Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Anal sex beads give new life to expiring elderly at Kansas City Nursing Homes.

Not working the last couple of days has been refreshing, but changing gears from Pedal to the fucking metal to a complete halt has been interesting. Instead of working 12 hours a day and being mentally and physically exhausted, I’ve been sitting at my fathers house playing scrabble by myself, running last minute Christmas errands with the family or taste testing all of the delicacies that are being conjured up in the kitchen. Sleeping at least 8-10 hours a night is a nice change from getting my usual 5 hours of shuteye.

That last paragraph was written on Christmas Eve, I think. My mind was still enjoying being lethargic that I couldn’t muster up the will power to write anything else. Here I am now two days after Christmas and I’m feeling a bit energetic again, especially after having my grande sugar free vanilla chai latte. I’m under the impression that most people who like coffee like beer and vice-versa. They’re both acquired tastes. Rarely do I come across someone who doesn’t enjoy both adult beverages.

Two days after Christmas feels a lot like March 3rd. There isn’t anything particularly going on. Other than the fact that I’m off work until the middle of next week, it’s pretty much an average day. At the same time being off work when you should be sitting in a cubicle for 9 hours is definitely above average in my opinion.

New Years Eve is on a Sunday this year, kind of weird for anyone who lives in the Bible Blet and plans on celebrating at home. We have to buy our beer early! That’s the only holiday that we even have to look forward to, but then again Martin Luther King Day is coming up. People don’t tend to party much on that day or even give presents. I might start giving out Mos Def albums on MLK Day. Not trying to take away from what the man accomplished, but to add some flare to the holiday. I think people would appreciate that. Maybe on Columbus Day I could start handing out maps to buried treasure or Visa gift cards. I think I’m on to something here.

When I was probably 10 years old I remember getting really depressed on Christmas night. We had opened up all of our presents and finished eating the family dinner and there I sat on the living room floor looking through my loot. Being as happy as any adolescent could be upon this realization, it struck me that I had worked myself into a state of excitement for one glorious twenty-four hour period.

Now that the day had climaxed I was stuck with disappointment of the coming months. Christmas was not the end all savior I had hoped it to be. School was going to be back in the following week and I wasn’t going to get any more presents until my birthday rolled around in the summer time. I wanted to fucking cry.

From that day on I decided I would never get overly excited about anything ever again.

Some might think this to be the saddest day in my life, but it was probably the best decision I ever made.

Holidays would come and go and I never expected them to be anything extraordinary. If they did exceed my expectations then it was fucking awesome. If the family got into a big fight or if my step uncle Bobby was acting like an asshole it wasn’t a big deal because I had no expectations of Bobby not acting like an asshole.

It was what it was and it didn’t affect me either way.

Who knew that I was capable of making a philosophically Buddhist decision about my feelings at such a young age? I didn’t know what philosophy or Buddha was in 5th grade but it goes to show that the human mind is a powerful thing, especially for a ten year old.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Duderonomy!

When I was sixteen most of my friends over used the word “dude”. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to here it at least twice in one sentence. Fuck, three times in a single grammatical exchange.

“Dude, what’s going on?”

“Dude, it’s so good to see you, dude.”

“Dude, I think my Dad hates me dude, because he thinks that I’m a gay dude.”

The word had almost become a greeting, capitalization and punctuation all in itself. It came to a point where none of us had to really communicate with each other anymore. We just looked at one another and depending on where we put stress when saying “dude” we could verbalize how we’ve been doing, what we’ve been up to and if we thought we were going to get grounded for flunking out of Geometry.

Here's a perfect example of what I'm talking about from the 1998 film "BASEketball":

Coop: Dude, I'm not gonna cave in! End of story, dude!

Remer: Duuude?? (inquisitive)

Coop: Dude! (firm)

Remer: Dude!! (indignant)

Coop: Dude. (down-to-earth)

Remer: Dude! (argumentative)

Coop: DUDE! (even more argumentative)

Remer: Duude!! (firmly and contentiously) [Coop opens his mouth but says nothing. Remer continues firmly]

Remer: Dude. (in a more peaceful tone, seeking an end to hostilities)

Coop: [speechless, mouths around for something to say]

I guess you got a point there. All right all right, look. Maybe I was wrong. From now on... we're full partners.

Remer: Really?

Beacause of the word "dude" my best friend and I could cut down on our cell phone minutes if we we're ever discussing something important. Normally, you might use 8-20 words in a sentence, let alone the massive amount of words in a paragraph. Never having to be bothered by using a large vocabulary, we could get our point across with one fucking word.

Our parents were constantly correcting us and getting on to our lacklustering, linguistic asses. until a few of my friends and I decided that it was even starting to annoy us. Like a constant dripping of water between our eyes was hearing someone utter the word “dude”. The fleeting vocabulary of America’s wasted youth needed to be changed and we of all people decided to accept the challenge.

How would we tackle this great language debacle? Could you erase the existence of something with it being in such widespread circulation? After watching Tremors that night on TNT we decided that you could not reverse the curse of popular culture. Something will always be there to remind you of the sins of the past. Once something is created it will always be, but there was a way we could succeed. You may not be able to delete a word from the dictionary of others’ minds, but you could replace it by giving them more choices.

Being young and naïve and not realizing what great feat we were about to undertake and not knowing the great repercussions of our actions, we decided our replacement word off the cusp. Looking back, I’m not very proud of it, but I’m sure many urban, Caucasian, drum n’ bass enthusiasts would be very pleased.

“Kid”

Yeah, that’s it. I know. I’m still a little pissed off about it.

When it comes down to it though, the word didn’t really matter. We could’ve used “humanoid”. I definitely would’ve stood behind this choice even now, nine and a half years later. Memories of calling someone a humanoid would bring great joy and peace to my heart, opposed to the lameness that is the word “kid” or at least the usage of it.

Just imagine with me for a second.

“What’s up humanoid?”

“Are you coming to the party tonight ‘noid?”

“I’m just sitting around being a humanoid.”

It would’ve been great. Then again it’s never too late (and that rhymed, I’m keeping it because it reminds me of the Princess Bride. “No more rhyming and I mean it.” “Anybody wanna a peanut?”).

Back to the point though, I must accept that we used the word “kid”. I’m not even sure why I’m upset about it because the whole experiment was, believe it or not, an anthropological success.

For being high school students, I’m still impressed with how we introduced the word into our vocabulary and to our peers so nonchalantly. Dropping “kid” into our day-to-day conversations at random, so that no one would catch on, you would think that we had already graduated by now or at least paid attention in psychology class.

Slowly, we medicated their brains with the cure to their poisonous “slanguage”. Within a months time the word dude had suddenly vanished. Walking through the halls hearing my contemporaries fall prey to our sociological stealth attack was like music to my ears, at least for a while.

Knowing that we could impregnate other’s minds with whatever word we deemed necessary or amusing that month gave us a sense of power. No wonder crazy Christians try to reach the lost youth of our generation by manufacturing neo-religion rocker groups. It’s easy to plant shit in their head and watch it take root.

Unfortunately, I was only 16 and didn’t know what “marketing” was, nor did I care about “sociology”. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that selling products or ideas came naturally to the men in my family. Maybe it comes from being Irish (Actually, that’s probably where the alcoholism comes from.). Honestly, I have no fucking idea where it’s rooted.

As I sit here today in my cubicle, it’s only fitting that my job consists of trying to create new ways to market and sell new “products and ideas”. That just goes to show that whether you realize it not, you’ll eventually find a way to do what you love. It may not always look like your passion, but if you work with the clay enough you can mold it into a unique piece of art, dude.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Linkage, Blog Roll and Name Dropping

If you read my blog, most likely, I read yours as well. That is, if you've made yourself known to me. Every once in a while I do come across someone who visits here daily, but never says anything.

I know who you are, sort of. The state you reside in and even your hometown is available to me along with your entry and exit pages and the name of your internet provider. If you have a blog, I can usually find that too.

For those of you who I know and like, I added you to my home made blog roll. Check it out, you might be there. If you aren't there and we're friends, let me know. I can make it happen.

And for anyone who anonymously reads, you can say "Hi! Keep up the "strange" work." or even "Hey fucker, I hate your blog and I only read to see how shitty your writing is today."

Whatever works best for you.

Friday, December 08, 2006

I Love Black People!

As 2006 is coming to an end, it’s time again to evaluate my current job status. My works brings fulfillment and sometimes even joy to my life, but what I would really love to do is bring laughter to people. Well, not all people, mainly just black people. I want to be a black comedian.

If you don’t already know me or what I look like, I am not contemplating this career move because I am black. I’m quite the opposite. It also has nothing to do with how “gangsta” I am or even for my love to say the word “Mother Fucker” in a deep Samuel L. Jackson–Pulp Fiction–“Be cool bitch!”-Kind of way.

The love that resides in my heart for Nas and select Jay-Z tracks does not influence my reasoning either. My goal is also not to make fun of black people. Again, it’s on the complete opposite end of the spectrum.

For some reason, when I act normal, I make black people laugh. Giggles don’t count either. Gut wrenching laughter is what we’re talking about here.

Walking through a mall last night that is casually referred to as having a hint of a “ghetto” shopping experience, I kept encountering different black women. Each exchange always resulted in them laughing at me. No jokes were made other than me moaning about Christmas Shopping for people who already have everything under the sun, but with the few words that I said you would’ve thought I was Chris Rock doing my newest HBO special.

Maybe I could do a comedy tour with Wanda Sykes.




Thursday, December 07, 2006

Air Guitar Hero

When I was 17 years old, I decided that I wanted to learn how to play the bass guitar. I’d been going to punk rock shows for a few years and had a lot of friends who were playing in different bands at the time as well. That Christmas my parents gave me enough money to buy a bass and an amp from a friend of mine. It was one of the coolest feelings to finally be able to rock out! In all honesty, it was actually terrible, but everyone has to start somewhere.

Over the next 6 months I begged anyone who knew anything about guitar to show me some of the basics and of course where the hell the fucking switch was that is secretly placed on every guitar to persuade girls to think that you’re cool. After months of gleaning tips, having impromptu guitar lessons and practicing the tabs I printed off the internet, I finally got the hang of playing my axe! I finally got to rock!

It was so fulfilling to be able to play a whole song. Unfortunately, I never got to serious about playing due to not being in a band or having much time on my hands to get any better. Deep down I knew it wasn’t my thing anyway, but I am glad that I learned to make some halfway decent music come out of a piece of wood. From time to time I think about picking it back up again and maybe even messing around with a guitar that has six strings instead of four.

Other than knowing a few chords I pretty much suck at guitar, but that doesn’t keep me from playing some classic air guitar when I’m driving down the street. There isn’t a genre, band or song that I can’t keep up with when I’m rocking out with my invisible Stallion of String (side note: I rarely listen to heavy metal. i.e. Cryptopsy, Children of Bodom, etc).

I am the King of Rock n’ Roll, while I blare the radio going 90mph. The greatest part about playing air guitar is that you really can’t mess up. You might miss a note, but the music isn’t affected by it. Your only job is to rock and look cool doing it!



Tonight while I was playing a little air solo for my girlfriend and the rest of the interstate, it struck me how air guitar is very similar to real life. When we play air guitar we act like we know exactly what we’re doing. Not only that, but we do it with style. When in reality I think a lot of us are like the 17 year old version of “me”, we’re just trying to make the damn thing sound cool.

Most people can play all three chords of The Trogg's “Wild Thing”, but who the hell knows how to play Frank Zappa’s “Hungry Freaks, Daddy”? Much like those hard times in life when we don’t know how to stay in rhythm or even what the fucking notes are to the song, we just fake it to get by. Just hand me my make believe Fender Stratocaster and I’ll show you how it’s done. I think the younger “me” had it right though, we need to humble ourselves and learn a thing or two from one another, instead of always trying to play lead guitar all the damn time.

Just make sure that you don’t take advice from an “air” drummer though, they’re worse than faux-guitar players. No one even pays attention to the drummer in real life, why the hell would they care about what a fictitious one has to say?


(Yes, I am aware that this post reads like a fortune cookie)

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

All in the Family a.k.a Why my mother is (mostly) responsible for my father having 8 children and causing me to lose sleep at night!

In the last two minutes I have had one of the most profound thoughts ever regarding my family. It touches everyone in the immediate group. My father was married to my mother for 27 years before she decided that she did not want to be married to my father anymore. That is not the point though. Before he married my estranged mother he was previously joined in union to another woman whose nickname was “bitch”. When I was a child they wouldn’t tell me what her nickname was and I always thought that it would be something cleverer than bitch.

During my father’s first marriage he had a son who took on his name and I haven’t seen him in more than a decade. He became a biologist of some sort and even discovered a new species of plant. I don’t know what he named the plant but I hope it has something to do with our surname. It would probably be our only claim to fame as a family other than the fact that our ancestors use to paint themselves blue and get trashed before defending the homeland from the English.

Back to the epiphany, during my parent’s relationship they pro-created and begat my brother and I, so all in all, my father has three children. My oldest blood brother is now 28 years old and currently has four children and counting. Himself, two of his children and his girlfriend who is the mother of the latest addition to the family, live with my father, who doesn’t charge them rent. His ex-beast lives in Alabama with his firstborn and his only daughter. Knowing the track record of his ex-wife I’m sure his son will be joining the rest of the family very soon.

Talking about all of these kids brings up a good question. How long does childhood last? Most people would say that eighteen years should probably be the max. As we all know that’s not always the case. If eighteen is the cutoff then my father actually has 6-8 children, which probably means 7. It just depends on how you look at it. Since my father partially supports my brother and has for the most part for the last 5-6 years and my brother is 28 he is potentially in his second childhood, meaning his is now on round 2 of age 10.

Now if my mother only gave birth twice, how is she responsible for eight children? Well, let me explain, to give her the benefit of the doubt, we’ll go ahead and discount one of those children and knock it down to seven. She didn’t have a hand in my Dad’s first son.

My brother having four children is mainly her fault though. Here’s why, when my blood brother was 21 he was attending a local university. Apparently there was a homosexual professor who my brother thought was hitting on him. Regardless of whether he was or not my brother confided in my mother. She encouraged him to quit school, which is ironic because my whole family believes my mother to now be a lesbian, we’re only 98.7% sure about that, but only because she’s never came out of the closet. Looking back though she probably only encouraged him to quit because she knew that’s what he wanted to hear and was sick of hearing him bitch about it. Regardless, it was still bad advice.

Secondly, a year or so later my brother was living with his now ex-beast when my mother’s religious side took over and she told my brother to marry his beast lover. He had no ties to her, but decided to marry her due to the pressure of pleasing our mommy dearest. He’s always been a momma’s boy. When he married the beast it obviously and directly contributed to three out of his four children. His fourth son was probably spawned with his latest girlfriend because he was so excited about having sex with a human being with a soul that he forgot to wear protection. That’s still my mom’s fault.

Now my father is up to having four children now, since he has already raised and supported my brother one time and he’s currently doing it again, so he counts as two. My brother has four children and since my father technically provides for those children too, since he pays for my brother he then gains four more children. Due to the fact that two of them live out of state, he really only has six. If the ex-beast decides to give up the other boy he will then gain seven, which is inevitable. My father stopped reproducing that I know of, over 25 years ago, yet he keeps gaining more and more offspring. Maybe what they say about Irish Cock is true and especially around the holidays, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.

The catalyst that sparked this eye, opening discovery was my brother having to go to work this morning to try and pay for half of his children. If my mom hadn’t encouraged my brother to drop out of school and get married, he would probably not have any children and be a sales manager of a fortune 500 company and not have to work on the weekends. If he didn’t have to work on the weekends he could’ve helped my father load my bed into his truck this morning to bring to me, but now I have to go at least one more weak of tossing and turning on a shitty futon because of my mom’s bad advice. Thanks Mom.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Streaming

We should never underestimate the laziness of those who have nothing to gain. For by gaining something they no longer are allowed to retain the status of being a deadbeat. Being a deadbeat probably has its perks. One day I hope to be a dead beat with no responsibility, but first I must handle those tasks at hand, which in the end wouldn’t really allow me to be a true dead beat. Sleeping would be my favorite part of being a dead beat. I don’t sleep enough, but I would probably be a busy dead beat, I would be the least of deadbeats. They probably wouldn’t accept me if they ever congregated I would be too busy trying to be a dead beat that I would cancel out that true meaning of the lifestyle. Maybe I’ll just focus on being a busy body, but I would probably need at least three grande sugar-free chai lattes a day to maintain being a true busy body. The only problem with being a busy body is that you have to be around other people. People get on my nerves and I enjoy being by myself a lot. That’s probably why I think I would like to be a dead beat. No one likes to hang around with a dead beat and a dead beat doesn’t really care. Similarly, no one really wants to be around a busy body, but a busy body does care. I should probably not aspire to be either, but possibly look into exterminating these behavior types from the human race with a ray gun that I could get from the future by creating a time machine. Where are Emmit Brown and Marty Mcfly when you need them? Well, I haven’t seen Christopher Lloyd in a movie in quite some time and Michael Fox [sounds weird leaving the “J” out doesn’t?] was getting bashed by Rush Limbaugh last time I checked. How could that guy bash anyone? He’s a pill-popping fattttttttt head who likes to hear the sound of his own voice, but then again, most of us do. If we could only get over being so selfish we might actually truly live. Ahh, but survival mode is what keeps us alive, but that really has nothing to do with loving the sound of your own voice, but then again I am a blogger. Blog.Blag.Blug.Bludgeon. Murder is an interesting action, the taking of one’s life. My father doesn’t approve of books about serial killers. Not that he has a problem with the subject, but he primarily doesn’t agree with glorifying evil for the sake of writing. He thinks it’s unoriginal. He’s probably right, but at the same time, this is a man who has read every murder mystery book on the face of the planet. Sue Grafton has to be doing double letters on her books by now. AA is for anal adventure. BB is for backbreaker. CC is for cumming cunts. Hmm…maybe she should write pornographic novels. I think everyone has thought about being in a porno before. You get paid to have sex. Most people would probably deny this, but most people deny anything that might seem shameful. Sleazy people are intriguing because they don’t have shame. That’s frightening in the same thought because who knows what they’re capable of. I don’t want to be a porn star though. I’ve met a porn star before. She was nice. She seemed like she would bake a batch of oatmeal cookies before she would allow someone to shock her with a cattle prod while in a spread eagle position. Free bird is such a great song. It’s sad how rednecks and frat boys across America have made it so cliché. I wonder who created the bobble head. They probably had severe neck problems and maybe when they walked it felt like their head was bobbling. He probably sold it to a toy company but letting them watch how he walked around the room. “We could make famous people look like this too.” My least favorite part about being white is the fact that I can’t grow an afro. I’ve always been jealous of black guy’s hair and their rhythm. The lint roller is probably one of the greatest inventions ever. I have the worst intentions ever. Everyone would like to think that they’re clever. It’s 65 degrees out in December. Polaroid cameras are like masturbation.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Poetry is for suckers!

Sitting in my cube

Boredom is abounding here

I just ate white out

-

I just sold my soul

One dollar is all I got

Ha Ha it was broke

-

Nobody likes you

Your mom thinks you smell like paint

I think she is right

-

Blogging does nothing

My computer hates me now

I think you do too

-

Indians like corn

Sometimes they like to watch porn

Want to see my bow

-

We all want to fuck

Sometimes holy sometimes not

I think that's OK

-

Where words are many

Your dumb ass is always there

Shut the fuck up please

-

Hai Ku's are funny

Sometimes they don't make sense yup

I don't really care

-

It is time to leave

I did not sell a damn thing

My boss still loves me

Monday, November 27, 2006

Heroes

I'm under the impression that most of us learn something new everyday. If you don't, you're just not trying. Maybe it's a fact or a new skill, usually facts or a random tidbit of news regarding some aspect of our world.

Last week one of my co-workers told me about a talent I possess that I was unaware of. Apparently, I have the ability to hum or rattle off a few lyrics of a song in passing that manages to get stuck in his head for the remainder of the day. Honestly, I find that strange, because I also wield another talent, butchering perfectly sung songs when I attempt to bellow to my co-workers.

It may not be much and some may consider it embarrassing that they can't sing, but I revel in the fact that I have a new super power. Oh and another guideline of my ability, I can't be trying to wedge these anthems into his mind. It all has to be coincidental. I'm not sure how I feel about a power that I can't control.

With great power comes great responsibility.



Tuesday, November 21, 2006

There's a first time for everything.

For someone who usually has something to say about everything, I'm at a loss of words or at least a clear thought right now. I feel good though and I'm proud of myself for trying. It may be small and I don't even considered it that big of a deal, but I really appreciate those of you who have been reading my ridiculous blog over the last year an a half.

Your comments, thoughts and words of encouragement make it all worthwhile. If it hadn't been for you I would've never even thought about attempting this. Thank you!


Friday, November 17, 2006

I'm glad Al Gore created the internet.

I have recently become the smartest man alive. I’m serious. Let me explain.

Do you ever wonder what happens to old bands or maybe famous people who died 20 years ago? You think maybe that “old dude” bit it by rocking out too hard, but you later find out that it was cancer. I’ve been thinking about random famous people lately that I have no clue what the hell happened to them. By not knowing it doesn’t detract from my overall genius, but I’ll explain that later as well.

While driving to work this past week I was listening to Johnny Cash and Joe Strummer’s rendition of Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song”. As soon as the song finished up I spun my Ipod clickity click wheel over to Bob Marley and rocked out. Well, I guess I actually mellowed out. Everyone likes Bob Marley, don’t they?

While Bob was singing to me it crossed me young mind, “What the hell happened to him?” I saw a behind the music on Bob a few years back and I think he died from cancer, but I wasn’t sure. The HR lady at the company I work for came by my desk later that morning and she so happens to be from Jamaica. She confirmed that he died from cancer and even told me a story about how Bob Marley’s following was considered a cult when she was a teenager. Her grandmother even yelled at her one time for having a belt with the same colors of his logo at the time. That just goes to show that (grand) parents are crazy no matter what country they’re from.

Every generation’s parents will yell at them for something that they don’t understand. My dad used to yell at me for listening to punk rock music and hanging out with kids who colored their hair pink. I’m sure his dad gave him shit for hanging out with kids who wore their pants too tight and greased their hair. When I have kids I’m probably going to ground them for hanging out with robots who ride their hover boards too fast in traffic. It’s a vicious cycle.

My new favorite thing to do on the internet is to look things up on wikipedia.com (it’s a web-based free-content encyclopedia project, if you didn’t already know). That fucking website is a life-changer. I’m instantly the smartest person alive (when I’m sitting in front of a computer). Ever wonder where John Wilkes Booth was born? Yeah, me neither, but since I think you need to know, he was born on a farm in Bel Air, Harford County, Maryland. Did you know that Jimi Hendrix was once kidnapped for two days by New York mobsters back in September of ’69? I told you I’m the smartest man alive. Don’t doubt me.

Wikipedia is great because it allows all of us to be factually brilliant, for the most part. People have been known to change certain details on the site, but that’s usually pertaining to politics. No one is going to change the historical fact that “Weird” Al’s first accordion lesson was on October 22nd, 1966 the day before is 7th birthday.

With all of that said, smartest man alive might be a little bit of a stretch, but maybe smartest man alive at random trivia when sitting in my cubicle is closer to an absolute truth.


Excerpt from The Princess Bride:

Vizzini: Let me put it this way. Have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?
Westley: Yes.
Vizzini: Morons

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Demons

It seems as though everyone is plagued by personal demons, things that hold us back from who we truly are and keep us from developing into who we want to be. Our fears and short-comings translate into either a lack of motivation or a cerebral padded cell that that puts our mind into a psychological straight jacket. Constricted limbs offer no aid as we contend with what binds us. Our screams wouldn’t be heard even if we could utter the noise that is a scream. Sometimes you forget what it sounds like to talk when you have no one to converse with.

Objectively looking inward, I realize that we are the only ones holding ourselves back. We wrestle with a fictitious figure that we created. Our oppressor is as non-existent as Tyler Durden. We breathed life into our negative feelings and gave them power over their Creator. We keep ourselves locked up. The door to the cell is open. It always has been.

The hardest part about all of it is realizing that you’re actually enslaved. For some it’s obvious, but I think most people have been lied to and belittled for so long by those that supposedly love them they begin to believe and go down the road of self-deception. A lot of us have good families and friends that build us up, but maybe we become so self-centered and focused on the outside world that when they say you must be “this” to fit in or dress like “that” to be beautiful that we forget what we want and who we are.

False truths and facades that surround us everyday keep us from realizing our full potential. They taint how we view ourselves. They make us forget about our dreams and what we wish to accomplish in life. I don’t think a lot of us have a clue of what we want to do, but I think it lies deep inside and as we pull back the curtains and get closer to truth, it starts to become clear.

Dreams to me are what lies inside and sometimes you have no fucking idea what they are, but when you pull back the curtains and get closer and closer to truth it reveals itself. A lot of people are already doing something that is a part of their dream. They just don’t realize it yet.

We’ve been given this gift of life, it’s ours. We can do what we want with it. We can fulfill our hearts longings or we can wander around aimlessly in a shit storm. No matter what you believe, I think we all have a reason to live and that reason lies deep within.

When I use to go to church they would sometimes say “Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired?” I always thought that was some lame “holy roller” talk, but looking back, there is some truth there. Honestly, you just have to get fed up of being restrained and just throw inhibition to the wind.

What do you have to lose anyway? Why do prisoners with a life sentence try to escape? What’s the worse thing that can happen? Failing in the process of trying to break free only places you back where you started or possibly even death. Many are already mentally and spiritually dead from their oppression. You can see it in their eyes.

You have to be defiant and break free of what you’ve allowed yourself to believe and be burdened with. I personally choose to raise a middle finger, to what imprisons my thoughts and what holds me as a captive to mental slavery.

We must choose to live. We are the only ones who can live our lives and bring our dreams to fruition.


You have to know the answer to this question! If you died right now, how would you feel about your life?

-Tyler Durden


Thursday, November 09, 2006

Monster Trucks and Pretty Birds

What is it about being in a car that makes us feel invincible in the idea that we can say or do whatever we want to anyone? People do things in traffic that they would never do standing in a line at the grocery store. In the last 24 hours two random people at two random stop signs/stop lights have illegally driven around my vehicle to cut me off. It’s not as though they we’re getting over and so happen to get in front of me. These people were actually behind me, there was no other lane.

When the first person did it yesterday, it appeared to be a mistake. We were sitting at a stop on a side street that leads to a major road and it seemed that they thought I was turning, when in fact I was going straight. Once they realized what I was doing, they just sort of sat in the lane next to me. That lane is designated for people coming from the opposite direction though. After about 20 seconds of idling there, they just gunned it right by me and slid in between a couple of cars in front of me.

“Asshole.” I muttered as I shook my head.

Who does that really? Do we as people just completely lose our respect for our fellow man when we enter a 2,000 pound hunk of metal?

Sitting at a traffic light on my way to work with a zombie-like posture, I sat staring at the pretty red color on the big black box. No sooner as the light turned green, a massive, crimson monster of a truck came thrashing out of the turn lane and claimed the intersection as his own personal autobahn.

“Fucker! What an asshole! Who does that?”

Not only was Jeff Gordon breaking the law, but he honestly could’ve hurt someone who might have been lingering in the intersection, making their turn as the light goes from yellow to red. Shaking my head in disgust I proceeded down the road.



As Karma would have it, passing his truck was inevitable. My “strategic vehicular placement skills” also came into play, due to knowing the traffic patterns of certain lanes on the congested stretch of hellish terrain, they call a road. It’s essential to have these skills if you want to travel down this avenue in a timely manner.

Staring at yet another stop light, I noticed a commotion in my rearview mirror as we were signaled to go. “This is odd.” I thought to myself. Jeff Gordon in the monster truck was slowing down traffic? Only a few minutes earlier he seemed to be a in a pretty big hurry, a little out of character if you ask me. As I leaned back in my seat, the car in the other lane came into view. The driver was leaning out his window with some dual bird action, directing both of them in the general direction of Jeff Gordon a.k.a. Big, Red Monster!

7 seconds isn’t a very long time, but when you’re leaning out a window shouting disparaging remarks and holding up your middle finger, 7 seconds is an eternity. The man flying his flesh toned obscenities turned the corner as we all drove on.

A quiet hush came over the land, but it was abruptly snuffed out by an echoing cheer that could be heard across the great state of Georgia, for someone finally stepping up to the Big, Red Monster!

We all have silly stories about assholes in traffic. Shit, sometimes we are those assholes. (Shit and Asshole in the same sentence, probably a bad idea) After encountering guys like that though, it makes me want to be a more considerate driver and maybe even second guess my reaction to his reckless action.

Cursing at a random stranger because they made a bad decision in traffic seems to be a little hasty and harsh, but maybe not. His could be a life altering decision. I’m sure at that point it would probably escalate to being more than just an exchange of words.

I’ve said it before, our decisions and opinions in life are all based on perception.

Hopefully, it’s all just perspective. Maybe Big, Red Monster was taking Little, Pink Monster to the hospital to deliver little, blue tonka truck. Maybe he needed to run that light, then again, I’ll never know.

We can never be quite sure of what thought process is motivating the actions of others.


“What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing; it also depends on what sort of person you are.”

C.S. Lewis

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Paperback

Someone once said that “People are books” or like books. We all have a copious amount of stories concerning struggle, adventure, love, grief and honestly any other topic that you might find in a library. Sometimes when I look back on my life, the stories I recall don’t really seem like my life. They’re more like something someone told me about, a story my Dad spun one night about his childhood, perhaps. It’s not though. It’s my life, my past.

When you’re 80 years old and sitting around with grandchildren I wonder if it gets worse. Thinking back to an event that occurred 10 years ago seems pretty surreal to me, imagine going back 60 years. No wonder some go crazy when they reach an elderly state. It might not be that they have a disease. They just can’t believe they’ve been alive so fucking long.

Surreality might also occur because we change. The memory doesn’t seem like yourself because it’s not who you are anymore. Experiencing new ideas, interesting people and beautiful new landscapes while ferociously trying to forget about your old hometown, that you longed most of your childhood to run away from, would seem like a very capable means of not being able to connect with past experiences.

My childhood memories are odd, because even though I know that they are real, I am no longer that toe-headed bastard that annoyed the hell out of everyone with my insistent jabber-jaw. Then again, on second thought, maybe they’re more real than I think.

As the years disappear into the distance, a part of me does too, but as many of us have tried our hardest to run from a good portion of our past, I think the wise decision would be to welcome all of the memories, failures and heartache as well, with open arms.

Unfortunately, even though I try not to dwell on the negative, the chapters of my life containing the failures and heartaches seem to be the pages that I read over and over again. Maybe I’m drawn to them for learning purposes of what not to do or how to be stronger and wiser, but I do know that those hard to read chapters are the ones that formed and forged me. They’re the reason why I am who I am.

The stories in every book have their ups and downs, but I do know one thing though, every chapter seems to get more and more exciting. Thumbing through the pages of my life, peering down at the good and the bad, I’m still not sure if I’ll ever be ready to close my book and go to sleep for the night.

Monday, November 06, 2006

Punchline

Every Saturday or Sunday morning I try to walk over to the local coffee shop. You could honestly hit the place with a rock from my apartment. It literally takes about 30 seconds to turn the corner and be in their doorway. That’s one of the reasons I love living in the city. On top of how close it is, it’s also not a Starbucks or any other corporately owned business. They currently have two locations and I have no idea where the other one is.

A lot of small towns have this atmosphere as well. I’ve always been in love with historic downtown districts. The roads have names like Main Street and Lee Street. Most of the shops are on the main drag and they have a couple of small boutiques or restaurants tucked away on the side streets. My subconscious basically screams at me that I wasn’t cut out for the suburbs.

The suburbs were my home for years and years. Currently, my job calls for me to drive to a predominate Atlanta suburb 5 days a week. Every morning as I make the trek I tend to wish that the office was closer, at least inside the perimeter, if you know the geography of Atlanta at all. The drive isn’t bad though and I think it makes me appreciate the city life even more having to look at where I use to live on a daily basis.

Here in Atlanta, due to the earlier mentioned perimeter of I-285 that circles the city, you have two types of people. There are people who live OTP and people who live ITP.

OTP = Outside the Perimeter

ITP = Inside the Perimeter

People who live ITP seem to be very proud of the fact that they live in the city limits. I tend to find myself being a little bit smug about not having to eat at T.G.I. Friday’s if I want to take my girlfriend out to a nice restaurant. Considering there isn’t a lot of unique restaurants in the “Burbs”. It’s a stupid reason to be cocky though. It’s not like the people who live OTP can’t just drive down here, but I guess we’re all a little more like rappers then we think.

Rappers are always talking about their neighborhood (Hood, if you will). They have to “rep” it. Back in the day I think it was pretty cool, you know, guys saying stuff like “Straight outta Compton…” or writing songs called “California Love” or New York State of Mind”. As Atlanta has found its way onto the map in the hip-hop scene, you’re hearing more about the ATL and my current hometown, Decatur. We have the likes of Outkast, Ludacris and Lil’ Jon, to name a few, to thank for this. Thanks guys, for “repping” (that means represent, if you’re not affiliated with hip-hop slang) my hood.

As I was saying earlier, everyone has taken to “repping” these days, so much as to belittling a co-worker who lives ten miles outside of the city. It’s all pretty silly if you ask me, but I guess it really boils down to the human condition. We all want to be accepted. Everyone wants to be cool. Why do so many people flock to NYC and L.A.? It seems cool. Cool people live there with cool jobs. Most movie stars and a lot of bands live in New York and California. It must be the American promise land.

If people can tack that they’re from a place where cool and sexy rich people are from, on to their person, maybe people will think that they are cool, sexy and rich too! It sounds so elementary, but I know it’s true. I think we all do, because we’ve all done something similar.

I’ve been lucky not to fall into the LA and NY trap though because I’ve seen enough people do it already. None of my close friends made it in NY, they got out alive, but they were always broken when they got home. NYC eats people’s souls. Let me rephrase that, NYC chews on people’s souls and then spits it out when they go home.

A few of my buddies did OK in LA (that sounds like a band name). They didn’t find much opportunity there though. Some still live there, but most moved away. They had a good time and I think it was overall a good experience for them, but it wasn’t a place where they wanted to put roots down.

We as people wear so many different masks. Trying to cover up who we really are has become so second nature. Throwing up fronts to make ourselves look better to other people and ultimately make ourselves feel better about ourselves, even though it’s a lie.

Have you ever met someone who was completely comfortable with who they were and never made any excuses for something they did that other people saw as being strange? I fucking love those people. They tend to be the most accepting of others as well. They welcome change and new ideas. You never feel awkward telling them anything about yourself either. You can actually tell them what your favorite album of all-time really is, without being judged for loving Seal’s greatest hits. They’d probably say that they love Seal too and start in to the chorus of “Kissed by a Rose”.

People gravitate towards those types of individuals. They probably have 50 best friends in every city they visit. Everyone loves them! How can you not like someone who makes you feel OK with your insecurities? You can’t push that away and if you can, it’s only for so long.

When I look around at the world and see people always tearing each other down, it’s pretty painful to watch. It’s painful when I watch myself do it. It seems as though every bit of entertainment we have these days is based off of making fun of someone. Think about your favorite TV show or comedian, think about the jokes, it’s usually at someone else’s expense. Why do we do it? To make ourselves feel better because someone has done it to us before. No wonder we always hide who we really are, we’re afraid that we’re going to be the butt of the next joke.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Tear it down!

One of my favorite things to do is to try and get my head around some idea or thought process that is foreign to me. The only problem though, is that it takes a lot of energy. It’s exhausting because it doesn’t wear on your body, but on the mind. Nevertheless, I like coming out on the other side with a deeper understanding of how it all works. It makes you wiser in the end, regardless of what you discover. At least you asked the hard question that so many fear asking.

What makes the process so exhausting is the deconstruction of the idea. For example, I was talking to some of my girlfriend’s co-workers last night and inevitably as much as I honestly avoid the subject in real life, we started talking about religion. As we all know, I automatically kick into my devil’s advocate role and start asking the hard questions that most Christians are afraid to ask. They like their happy, fluffy feel good religion and they don’t want it to be shaken up. I’m the complete opposite though, if I believe something that has holes in it, let’s fucking tear it apart!

Why would I want to believe in something that is a lie? It may make me feel good now, but in the end it’s just going to blow up in my face and cause more damage in the long run. Something that I find to be immensely gratifying is ripping apart an idea or belief and asking those hard questions, but coming out at the end of it all still believing that it is true. After that gut-wrenching process, you now know why you believe it and you can hold fast to it and not have to question its solidity anymore. It becomes apart of your core!

I love discovering truth for myself. I love knowing what is in my heart may not be right for everyone, but it’s fucking spot on for me! It brings peace of mind and security. It helps me sleep better at night.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

The American Dream!

When I was a kid one of my favorite Christmas time movies was Hook. Yeah, it’s about Peter Pan, but it’s set around the holiday season. 15 years later and it’s still a family favorite. I actually bought it on DVD last year just to rekindle a little bit of my childhood. Like most movies you love when you’re a kid, they’re usually not nearly as good when you grow up.

It was fun to sit and quote the lines that I remember repeating to my friends when we goofed around. A few of my friends and I have quoted movies in a parody style since we were kids. I honestly could call my best friend right now and say “Welcome back to Never Land Pan the Man!” and abruptly hang up. He would call me back laughing his ass off. We’re easily amused.

For the most part, I enjoyed watching Hook again. The ending was a little cheesier than I recall, but it was a movie geared towards children. Peter finally cutting off Hook’s head after slicing each of his limbs off one by one would’ve been fucking awesome, but getting mysteriously being eaten by a dead crocodile works too. I imagine they weren’t going for an R rating on that one.

Something that stuck out to me in Hook though, was a quote that the Captain himself says. “Why lie? The truth is much more fun.” (I couldn’t find the exact quote online, but it’s something to that effect.) I’ve been known to quote this line from time to time. I find it to be quite true though. If you really think about it, in a sense, a lot people somewhat live a lie. I include myself in this. I'll just name one for now:

The American Dream!

So what is the American Dream anyway? Going to college? Getting a degree that you probably won’t use? Or how about meeting that special someone and getting married and having 2.5 children? Now don’t forget about buying that two-story, bordered with a white picket fence and two brand new cars sitting in the driveway.

I know it’s a part of being an adult, but I see the so-called American Dream as more of a nightmare. House payments, car payments, rushing into marriage, making babies when you haven’t fulfilled everything you want to do, climbing that corporate ladder to realize that there’s not much going on at the top and my personal favorite, golf.

All of those things make me sick. Some of these things are fulfilling in the right time frame. I’m not completely against marriage or children, but timing is everything. At the ripe old age of 25 I’ve already seen enough of my friends get divorced and seen their babies have to deal with being a part of a broken home. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone and I don’t feel like being another statistic.

I love it when I see people create their own American Dream. It’s a beautiful thing. They are the ones who are in their 40’s and not married, but they’ve traveled more than anyone else you know. They are the Jack and Jill’s of all trades. They have the best stories and either can drink you under the table or give you the wisest advice that you would never hear anywhere else. In a lot of cases, they can do both. Drunken advice isn’t always bad advice, right?

I’m not bashing college, marriage or children here, because for some, that is the American Dream. I just want to encourage and promote free thought. We are free, aren’t we? We should then use that same freedom to create our own American Dream!

Monday, October 30, 2006

Imperfection at its best! - continued

I think most religious people or Christians when asked the questions if they think God is perfect or not, they would all say a resounding “Yes!” without hesitation. The rest of the population would either say “no” or say “yes” out of a sense of respect. Kind of like the respect people had for Michael Jordan when he came out of retirement for the second time when he was almost 40. Regardless of how he played everyone still said he was the best.

For the people who say God is perfect out of respect, I get this mental image of how I think they see him. He’s the 50’s something blue collar older man who’s pretty rough around the edges. He puts in a 12 hour work day and when he gets home from work, he just wants to eat his dinner in peace in front of the TV. The night is always capped off with a couple of glasses of scotch before he nods off in front of the tube, just to get up the next day and do it all over again.

The people who respect him are his kids and they don’t mind that he does this because he has always put food on the table and provided everything they ever needed. He missed out on the school play and the championship basketball game, but they know he will always love them despite the fact that they don’t talk much anymore. He’s not perfect, but they grant it to him out of respect, because well, He’s God.

When I look at the whole spectrum of what we call perfect and imperfect I realize that a lot of people need perfect, or at least they think they do. Their friends have to be perfect, their family has to be perfect and they have to have control of everything that they do. Those people run them selves ragged and either end up bitter or hopefully wake up one day and I realize that beauty is truly in the flaw.

Life is messy. People are crazy. Love is fucked up. God, we’re a fucking disgusting bunch, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I used to run myself ragged trying to be perfect, I did it for religion’s sake. One day I realized that I couldn’t do it anymore. I walked away from it all, until I realized that being perfect is not the point. It never was. It’s the journey that’s important and not the arrival.

Through discovering that I don’t have to be perfect, it made more sense to me that God truly was perfect. What was my reasoning? Only perfect love could let me off the leash for being so imperfect.

Imperfection at its best!

Nothing in this world is perfect. There are probably a lot of different opinions and thoughts on the matter and many people might think that I’m making a bold statement. Depending on what you want to believe you could alter your perception on just about anything.

For instance, you could say Michael Jordan is the greatest basketball player of all time. He won 6 championships in 8 years and even had an 18 month hiatus in there. When he came back he was out of shape and not the MJ of old, but he was still an all-star. The Bulls got knocked out of the play offs, but he worked out harder than anyone else in the off-season and brought glory back to Chicago for the next 3 seasons. Michael Jordan was the perfect player. Larry Bird once even called him “God in basketball shoes”. He was basketball perfection, so to speak.


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To be as dominant as he was he had to be the best, right? Well, he did blow it pretty bad when he came out of retirement. He possibly even hurt his team in the play offs that year. When he did win the championships he was surrounded by a cast of superstars. On a personal level, it was rumored that Michael originally retired, not because he wasn’t challenged anymore, but because his gambling addiction was starting to creep up on him. Could you imagine, MJ not being inducted into the Hall of Fame? Not too mention Mike also had some marriage problems due to his infidelity. Michael Jordan doesn’t seem so perfect anymore. It’s all about perception of what people want to believe. Ignorance is bliss, eh?

Not to sound sacrilegious, but to me, Audrey Hepburn seems more perfect than God. Now how could God’s creation be more perfect than Him. Let me explain. I honestly don’t know a lot about Audrey. I know that she was beautiful, graceful and a person that cared about other people due to her humanitarian efforts that she was involved in before she died. It’s easy for me to see perfection in her because I didn’t know her. I’ve never seen any of her faults. In my mind she is perfect. I’m sure her family and friends knew her faults very well, but I choose to live in my fantasy world because you know what? It doesn’t matter either way. I choose to see perfection where I know imperfection lies.


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Now when it comes to God, I’m sure most people could drone on for days and days about the imperfections of the Bible and the World. God seems to be pretty damned flawed for being the Creator of the universe. Let’s take a look around. There are wars, famine, death, disease hate, greed and you can pretty much name it and it’s going on. We haven’t even started talking about the loop holes of the Bible yet.

The Good Book is supposed to be God-inspired, but there is a non-stop argument over translation and I’m only talking about the English translations. As much as a lot of Christians want to believe, Jesus wasn’t white and he didn’t speak English. Oh and while we’re on the subject, Christianity is actually an Eastern Religion. Don’t tell the church they might get mad. Back to the Bible though, in the Old Testament God was killing people left and right. How can a God of love slaughter so many people? Try telling a non-believer it was because God saw these people as evil.

Moving forward into the New Testament, God sends his “hippie” son Jesus into the world to set us all straight and by the way, He’s also the ultimate sacrifice for our every sin. The Bible either sounds like a Tolkien book or a Metallica song.

Once we start talking about all of this God stuff I start missing Audrey. It’s so easy to analyze a movie star opposed to the omnipotent God. You have to give it to Him though, He has had a lot more exposure then she did.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Do you want to die?

I received an e-mail this morning regarding a friend of a co-worker who passed away. I didn’t know the man, but for whatever reason he passed away, he knew it was coming. I’m sure it was something along the lines of cancer that they can see coming, but in a lot of cases can’t do anything about.

When you hear about stories like his, you always think that it can’t happen to you, maybe it isn’t too surreal for you to imagine and maybe it already has hit home for you. I think I’m some where in the middle. If something like that happened to me, it wouldn’t completely surprise me, but it would still be a shocker. Shocked that death has my number, but like Clint Eastwood says in Unforgiven, “We’ve all got it comin’ kid.” It’s going to happen eventually. Your ticker is going to stop tickin’.

Death is a frightening thing to me. I don’t think that the actual event of dying would be so bad. I’m sure most of us have dealt with pain that made us feel like we were dying. Every time my blood sugar drops and my body reacts and goes into panic mode I feel like I’m shutting down. I know I’m fine, but I imagine death probably feels a lot like that, your body shutting down and all.

I think the worst part about death will be missing out on everything going on here. People who believe in Heaven think that life has just begun as we cross that great divide. I believe in Heaven and God and all that good stuff, but at the same time, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe when I die, it is the end. Maybe the soul truly dies. I just can’t imagine not being alive. Not thinking, processing or interacting with everything around me. It will happen on an earthly plain one day though. I hope it carries on somewhere else. Hopefully, that somewhere is pleasant.

This conversation with my self isn’t about whether God or Heaven is real though. I think it’s about taking advantage of the time we have left, “Carpe Diem”, but not in a cheesy way. Well actually, if cheesy does the trick, then I’m OK with cheesy. I personally have a “too cool for school” attitude most the time when it comes to things that are cheesy and sentimental, but honestly, I'm very sentimental. I'm just good at hiding it. When it comes to life and death though, I think anything goes.

We hear it all the time, "Today could be your last day!". Unfortunately, it’s true. Like working in an office, it would probably be good to go ahead and tie up those loose ends and complete that unfinished business. I need to make that phone call. I need to straighten that situation out. I need to pay that debt.

I guess when I walk out that door at the end of the proverbial day. I want my affairs in order, I want a clean house and I don’t want to have any burned bridges with those that matter most to me.



"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."

-Gilda Radner

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

"Remembrance"

“Remembrance”

The surrounding forest brought forth the scent of the seasons change as the intuition of the “gathering” reunited us together

The nocturnal ones appeared from hibernation as the sunset in the distance
The protectors of our domain, we reigned in the darkness
Masters of our environment, we owned the land

Looking into the future for the satisfaction that we held in our grasp
Blinded by our youth, we were deceived by our expectations of what was to come
Was the midnight gathering taken for granted?

I will forever cherish it in my heart

The falling of the leaves brought forth a separation
The gathering dispersed once again
Little did we know, it was for the last time

Did we ever say goodbye?
Did we ever say I love you?

Goodbye for now and I will always love you

John Carroll

October 2000

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

From the Horses Mouth...

Back during the '04 presidential campaign I would ask Christians that I knew, who they were voting for. Most of them would say "George Bush, of course!" I would always follow up with a very innocent "Why?"

Honestly, I have no agenda.

I do not wish to change the minds of others to believe what I believe. I believe in God and Jesus, but it's in a very different way than other people who believe in them. My best friend is an athiest. We talk about God and all of the happy crap all the time, but we know that we're not trying to change the other person. We just like to have different perspectives.

So as I was asking people why they were voting for Bush. It wasn't to attack them, but to understand how their minds worked.

"Why am I voting for Bush?" A lot of times they seemed stunned that I asked or they would just blindly answer. "Well, first of all he's a Christian and he's pro-life!" Sometimes, I would play a little bit of the Devil's Advocate and ask them about other issues, but their original answers would usually suffice.

As someone who spent alot of time during the last election pondering what I believed in and who I was going to vote for, it was hard for me to see people make such loose statements without ever thinking for themselves. I guess that's how most of the world operates though.

I have a daily routine during the work week: Come into the office, turn on my computer, check my work e-mail, read the news...

As I was checking out what was going on in the world this morning, I came across a pretty interesting article about Bush and Christian Conservatives. This article was written by the former second-in-command of President Bush's Office of Faith-Based Initiatives.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Free Porn!!

Morality is such an interesting thing to me. The Church and the government these days try to rule people with their iron first of morality and it just makes people want to go and "sin" alot more.

When I went to church, mainly youth group, they would talk to us "guys" about dating, porn and masturbation. All of the guys wanted to date the cute youth group girls. Most of the guys looked at internet porn and all of the guys masturbated. Instead of discussing this in a reasonable manner, which they tried to do, but they were socially and sexually retarded when the issue came up. They tried to use the "Morality Hammer - now with new striking action!!" to change our minds and our hearts.


They would quote scripture about lusting after a woman in your heart and that it was the same as doing it in real life. Most of us wish we could've been doing it in real life, but we were too afraid or to young. Some of the wiser adults would use a grace message, but it still had some good old fashion religion attached to it.

Do I think dating is bad?: no

Do I think Porn is bad?: I don't see anything positive about it really

Do I think choking your chicken is bad?: I can see why the church thinks it's bad because it makes you want to do other things, but since when do I ever agree with the church? To each his own, it's not my business what another man does in his bathroom.

I think the best advice is: the more you focus on not doing something, the more you're going to keep thinking about it and probably keep doing it. If something truly is "sinful" and messing up your life. Try changing the subject and not dwelling on it. I know it's not that easy sometimes, but sometimes it really is.

Also, I feel like the church and the government try to rule for their own benefit. I'd like to think that the Church truly wants to help people or maybe they just want to guilt people into staying longer so they can tithe more.

When it comes to Bush though, I think he will do anything to get what he wants. He uses morality as his battle axe!

Bush: "So Dick, I hear they got poker on the in-ter-net these days. You ever play any"?

Dick: "Nahh. I've been too busy managing all of the money I'm getting from Haliburton and trying to figure out new ways that I can take over the world. Plus, the people can shoot, i mean, play back at you and i'm not one for competition."

Bush: "I think I might try to play. Reminds me of my war dodging days. We'd stay up drinking all night, playing cards and looking at nudie magazines."

Dick: "You know all of those poker sites aren't in the US to avoid getting taxed by us?"

Bush: "Are you fucking serious?"

Dick: " Hell yeah, I am."

Bush: "Those God Damn Heathens, not paying their tithe, I mean taxes to us. That Texas Hold Em' is an immoral sinners game anyway. We need to shut that shit down Dick!"

Dick: "I agree Bush. Let's do that right after we invade North Korea."

Bush: "I'll tell you what I told Laura last night. I like to think with my Dick!"




I guess the moral of this post is: Stop
thinking with your "Dick"!

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Directing the directions, after you've been given wrong directions

Sometimes the greatest revelations hit in the most unlikely of places. The bathroom, bars and random parking lots. I like that though. You kind of expect great things to occur in a church, but how often does that actually happen? You never think that something awesome is going to strike you in a bathroom, but i'm usually washing my face or brushing my teeth when the meteor of understanding crashes into the side of my head and "bang", the light turns on and i finally get my heart,soul and mind around something...or atleast start moving in that direction.

Everyone has struggles and failures. We spend our whole life trying to cover up these failures. It feels good to let them all hang out and know that alot of people will still love you regardless. That makes life worth while to know that you don't have to carry the burden anymore and that you can be honest about how you feel. It's amazing that when you open up like that, there is someone usually there that pipes in and says "You too? I thought I was the only one who deals with that."

Let freedom ring.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Monday, October 02, 2006

Last Dance with Mary Jane...

As we all know, when your employer brings in a "consultant" someone is going to get fired. It's inevitable.

My company hasn't brought in one, but believe it or not, the salon my girlfriend assistant manages has. A salon bringing in a consultant? That sounds kind of strange to me, but it never surprises me what companies will waste money on. I believe the "consultant" has been in house for a couple of weeks now weeding out the problems and problem childen of the salon.

My girlfriend got a disheartening text message this weekend from one of the assistants . It more less said that two of the receptionists that my girl manages got fired because they failed a drug test. not that I have anything against it, but since when do salons give random drug tests to receptionists who never appear to be in a drug-induced state? Assuming they give drug tests to everyone in the salon, Ashley is expecting to take one today which she will pass with flying colors. I told her though, if she is given a drug test to ask nonchalantly if everyone in the salon will be given a drug test as well.

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My reason for wondering this is because outside of the food/bar industry, the people that I know who do drugs the most are hair stylists. I'm under the suspicion that the owner of the salon is going to be running a double standard. She wants to appear upright and conservative by testing her receptionists for drug use, but would never in a million years test the stylists who bring shit tons of money into her salon. If she did fire one of them, they would just take their clientele with them. Double standards are a beauitul thing.

By no means do I condone drug-use, but let's make the playing field fair here. If you're going to test one person, you must test them all.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman always leads to Anal Sex!

I 'm currently transporting all of my belongings from a larger shoe box to a smaller one. I'll post some pictures when I finish moving. Through this whole process I needed some different furniture to save on space. Thank God there is an Ikea in Atlanta or I might have been shopping at rooms to go or maybe even the dumpster.

You wouldn't think that so many God Damn people would flock to a fucking furniture store, but Ikea breaks that fucking mold. I was perusing the store with Ashley and my Dad when I run into a girl I work with. We say "hi", I meet her husband, we chit chat and we all get back to perusing.

Moments later I see my friends wife walk by, I scan the area and there he is. The only thing weird about this, is that he lives in another state that's three hours away. We make out and slap each other on the ass and talk about possibly hanging out the next day and get back to perusing.

A few minutes later my Dad and I are talking about masculine things like shelving and bolts when I turn around and see a buddy of mine from the ATL. Nothing out of the ordinary there except he's hanging out with my friend Joe from Nashville, who I haven't seen in 4 years. We grunt and head butt and talk about what we've been doing with ourselves. I think he's a contract killer. I lie and tell him I'm a taxidermist and explain to how awesome it feels to embalm a dead animal. He laughed. I gave him a lucky rabbits foot that I stole from Walmart. He didn't say much after that.

I think Ikea should rip off the myspace slogan. Ikea, a place for Friends. I wonder how many people have had sex in there. I bet more than you think.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

In the Desert

Hmm...

I tried blogging yesterday. I even wrote a post, but for whatever reason my blog software hates me and didn't post it. No biggie though, It was just stating that I've been in California for the last week working.

Our conference was awesome, but we put a lot of work into it. 12-15 hour days wear on you. Our company focuses on sales training, but we bring in other speakers to mix it up a little bit. This year one of our key note speakers was Keith Ferrazzi. He wrote a book called Never Eat Alone.

You've probably heard of his book, but if you haven't it's about relationships. that goes hand in hand with what we do, so he was a great addition to the line up. I stopped in for a few minutes while he was speaking and he seemed pretty good, but people were raving when he got done and we sold out of all of his books in 10 minutes.

When that happens I usually want to kick myself for missing out on hearing them speak, but we're so busy and tired that we like to take a break during their sessions. One thing that I over heard some of the attendee's talking about after his session though was about having to discuss with others around you what your biggest struggles were. That in turn got me thinking about my own biggest struggle.

It's weird to type it, but it feels comforting.

My biggest struggle in the adult world is the fact that I never went to school. School being college.

It's never been a problem for me, but to alot of people it is a problem. Even though it's my life and it's never held me back, some people have issues with it and that's what bothers me even though it shouldn't.

I don't say this so people can encourage me and make me feel good about myself etc, etc. I just wanted to say it, type it, blog it, get it out of my system.

I don't have time, money or the energy to go to college right now. I may never and it's starting to look that way. Has this hurt my success in the professional world? Not at all, I know i'm one of the lucky ones. I don't take it for granted, but at the same time "Luck favors the prepared". I work my ass off and do a good job. I may not have a piece of paper that says i've completed so many hours of school, but I have another piece of paper that says, I've been with the same company for 7 years and that I didn't get spring break and summers off when I was 19 years old, while the rest of my friends we're partying their brains off.

As we all know, just because you don't go to college doesn't mean you're not educated. Not going to college means that when I read a book, I read it because I want to, not because someone is making me. Therefore, i'm pretty much going to retain about 60% more information because I want to read that book. I learn because I want to. I excel because I have proven skills, not practiced ones.

With all of that said, I'm not knocking people who go to college. My girlfriend is going to graduate this year from one of the best schools in the state and be a school teacher. I encourage and motivate her to work hard and make the grades everyday. College isn't for everyone, it is for her though and I support her and it brings me joy to see her succeed.

In turn though, she realizes that at this point in my life school isn't happening for me. She's never uttered a word about it that would make me feel inferior and she supports me in all that I do. That's what I need as I struggle in my mind about feeling inferior in a world that can alot of times look down on the "uneducated".

On second thought, Michael Dell seems to be doing alright.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Basket Case

In the early years of my life I watched my parents fight like cats and dogs. I never understood why, but what child does. They both had tempers that raged like an erupting volcano and my brother and I were the little village of people that lived at the base of the oncoming natural disaster. On top of that they could out curse any twenty drunken sailors that have been sleeping with whores and doing crank for the better part of a month. I think you get my point.

As we got older though, my parents cooled off for the most part, but the bad temper and the speak first-think later mentality was still ingrained deep within us. I found myself blowing up during basketball games and other competitive activities. Even at 15 I realized what was going on and decided to work on my anger. It really worked too. I cooled off and not many things bothered me. My attitude was quite the opposite of the rage that previously had boiled my blood. I was slow to speak and anger.

Probably within the last 4 years though, with all of the heart breaking events that occured in my life,I some how let the anger creep back in. The frustration would build and I would just snap. I'm not talking about getting angry and bothered. It was more like the rage of a lion mixed with the fury of Zeus. It's just a good thing that I wasn't blessed with his mythical powers.

I'd get mad at all kinds of things - work , losing at poker, someone talking smack about me. Anything could get me fuming and ready to call down the thunder, but since I know better I'd always feel terrible about my actions or words once I cooled down.

I realized and still understand that I have anger issues. I've thought about counseling and a couple different things, but never really followed through. Recently, I stumbled upon something that you wouldn't think would be a life changer and be able to control the beast within, but it has.

It was a quote.


"That which angers you, controls you."


That hit home for me. I don't want anything to control me, but myself. If I allow an action or a word to affect me and destroy my peace and the peace of those around me, I am not in control. That bothers me more than getting angry.

I love the people in my life and I don't want to add to their daily frustrations by getting angry and taking my frustrations out on them. It's unacceptable.

There's just something about that quote though. I try and say it to myself everytime I think of a situation where I would normally get fired up and it calms me down. I've already begun to see results of handling opposition in my life with a peaceful mindset.


"I am the Captain of this ship, not the waves that crash down on me or the current that tries to sweep me out to sea."








Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Gadgets and Gizmos


I have too many toys. Seriously, what guy ever says that? The
sad part is, I really only have like 3 or 4 toys. Man, I am getting old. I don’t
ever really want things for Christmas anymore and now I only have a limited amount
of toys. I chose this life. I think it’s a good thing. I like simplicity.


Speaking of simplicity, I’m going to state the obvious. A lot of the electronics coming out these days are ripping off Apple’s design. I mentioned it briefly in my last post as well. The three toys that I play with the most look like they’re made by the same company and none of them are.



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It's pretty awesome for Apple that they have such a sleek and cool design that other companies steal it from them. What's the quote, "Imitation is the highest form of flattery"?

What I'm wondering is, when did white become the new black? White was always lame when I was a kid. I always wanted black shoes and black t-shirts, now I'm buying white electronics. I think Andrew W.K. might've sparked a revolution with his all white attire...Party Hard!

I wonder what the next big design craze will be though? Maybe speckled paint?







Friday, September 01, 2006

Oh hey blog...

Lately, I've somewhat forgotten about my blog. I think the word blog sounds like a slang term for penis, if you had never heard of a blog before.

I have replaced all of the music on my ipod 3 times in the last year. That's kind of sick. It's actually more depressing.

I went to the most haunted place in the South East a couple of weekends ago. I had a conversation with Jimmy Hoffa for atleast half an hour. He's doing well. He said they can stop looking for his body now.

Don't ever watch LOST if you plan on flying anywhere in the near future. I hope they play "Snakes on a Plane" during my trip though. That or "Airplane".

I love Leslie Nielsen.

"Surely, you can be serious."

"I am serious and stop calling me Shirley!"

Nintendo is currently ripping off Apple's design. I'm ok with that.

Despite my homoerotic away messages on gmail: I'm not really in love with Kevin, but he's a good alternative since Boy George is too far out of my reach.

You should listen to Styx if you don't already.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Go to Bed - part 2

Regarding the last entry, I think since I was trying to write it while closing up shop at work I some how forgot to add the last part. I think it worked out pretty well, since I don't like to write really long entries.

Anyway, apparently from at least one comment on the last post, our point of view changes regarding bed time as you get older. As my brother was jokingly telling my nephew to go to bed, I kept thinking to myself "I wouldn't mind going to bed as punishment." Maybe I could finally catch up on my sleep. How great would it be to walk into work 15 minutes late and find the boss waiting by your cubicle?


"Johnny C., why the hell are you late?"

"Sorry I'm late, but the school traffic is horrendous."

"That's not good enough. Everyone else managed to make it into the office on time, except you."

"I'm sorry sir."

"Johnny C.! Go to bed!"

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!"


I guess if you really think about it though, going to jail is a form of going to bed. You just have to stay there for months to years at a time. Not to mention, you also have to share that bed with some not so nice people.

Alot of things are like that though, remember having to sit at the kitchen table until you ate your vegetables. Now about half of what I eat is of a state of vegetation, no I'm not eating babies.

Life is odd.

I want to go to bed.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Go to bed!

Yesterday was my Dad’s 61st birthday. Trailing behind him quite a ways in age, is my nephew who celebrated his 4th birthday yesterday as well. It’s pretty weird that they share the same birthday. I also have another nephew on the way any day now. I was kind of hoping he would’ve arrived yesterday for obvious reasons. Three birthdays on the same day would been out of control. It would’ve also sucked having to buy three presents every August.

As we were partaking in festivities, they decided to pull one over on my nephew with trick candles. My brother kept on telling him that we couldn’t eat cake until he blew the candles out. After the first few tries he started threatening him with having to go to bed early (Yeah, my brother is a bastard.). Then I realized, after being spanked, having to go to bed early is the worst punishment for a child.

I started to contemplate why that was such a horrible punishment. Beds are soft and comfortable and you get to relax, but to a child this is hell, especially, if everyone else is still awake. You have to go lay in bed and stair at the ceiling and all the grown ups get to watch TV and talk all night long.

That’s the way I looked at it when I was a kid. I could always hear my Mom and Dad laughing and having so much fun. I was convinced that they hard large parties that involved Santa Clause giving out presents and the Easter Bunny handing out large baskets of candy. All while I had to sit in my room and “get some rest”.

In the end, we told my nephew while he was on the brink of tears that it was only a joke and that no one could put the candles out. My family is sick and twisted. That probably explains a lot to some of you, if you’ve been reading my blog for a while.