It's Not You....It's Me

EmEmEx

2010-01-24T10:00:00.000-07:00

I've fallen upon 2010 kind of haphazardly. I've bought into a lot of that hype that it's a new decade, a new beginning, a new era. It's been so long since I blogged about anything, that I had to sit and reread all of these older posts to remember where I was, which space in my head, when I felt the need to share. Then it dawned on me. I am now where I was wishing I could be at the height of my blogging. I was missing the midwest, missing my family, looking for a better job, higher pay, trying to figure my way out of my horrible relationship, & trying to navigate all of these changes through waters that I kept very calm from the outside looking in. All of these changes were a bit of a shock to most of those around me at the time. I didn't let on too much how unhappy I was in the world. It's hard to enact change & keep up the status quo at the same time. I mastered it.
Now I live in the midwest. I have a great job. I get paid almost twice as much as I did two years ago. I have broken off that horrible relationship once & for all. I slowly & surely showed my friends & family how unhappy I was & moved on.
So why does it still feel like I'm struggling?
It feels this way because, as with all things in life, the road to the goal is often littered with compromise & adjustment.
I'm resurrecting this blog to flesh out these feelings & these struggles. Get some perspective. I need it. I need an outlet.

In other news....

2008-07-23T10:43:00.005-06:00

What is it about fallen Serbian politicians/war criminals that make them think they should represent themselves in court? Is there some errant episode of L.A.Law on reruns over there, where Harry Hamlin loses a case to a crazy Eastern European millionaire, making every Timur, Dosev and Radko think they can take on Western judiciaries?

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25810899/

Oh, and I would be remiss if I didn't also mention that it is now perfectly legal to refer to women who prefer women as Lesbians. The courts of Lesbos have struck down a lawsuit that would have opened a legal path for residents of the flannel wearing Mediterranean isle to sue those who identified themselves as lesbians, or use the term in advertising or marketing, unless they were actually legal citizens of Lesbos. With this challenge decided, the gay community has now turned its full attention to an ongoing legal battle between a group of same-sex partners and the residents of Ass Pirate Cove, Florida.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25798114/

A knock on the door at 2:30am

2008-07-21T04:16:00.002-06:00

Here I sit, at 2:30am, creeped out and quite awake after an encounter with a stranger at my front door. My dog, Fred, jumped out of bed and started barking ferociously in the front room. When I finally realized that this bark was not the bark he uses to scare away passing dogs from the front windows, but a much more angry bark, I got up and instinctively grabbed my cell phone. I have a large glass front door, and standing in my doorway was a young kid, probably 18 or so, shakily holding on to my front door with his eyes closed. When I approached the door I asked him what he wanted. He lazily opened his eyes and then mumbled that he wanted a glass of water. I told him that he needed to leave. He stood there for another minute, eyes closed. I told him again that he needed to leave and that I was calling the police, at which point he took off his baseball cap and held it above his head, then opened his eyes and stared me down. I called 911, and asked if they could send someone out. The kid staggered away.
The exchange was quite creepy. I'm pretty sure the kid was messed up on something, be it weed or booze, and just didn't know where he was, but for someone just coming out of a deep sleep, it was eerie and gave me that sick feeling in my gut that you get when your heart starts racing and your brain tries to suppress the flood of fight or flight chemicals that come with a startling situation. Thankfully, I have Freddy here to keep watch over the house and yard, but even Fred doesn't want to leave the front room, now, in case something happens or the stranger comes back.
Sitting here, listening for every creak and thump from the outside world, I can't help but chide myself for watching all of those reality crime "investigations" on MSNBC. Especially the one about the four people in Wichita, who responded to a knock on their front door and endured hours of assault, rape and finally, death. The logical part of me knows that the chances of that happening to me are quite astronomical, but now that the thought was planted there by the ominous reporting staff at MSNBC, there is a part of me, living inside the irrational part of my brain, that is terrified and assuming that I just thwarted a full scale robbery and assault with the help of my trusty sidekick, Fred, and my cell phone.
While I know that I'm lucky in many ways, after all, the police are currently darting up and down my street, and the adjoining side streets, with flood lights attached to powerful SUVs, I also hate living in the city during times like this. I have being exposed to crime and crazy and the chaotic randomness of things, because of my surroundings. I know that crime exists everywhere, but that doesn't make me feel any better at 3:00am, wondering who that kid was, and whether or not he was simply a person genuinely in need of water and help, or if he was really playing passive to gain entry to my home. There is a part of me that wants to believe that people are generally good, and that we have become a nation of freaked out potential victims because of our daily exposure to all the bad news and crimes we hear about on the news. The news organs know we can't resist hearing about the latest rape & robbery, or the gruesome details of a home invasion or car jacking, but I think the fascination is more about our curiosity of seeing a car accident and craning our heads to see the gory details than it is about educating ourselves about the surrounding environment and protecting ourselves and our loved ones. But then there is a voice in the back of my head that tells me that part of me is naive, and that I should be wary of everyone, and trust nothing.
I'd like to hope that those two voices meet somewhere in the middle, and that I can believe in the good of people without becoming a victim, and be cautious and street smart without living a life of angry, grinchy, selfishness.
I'd also like to get some sleep - but those two voices are still yelling at each other.

Digging in and digging up

2008-07-14T17:02:00.004-06:00

I have wracked my brain the last week, trying to put into words my complex mother issues, having just recently visited her for her birthday. I can't. Stay with me for this one, folks....
Remember Pulp Fiction? It's one of my all time favorite movies, for many reasons, some very obvious, some very personal. Remember the mysterious brief case that seemed to be the focus of much of the movie, albeit wonderfully distracted by the mayhem of dialogue and editing? My mother issues are the contents of that brief case. Every once and a while I have the occasion to crack open that case, and when I do my eyes bug out and my face is bathed in it's dysfunctional golden glow. Slack jawed and without words to begin to describe the depth of horror and guilt and wonderment and ludicrosity, that's right I made up a word - deal with it!, I have to just slowly shut the case and move on. I just can't articulate what it is. All I know is that it is present in me, and it rears it's head on occasion.

One of the main reasons I haven't been able to concentrate on my mother issues is that I was contacted this week by an ex-girlfriend. That's right - there was a time back during the Jurassic Era, when I roamed the boggy lands of the Great Plains, that I dated a girl. In fact, she was kind of the last serious girl I dated before evolving into the wonderfully talented and wise gay you have come to know and love. And she saw me on Facebook and emailed me. And I was kind of rocked back on my heels by it, I have to say.
I don't want to give too much of the juice away, more to protect the dignity of those involved and to allow the past to stay buried, but she was the last big deal, so to speak. I casually dated a girl or two after her, but only for appearances, and I selfishly let everyone around me know that this woman had broken my heart and should never be forgiven for doing so. When I left Omaha, to start a new life in the gay friendly red state of Arizona, I would bring her up in conversation from time to time, as the girl I almost married. The truth is that there was never a ring on her finger. I was saved from that embarrassment before I could actually buy the ring - but I had decided shortly before we broke up that I was going to buy a diamond and get down on one knee and propose to her, and came within days of doing so. At the time, I was way too humiliated to deal, and so I made a huge show of our breakup. Over time, I've come to realize that it was the best thing that probably ever happened to me in my entire life. It cracked the facade that I was trying to construct around me; the facade of the hetero family man that wanted a wife and kids and a house in Dundee. While plausibility is entirely relative to your perspective, I could've continued on that path and been one of those creepy middle aged, church going, kid having, soccer dads who end up in a police raid on the public bathrooms at Elmwood Park. I could've continued ruining life after life with my own denial problems into perpetuity.
But I didn't, because she probably saw what I couldn't, and did something about it. She really did break my heart at the time, but in looking back, I am so eternally grateful she did.
So I wrote her back. And before I was done filling her in on the last 10 years of my life, I asked her to forgive me for being such a shitty gay boyfriend. Just the way I'd practiced over and over in my head all these years. I crossed my fingers and pressed SEND. I hope she doesn't freak and never talk to me again, because I really do dig the idea of reconnecting with that past. That history. That era, shortly after man left the swamp to walk upright, when man had yet to order his first Frappaccino, and cell phones were only found on jailhouse walls.

Fire Fire Everywhere

2008-06-30T14:06:00.005-06:00

I know that it is not safe to snap camera phone pictures while driving 80 m.p.h., as I tend to do, but the fires just west of downtown Phoenix are so startling and surreal that I couldn't resist. Each day I drive the SR51, or Piestewa Peak Freeway, to and from work in North Scottsdale. As you come around the mountain pass heading south, heading home, it appears as though downtown Phoenix is under a churning mushroom cloud of cinder. It's really just west of downtown, in an uninhabited low forest area of desert on the Reservation, but the optical illusion from the freeway is disconcerting and leaves the imagination to it's work. The first day of the fires I literally dropped my phone in the middle of a call, in stunned silence, as many seemed to be doing as they set eyes on this wildfire for the first time. Traffic slowed, and you could see people scrambling to adjust their radio dials to a news channel. Since then, the fire has waged on, sometimes allowed to by the firefighters, who have had trouble accessing the fire due to it's remote setting. Friends of mine who live south of downtown have reported sore throats and coughs, along with the constant smell of burning wood in the past several days. I can only attest that my neighborhood has occassionally been dusted with falling ash, when the wind shifts to the east. My biggest inconvenience being that I drive a black car, which needs to be washed even moreso now that the ash and dust layer are thicker. Luckily, no houses or businesses are in the way of this fire - for now. I wonder how long it will burn untouched by humans, before nature takes it's course.

In other news....

2008-06-23T11:17:00.002-06:00

Former skydiving champ plunges to his death

Jun. 23, 2008 06:50 AM
Associated Press

LAKE ELSINORE, Calif. - A former national champion skydiver has died after his parachute failed to open during a weekend accident at Lake Elsinore in Riverside County, Calif.

Richard Alvin Schindler, an off-duty Riverside County sheriff's deputy, died Saturday. The 39-year-old had a back-up parachute, but there was no indication it had been deployed.

A Marine Corps veteran, Schindler began skydiving 15 years ago and had been working part-time at SkyDive Elsinore as an instructor.

At the 2005 U.S. National Skydiving Championships, Schindler was part of the Elsinore Equinox team that finished in first place in the four-way intermediate freestyle competition.

When asked about the tragic events, Wanda Pilsner, friend of the victim responded,

"BIG FUCKING SURPRISE, huh?"

Sorry, I couldn't resist. This was on the front page of the Arizona Republic today, and stories like this make me crazy!
I know I'm going to hell, but at least I'll know how to dress when I get there.

Now he'll finally have his answer!

2008-06-23T09:09:00.003-06:00

Today George Carlin will finally get his answer. He'll finally know if his theory on life in this great society of ours was closer to truth, or merely a brilliantly genius take.
I wonder which of the seven words you can say in Heaven?

Thank you, Mr. Russert. You will be missed.

2008-06-13T17:39:00.004-06:00

I am normally not one to jump on the celebrity pumping band wagon or self congratulatory and aggrandizing capitalization off of others misery, but I would be remiss if I did not say a word about Tim Russert's passing today.
It was a shock. It just doesn't seem like in this day and age we think about middle aged men dropping dead of a heart attack at work. Maybe in 1976, but not today.
It is saddening. I am sad for his family and friends, but I know that the biggest loss that will be felt far into the future is the loss of his integrity and ethics in the profession of journalism. He is one of the last great journalists that graced us with their wisdom, insight, forthright honesty and candor in the face of great, powerful, and wealthy men and women. He was someone that we could trust to stand up for the rest of us when he interviewed presidents, world leaders, shamed senators and candidates for higher office. He was one we could count on to call 'bullshit' when someone was blowing air up our asses.
I had the luck to meet him once, at a work function. He spoke at our dinner and gave us all signed copies of his latest book. During his speech he began talking about the special connections that he's made over the years, with hundreds and probably thousands of people who have shared his passion for honoring their parents, as he did in his books. He got choked up when he started talking about his father, and the occassion when his father publicly began praising him for being such a wonderful son. He made everyone in that room wish that they could run to their fathers that night and hug them and tell them how much they meant to us. It is that intangible way of making you want to be a better person, despite all the heaping crap life throws your way, that made Tim Russert a great man.
We should all try, in his name, to be a little better to each other from now on, since we can no longer count on his earthly prodding.

Another sunny hot day in the desert

2008-06-10T13:31:00.003-06:00

What I wouldn't give for a good ol' fashioned midwestern thunderstorm today. Hot, sticky, then a sharp breeze. Then that sharp breeze is followed up by a deeper, harder wind that sweeps across the yard, bending a few branches and sending up some scattered leaves. Sprinkles first, then the patter. Then sharp raps on the windows, as giant drops are propelled by the coming winds. Thunder, shallow and wilting at first, then crashing in a short hard burst, like a megaton bowling ball dropped haphazardly on the floor. As the rain picks up, the lightening becomes brighter, more frequent, more strobe. The storm presses on your four walls.
And when the storm is at it's peak - the full tilt boogey of crashing clouds, creaking rafters, the weight of mother nature baring down on your house - you forget all your problems. No work matters, no lonely, suffocating long term relationships. No bills, and no family squabbles. Just his storm. Reminding you that your life is insignificant to what mother nature can do in two hours.
I can't wait to one day get back to the midwest for a good ol' fashioned thunderstorm. I miss it.

The Award for Most Obvious Observation Goes To...

2008-05-29T21:35:00.002-06:00

Scott McClellan. Really, folks? Is he the one person we forgot to check in with when we were all running around wringing our hands about going to war? It was Scott McClellan all along? He was the only one who knew for sure that President Crazy Batshit was bluffing us all into some twisted ego-driven, propagandist fueled, sicko war in the Middle East?
I used to walk around muttering, much like my Grandpa B., that "if you're not completely outraged, you're not paying attention." I knew this war was a fiasco from the very moment the Commander in Chief started his nannering about the evils of Iraq and Saddam Hussein, coincidentally, his daddy's old buddy. I knew it - my friends knew it - strangers I met on the street fucking knew it. Who didn't know it? Oh, I forgot - you.
You didn't realize this was patent leather bullshit, did you. Not when they couldn't produce a single credible shred of evidence of chemical weapons. Not when the U.N. Inspectors couldn't come up with a single molecule of Anthrax in the whole of Iraq. Not when the international community, who had a few spies of their own on the ground, thankyouverymuch, outright protested and refused to go along with this whole sham. You still went along with it. Fine. I'll give you credit for sticking to your guns, Salty Joe. But if you insist on giving the entire administration a pass for "lessons learned" or "faulty intelligence" then you have to at least give the rest of us credit being so amazingly flabbergasted that no one is calling for Senate hearings and impeachment charges in light of the President's own Press Secretary admitting that the whole thing was a propagandist lie perpetrated on the American public.
What happened to us, folks? If this was 1998 instead of 2008, we'd be descending into political chaos, lashing out and calling every Senator, Congressman and Judge in the country and asking them to hold public hearings and drag the President into the town square for a naked whipping and castration.
But W didn't get a blowjob from an intern...instead he blew the hell out of a sovereign country. Don't get me wrong, Iraq has never been as socially progressive and prone towards individual liberty as, say, Tennessee, but there are also about 30 countries with worse records ahead of them in the Shame Line at the Morally Objectionable Savings and Loan.
Where's the outrage? Where are the shallow, pompous Senators and civic leaders pounding their righteous shoes on our pulpits? Where is the accountability?
Standing in line at Ace Hardware today, I actually heard an old retired fart tell the cashier that "all this hubbub is just pointless and a waste of time and money" since "he'll be gone in a year anyways." Really? Is that your moral highground shaking, or is it your meds?
If we're not going to "waste time and money" on pursuing the type of justice that examines and sifts through war crimes, fraud, propaganda, illegitimate use of armies and the slaughter of thousands of our own children and even more thousands of innocent foreigners, then perhaps the waste of time and money is actually the constitution that these men and women are out there fighting to preserve and protect. (I almost put that last phrase in quotes, but I didn't want to in any way lead you to think I feel their work, sweat, blood, tears and very lives are any less valiant than their sworn duties.)
Everytime I think I'm scraping the bottom of the shame cave that I feel for my government, this moron and his billionaire buddies give me a new low. Can't wait for him to be out of the White House - INDEED, but I do not think that our national and intentional ignorance of the gravity of his crimes is justified by any means.
There should be papers served at dawn tomorrow morning, and a fair and thorough investigation at once. We, as a nation, and especially those who serve and love service members, deserve nothing short of a transparent, fair, and very public waste of our time and money.
And the first person called up, should be Scott McClellan, whose self serving honesty should never be hailed as brave, heroic or admirable, but rather just as shameful in it's tardiness as his complicity at the time these moral and legal obligations to the public trust were broken.

It's not mean if it's true & other Michael Thomas Ford cliches

2008-05-20T10:46:00.003-06:00

I have a bad habit of saying exactly what's on my mind without a filter. It's not meant as a malicious or hurtful thing, it's something, in fact, I find there's not enough of in the world. There was a time, when I first moved to Phoenix, that I had no friends, save for the books I checked out at the library, as I couldn't even afford the zillions of books I worked with on a daily basis. Michael Thomas Ford became my hero during those bus stop filled days. He was my gay older brother, guiding me through life as a young gay man in a new, exceedingly large city. His book, It's Not Mean If It's True, was particularly influential because the very title was mantra that meant something to me. You see, at the time, I was going on a lot of bad dates with men who I met online and in bars. 99% were complete losers who figured that their only chance of scoring a date, not just with me, but with anyone, was to lie, cheat and steal. I quickly realized that the number one quality I was looking for was simply someone who told the truth - even if it hurt! Thus, the idea that you can say anything, so long as it's true and you mean it, was born, and that we shouldn't be held so accountable for how it makes others feel. Not a perfect theory, I know. I also know it's clearly not how the world works.
I've recently been chided by my harshest critics for doing what I call "telling the truth" but what they call "being mean." I get why it can be mean, rude, hurtful and unhelpful to say certain things, I'm not a moron, nor am I insensitive. As a matter of fact, I think that many times my perceptions and observations are made because I am sensitive, admittedly sometimes overly sensitive, and not because I feel the need to malign, hurt, or polarize a person.
If I have spinach in my teeth, I expect you to tell me. I'll do the same for you. For me, telling the brutal truth is not a sign of negativity, or subversion, it's a sign of trust, truthfulness, and integrity. But that's just me.
So for all of you who have been stung by something I have said, I apologize. Those who know me, know the difference between things I say that rub you the wrong way, and things I say to intentionally hurt you. There are three statements in my life that I seem to see as a sort of recurring lesson plan:

It's not mean if it's true.
Everything in moderation, especially moderation.
Mostly negative, but always optimistic.

I know that one day I'll achieve some sort of enlightenment on the meaning of these things, and I'll understand a bigger picture, a higher meaning, and a deeper responsibility to these things and the world around me. Until then, I'm going to try and be the best person I know how to be, even if that means telling the truth once and a while. No offense.

About this Rev. Wright business....

2008-04-28T11:43:00.000-06:00

Don't fool yourselves - John McCain and Hilary Clinton would both attend Trinity church this Sunday if they thought it would get them elected.
A couple of points. I think that it's so kind of CNN and Fox News to finally achieve a modicum of journalistic integrity and air the entire speeches of the Rev. Wright. I think that it's likely a coincidence that this controversial figure has a chance at hurting a major presidential candidate, and likely not the intended consequence of suddenly deciding to set aside sound byte journalism and air speeches and comments in full. It makes me wonder why now. Why not when John McCain gave the speech where he called for the U.S. Military to prepare to stay in Iraq for 100 years. Only heard a small sound byte of that speech. I wonder why that is? I only hope that these networks continue with their new found policy of allowing all figures with ties to the major presidential candidates to get equal and thorough airtime.
As far as Rev. Wright is concerned, I'm happy to hear him out. I'm a big boy, and while I do not have the education that he does, I have an ability that lacks in our society: the ability to listen and agree to disagree. The ability to recognize the difference between rhetoric, religion and racism. To understand that people from different backgrounds have different points of view. So it doesn't bother me when the Rev. says these things, and I'm not worried in the least that our next president, Barack Obama, will act on any of the Rev. Wrights theories.
To anyone out there that feels it is fair to base the entire viability of a candidate on their assumed religious beliefs, I would caution you to look closely at our own president, and the tenets of his religion. It is a fine and rare occasion that I agree with anything W has to say, and the largest problems I have with him and his policies are the ones where he drags his overbearing religious beliefs into our mainstream and into our government.
I'm a big believer in the separation of church and state, but I know many on the conservative right are not. My admonishment to them: Be careful what you wish for, the church you want representing your government may not always be YOUR church, suckers!

Meet Sebastian

2008-04-22T11:16:00.004-06:00

Hi Folks! I'd like you to meet my new friend Sebastian - the sebaceous cyst. He was removed from my forehead yesterday in a short, comical, outpatient procedure. He's about the size of a butter bean, and looks kind of like an oyster cracker in texture and shape. He's non-cancerous, non-threatening, and is keeping mum about why he decided to grow to twice his size in the last few months. I jokingly told the nurse to save him for me, and she did. I didn't quite know what to say when he was presented to me as I left. Should I act gracious, or horrified. I think I pulled it off with a mixture of thankfulness while feeling like a serial killer on the inside at the same time. Nonetheless, I'm stuck with him now. He's either a good luck charm, or grotesque reminder of the randomness and complexity of the human body. Either way, he's just going to sit on my CD case until I figure out what to do with him.

Top 5 Forgotten Sitcoms

2008-04-20T11:43:00.003-06:00

1. Jennifer Slept Here - I can't get the theme song out of my head today. I wonder what Ann Jillian is doing today?
2. It's A Living - Crystal Bernard stole this show.
3. Out of This World - Although completely different in terms of substance, it had the exact same structure of every Golden Girls episode.
4. Misfits of Science - fuck Friends, this is Courtney Cox's best work.
5. Angie - Why doesn't Donna Pescow work more?

What's your favorite forgotten sitcom?

5 Things I Hate About Giving Your Two Weeks...a tiny rant

2008-04-08T20:12:00.003-06:00

Any issue that is brought to my attention, and is preceded with the phrase "not that it matters to you, but...."
People who react to your resignation with "I'm mad at you...." HAHAHAHAHA!
Cleaning my office
The feeling that any of the countless hours I've put in will be for naught. Policies will change, work schedules will change, people will be told that what they did might have been fine for me, but the new GM wants it this way.
The sneaking feeling that I WON'T be missed.

Okay...I'm a big boy. I can handle it, I just wanted to get it off my chest. I know what it was like going into a new store and having to change things, and I know that everyone has to do it. I'm trying to combat these feelings with the idea that I'm going into a new place and will probably change things too. And truly, my problem with #1 is that I AM struggling with the idea that today I'm caring about something that won't be a concern to me in two weeks. I mean, today I received the preliminary numbers for my store's total losses for 2007. This number makes a difference to me today, and how I deal with my staff and my store today, but honestly, I don't have any control over how the next person is going to deal with the problems, and I really won't care.

I'm also just a little creeped out by the two-faced baby in India. It literally gives me the willies, physically, when I think about it. http://www.azcentral.com/offbeat/articles/2008/04/08/20080408indiatwo--odd.html

Canadian Cooking & other surprises

2008-04-06T14:39:00.002-06:00

I feel like I've been two-timed. Like my lover just revealed a big BIG secret that should've been obvious all along. Like he was a girl. Or more appropriately, like he had a family in Toronto. Maybe I'm being a little over dramatic.
Today, quite by accident, as I searched for Kylie Kwong's recipe for soy sauce eggs, I stumbled across the Food Networks CANADIAN website. Yes. Canadian. Apparently, there is a maple laden sister to my beloved Food Network. www.foodtv.ca, instead of www.foodtv.com. How. Dare. They. Whole new shows and chefs that I didn't even know existed. But why should I be surprised? It just makes me wonder what else is out there hiding in the .ca realm. It's my new obsession.
So Kylie Kwong's Soy Sauce Eggs. If you like hard boiled eggs, you have to try them. They are more than just salty, spicy eggs, they are a condiment and a side. Here's the recipe, slightly tweaked.

6 medium eggs boiled in water for 6 minutes, then cooled with cold water and allowed to rest for a half hour.
1 cup regular soy sauce
2 tbsp dark soy sauce
1 medium twig of sliced fresh ginger, about 10-15 slices, the thickness of a nickel
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1 cup water
1 tbsp crushed red chili

After you boil and let the eggs rest, peeled them very carefully.
Combine all the other ingredients in a medium pot and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat to a simmer, stir well to make sure all the sugar has dissolved. Carefully add in peeled eggs. On Kylie's show, she left a couple of eggs unpeeled and then peeled them at the end to show the difference on the plate. Whatever.
After the eggs simmer for one hour (be sure to gently stir them or they'll become dark on one side and dingy on the other), cover and let them sit for at least another 1/2 hour. Refrigerate and slice over your favorite meat dish, noodles or anything you deem worthy. Y-Uhm!

Later, I'm experimenting with Sichuan peppercorns and BBQ. I love days off like this!

New Year, New You...Fuck You.

2008-01-02T15:31:00.000-07:00

Let me start off by saying that I made no resolutions, so the fact that I totally ditched this morning to stay home and blog is merely coincidental. Just to make it more coincidental, I waited all damn day, till 4 o'clock in the afternoon, just to prove that I didn't get up this morning with an agenda to start blogging every frickin' day to see if it helps me relieve the tension and frustration and depression that I carry around. I'm just sayin'.

So it's a new year and I'm supposed to just forget that all that crap last year happened and move along, is that the deal? I'm trying. I just can't let go of a few issues yet. Maybe next week. Maybe if I just take a shitty thing that happened in 07 and work on one per week in 08, I'll be able to get over my shit by the time we elect a new president. Maybe. I'm not promising you anything. I come from a long line of grudge holders and bitter, harsh, cruel people, and I can latch on to issues with the pros.

So my New Year's party was pretty much a blur. I don't think I was drunk, just harried. I like to party, but I came to realize during my post-New Years binge at Arriba's Mexican Grill coma that I like people too much to be so casual with them. I want to just sit down and really talk to a person, ask poignant questions, smoke a joint with them and talk about what they were doing on 9/11 and shit like that. I love people too much to just chit-chat about how much they like this certain kind of cheddar, without probing and asking questions about their childhood and their relationship with all of their grade school teachers, individually, as if I will reveal to them that the secret to their love of only certain types of cheddar might lie in their reading group assignment in Mrs. Crayton's 4th Grade Class. Because to be honest, I think about that shit.

I do.

It's true.

The horror is that I usually start thinking about that right about the time the other person gets to the second or third word in their chit-chat and before I know it, I'm blurting out some non-sequitur that only makes sense in the fucked up cocktail party world in my head. It usually goes something like this....

Partygoer: Who brought this Shiraz? It's so good with this cheese...

Me: The Chinese, but my aunt swears to god my uncle killed it just so he wouldn't have to pay taxes on it.

Partygoer: Huh?
Me: I'm just kidding, I love the wine. (We were talking about the wine, right?)

Someone needs to track down the home phone number of the members of the band Of Montreal, then prank them late at night, every night, by calling and reciting the names of their songs to them over the phone. Just read one right after another. Pretentious bastards.

I would be remiss, or is it remissed (?), if I didn't also admit that 08 is all about politics. I really wish that I could bottle up and capture the spirit of how wide open our political future is right now because I know that as soon as the Iowa caucuses happen tomorrow, the vision of what we can change in America will start to narrow. By October, we'll be so sick of looking at those two or four faces that we'll just start voting out of anger.

But today, oh today, this lovely day. Today America can dream of ending poverty, of sweeping domestic changes. Today, we can imagine a world where we embrace each other for out diversity and begin to place value, real value, on the encouragement of ideas, education, respect and dignity for every person living in this country. (Fuck the dead, they can't vote)

Today we can dare dream of the day when we begin to assume the best in a person, not the worst. When it suddenly becomes en vogue to work towards a goal instead of force a rigid set of standards down the rest of the worlds proverbial throat. Of course, today is only 24 hours. After that, we'll start scrutinizing the punctuation of speeches, making big sweeping judgments about how a person looks in a suit or how they did their taxes 30 years ago. We'll start telling each other what a dumbshit some other person is, because of what we heard about them in a 30 second commercial. We'll start allowing the media to waste money on stories like "What does John Edwards order at McDonald's, and how does that determine his policy on North Korea?" It will get old, and tired, and tedious, and by October, we'll be too pissed off at the candidates, the media and each other to make a clear and honest decision about anything. Sound cynical?

Maybe.

But my cynicism doesn't stem from a lack of respect for our system, it stems from a frustration with our choices and the people who run our system. I can't think of any aspect of American government that isn't already chewed up and manipulated to either make money or gain power for someone I'll never meet or know. Every politician is bought and sold, that's not cynicism, that's a fact! I'm not saying I'd do any better! I'm sure every one of them, or at least the majority, heh-heh, started out meaning to do good. But special interests, whores, lobbyists, and the scum of the earth, three steps below car salesman and food reps on the sleaze-o-meter, have figured the system out. They've figured out how slowly government can move and used it to their advantage. It worries me.

Case in point. Just today I saw a story on CNN about how a greenhouse in west Texas has figured out a way to grow green algae in hanging plastic bags, and turn it into usable fuel that out-powers corn at three to four times the rate. The reporter said that if we simply covered 10% of New Mexico, to put it in relative terms, with these farms, we could power the entirety of the U.S.A. without ever buying, selling or drilling for another drop of oil again. The very next story was about how oil hit $100 a barrel today, and how we should all take a CNN online poll to discuss what we think about that.

This green algae story should be HUGE FUCKING NEWS! It should be "we hate to interrupt your soap operas, but look what we found" news! The president should be standing with that farmer, awarding him some sort of medal of freedom or honor and pledging to build those farms. Perhaps he could even use cheap Mexican labor and divert the funds from building a wall to keep them out, to building algae farms and keeping them employed. I mean, it's free fucking renewable fuel! Right?

No.

I just now went to CNN.com to include the link from the story so you could see for yourselves, but I gave up looking for it after 10 minutes because it's fucking buried so far up someones ass we're going to have to invade another country to find a drill big enough to bore it out. It disgusting. And unrelenting, if you ask me.

But it's a new year, full of possibilities and hope! A guy can dream, right?

And what New Years blog would be caught dead to rights without a predictions section? Here's a couple that I'm anxious to see come to fruition:

Someone famous, possibly black, Asian or Hispanic, will come out of the closet this year. We'll be shocked. We'll all talk about how it's so brave of them because it's just not done in their culture. We'll make a few jokes and see a few cartoons on mass-email-forwards that our second cousins husband will send around on one of the three times he sits down to a computer this year. At the end of the year, we'll all applaud him/her again when they present a Grammy or Golden Globe. We'll all secretly wait for them to get a DUI, check into rehab, get into a public scrap with a conservative celebrity, or take out an ad in the New York Times. Then we'll cackle like witches while simultaneously swearing to our friends that we don't know that much about it.

The country will get caught up in a flurry of frenzy about a social issue and the Catholic League will issue a statement. Millions will hear about it on Headline News and never ask themselves who is in the Catholic League, where their headquarters is, how much dues are to join, or do enough poking around to find out that it's literally like the Wizard of Oz, just a man with fancy contraption like computer that writes to newspapers and businesses on behalf of his notion of the catholic congregations of America.

There will be a half ton man or woman somewhere in this country who gains fame when they check in to a hospital to try and lose weight. We will never know if they do or not. We will never ask them to describe that day when they could just barely fit through the front door and what they did that night in response. We'll never know what flavor pizza, or which brand of chips was the magic one that put them over the edge and made them an invalid.

There will be a natural disaster somewhere. Americans will be moved by 24 hour reports and graphic pictures to donate. We'll forget the name of that place within 30 weeks. We will forget how much we donated within 10. We will literally say at a dinner party in 09, "Hey hon, what was the name of that place we saw on TV. The one that we donated money to? What language do they speak there again?"

Someone in your office, work or family gathering will start a story with "I'm not prejudiced, but...." and will contradict themselves before the story is finished. At least once.

In the meantime, I will keep reading my horoscope everyday, even though I have no clue who writes it or why I should trust them, let alone the stars, to guide me though my day. (It's just so much easier to blame when you're an asshole) I'll play the occasional lottery, but not every one, even though I know in my heart that my randomly generated numbers are always called, in order, on the nights when I don't buy a ticket. I'll only buy when it's on the news, or I'm broke. In so far as resolutions go, however, I'm making none. Well, maybe one. To spend more time with friends. And I don't mean fair weather friends, but the ones who really matter. You know the ones. You know who you are. I love you, if your reading. More than you know. Enough to sit here in the middle of the day and wonder about your 4th grade reading assignment and it's connection to your taste in cheeses. And that's a lot.

Jealousies and Disasters

2007-11-05T12:13:00.001-07:00

Going back to work has become a disaster. I reported back, as planned, on Thursday, only to leave early with weeping wounds, extreme leg pain, and an embarrassment that I hid behind my sunglasses. I just couldn't do it.
I'm tired of talking about it to my friends, too. Everyone has advice, which I welcome, but it's always topical advice like "Oh, you want to take some time now, rather than get worse later." I understand that, I really do. What I don't get is how I'm supposed to know when I'm better to go back to work, especially when I hate my job so much. My big fear is that I'm going to fuck this up and create a mess, leaving work after 12 hard years with nothing to show for it. I have to admit, too, that I have a gross fear of my boss.
She's a nice enough woman, and I've always had a lot of respect for her. She's pretty much no-nonsense, and has come through for me on various occassions. However, in the last six months, our relationship seems like it's eroded and deteriorated. I took over a troubled store from her and moved two rather large mountains that her previous managers couldn't deal with to any success. The store is under-performing, difficult to manage because of geographical location and the clientele/customer-base. I've tried many different ways to manage the situation, but I've seen very little results in line with expectations. I used to think that I wasn't very good at communicating to her my needs, resources, and efforts to her, but now I've come to resent our relationship and the clear disappointment she has shown in me. Truthfully, her praise and support were the only things allowing me to hang on at work, and now that she rarely returns my calls, slowly responds to my requests, and all out ignores me some weeks, I'm completely turned off and resigned to just find another place to work.
And then the accident came. At a very bad time, workwise. And it underscored and opened my eyes to what I've really known all along. I don't want to be there. At all. And to be there is seriously giving me psychological health problems, and day by day, killing my soul. Not just like "Work-a-Day" sing-song, work sucks-"killing my soul", but like crisis in identity, taking handfuls of pills to sleep at night, allowing it to ruin relationships "killing my soul." I've never been on this kind of trip before - my job was always something I could rely on to be a steady partner through tough times. Without it, I've been forced to really look around at the state of my life, and I've discovered that I've been hanging on by a thread in many different areas. Areas that I could ignore so long as I was buried in my success at work.
So what is it going to be? I just don't know today. I do know that I was up at 3am this morning, laying there worrying about work. Worrying about having to talk to my boss today, to tell her that I'm still on sick leave. Worrying about all the work that awaits me when I get back. Worrying about how I'm going to get to work everyday, and how I'm going to get home. Worrying about what my employees think about what's going on with me, and angry that not one of them has sent me a card. Worried that I really am as hated as I feel I am at that store.
After a pain killer and a piece of pie, thank god for homemade apple pie, I lulled myself back to sleep for a couple of hours. But what do you think my first thought of the day was?
I need out. I need answers. I need help. Where is the miracle I've been praying for? Who will help me out of this mess? How can I overcome this obstacle?
But I have to believe. It's always darkest.....

A new lease

2007-10-31T17:41:00.000-06:00

I'm going to get better about posting. I've had a lot of time recently to post, as I was recently in a traffic accident and have been pretty much confined to home for the past two weeks. It's given me a lot to think about, but as per usual, only today, my last day before returning to work, do I have the will to sit down and pound out a post; to share.
October was a horrible month. It's in my top five horrible time periods of my life so far. It started with a huge HR mess at work, betrayal by my staff, and uncomfortable, fruitless conversations, and ended with me recovering from an accident. Oct.2007 - you nasty fuckin' month - I'm glad to see you go.
I'm a huge believer in the whole "it's darkest before dawn" philosophy on life, and so I'm betting on November to be a stellar month. I'm really hoping a few things play out:
1. I get a new job. Something wonderful falls into my lap and I can say goodbye to the worst working experience I've had since I entered the workforce.
2. Matthew and I find resolution. We had a very nice conversation at lunch today, one that opened my eyes to a lot of things. We actually communicated without one of us losing it, or getting angry.
We've been in a deadlock in our relationship for quite sometime, and it was nice to be able to talk openly and honestly about how it's made me feel without shouting, crying, or feeling challenged on every little word I say. I think he finally realises that my feelings lay in sane reality, and not in the mind of a crazy person with an agenda.
If either of these issues in my life improved, I'd have to call 2007 a success. A bitch of a year, but a success nonetheless.

Wait a minute! I thought smoking was bad for society...

2007-02-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

I knew it was only a matter of time before the bitching began. As a smoker, I have been keenly aware of how much money in state & local taxes I've been paying for the past several years. The price of a pack of cigarettes has more than tripled since I began smoking. Smokers pay for sports stadiums and municipal buildings, neither of which you can smoke in, and we supposedly pay for healthcare too. I'm not bitching about that. In fact, the most recent taxes on cigarettes were levied from a bill I happily voted for - to bring basic healthcare to all grade school children in class.
But all along I've maintained that there's something not right about this slipperly slope of a game the government has played with tobacco. On one hand they say it's a killer, and on another they it's a wonderful source of income. They are happy to subsidise tobacco farming, and produce public service announcements declaring tobacco companies to be liars and death mongers. If what they say is true, how could any body of democratic government, regardless of party or creed, not see fit to outlaw the plant altogether, as they have with various other drugs and plants? I know why...because the love the money!
And sure enough! Now that the cost prohibitive taxes, state wide smoking bans and re-education commercials are starting to work, the states have begun bitching about the lack of money rolling in!
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/0216tobaccotaxes0216.html
What is a modern state government to do?

This post never happened. And you can't prove it!

2007-02-09T18:26:00.000-07:00

As a self described progressive liberal, in theory of course, as I yet to live a day that I enjoy the benefits of living in such a society and seeing what it's really like, I am, of course, utterly dumbfounded when I hear of people who can actually look at all of the facts, historical, physical, scientific or otherwise, and still deny that the Holocaust happened. Even if I suppose that I'm new to the planet and look through all of the media, read all of the books, newspapers and hear actual first hand accounts from survivors, on my very best day, with my very best open mind, I would still, having no first hand knowledge, have to conclude that it happened. It's just simply inconceivable that you could deny it. It happened. It was probably the most disgusting and horrific human act to date in our species, and yes, it has luckily shaped, though not as much as I believe it should have, the way we look at the world today. It was calculated, graphically violent and hideous, and should not in any way be glorified. Or denied.
And yet, a full 60 years on from the actual event, people still linger out there in the shadows, and sometimes at full blown academic conferences, but most certainly in the sick recesses of our culture, who actually try to forward the notion that it was all a giant ruse. A big media sham of a plot for the Jews to incite guilt and take power in the world from anyone non-Jewish. How does this happen?
I used to think that the German and Austrian laws forbidding anyone from denying the Holocaust were a bit too stringent for my American "freedom of speech" loving sensibilities. I mean, it's one thing to be a bigot, a racist, and a supporter of genocide - it happens for a number of reasons, to this day all over the world, and not just against Jews - and in our free society we tolerate such thought because we recognize that it is a necessary evil that we must put up with in order to enjoy the overwhelmingly wonderful benefits of free speech and thought. But I'm starting to see things differently.
Perhaps we should outlaw the denial of the Holocaust. In a day and age when thugs still attack author Elie Weisel for perpetuating his "myth" of his experience during the Holocaust, perhaps we need a stronger antidote to this kind of hate. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17072805/
I'm starting to see the subtle genius in locking up anyone who is stupid and culturally ignorant enough to deny that an army of people systematically locked up and murdered millions of people based on their religious persuasion. If you can't sit through a weekend on the History Channel and come out at least a little sickened by the mitigation of genocide, perhaps there is just something unexplainably wrong with your tiny little mind and you need to be locked away. I think there's a case to be made when we sterilize the retarded, but we let Holocaust deniers roam free to have as many kids as they can fuck up in a lifetime.
I mean, if you're going to deny the Holocaust, then what else is it that could be simply untrue? Maybe blacks weren't really slaves - just very crafty about laying low for 500 years, all the while waiting for that magic moment to pop up and demand affirmative action. I mean, why not? If 6 million Jews could suddenly disappear off of the face of the planet in 5 years, then why couldn't you believe that blacks actually infiltrated our country secretly, posed as slaves, but did no work and suffered no tribulation or indignity, and then sometime in the mid-60's carefully infiltrated every major American city and, in the stillness of night, replaced every text book, newspaper, archive and film reel with their carefully crafted myth of slavery.
Perhaps Native Americans aren't actually native at all! I bet they are just in cahoots with the blacks - probably paid them off to insert declarations into our legislative archives so that they could enjoy the utopia that is free living on reservations.
You know what else doesn't exist? AIDS. It's just a convenient way for gay men, and anyone else who'd like, to slip away for lifetime vacations in Fiji and Tahiti. That's why they lose all that weight before they go - so they look good in their swimming suits when they get there.
Along with these otherwise completely plausible theatrics, the following do not really exist:

Iraq. It doesn't exist. All of that war footage is shot on a lot in the San Fernando Valley.
Rape. I mean, who doesn't want to get laid, right?
Airplanes. True, it is a little more difficult to deny, but if you look really close, you'll see that it's just strings and cardboard.
Kittens. A little known fact, however true despite the hard science, is that cats are immortal and there are the same exact number today that have always been on this planet from the beginning of time. They crawled out of the lava flow that way, and do not in any way propagate. Kittens are an illusion brought on by a chemical reaction in our brains due to flouride levels in the drinking water.

I think that about covers all of the lies and dupes we have going right now - oh, except for American Idol - it's not real either, and it never happened. Not for real, anyways.

Super Bowl filled with graphic sexual innuendo & violence against children!

2007-02-07T07:59:00.000-07:00

http://www.azcentral.com/ent/celeb/articles/0206prince.html
I am absolutely surprised, shocked and horrified to learn that Prince may have used phallic expressions in his Super Bowl halftime show this past Sunday. (I'm even more shocked that it took until Wednesday for pundits and bloggers to point it out) From the very beginning I thought that Prince was the perfect artistic choice for the Super Bowl Halftime Show, a choice that would heal the puritanical wounds of America's offended. When I think "family friendly", I think Prince. He's always been on the cutting edge of safe and pleasant expression, and carries in his little briefcase of fun a plethora of cute images of pansies, daisies and teddy bears. Who better to command the seas of decency in such vulgar times?
Get over yourselves....I'd say "what is this 1952?" but even that year seems more progressive and able to handle adult oriented art than today. The Romans had their orgies & vomitoriums to spell out their final days - we'll have mock horrified moms and dads firing off letters to CBS.

Groundhogs Day Surprise

2007-02-02T07:40:00.000-07:00

It looks like the Punxatawny Phil saw his shadow this morning, predicting that Mary Cheney will one day have to look her child in the eye and explain herself.

http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/0202MaryCheney0202.html

Molly Ivins

2007-02-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

I am very sad today, to hear the news of Molly Ivins' passing. She is one of my heroes in the world, for her white hot wit and amazing talent for writing. On any day, you could count on her for a scathing column, taking the administration to task for their latest scheme or folly. Without fail she did it with a grace, poise, prose, and style that was both genius and sometimes downright goofy.
She died of cancer, which she had been living with for several years. She was once quoted as saying "Sorry to say, cancer can kill you but it doesn't make you a better person."

It didn't make her a better person, she was already among the best there is....

She will be missed in this world.

http://www.freepress.org/columns/display/1

Speaking of cell phones...

2007-01-31T20:47:00.000-07:00

An open letter to the Persian guy

who comes into my work

talks loudly on his cell phone...everyday.

What's up, jerk? I'm not sure if you noticed, but we're all staring at you. You seem to think it's out of some sort of admiration or exotic awe, but that's just because you're not really paying attention. If you were to give any of us more than a nanosecond of thought as you pass us, knock shoulders with us, or scramble to find a pen and paper from our work space, you'd know that it's because we're perpetually shocked and disgusted by your lack of manners, and you're ridiculous behavior. I'm trying not to be culturally insensitive - oh, but what they hell, you clearly are so why not - but is there some unwritten rule in the ancient codes of Persian kings that says all men are entitled to be as obnoxious and boorish as they see fit? You strut around my store as if you own it, and worse, you're a shitty owner. I've seen you turn heel as you shout jibberish into your cell phone and blatantly stare at my female employees asses. It's as if you think that little piece of junk cell phone glued to your ear makes you undetectable to all of us mere mortals in your presence.

Guess what? We notice. I noticed you walk up and down the aisles of my store today, from 3:15pm until I left at 6, all the while chatting in some dadaesqe foreign tongue - which wouldn't be such a big deal except that you're voice is unnerving and just when we all get used to it, you raise you're voice a notch to just below unbearable. When I looked you right in the eyes today, to perhaps give you some sort of muted code that you were disturbing those around you, you gave me a quick grin, and sat down, whispering what was likely you're lingual version of a toss off.

Now I'm not sure what savvy business deal you're working, or even how important your soliloquay about the every last detail of your day is to whoever you're talking to....wait...are you even talking to someone? Who on earth would allow you to drone on and on about what can only conceivably be an exercise is absolute drivel? Don't they have to personal integrity or cojones to tell you to fuck off? Is there even a human alive who would allow you to drizzle your blather on their day for hours at a time? I'm starting to question that you're even talking to someone.

Which brings me to my closing thoughts. I think you're baiting me into a rage, so that you can freak out and find some sort of financial gain by complaining to my superiors. Paranoid? You bet I am! Because your constant and inane behavior has driven me to my limits. I'm not going to give in to my primal urge to smack you square on the forehead with the palm of my hand, and then, while you're momentarily stunned lean forward and take the largest bite out of your throat my mouth will allow. But I might. Be afraid Cell Phone Guy, I got your number. The next time you start barking directions for the perfect cup of Turkish coffee to some constitutionally flacid bitch-friend, wear a turtle neck - because I'm on edge, and I'm spending the rest of my night filing down my incisors.

P.S. Your kids - they're filthy - and they smell. Probably not an effort to get your attention, but more of a personal vengence against your sensibilities. If you were my dad, I'd wait till you were standing in line, waiting for your latte, and then break my Jones soda bottle on the corner of the marble countertop and stab myself in the face.

A real cell phone call

2007-01-30T18:35:00.000-07:00

Cell phone rings...
Me: Hello?
Sexy Female Voice: Hey sexy baby, what are you doing?
Me: Sexy baby? Uh, I think you might have the wrong number.
SFV: Oh, I'm sorry.
Hangs up.
Cell phone rings again...
Me: Hello?
SFV: I'm so sorry for calling you. Don't tell my husband I called you Sexy Baby, okay?
Me: I don't know your husband, you have the wrong number.
SFV: Oh, okay. Thanks!
Hangs up.

Special Report!

2007-01-30T16:51:00.000-07:00

I'm sick today, and spent a large portion of the day on the couch, reviewing all that daytime television has to offer. Of particular interest to everyone in the world is that Danielle Radcliffe, Harry Potter himself, is starring in a London stage version of Equus. This production requires him to bare all, and that has the worlds news anchors up in arms.

http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?f=00&g=f3464a7b-f7ce-4107-9e98-272f89b1d2d0&p=hotvideo_m_edpicks&t=m5&rf=http://www.msnbc.msn.com/&fg=

I'm terribly sick of the nations newsmen and women foisting their cultural agenda upon us, and I'm not speaking of the likes of Bill O'Reilly and Tucker Carlson.
I'm more disgusted by those smarmy little assholes on your local television station. The one's who seem to donate 10% of every newscast to actual political and world events in order to bring us the very crushing and damnable news stories of the day - like where to get the best gelato (Gelato! I've never heard of such a thing! You mean it's like ice cream but Italian? I thought Italians put garlic in everything! Ha Ha!) Or better yet, to run some foreign footage of a cow running through an intersection during rush hour, or a turtle that thinks it's mother is a squirrel in Texas. (I guess that turtle is NUTS for his little friend, isn't that right, Norm?)
My favorite act of irony is when they do a special report on how American kids aren't able to compete on the world market - I wonder how they got so dumbed down?! Or my absolute fav - American's are so fat! What are we ever going to do? Then then go to commercial, 3 of the 5 of which are for KFC, Taco Bell, & a very tearfully poignant McDonalds commercial, where a dad and his daughter bond over a happy meal.
What ever happened to journalism? This afternoon alone, I've watched the news media pick apart Hilary Clinton for uttering the words "evil and bad men" postulating as to whether she means her husband, and then turn on her further by going to the anchor person and asking "do you think she'll be able to overcome being a woman as she runs for president?" Well, no, I don't. Not as long as you keep asking that insulting question to each other on the air.
They keep the focus on that issue, which is unethical by the very definition of journalism, by interviewing each other instead of the public. They do the same to Obama about being black.
Today I watched as the crack news force on Channel 3 reported on how Lance Bass and Reichen Lehmkuhl (or however the frack you spell his name) had gotten back together, but now are broken up and are going to remain friends. The anchor then tossed it to the weather man, with some stupid comment, making them both look uncomfortable and ridiculous. It was as if they were playing an on air game of "keep a straight face while talking about the gays". Just shut up and deliver the news, jerk.
P.S. The weatherman doesn't control the weather - that joke was funny from 1964-1971 - otherwise referred to as the First Thousand Times you told it.

2007-01-29T17:56:00.000-07:00

What a long weekend. I say that with a sigh, because that familiar depression that creeps in after hosting is setting in. I had a great time with good friends, and only wished it could have been longer and that I could have been in a better frame of mind.
Today I took M. and S. to the airport. One bound for Eugene, Or. and the other to Hilo. That just leaves me and the tribe of animals on the homefront, which is either a welcome quiet or a lonely time, I haven't decided yet. Tonight will be a reclusive one, as Heroes is on, and then the new Sarah Silverman Program.
Sarah Silverman is one of my comedic heroes in and of herself. She says what's on her mind, and her take on how hilarious the most uncomfortable of topics can be. She says the things that cross everyone's mind, and then takes it to the next level - which I can very much appreciate.
Heroes, I like, mostly because I can only keep track of one heavy drama at a time, and this one happens to be it. I like that it doesn't play on the special effects, but more the human side of being a "special person." Everyone out there has had one fantasy or another of being a superhero of sorts, myself included. I don't know exactly what my super power would be, but you can bet that I would be happy to rise to the occassion. Why is it that we have to link some unattainable "super power" to the idea that we could then rise to the occassion? Why aren't we so eager to rise to the occassion otherwise? I have a lot of issues to work out in the coming year, I've decided, and one of those is to learn to live without fear anymore. My biggest fear is poverty, as I've been there and have worked my ass off to get out of it. I remember those long and lonely days when I had nothing to show for a days work, and saw no signs of getting ahead in the world. However, I have to admit, that my dark secret is that sometimes I wonder how much of my youthful spirit and soul I sacrificed to get where I am, and how much will be demanded of me to get where I want to be - whatever that is.
Where do you draw the line in life? No really - where do you draw the line? I'm taking calls on the Hit Line, caller 5, what do you think?

Surprise! It's a 29 Year Old Boy!

2007-01-25T08:06:00.000-07:00

This story intrigues me to no end. You'd like to think it centers around a young victim of child molestation by some evil old men who've kidnapped him and brought him to Arizona to be their sex slave. But then it's they who were fooled. Along with an entire schools faculty & student population by this guy who was actually 29. How'd he do it, you may ask? He "shaved his body hair and wore pancake makeup to hide his maturity."
Huh?
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/0125faketeen0125.html
So the real question here is who is in trouble and for what? Is it the 29 year old posing as a 12 year old so that he gets, and I have no idea of his motive here, buggered by old geezers buy free room and board? Is it the old geezers, who despite thinking they were having relations with a 12 year old, were in fact having sex with a consenting adult? Was it the school administration, who put their entire student population at risk by allowing a 29 year old sex offender on their roles for months? Or was it NBC Dateline, who should've been in Surprise, Arizona the whole time, ferretting out these jackholes with their internet crime squad?
And for gods sake! Will someone get started on the musical theatre version of this story!?!?

Man Lives to Tell of Shark Biting Off His Head

2007-01-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

This was the actual headline this morning on MSNBC.Com, regarding a shark attack in Sydney. They've since replaced it with a different story about a rare shark being found somewhere in deep water. I wanted to put the link on here, but they've changed the headline. I swear it was there.
So this blog, I hate that word, is in response to all of the ribbing I got last night at the bar. No one could understand why I would prefer to sit face to face with my friends, telling stories, than to sit and blog alone about it in my kitchen. I made a resolution to give it a try, but if I turn into one of those internet stalkers or become the victim of some identity crime, I'm holding them accountable.