2 Things I Hate About You

Man, I'm tired of that certain breed of women that laugh rather than apologize when they've really screwed something up. An extremely high concentration of them live in the greater Los Angeles area and, unfortunately for me, I seem to "magnetically" attract them.
For instance, I'm driving down the street and suddenly a car merges into my lane right next to me so that I have to slam on the brakes and lay on the horn. Pull up next to the car to see what condition the driver is in and (9 times out of 10) there sits a giggling woman (usually on the phone while sitting next to a giggling female passenger). She turns just briefly to look at me and (here's the part I HATE) giggles all the more while raising her one hand that's not holding the phone (and used to be controlling the steering wheel) up to her mouth in order to mimick the presumably universal "oops" sign. There's never an "I'm sorry" hand wave or even the silent screaming that tells you the poor girl is having a bad day, so you might as well leave her alone. No, there's only, "oops!" (giggle, giggle).
Then there's the moments like I had last night...

I was supposed to meet my date in Hollywood and go to a few parties that her and her girlfriend were invited to. The agreed upon plan was to meet up with them after dinner and she'd call me when she was arriving at the first party. I timed my evening to show up to this party about the same time that I figured it would take her to eat and arrive as well. Since I didn't presume to know anyone at this particular affair I didn't want to go in without her. So, I waited 30 minutes at our meeting place for her and then called to see where she was at.
No response.
I wait 45 minutes and send her a text: "Hey, I'm here. R U dun w/dinr?"
No response.
I wait a total of 1 hour and she calls.
Her: (giggle, giggle) Hi. We had a change of plans. (giggle, giggle) After dinner we stopped by a friend's party, but we're on our way to you now. I'll call you in a bit. Shouldn't take more than 15 to 20 minutes to get there (giggle, giggle).
I'M HER DATE! EXCUSE ME? YOU JUST WENT TO A PARTY WITHOUT YOUR DATE? I must not have received the updated Rules Of Dating book because that's cause for the death penalty in the last edition.
Alright, we're now at 1 hour 20 minutes of standing outside waiting to have a great time with my great date. I call to see if she's almost here.
No response.
I wait 15 minutes.
Call.
No response.
At the 1 hour and 45 minute mark I start to laugh at how much of an ass I look like for standing around on a busy Hollywood street corner, all dressed up, waiting for this woman. I call her one more time and tell her if she doesn't show up now or call me in the next couple of minutes I'm out.
(I'm realizing now that I should have set this blog up like a season of 24. With 1 hour blocks for each episode. That would have been cooler. But, then, I'm the guy who waits around for a girl for 2 hours, so I guess I'm not up on what's "cool".)
Anyway, I give her 15 more extremely generous minutes and then leave. I drive 20 minutes home and sit in my livingroom for about 10 minutes when... That's right, she calls. (Here's the part I HATE.)
Me: Hello?
Her: (giggle, giggle) Where are you?
Me: Home.
Her: No! (giggle, giggle) I'm headed to that party now!
Me: Where the hell were you?
Her: (giggle, giggle) We were walking to the car (giggle, giggle) to go see you when we heard about another party just up the street, so we (giggle, giggle) stopped by.
Me: You went to another party without me, your date, and left me waiting for you in Hollywood for 2 hours?
Her: (giggle, giggle, giggggggggllllllllllllllllleeeeeeee, giggle) Yes. I'm SO sorry. I'm sorry. (giggle, giggle)
Me: Why would you do that? Why didn't you at least call me?
Her: I don't know? (giggle) I have no excuse (giggle). Just come back over.
Me: No, I'm done partying with you for one night.
Her: Ohhhh, come onnnnn... Are you mad at me?
Me: 2 HOURS you let me wait for you while you went and partied!
Her: (giggle..?)


I don't know, God. It's sounding more and more like it is good for Man to be alone.
(Oh, is that wrong to say?)
Giggle, giggle... Oops.

Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A

In honor of ESPN's new groundbreaking series Codebreakers, here's the codes and pins to all of my email accounts, bank accounts, ATM, and voice messages:

Email - ***********

Email - *******

Blogspot - ********

ATM - ****

Online Banking - twoscoops12

Voice Messages - *********

Locker - *****

Saw NARNIA Tonight

I didn't intend on seeing it until Sunday, but my friend and I started to sit down to watch a screening of Syriana and decided we might as well wait another hour and see Narnia at the first screening. I won't say anything about the story here so as not to upset any fans that are yet to see the film. I would say I enjoyed it though, although it turned out to truly feel like a children's story... I suppose it felt a bit like seeing Benji for the first time (only, at the ripe age of 24) and being excited about it.

Narnia: The Lion, The Car, and The Turkey

Well, I'm going to finish the fourth book in the The Chronicles of Narnia series tonight. That lion is a pretty cool kat. I keep waiting for him to eat the kids, but he hasn't yet.

Today, during a conversation concerning the upcoming Narnia film (Dec. 9th), a very pretty woman asked me equally very nonchalantly what "old C.S. Lewis was doing these days?" ...I'm pretty sure I'll keep my relationship with her strictly somatic.

Another person that I conversed with this evening wanted nothing more in the world than to tell me all about muscle cars. The following is a section taken directly from the transcribed repartee:

Asian Car Guy: ...And the 05's were already extremely heavy at 3,400 lbs!

Me: That's crazy, man.

Asian Car Guy: But, come on! 3,800 lbs?! I mean, yeah, it has over 500 horsepower, but...

Me: Yeah, I know.

(Later)

A.C.G: ...I mean I'd put a fat block on there with a few bolt down mods...

Me: -That's crazy, man.

A.C.G: ...I mean if we're talkin' "I have a million dollars" here, I'd put mods on the chasis of course, but that's way expensive.

Me: Yeah, I know... That's crazy, man.

(Later)

A.C.G: ...I mean the Subaru (indecipherable) is an amazing model. Do you like the (indecipherable) or the Subaru (indecipherable) better?

Me: Oh, I-I don't know. That's a tough one, man. I mean... ... .. .

A.C.G: -Yeah, I know what you're saying, but I think I'd definitely go for the (indecipherable).

(Later)

Me: Man, you should try going to a Jay Leno taping and meet Jay and talk to him about cars. He's a car guy too, you know?

A.C.G: Yeah, that would be cool. Man, you know quite a bit about cars too. That's cool. Hey, could I get another shot of Absolut?

Then I wrapped the night up with this one guy that ALWAYS comes in and orders two Calistoga mineral waters and a turkey entree. I'm mean we're talking two or three times a week for months - two mineral waters, one turkey entree.
But TONIGHT he ordered, "Two Calistogas and..."
"-The turkey entree?"
"No, how 'bout something different."
"Wow, okay. Here's the menu."
(moments later)
"How about the half oven roasted chicken entree."
"Sure."
I felt shocked, confused, happy and hurt.
I just considered this guy to be terminal; a textbook tryptophan addict. And here he was all at once cured... Cold turkey.

Talk to you kids soon. Night.

Monotone

Went out with my same two friends again tonight. Strange thing about tonight was that I think we've finally hung out so much as of late that we really don't have anything else to say to one another. We just sat around and watched one friend smoke cigarette after cigarette while Pauly Shore looked on from across the room - Buuuddy.
Talked about the future some, but we've hashed that out so many times I feel like there isn't gonna be a new tomorrow for a while. We entertained the idea of finding some... What are they called? Oh, shoot! Uh, I don't keep any around here so, I always forget what they're call... Women! That's right. Women.
I think all three of us are tired. L.A. doesn't give out very many breaks, but we need one. A lot of my friends have left town to find something else already. But me and my two friends are still here... Guess I'll call 'em tomorrow.

Fizz Ed

You know how sometimes you fart when you do a situp..? Yeah, that's awkward.
It can happen with a pushup too.

Culture Clash: Episode 59

I actually strolled past an Asian man sitting in his car with the door closed and window down, reading some form of literature while a pair of black leather shoes lay nice and orderly on the curb just below him. I could only assume that the shoes were his own and it struck me as completely ludicrous that he would take his cultural traditions to such great lengths not only in this country, but anywhere else - including his own motherland! ...And this moment made me laugh... and consider how lucky I am to be so ignorant of other's circumstances. Oh, how - I - laughed.

Mind Your Own Business

Everyone says, "There's no business like show business." Really, Business? How about No Business!?! Now mind your own &*#@ing business! ...Business.

Fragmented Nation

Yeah, you might be special but, You don't know the American way.
One nation, under an unwelcome God, divided, and invisible to one another.
How many roads must a man walk before he is called a god?

Today I want to be a musician. You will call me a musician.
- "Do you know how to play?"
Doesn't matter. 'Cause after today,
I'll leave without a trace,
I'm not coming back for another 8 years.
You won't remember my face,
But the lyrics will wash your eyes with your tears.
- "We hate your sound. We hate your sound!
- Listen to yourself," they say, as they nash at me.
Shake hands in the light,
But they meet underground.
Secret plots in the night.
Still secretly gettin' bit in the backseat but it doesn't matter,
'Cause I'm six tracks in and still on the radio!

Wisdom was raped, that will not go unpunished.
Now the decay of Creation.
Now the debt of a fragmented Nation.

Relevant Times

Learnin' to learn as I discover the discovered.
And it's okay to want the prize waiting at the goal.
'Cause the Maker will make it so.
But if He doesn't still, there'll be something waiting though.
Yes, it just might be that there's something new for me and you somehow. Or maybe just me. Or maybe just you. Lonely never felt so lonely 'til now.
It's all gonna be foretold in retrospect.
Yes, faith can be known and deserves respect.
Just learnin' to learn as I discover the discovered...
The gift to my wandering soul.
But never forsake the truth of the artist's mistake...
Passion and talent changes the future, but does nothing to change the past. There is only Embraced and Forgotten.

I Think I've Found The Logic

How did Whomever come up with the word "bowling" for the name of his newly invented pastime? There is no bowl involved in any aspect of the sport. I have gone through entire 10 frame matches, several matches a day, and never once considered the correlative relationship between my actions and the concaved container I ate my breakfast out of that morning.

Now, this leads me to the obvious next question: Which came first - the Bowl or the sportsman Bowler? And then there's the Super Bowl! No bowls will be found on any football player's list of equipment neccessaties.

I'll tell you what I think. I think the guy that invented Bowls, the original Bowler, was an avid athlete. I think he probably loved competative and leisurely sports just as much as he loved the idea of making decorative half spheres. I'm sure it goes without saying that the The Bowler was a wealthy person since life without bowls is practically inconceivable, so he probably used his wealth to corner the market on pin bashing and championship American football.

That would make sense to me and it seems to correlate well with the history of the actual sport: www.bowlingmuseum.com/history.asp

Hide the Obvious in a Paradox

Can't keep it together. Want to let it all slip from the hold. Can't go it alone. But there's wishing.
Last piece of inspiration... Six tracks in and still on the radio.
Digging for originality amongst the not, like starving bastards in other worlds of One. Even the filthy and diseased passes through the lips of the empty.
Think there's answers on the other side of three dimensions. So many theories for so many stories, but no one is going to take the blame for this One.
Fantasy feeds off reality to nurture the unborn in her womb.
Both share one breath from lungs trembling under a heavy heart... Always wish out of hopelessness.
Image over honesty is everything amongst the hypocrites. Hidden intimacy with anyone else. Why keep them around?
...Can't go it alone. But there's wishing.

for my brother

(The title is in lower case because this is for my little brother. My "Big Brother" stopped coming to pick me up after school about 14 years ago. I think he was arrested and kicked out of the Boys and Girls club program all together..?)

First, I'd like to point out the relevence of this blog because I am venturing to say that it is the first ever written word to begin with a parenthetical.

Second, today's blog is dedicated to my brother, Two Guns. A young "Comedic Literary" if you will. He is an aspiring writer and I think his comedy is brilliant. Right now he's in school studying that writer's stuff... I believe he also told me he's minoring in occupational therapy in hopes of one day finding a cure for not only Writer's Cramp but also Writer's Block. Anyway, check out his blog because it has some extremely funny writing hidden in the subtleties of his words. It's in my opinion that he'll make a great jouranlist or novelist or occupational therapist or waiter one day.

Now, with all that said, I feel it should be known that he most definitely received his seemingly raw talent for comedy directly from my side of the family.

It's true, without the constant dosage of elderly brother abuse I don't believe there is any way that he would have become the awkward introvert that he is today. And without the constant nurturing of ridicule that I bestowed upon him day after day YEAR after YEAR how could he be quite as articulate in his subtle (some might say passive) literary irony? I think it impossible.

So, ...sh#$! Writer's block. Find that cure, my funny lil' kin. God's speed.

My Favs -

The commercials are back! No, no they never really left, but the laugh is back. My favorite side splitters right now are:

1. Geico's Caveman commercial where they apologize and one caveman orders roast duck with the mango salsa.

2. The Starburst commercial with the mariachi band jammin' in the guy's mouth until he bites down on them and presumably kills all of them.

3. A portion of a T-mobil commercial where the Dad is only disappointed in the phone charges no matter what his kids are accomplishing or unaccomplishing in life. The point that makes me laugh is when Dad walks in on son to discuss the phone bill. Son is wearing Mom's dress and trying to apply makeup... Thinks he's busted, but Dad doesn't even notice.

Is There A Doctor In The House?

My computer is sick. It has some kind of a virus that is screwing everything up. I feel horrible about the whole situation. It's my fault. And now with it being so nice outside all poor Compy wants to do is go outside and stretch his software with all of the other Gigs and Bytes, but I've quarantined him in my bedroom. Anyone out there know what I can do? I'm trying to download antivirus software, but this bug won't let me complete any of the downloads! (sigh) Poor, poor Compy...

I Hear You From The Back

Your ideals lie beneath rhyme and rhythm while, in the foreground, bobbing heads frame your voice. Sweat grips my shirt and smoke and ash dust off the shoulders of your intoxicated legion. I’m tired of their insecurities because they make me feel my own.

Again I’ll ask you within myself… Why did I come here?

Alcohol and cigarettes on her breath. Makes me sick. Can’t stand to watch her with him for another moment so, I think I’ll take my chances with the law.

One more and I can't tip for the cocktail. Bum a buck off the man. Doesn’t matter, 'cause I don’t plan to be back again. Secretly gettin’ bit in the backseat and I don’t care to tell. I hate this place, but I’ll probably be back again. Manipulation and control are beneath your rhyme and your rhythm. Temporary master of an intoxicated legion.

dunderhead

Int. Someplace - Night

Two FRIENDS sit at a large booth in a dimly lit bar. Inbetween drinks they converse.

GIBBS
(smiling)
Remember when you had that dream where you forgot to wear pants to school and you were the only one who didn't notice?

KIDDS
(looking under the table)
No.

GIBBS
You told me you had that dream where you forget to wear pants to school and everyone notices but you.

KIDDS
(searching for a point to the story)
Everyone's had that dream. I don't remember what one dream you're specifically referring to.

GIBBS
(amused)
You said you didn't notice that you weren't wearing pants, but you did point out to some other kid in the hall that she wasn't wearing pants. And then she pointed out that you weren't wearing any.

A WAITRESS approaches the men.

MIZZ
You guys want another round?

KIDDS
(without looking up)
We'll take the check.

Mizz walks away.

KIDDS (Cont'd)
(to Gibbs)
And?

GIBBS
I wonder whatever happened to that girl? Pretty crazy that you both weren't wearing pants.

KIDDS
You're living in a fantasy.

GIBBS
(now also looking under the table)
Just cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.

KIDDS
(distempered)
I have pants on, you intellectual ignoramous.
(beat)
Where's yours?

GIBBS
(feeling naked)
Hypocrite!

KIDDS
(angrily standing up out of the booth)
I need to wake up.

Kidds walks through the bar toward the exit. BAR PATRONS gasp with embarrassment as he passes by.

We're Talking Hypotheticals Here People...

If you were to suddenly find yourself being the only human in existance would you then be most confident or unconfident about your general beliefs and assumptions?

As an example: Would you still, then, view yourself as a funny person? Or a creative thinker? Or gifted musician? An exceptional poet? ...Etc.

What characterists would you portray? Would you continue to confine yourself to the socially accepted charactistic norms of your sex?

And finally, being the only human left in existance, which animal would you find most sexually attractive?

Okay, okay, fine... Allow me to set the stage a little better.

Which animal would you find most sexually attractive if you just realized that all human life had been wiped out and so, being naturally distraught, you got trashed on expensive alcohols and spirits that you found in an abandoned bar and now, with major beer goggles on, you've found yourself stumbling around in the dark at an abandoned zoo that used to brag the rights of having the most extensive collection of "exotic" animals in the world until, of course, all humans were destroyed? Having noticed the word "exotic" on one of the park signs you are now trying to find a sexual patner to have pity sex with. So, you lush, which beast will share in your erogenous feast?

Okay, okay, fine... When you answer to this scenario you can write in the third person. We'll all assume that this beastial person was a friend of yours or someone that you read about in Reader's Digest. Okay? Now, please, get to the writing, kids.

*I'll assume that all comments for this post will be anonymous, but don't worry, I won't look at you any different if I do know who posts which comment... ... .......... You sick, SICK, person! Sick! Ugh!! It's an animal! A friggin' disgusting anim... Agh! You Sick!! You're sick!

And remember: This will be theraputic for everyone.

Rims and Ho's!

Yesterday I was sitting in my livingroom when suddenly I heard a noise outside that sounded very familiar although I couldn't figure out exactly what it was. When I looked out my window I couldn't find where the noise was coming from, but it was definetely getting louder as whatever it was fast approached me. It then dawned on me that it sounded exactly like a train was about to come down my street. On one hand I knew that that was impossible since there are no train tracks anywhere near my home and yet, on the other hand, that was the sound that I was hearing... Then from down the street came a car with one tire flat to the point that the car was riding on the rim. As the car passed by I could see that the driver of the vehicle was acting as if nothing was wrong.
He continued down the street and I went back to whatever I was doing (now resting assured that a locomotive was not about to crash into my apartment), but it was several seconds before I could no longer hear the rim skreetching against the pavement.
Well, the story doesn't end there because if it did I wouldn't write about it.

The next afternoon I was in my livingroom watching television and suddenly that horrible noise found my ears yet again! I considered for a moment that it was my imagination when I looked out my window to see the same car driving down my street with the wheel in the same damaged condition! Who said you have to have tires on your 22's? You paid bank for those rims! Use 'em, Biatch!

And about the Ho's... I really don't have much to say about them. They're just Ho's. They get used... And I used them, for my title.

Whispers from the Wardrobe

The distant sound of traffic became more frequent as the clock struck 4am. One hour more and Dawn would turn over Night. Another move in the ancient feud between dark and light.

He lay beneath the sheets in search of sleep. The way to Slumber's dreams is in the dark, but by morning it's path is forgotten, not for memory to keep.

Whispers filled His ears. Whispers from the wardrobe. All children know that demons reside there. In darkness it stores both possessions and fears.

Evil knows that weary minds will easily trust. And in the dark there is not much else to do, but listen. So, their voices secretly reminded Him to covet and lust.

Angels stood nearby. If He would have asked His Father that night for silence from within, surely there would have been a great battle unheard. For the value of His soul was not forgotten in other realms beyond the sky.

But He had not spoken to His Father for some time. And who could speak now, for the whispers grew louder with each rhyme. Demons in His wardrobe reminded Him of His shame. And in their presence His thoughts remained the same.

Slumber's dreams waited for rest as Dawn wrestled Night. And angels stood nearby and listened to the whispers of their enemies. One small prayer and they would fight. Instead, halos bowed low as He stared in the dark and whispered back His most sinful memories.

$3.00

As gas prices in Los Angeles begin to hit the $3.00 mark per gallon I would like to encourage all of my readers (last reader count: Zero ) with a list of things that I found on the internet that you can purchase (S&H not included) for $3.00 or less.

Qty: Description: Price:

5 Jar Openers $3.00
3 Frisbees $3.00
6 Kraft Paper Bags $3.00
2 Pocket Coil Notebooks $2.50
1 Latte Mug $2.95
1 Candle $1.95
1 Tape Measure $2.65
2 Mint Candy Cards $3.00
1 Reversible Screwdriver $1.65
1 Compartment Water Bottle $2.50
1 Tire Gauge $2.00
6 Stadium Cups (Red) $3.00
6 Staduim Cups (White) $3.00
1 Pocket Flashlight $2.25
1 Waterproof Valuable Box $1.80
2 Heavy Duty Ice Scrapers $2.80
3 Bottle Opener Key Rings $2.55
1 Beauty Nipple Cover $3.00

So, there you go! I hope this gives you all hope. Three dollars still goes a long way.
Good luck! And drive with reckless abandon! ...maybe don't do that..?

stuff

So I've got a new idea for a script that I'm going to write with my friend. This one is going to be strickly comedy. No point except to be funny, and I believe that it will be.

Also, Peter Jennings died on Sunday and my brother is coming to my place today. I'm excited about that... And I'm pretty stoked that my brother's gonna be hangin' with me too.

What do you get when you go to a blackjack table and instead of bidding on two cards in front of you, you get interviewed?
A Carson Daily interview on the Last Call!!! HILARIOUS!

Man, I'm Drunk... (Urp)... Uggghhh.............................k

Today's Expose

In general I'm pissed off right at the moment. I hate that lately all I've wanted to do is write something worth while and all I ever come up with is an expressive journal entry that details my poorly influenced emotions. How can someone want to be a writer and yet he can't ever conquer a blank page? This blog page is defeating me. It started off as nothing and no matter how many words I've put on here so far it still reads as nothing to me. And that's how I've felt for weeks now. No inspiration. And then there's the question of what if I did write something "good" at some point and I became successful because of it?

I was at a club tonight cruisin' around the dance floor and I noticed that all of the beautiful women around me were staring off to my left by the DJ booth. The table next to the DJ was being occupied by Kirstin Dunst and Jake Gyllenhaal. All of these people around me were moving back and forth in this drone type movement to the music while staring up at these two celebrities while they freaked on one another. I was completely repulsed. What a shallow, sick thing to witness. So I left and bought a hot dog from a street vender, which I highly recommend to anyone visiting Hollywood. I met up with a friend down the street who was with his genuinely sweet and disgustingly gorgeous love interest. After a few awkward moments straight out of Elimidate I left those two and went to my car. While waiting at a light, two guys started pounding each other's faces in on the corner and it was all I could do to not get out and join the fun. But I didn't and now I'm home wishing I had something to write about... What a waste... of cyberspace.

I updated my blog...

And while proof-reading, some bubble came up to explain a problem and before I was able to read it I hit some random key and the bubble and my new blog disappeared. I'm so pissed! I can't recreate what I wrote... but I'll tell you it had to do with my newly conceptualized... Concept of the Christian Ipod - The all new IGod!

Comment if you'd like to know more.

STYLIZED WRITING: Lesson #2 - Writing Like A Second Grader (aka - A Story Not Worth Telling)

When I went camping for my friend's bachelor party weekend we saw a bear. But I digress...
The story I really want to tell is about all the cool stuff we brought with us camping. We brought a badminton set, wiffle ball bat and ball and a croquet set. While playing croquet we used some of the balls from the croquet set and a wiffle ball to play bocce ball. I won most of the bocce ball games, but I never won in croquet. In fact all that I ended up with after those matches was a second degree sunburn on my shoulders.
We also saw a coyote.

Memoirs of the Naked Guy in July

It's so hot today that by 9:30am I was naked. I would like to be naked before 9:30am, but right now, in my life, there's no real reason to be.

I don't believe there are many circumstances that a person can find themselves in that are quite as uncomfortable as being naked and sweating... Unless you just had poorly timed sex... I guess there are a few scenarios within that circumstance that would be much less hospitable to the ideals of one's comfort.

By 9:40am I could no longer bear to stay in my microwave of a bedroom so, I weighed out the cost of attempting to move to the living room. To make this 8 step journey to the living room (literally 8 steps) it meant I would have to put clothes on, if not just for a few seconds, so that I could close the curtains to my patio door... I don't know if Peeping Tom is gay, but I didn't want to encourage anything...
However, putting clothes on for any increment of time in this temperature sounded about as inviting as sipping on a warm glass or urine but, I really couldn't stay in my room any longer.

Then there was the delema of deciding what I would do once I took up residence in the living room. Since I had only slept for 4.5 hours, sleep seemed appropriate but, I was naked and naked men don't belong on the community couch in my apartment. The floor is too dirty (it's too hot to vacuum). And standing wasn't an option.

Five minutes later, at 9:45am, with beads of sweat welling up in my bellybutton (people with outties don't have to worry about this ever happening), I decided to bite the proverbial bullet and wrap my not-so-proverbial blanket around me, close the curtains, throw the blanket on the couch, turn on the ever expensive A/C and lay on the couch...

It's 11:13am and sweat is causing my laptop to slide across my legs.
I've decided that I owe it to my roommate to at least wear boxers while I'm on the couch even though I am already laying on a blanket.
I had to eventually turn the A/C off due to budget constraints and now, I'm weighing out the cost of moving to the kitchen to climb into the freezer.

City of Angels City of Hope

If you can't find the strength to stay where you are for one more day. Why do you stay?
But if at the same time you can't imagine being anywhere else, why would you go?
Where do you live when the streets are owned by races and there's no room for you on your block?
And if you can't afford today, then why worry about tomorrow?
But if tomorrow comes and there's no way to pay, then why didn't you save yesterday?
Where do you go when daydreams are so intoxicating that you're thoughts are poisonous and the bind of reality is suffocating?
If two friends feel lonely, then who's the better friend?
How do you paint when every color hates the other?

Virgil - I've got your keys...

The title is a quote from the movie "Painted Hero" by Terry Benedict. It's a silly movie with an unrelatable plot, but the line, "Virgil - I've got your keys." struck me as very humorous.

It's Saturday, and today, I went to work at 10am.
It's my blog and I should not have to express that the writings within are my opinion, but... (It's my opinion that) no one should be going to work at 10am on a Saturday. Especially if they were at a club until 4am the night before. But anyway, there I was in uniform at work at 10am, just to find out that my particular work space was under construction, so I went home.
Okay, this Saturday was now completely available to me. I could take advantage of it in anyway I'd like. So, I did what any person would do with that kind of valuable free time. I got in my pajamas and ate chocolate cake while watching baseball all afternoon. Then I got the invite to go to the beach with friends, so I wiped the chocolate crusties from the corners of my mouth and went to the beach, where it was overcast and cold. We had pizza, my friends some how got sunburn and then I went to their house to watch "Painted Hero". I fell asleep half way through the movie, woke up, and went home. Once home I perused the internet until I felt lonely and depressed. I went through my daily life evaluation... failed... and then my other friend called me and told me he was coming over. We watched America's Funniest Home Videos and then went to a house party in Miracle Mile. Party was a bust and now I'm home - writing about my liberated Saturday.

Sunday is promising because it's the day after today. I didn't see the end of "Painted Hero" so I don't know if Virgil got his keys back... But Sunday is promising for Virgil too.

The Standard Birthday Party

First I must tell you that as of late I REALLY haven't felt like posting. Many events and stories have knocked at my door and begged to be exploited, but when the pen is too heavy and the paper is too large... Or however that saying goes. (I suppose since I just made up that saying it goes just like that.) Anyway, I'm dusting off the keys and advancing cyberspace once again.

My birthday happened this month. Actually, the rememberance of my birthday. Well, no one that celebrated with me remembers the specific miracle... The recognition and gift giving happened this month. And it was a story worth being told. Not my birth, (although I like to think that the ladies thank their lucky stars for that.) but my birthday this year.

THAT NIGHT: My boys got me all set up in a cool posh hotel room at the Standard in downtown. We had a room with cool orange couches, a hottub sort of thing, a giant bathroom/shower combo, and this enormous black foam foot that I'm sure lots of fun nasty things have happened on (so I tried not to touch it, although I did a couple of times... "Hey, it's a huge black foam foot!" touch, touch, squeeze.).

After beers and room service it was up to the dance floor. The dancing took place on the rooftop and was heavily guarded by a bunch of kids who were trained at some underground Nazi camp. Once we were beaten by the guards we were free to party. The dance floor was really cool except there wasn't anyone on it. So, I soaked up the incredible view and waited for the rest of my friends to arrive... 2 hours after they were supposed to be there, everyone was accounted for. So, I headed downstairs to greet my guests. On my way into the elevator a guard grabbed my wrist and cut off my rooftop access wristband.
"Why did you do that?" I inquired.
"No one can leave and come back after 11pm." said the Nazi.
"I have a room here." I explained.
"You'd have a different band if you had a room here." said the Nazi.
"No, there's been a mistake. I have a room." said me.
"..." shrugged the Nazi.
The elevator doors close. At the bottom floor I find my friends and hug.
Drinks are bought and gifts are opened. I then head to the front desk to purchase more wristbands for myself and my guests.
"Hey. How's it going? Hey, my wristband was cut off by one of your cool bouncers." I slurred.
"I'm sorry. Here's a wristband that will allow you to go where you want." said the pretty lady.
"Thanks. Here's money (Lots) to buy all of my friends wristbands too." I think I said.
"Sorry, we're at capacity. No more people can go up on the roof." the pretty lady said.
"But there's lots of room and I'll buy you access too!" I wish I hadn't said.
"There's no way you're getting more wristbands." The once pretty lady said.

Party in my room! I sneaked all of my people into my room. Room service arrives. We chat, we drink, we all watch me get into the hottub with shorts and a tie on. Nazis showed up and told us to keep it down or there would be hell to pay. Then paparazzi showed up and snapped off some cool pics. They were escorted out and then I think I realized there weren't anymore people in my room accept my two brothers. So, I got out of the tub and went to bed. While one friend polished off all of the champagne and wandered the halls, the other soaked in the tub in his underwear.

NEXT MORNING: Room service finally arrived with the coffee, croissants and towels. We packed up and headed to the elevator where we met up with the head Nazi guard, Paul Myers. One awkward elevator ride to the bottom floor and we have the names of the people we're going to complain about. After having our complaint dismissed and thrown into the trash we left and saw Batman (great film).
Some phone calls were made before and after the movie. The owner of the Standard was informed of the Neo-Nazi problem, more names were taken, and justice was served.

Cool gig, huh? Bet you wish you were there. Maybe next year. Except you don't know when my birthday is and you don't know where it's going to be. Fools!

Announcement

The SIMH Staff would like to apologize for the recent delays in updated posts. Without going into great detail we will tell you that after a long court battle the rights to the "Twenty-Six Part Series" had to be sold. This means there will be no more series under that title, however, we encourage you to continue to stop by and check this blog for other fun filled posts.

Thank you for your support.

SIMH Staff

Fourth Part Of A Twenty-Six Part Series

Part Four:

D


"D" stands for Dastard, which means "A sneaky, cowardly evildoer."
However, it sounds like, ...it sounds like...
(Unbelievable. I'm a retard. I can't think of one word that this thing sounds like. Son of a... Guess I'll finish this sandwich and think about it for a bit. Man, I wish I had some mustard. ...This is ridiculous. Think of a word you rat $astard! Forget it! Now, I'm just getting flusterd.)
Sorry, I don't know what it sounds like, guys.


*This series also comes in lower case for those who's computers do not support upper case.

Third Part Of A Twenty-Six Part Series

Part Three:

C


"C" stands for Clypeus, which means "A shieldlike plate on the front of the head of an insect."
However, it sounds like Clippenis, which is immoral with the exception of Jewish religious practices.

As a special note I'll also add that Clypeus pronounced backwards is Soupyls, which sounds like an abbr. of Marsupials, which means "Any of various nonplacental mammals of the order Marsupialia, including kangaroos, opossums, bandicoots, and wombats, found principally in Australia and the Americas." And that's a fun definition because you get to say "bandicoots and wombats."


*This series also comes in lower case for those who's computers do not support upper case.

Second Part Of A Twenty-Six Part Series

Part Two:

B


"B" stands for Biathlon, which means "A winter sports event combining cross-country skiing and rifle marksmanship."
However, it sounds like Bi-athlon, which I think means "An everyday event engaging bisexual athletes in various sexually perverse activities with one another for pleasure."


*This series also comes in lower case for those who's computers do not support upper case.

First Part Of A Twenty-Six Part Series

PART ONE:

A


"A" stands for Apparatus, which means "An appliance or device for a particular purpose."
However, it sounds like Up her atus... The meaning of which, I have no idea.


*This series also comes in lower case for those who's computers do not support upper case.

If Insomnia was a country...

I think it would be an entire country dedicated to Las Vegas.

Anyway, the thought just crossed my mind that I might be the only person on the West coast who's still awake with no reason to be. But that's ridiculous. Work starts in 6 hrs. Conan O'Brian is interviewing the Queen of Latifa ("Latifa" is a small area in the southern tip of Latin America. Latifa is spanish for "The Tiffy". A "Tiffy" is an extended moment in time... A split second slowed down to an indefinite point of experiential extention.) Pretty deep stuff, and that makes her pretty important - being the queen and all. She holds her courts in a beauty shop.

Welp, it's officially 4am. I have no reason to go to sleep other than it's a habit. I have no reason to go to work in a few hours other than it sustains my addiction to hope. I have no reason to keep writing other than

The Aftermathematics of Interest

I was trying to think of the most oppressive word in the english language today and the word I came up with was - Debt. What a bad mother(bleepin) mother(bleeper)...

Then I got to thinkin' 'bout how Debt is spelled... What's the deal? Who came up with that spelling? Probably some guy that owed some king or mayor or someone a ton of money plus a new Word. And when the oppressed dude finally paid up, he probably used the word "Det", but since it took him so long to pay and to come up with a new word, he probably owed some interest on top. So, he threw in the extra letter "B" just to make the king guy happy. ...Probably.

And then I got to realizing that the word Owe has the same issues as Debt does. And they mean the SAME thing! So, whoever owed this mayor guy money and words owed A LOT - Two words AND money! My goodness, what a terrible couple of words... And story behind them.

...

...

(and that's what I think about that.)

Martha's a robot

I was just surfin' on the boob-tube and came across Lady Insider herself, Martha Stewart. As I was listening to her it occured to me that she's absolutely not human. Look at her! She's a robot. She doesn't talk like a human. She doesn't look like a human. Her facial expressions aren't human. Her lifestyle isn't human... And yet, I'm attracted to her... Daughter! I'm attracted to her daughter.
What else? ...My roommate got an Xbox. So, that ruined me. And, my brother is touring Europe. So, I'm jealous of that.
Martha's a robot!

psychologists make too little

I just spent 7 hrs listening to a crippled old woman tell me about her entire life. I served her food and drink and allowed her to verbally chase all of my customers away because she would not leave them alone... The men fared the worst with her. If you had an adam's apple she wanted to marry you - or at least have you buy her a martini. At about hour 5 (or the second lap around her stories of Israel and the Bahamas) I realized this woman probably had no money. I told the manager my suspicions and he told me I had to continue to serve her. So, for another 2 hrs... I did. And when all of my normal customers had run away, I remained. And somehow I felt compassion on her and prayed for her the entire time. Finally, I had to tell her that it was time for me to go home and after cleaning the bar and putting everything away I convinced her that there would be no more liqour served and she should head out... Well, that didn't go well... Some tears were shed, more sad (yet much faster told) stories and then I asked her to pay the bill.
I had already suspected that she had no money so, when she handed me back the receipt that now had "IOU" written across the top in the best penmanship she could muster... I still held onto compassion for her. And when she began to cry and ask to go home with me... I still had compassion on her. And when she told me she knew that she cost me money by being there, I told her it was okay. So, when instead of leave she just went outside to have a smoke... I pitied her. And it broke my heart when my manager accepted the ring off of her finger as payment. So, I had compassion on her... And that frustrates me.

Meet me where you're at.

I've said "I love you" and in return I've been given the message in every variable outside of the bottle. You've said you love me. Foolish - one of us is foolish. Guess I won't know till I can see past you to get a good look at myself.

Now, I hope there is room for interpretive comprehension. Now, I hope that there is room for interpretive comprehension. Now, I'm hoping that there is room for interpretive comprehension. Now, I hope there is room for "interpretive comprehension." Now, I hope that there is room for "interpretive" comprehension. Now, there is room for interpretive comprehension, I hope. Hopefully there is room for interpretive comprehension now. I hope that there is room for "interpretive comprehension" now. Now, now, now now now now now now now now now nownownownownownownownownownownownownownownownownownow now Now, I hope there is room for interpetive comprehension. (Your sentence stucture has used up all available spac

I'm embracing my natural tendency to put great value on those that are sentimental to me and at the same time I'm fully able to let them all go.
For now, that feels right and there is peace in that....................... Now, I hope there's room for interpretive comprehension.

Today's Totals

-Weather is: Nice
-Natalie Portman: Still Hot
-Rich: Not yet.
-Benito's Tacos: Still The Best "Comida del Espiritu" fo' yo' buck.
-Haircut: Diggin' It.
-Q's: Probably

Daily % Totals: 8.459

*Percentages based off of personal feelings. Results guaranteed to vary.

Wham, Bam, Thank you Spaceman

I went to this seedy club in Long Beach the other night called Que Sera.
The night was actually quite fun. It was a bunch of North Western kids and their SoCal friends hangin' out with a bunch a' openly sexually-psychotic goth people straight from the catacombs of the LBC.

The music was fun and upbeat. The girls were beautiful. The dancing was romanti... No, no, no. Sorry, that was a different club, in a different town, with different people, about 7 years ago.
At this club my resounding thought was, "O-que Sera, time to put the boobies away."

Que Sera is a place where the Devil has a pint or two with his friends. That said, what better place for the "...part full-on pop/part grassroots rock n' roll" band, Careen, to bust out a 12am jam on a Sunday? Well, as one of the proud 7 people that were there to witness it, I say "No other place!"

So, if you're looking for a club with a full bar that brags the rights to the cheapest and strongest drinks in America, if you ever wondered what craziporn looked like in the 60's, if you didn't think fat guys really could get pasty white chicks with tape over their personables to freak dance with them on stage, or if you just wished there was a wholesome place for devil worshipers to hang out, then Que Sera is your bar of choice on Sunday nights.

Odelay, mi friends.

background

I was just checking out my blog to read up on what I write about at nearly 3 in the morning... (Apparently not much)... when I noticed my blog background. What's with all of these spring colored circles? Are they a subliminal Spree's Candy advertisment? Or maybe those paper candies that I never see anymore - you know, the kind where a bunch of those dots are stuck to a long strip of paper and you HAVE to lick them off because if you cheat and bite 'em off you also get a little piece of paper in your mouth? Could be that it's a public announcement on the need for sexually active women, young & old alike, to start taking birth control. Am I on Broadway? In outerspace? On hallucinogenics? What are those three distinct dots at the top for? Panic buttons in case of a blog malfunction - shut the whole place down? Maybe the whole thing is just Blog Ent.'s illustrative way of ensuring that my own blog is safe and secure, all wrapped up in bubblewrap. That's gotta be it. And on Friday the 13th, feeling safe is a really great thing. Mmmmmmmm Saftey... and Sprees.

guess

Guess what tomorrow holds. That's all you can do because you really don't know. Tragedy, comedy, success, failure, love, hate, regret, fortune, subtlety. Don't think too hard about this post. This is just a couple of moments in a day.

When you don't think about death anymore,

That's when you are. Today, unfortunately?, I delt with the reality of death. Someone I know died. It was so horrible to know that those close to this person were hurting so deeply, that I would have to say there is no pain worse delt. All day today I have been hit with waves of sadness. Anyone reading this knows this feeling. So, I won't continue to express the details of that here. However, here's something I am considering...
I've spent the last day feeling down, and in that time I've been repenting to God. Why? I didn't die. I didn't cause this person to die. I could not have prevented their death. Yet, all day I have been repenting. I don't know why, but I'm thinking it through. I wonder if it might be because experiencing the knowledge of someone else's death and the pain it causes those close to them is about the closest the Living can come to Hell?
Separation. Final. No more. That is Hell. All I would want to do if I were to die and go to Hell is repent - receive another chance. The living have that chance.

A Loved Person is similar to a Bank. Suicide is unfair to those that have invested their life into yours. You don't just take your own, but you take whatever was invested into you as well. I've experienced the lows of a desperate soul aching for a Saviour. I tasted the temptation of freedom from the moment and into the eternal. But, I don't know that I can ever go there again after seeing how cheated my friends feel after losing their investment into the soul of the self-inflicted fallen.

Man, I'm tired.

Have you ever decided to be spontaneously poetic or artistic? I consider doing this quite often. I'll decide to delve into my emotions and put them on paper, or tape, or, at times, just put them into verbal dialogue. Take this Blog for instance. There are a couple of blog entries here where I just wrote what "came out." I wrote it, proof-read it, posted it, reread it (a couple of times), and then went away thinking I was poetic, artistic, humorous, or worse. (Take the ending of the last sentence for another example... a list followed by "or worse." Irony. I put it there for humor, maybe. Or maybe it's deep, raw emotion..?)
Now, some of you could argue that because I "tipped my hand" in the previous parenthetical that I have turned potential poetry/irony into science and philosophy. Maybe... maybe it's a combination and now it has become theraputic.
Have you ever decided to be spontaneously poetic or artistic with words or pictures and when you're done, if you were to be perfectly honest, you didn't know what the hell you just did? You just addressed emotions and feelings that you don't understand and futiley labeled them as motives for art? Maybe it is art, or maybe it's vomit of the mind or the sluffing of the soul.

check the date

...because I just got done watching Star Wars Episode III! That's right, I got into a special screening in Westwood. The movie is awesome! I heard people debating whether or not it was better than Return of the Jedi... That's it. Happy Cinco De Mayo.

I see the pattern

If three's a crowd, then four is ridiculous, and five must be Elimidate.

Maybe I'm just procrastinating,

but someday I'm going to have to choose between two persons.

The One that restrains himself to a silent scream at the misfortunes of his circumstances.

Or

The One I'm perceived to be.

I doubt that either is wrong, just interestingly unique.

Just got back...

...from reality. Took the weekend off to run away from it and found it while I was gone.

I hope you'll try this at home...

Or wherever. Have you ever looked at someone of the opposite sex and concentrated on their facial structure enough to where you were able to imagine what they would look like as the opposite sex (of what they actually are)? I once did that to a woman that I found attractive and, to my embarrassment and frustration, I immediately made her permanently unattractive. So, as a rule, I don't do that to women I initially find attractive. However, I do find myself doing this to women I don't find attractive quite often... weird, huh? I hope someone will tell me that they do that too. I guess it just fascinates and humors me to see how some people are very close to looking like the opposite sex if you were to just change the clothes they wear, change the hair-do and add/take away makeup.
Please, whatever you do, don't sit in front of the mirror and try this experiment on yourself. You might blow up the world... Or worse.*

*This project is strickly intended for secure, straight men and women.

Crash'N Crunch

So, I saw something equal parts Grotesque and Amazing today. I was on my way home from the gym (yes, ladies, I work out...) and I'm headed west bound and... Before I go on... Have you ever thought back on a moment in time and realized you were able to recollect a lot of info from that situation that you may not have ever given any thought to had that situation not been substantial enough to ever necessitate recollection? If you don't know what I'm talking about maybe you'll understand when I explain what happened next...
So, I'm driving home from the gym (yes, ladi... sorry, looks like I already wrote this part.) and a guy on a Harley (motorcycle) drives past me going the opposite direction. For the purpose of heightened drama, we'll call this dude, Bad Dude. I would have never even given a thought to the fact that I saw Bad Dude drive by if this next part of my story didn't happen...
As soon as this guy leaves my peripheral view (to my left) I hear a horrifying CRASSSHHHH!!! Immediately I turn my head left and see the once tough looking Harley Davidson Bad Dude all crumpled up in a cloud of dust, smoke, and motorcycle parts sliding/tumbling down the street! He slid for like 100 feet, body contorting in ways that it was never meant to (unless you believe in predestination)! His bike went right with him, disentegrating into little pieces as it went.
At this point let me tell you that I realize that I'm lucky I didn't wreck because my eyes were glued to Dude's misfortune. I remember thinking, "Oh my goodness, Dude's dead."
Still there? Here's the crazy, hardcore, Harley riding, Hell's Angels part of the story.
Bad Dude eventually slides onto his side, scoops himself up and runs after his bike, which eventually finds its way under a car that was stopped at a light!
Let me recap... This guy eats it - HARD - slides down the asphalt at about 50 mph, GETS HIMSELF UP, and RUNS after his perm-i-lame chopper!
At this point my story concludes because I drove out of view. But, I'd love for each of you to go about your day and create your own extension of this truly amazing chapter in the ongoing saga I've grown to love... "BAD DUDES!"

So I gotta tell ya...

I'm a bartender. And that means I get to put up with some crap. So right now I just need to vent. If you come to the bar and everything seems to be very clean and the bartender is wiping everything down... DON'T SIT DOWN AND ORDER A MILLION THINGS AND THEN TAKE YOUR SWEET TIME TO FINISH UP!!! If it looks like the bar is being shut down simply ask if the bar is closing. The bartender will tell you "yes" or "no" or "soon." When he sets your check in front of you it does NOT mean "here's your check. I'll just set it in front of you to stare at, but please, by no means, don't pay for it for another hour or two." It actually means "Here's your check, it's time to put your food down and get the H#!! out of here!" I'm sick of waiting around for people to eat their 5 lbs burgers at 12:30 in the morning! (deep breath) ok... thank you. Would you like another round?

PRESSURES of creativity

Well, I've opened a blogspot. My very own venue to express whatever I want. Unfortunately I feel really pressured to use this only when I have something creative to write. I feel like I'm much better at commenting on someone else's work... adding to it, fixing it, whatever, just as long as I don't have to initiate the creativity. I think so much. I'm mulling over something trivial all of the time, but right now I got nothin'. These will get better. I promise. (I'm not sure who I'm even talking to right now.) I'm just stuck in my head.

enter my blogspot

I think I'm going to try this out. We'll see how it goes.