pool? Yeah, I'm pretty sure I caught it over there last weekend. His house is a $500K house. And it's not that old. You'd think it wouldn't need landscaping already, a new roof, or drainage put in. And you'd be wrong. And I'd be livid. I'm 3 weeks from getting the hell out of Americana and home ownership and all the middle class, Pink Houses bullshit and I can't wait. If this is being a "grown-up" then I want no part of it. At all. None. And, you know what? I don't even want to hear about yours because it just makes me tired. Although I can go home and crash on my couch in my absolutely spotless and quiet living room and enjoy the evening in peace, so maybe it does help foster an appreciation of the simpler, finer things in life. Who knows? Whatever. Anyway, he comes over Saturday to help me haul big trash items from my house to the landfill because I don't have a truck anymore. It's 85 degrees at 9:00 a.m. I can't hear myself think. Swallowing sounds like an explosion in my head. And if I move any faster than a snail on pot, I get sick. He then says, "if you get bored later, ride on over. If you help me spread some gravel, I'll make you dinner." As much as I didn't want a frozen pizza or a salad Saturday, somehow I managed to pass. Instead, I chose to spend the day high on Benadryl and watching the worst movies ever on the Sci-Fi Channel: Movies You Can Pass Out To! Needless to say, there was no physical labor in this boy's weekend. Although I did manage to pack some stuff up in the kitchen that I'm sure I'll never use again. That turkey roasting pan? Like I'm ever cooking a big bird again....well, maybe next 4th of July.

Every day is the first day....

Ok, I said I wasn't going to talk about work, but damn. I can't help it. There's this punk working here that can barely string a coherent sentence together, but then when he tries to do math or sort more than one order at a time to put on the printing press, it totally fries him out. And then you have to take him by the hand and literally put his hand on each plate for each run. I have never in my life seen a 20 something person so retarded. I'm waiting to have to spoon feed him his lunch one day. Ah, the corporate world. I seriously feel myself getting dumber some days around these idiots.

Speaking of Imbeciles On Parade, next week is the local Lawn Party/Carnival...it's a small town occurence all over the place around here every summer with rides and games and whatnot, but man does it bring the freaks out from under their rocks. People that haven't been to town in a year come out and it really is a sight to see. And, the food kicks ass. I used to be a carnie once upon a time (and stop picturing Joe Dirt....although I knew guys that looked like that) and the best part was the eating! Well, that and being able to work while you were drinking.....

Also in the works is a trip to Baltimore to see the Orioles and the Yanks play. Normally I wouldn't go because I don't like either of them, but, you see, a girl invited me. A girl. Getting tickets all on her own and fired up to go...invited ME. So, um, yeah...I can't turn that shit down. I mean, I don't know any girls that will watch baseball on television...much less drive 2 hours to see a game live and then want to go out to bars that night. I'm in HEAVEN. I can't wait til college football starts up. Hopefully most of my Saturdays will be booked. It's been a long time since I could say that I was looking forward to spending the weekend in front of the tv with a girl. ha! But, that's very far in the future at this point and I don't want to make plans nor do I want to get excited about something like that. But, we are both English majors and have a lot in common. See? There I go again. The next thing you know, I'll be planning the next year around her and will be screwed again. And not in a good way. Easy, boy. Easy.

In the meantime, however, I have to start packing my house up as it's supposed to be sold on August 1st. This is a scary thought. Not so much getting rid of the house because I never really liked it anyway, but the whole starting over thing again. Scarier yet is that I have no idea where I'm going after it's sold. Luckily, I can crash at my dad's for a month til I find a place. How sickening is that, though? 33 years old and moving home again. But, hey, the food's good and it's free, so it can't be all bad. And, it's only for a month, so I can hang in there that long. Or, rather, he can tolerate me for that long. Now I just need to get up off of my ass and start packing stuff and taking trash away so I don't look like my neighbors, the Beverley Hillbillies. I grew up in the country, but man am I sick of these backwoods bastards. Being from the country is one thing, but being ignorant is a whole other ball of wax, ear wax that is...(cue BH theme music here).

If I soon don't get over this sinus thingummy I have going on this week, they're going to find me with my ears cut off like Van Gogh trying to release the pressure in my head.

The 4th and all that jazz.....

Somewhere along the line, it's gotten to be July. Specifically, the 4th of July (well, it WILL be). You know, the big holiday where people pile the whole damn family into a mini van and head out for overpriced vacations on overcrowded beaches and just pray the whole time for sanity enough not to choke the life out of either a) the people with them or b) the people around them. The holiday where the rest of us who can't afford a big trip or would rather take a vacation when the rest of the world is at home rather than where we're going drink too much beer and get too much sun and grill something. Chicken, shrimp, hot dogs, hamburgers, pork, small rodents, it doesn't matter as long as the grill is going. In celebration of this great American Tradition, my father has decided that he's having turkey and such tomorrow because "hey, turkeys were on sale and I got one." Nice, pop. It's like Thanksgiving in the fucking summertime. So now not only will I be sitting in an un-airconditioned upstairs kitchen where more than 2 beers is not allowed, but the oven will be on. Color me excited. No really. Color me something because I'm pretty sure that between it being 100 degrees in there and me sweating out tonight's alcohol, I'm going to be the color of a very hot, sweaty ghost. There may be a fireworks show in his town, though, after dark and those are always fun because there's a chance you'll hear someone scream when a still smoldering rocket plummets into their skull. Ah, small town life. So, in celebration of all those men and women who fought and are fighting for freedom all over the world, go drink some beer, grill some meat, and light some things on fire!

I liked you better when you were drinking....

Yes, that title applies to a lot of people I know, but today I'm using it to refer to Robin Williams. Apparently Robin has had his issues with drugs and alcohol and has recently straightened himself out. Well, that's all fine and dandy for his family and friends, but what about the rest of us? Just because he's sober now and a "family man," why does that mean that I have to suffer through the slew of horribly craptacular films he keeps putting out there. I mean, seriously. Robin, I'm glad you wanted to turn your life around. But, why punish me? You weren't bitch slapping me and cussing at me and running around on me. And, you didn't ask my opinion. So, buddy, get a little coke and have a drink because I do miss you acting like a total nut-job all the time. And, if your wife gets mad again, send her my way and we'll spend your money for you.

Sincerely,

J.