Gas Is Expensive. Right?

Took care of some loose ends today. Paid up the car insurance and got the rate sorted out with State Farm. Dropped all my Best Buy rebate checks in the bank. I'm now the proud owner of a Georgia Driver's license. $20 for a 5 year license seems fair to me. And the DMV here is nothing compared to Philly. It took about 45 minutes, but it was very organized and the people were normal looking. And I made sure to have on my finest Supersuckers T-shirt when they snapped my "angry" face picture for the new ID.

What I can't seem to find in this town is a decent tailor. I have some jeans I need hemmed and I can't find a place anywhere close by that will take care of me. This is what my life has resorted to, a laundry list of errands makes the papers. Speaking of laundry I guess I should do some of that as well today. Having a day off in the middle of the week is useless. Especially here. Everyone I know here is working, so that means I spend the day in my head, being lazy, watching TV, surfing the internet. Wait, who am I kidding? I did this exact shit up North on my off days. Thank God I have Kanye West here with me to teach me the ways of being a pimp.

I wrote out a ton of postcards today to people, a little greeting to let them know I'm alive and that I miss them. I'm a huge fan of the postcard as correspondence. It's more personal than email or a voicemail, but you can be brief. I have a tendancy to give away too much or ramble on when I am working on a letter. It's like I approach a letter like a suicide note, I don't want anything to be unclear, so I repeat things or clarify shit over and over. It's annoying to me, so I can only imagine how people feel when they read this here online diary or whatever this is.

Audio Slavery

Apparently after years of resistance I have finally warmed up to the voice of Mr. Chris Cornell. I was never a Soundgarden guy back in the grunge days, mainly because the Indian guy scared me (Kim is a girl's name buddy) and this chick Michelle I fancied really, really, really thought Chris Cornell was hot and that annoyed me.

But living in the land of Alternative Music Radio I began liking this song and I kind of suspected it was Audioslave, but wasn't quite sure. And then I heard this other song and I liked that a lot and was kind of thinking it might be Audioslave again. Anyway, I scored the latest album off my music stealing cousin T-Bone and gave it a good listen tonight. Yeah. I like Audioslave. Pretty funny considering that I saw them live once and they were completely forgettable. But maybe a band like this needs time to gel and that is why this new jammy jam is kind of good.

Now he's no Dali Lama or nothing, but this song really struck a chord with me...

Someone finds salvation in everyone
And another only fame
Someone tries to hide himself
Down inside their selfish brain
Someone swears his true love
Untill the end of time
Another runs away
Separate or united?
Healthy or insane?

To be yourself is all that you can do
To be yourself is all that you can do

Disappointed

Dear XXXXXXX,

I guess maybe I was thinking that we could have a two way relationship, not like a relationship-relationship, but like a friendship. Something that is a little back and forth, give and take. I pretty much put myself out there and can't even get a sentence out of you. Does this tell me that what I thought was a friendship was merely a situation where I was being used? And now that I kind of am figuring it out, you retreat to hide that fact? If my friend spit forth all the shit I did to you, I would at least try to help them or understand them. Who just decides to completely ignore them? What is that? The depths of my disappointment right now cannot be calculated. I wasn't asking for you to love me if you weren't capable of it. All I wanted was for you to be a friend and it seems like that is beyond your abilities too. Is it because you are young? Is it because you just don't care about me? Your silence is the most powerful tool you can use against me. The not knowing slowly destroys me little by little. The good news is that now I wonder what I saw in you at all.

Sincerely,
Me

Old Boy

This is a crazy Korean movie that features some extreme violence and one hell of a plot twist. I'm calling it Memento meets The Game meets Kill Bill Vol. 1, but I guess it's basically a thriller of sorts. A guy gets kidnapped and imprisioned for 15 years for "fun" by an old enemy. Once he is released from his makeshift prison, he sets out to find out who was behind the kidnapping and torture and vows revenge. Along the way he falls in love with a young girl who implicitly wants to help our hero. Sounds like a standard Steven Seagal potboiler. Until the twists start to unravel and the voilence mounts...this movie is unlike any other that I've seen, and although I picked up on the plot twists ahead of time, I'm still recommending it highly. I love something different in cinema. And this is something different all right.

Garnier, Ben Gibbard and the Best Chick in the World

I've cracked. Right now I am typing this with my head covered in hair dye which stinks indecently, and I'm attempting to type without my glasses on calling on my memory of where the keys are. The new Death Cab For Cutie is the soundtrack for this experience , most likely something they never imagined when recording the record. I'm a grown ass man listening to indie rock and dying my gray hair vainly from my being. I like to make grand statements, so I'm going to make this experiment in hair dye be a rebirth of my spirit today. Last night I took one foot off the ledge thanks to Joolie.


What I have been missing here in Georgia is the feeling of closeness with someone. I've been removed from my support system, my friends and family. I have decided the way to deal with that is to immediately have this undying desire to find a girlfriend. Somehow I have convinced myself that having a girlfriend will make things all better. And that's probably not true. But part of my reason for thinking that way had to do with my feeling that I was alone here. That I'm fighting for survival on my own. And last night I realized that it's not true. I have Joolie. And she has me. She is quickly filling the void of best friend in my life and for that I'm grateful. What makes last night significant is that I finally saw that she is feeling the same way I am and is looking for me to help her just as much as I need her to help me.

A lot of what validates me is being needed. I want to be something to someone. And by being a great friend to Joolie, I feel better about myself. And by her listening to me blather on and on about all the shit that goes on in my head, she is being exactly what I need her to be. A friend.

Flesh. Flesh for Fantasy.

So my virtual online Fantasty Football draft went down today without any problems. It wasn't like the real thing, but I think I actually liked doing it this way. Couple of web cams, 12 people on 12 computers located throughout the USA...ah, technology.

Anyways. Here's my dope ass team. I'm gonna win it all this year. I can feel it.

Pink Flamingos
Carson Palmer and Joey Harrington at QB.
Willis McGahee, DeShaun Foster and Kevin Jones at RB.
Joe Horn, Donald Driver, Justin McCareins and Mark Clayton at WR.
Jeb Putzier and Marcus Pollard at TE.
Kasay and Tynes at Kicker.
Colts and Vikings Defense/Special Teams.

Every Day Should Have a Theme Song!

My new theme song by Adam Richman. It's called Loneliness.


i'm sitting alone on the sidelines
warming the bench for the meantime
could settle the pain if i'm put in the game
‘cause working the team is when i shine

i'm driving myself through the country
the loneliness stands to confront me
but seeking another in a long lost lover
is a sure-fire way to go hungry

‘cause each day burns by with regret
a wasted, abandoned cigarette
and all this time would be a sweeter ride
with someone by my side

so i don't want to sleep a wink or
pour myself another drink
another table set for one
when all the world is having fun
i don't want to be the only
one who's feeling lonely
standing faceless in a crowd
anonymous, i can't be proud of
falling into solitude
the lonely life i always knew
i don't want to be so lonely
i don't want to be lonely

i'm tired of keeping my secrets
so you can feel free to repeat this
half of the time all the pleasure is mine
and the other half serves as my weakness

i'm tired of sleep without dreaming
i'm tired of touch without meaning
i'm tired of falling beyond the extremes
and i'm tired of in-betweening

thrills and needs won't mix
i don't need those kicks
i will get my fix through limericks on loneliness

Don't Drink and Drive (into Madness)

Only once in a blue moon will I go back to something I've written on here and delete it. Not out of shame, but out of clarity. I feel horrible today, maybe getting sick or maybe just really hungover. Am I ready to face another day? I guess so. Am I overly dramatic about things? Naturally. I'm not a suicidal person, and I'm not manic depressive. I'm alonely is all. Yesterday was one of those rock bottom moments that everyone has from time to time. And so it goes...

The Taste of Corona

It's Friday, early evening and I've decided that the best way to handle this shitty, horrible day at work today is to suck them back. A good old fashion drink til you die situation. I'm scared that the easiest answer today for me was to stop and get some beer. I don't want to be the kind of guy who drinks away his problems, but fuck if I didn't crave a beer the minute I got into my car in the parking lot. I'm a mserable fuck to begin with, so I can't imagine where I'll be 12 beers from now. Espcecially since I'll most likely be wasted by 9 PM and the night will be young at the point.

Maybe tonight I'll make a fool of myself? Maybe I'll get beat up or pick a fight and actually win? I need something to happen that will shake up my system. I'm feeling like I'm on the edge of cliff and I want to jump off. I'm not coping with my emotions, I'm not sleeping, I'm not feeling connected to anyone in this town. Friendless. That's how I feel. Except for you Mr. Corona you mexican wunderkind. You love me. Don't you?

I ain't saying she a gold digga, but she ain't messing with no broke niggas. get down girl, go ahead get down.

Identity Crisis

I wonder what it would be like to be someone else. I'm comfortable in my own skin for the most part, but I can't help wondering what it would be like to be a completely different person. Maybe a really smart fucker, like scientist. Maybe someone who is successful. Maybe someone who is rich.

I'm not unsatisfied with my life, or who I am, but sometimes I feel as though I've hit a wall. I'm stuck a bit. I dabble in shit that occupies my time, but I don't really pursue my passions like I wish I could. And I'm definitely not happy with my personal life. I know that it's silly to think that if I looked different but had the same personality, I'd have no problem meeting the right woman. But man, sometimes I can't help but think it's true. I'm totally shallow. I admit it. I'm attracted to attractive people. And I know that I'm not particularly attractive. So it's not fair for me to expect a really hot, sexy single lady to actively pursue a fat, lazy, diarrhea prone NICE GUY. And by the way, she would have to be the aggressor since I'm so fucking ashamed of myself at times that I'm unable to formulate any sort of style or approach.

Part of me wishes I could be someone else so I can see what I'm missing. If I could be a married guy with an ugly wife for like a night or two, maybe I would see that it might not be so bad. Or if I was able to become a guy who has no problem getting the girl maybe I would see that the kind of girl I'm attracted to isn't worth getting. But then again, what if she is?

Aw, fuck. I'm actually bumming myself out with this whole line of thinking. This is what I get for deciding that I have to write today. Sometimes I force myself to write on here....to keep it going, to "do" something other than get up, go to work, come home, eat, watch TV, fall asleep. And when I force it, sometimes my mind goes to places that I don't want to go. Like this shit. I'm me. I'm not going to be anyone but me. And I keep hoping that it will be good enough for someone.

Momma's Boy

It's not any sort of special day, like her birthday or the anniversary of her death, but I've been thinking about my mom lately. Maybe because I recently saw the Real World episode where Danny buries his mother or maybe it's because my sister Candace sent me some pictures from the days of yore that featured my mother in all her pre-child birthing bliss? Maybe it's because I'm so detached from my family and friends? But really, does it matter why? Sometimes it's good to think about the dead. Perhaps it helps them not to have died in vain. If we don't think about them, their entire existence is kind of diminished. At least that's what I tell myself.





In looking at this picture, I see such promise in my young mother's eyes. She has no idea that she will go on from this wedding day to have 10 pregnancies and 6 children, or 2 marriages, or lots of days where making ends meet was an incredibly challenging task. You can see the anticipation in her face, or rather her fear. This childbride rides in the back seat next to her father on her way to what may turn out to be a mistake. The argument could be made that it was in fact a mistake considering my parents divorced within 4 years of this very photo, but mom would say it wasn't a mistake because she had me and my sister. When she used to tell me that very thing when she was alive, I always brushed it off as mom-sense, you know motherly nonsense. The kind of stuff that makes you say "aw, Ma" or "whatever Mom." But now that she is gone I'm kind of glad that she did occasionally tell me that she was happy to have me, even if being married to my father was "unbearable". Those little asides that made me cringe at times turned out to be the same things that I recall when I get a little reminiscent. I try to think about how I would be as a person if she never did tell me that she loved me or that she was proud of me. Would I be a completely empty and useless person now? The effect that our parents have on us, even from the grave, is pretty intense. I don't think that I would be so compassionate or caring if I didn't have a decent role model in my mother.

Now like I said, it's not Mother's day or anything like that. It's just that sometimes she shows up in my thoughts and I am alright with that.

I'm not gonna lie, I wish she was here.

And I know she wishes she was here.

But she isn't.

Or is she?

My Second Job is Living

I'm so out of sorts since moving that I've not been really keeping good track of what I have paid, didn't pay, need to pay and all that shit. I'm always finding some bill laying around that I guess I need to pay and I'm sure if I actually sat down and figured it out I would be broke. Instead, I just live in this little bubble where I don't have to worry about anything related to money.

I still haven't done the driver's license change over, although I did get Georgia car insurance that apparently jumped up several hundred dollars after I left the State Farm office last month. Apparently transferring between states even with the same broker is a pain in the ass. GA is waiting on PA for some shit and in the mean time wants to rape me for $400 next week. I called them the other day and was like, "no." Not happening. So they stopped my direct billing and we will wait to see how it's going to play out. In the interim I'm not sure if I actually have car insurance?

Speaking of car shit, I think I need brakes. And an oil change. God, having a car is a pain in the ass.

And speaking of cars, looks like I've been recruited to help my friend Syd try to buy one in the next couple of weeks. Looks like little Lindsey, a Philly girl who ventured here with the rest of us, is bouncing back to the Philly region this coming weekend. And since Lindsey is the wheels between her and Syd, someone needs a car ASAP. But first Syd needs a license. And that's a whole other issue. I remember all too well what it was like to go the license route as an adult. Total nightmare. And here in Georgia getting a driving test date is no joke. Syd called last Wednesday and they were like "How's 9/15 at Noon?" That's a long time to sweat it out and worry about getting some wheels...

I have off this coming weekend, but don't really have anything on the horizon. And lately I've been less than thrilled by not only what is in the theaters, but what I'm getting from Netflix. This week I tried in vain to watch Prozac Nation (uh), The Ballad of Jack and Rose (zzzzz) and I have Brown Bunny in house which I'm certain will stink. So I better come up with something interesting to do this weekend. Maybe a road trip to Athens or Columbia, SC? Something short and sweet. Or maybe, just maybe I'll venture out to a bar and meet some fucking people. Oh wait, I have that oil change to attend to. And my fantasy football draft on Saturday at 4 PM. Maybe I'll just get drunk and stay in, alternating between puking and crying?

Heat Index

This is like Jungle Heat. Like Africa hot. I went out today to snap some pictures and almost immediately came down with heat stroke. Ok, maybe I'm being slightly dramatic. But man, the heat is no joke here today. It's beautiful out, but no one is out to enjoy it. Everyone is inside rocking the air conditioning.

Anyways, I managed to take some shots that are up on Flickr. If ya care.

40 Year Old Virgin

I can't recall the last time there were two really laugh out loud comedies released in the same summer. Maybe the year Austin Powers, American Pie and South Park came out within 5 weeks of each other in the late 90's? In any case, the 40 Year Old Virgin is much like Wedding Crashers in that it plays up the raunch perfectly and has some laugh out loud moments that will shock you and possibly make you cry or pee yourself from laughing so hard.

However, also like Wedding Crashers, this movie goes on for longer than it should. Running almost 2 hours, I think the blame has to go to Judd Apatow who is used to directing television shows. A lot of extraneous scenes that don't really move the plot along or repeat the same point are kept in as if this were the first 3 episodes of a new dramedy on FOX all smushed together. On the plus side, the length of the movie actually works to give it heart. Instead of being raunchy for the sake of raunch, the movie is underneath the comedy a bizarre love story between a 40 year old who is afraid of sex and a sexy grandma.

The cast of supporting characters does a fine job of shaping out the circle of friends we all have in life. Paul Rudd plays the hopeless romantic that can't get over being cheated on by his ex, Seth Rogan is the pot smoking, grunge era cast off who talks about all the ways you need to act to get a woman but never seems to get the girl himself and Romany Malco plays the philandering homeboy who manages to teeter the line between being gross and yet accurate in his assesments of women just as he does between being a stereotype and a real person that we all know. But the real stand out here is Steve Carell as Andy the Virgin.

Carell shows a range that I'm willing to guess not many people thought he was capable of. His work on The Daily Show and now the american verison of The Office is a bit one dimensional, it's cruel comedy and he's a genius at that. In this film, Carell brings an emphatic vibe to his lovable virgin and does so without making you get too creeped out by him. Obviously Carell isn't a virgin, but capturing the subtlety of how a guy who is a 40 year old virgin would act makes you absolutely believe that he is. I realize he ain't no Merrill Streep, but I don't think a guy like Jim Carrey or David Spade or Jack Black, all very funny actors, could have made you really committ to the idea of this guy Andy being a virgin. And Carell does so with absolute ease.

GMail

If anyone has a GMail account that they don't want, let me know. I'm looking for an email service to use for the Poison Scooter.

The logo is almost done. Soon enough the marketing blitz will begin and I will be advertising on this very blog to annoy all of my faithful readers.

I'm Emo. Ok?

I've taken some ribbing lately about being emo because I'm comfortable opening discussing my dissatisfaction with my love life. I busted out my trusty Astrology book last night, it's something I consult to remind myself of why I'm so fucked in life, and as usual I confirmed my suspicions that I'm just destined to be a nut job. A lonely nut job at that.

Among other things, I came across this tid bit:

"Scorpio's relationships are usually complicated. This is not surprising when you consider that Scorp's can be simultaneously generous and affectionate; violent and unpredictable; in the sunniest of moods there is always a hint of an imminent change in the weather. Scorpio's are deeply loyal to friends but are also intensely jealous and possessive. Scorp's cannot tolerate the thought that anyone he loves might have a yearning, or even a simple yen, for anyone else. With Scorp's it's usually all or nothing at all. Moderation and restraint are not in Scorp's emotional vocabulary."

So apparently I'm not really into anyone of the opposite sex talking to my female friends which would explain why I feel on a constant roid rage when I go out here with Joolie and Sydney. This type of behavior is not winning me any points with either of them, but I honestly can say that I don't feel like I have any ability to control my emotions when it surfaces. I'm so fucking insecure to begin with, and then you pepper in what the stars are doing to me and I'm basically screwed.

Anyway, I page on to the chapter about my Amorous Nature to see if there's any hope and here's what I discover. Or rather, here's what I already knew written down in painstaking detail.

"Scorpio has so much energy and passion you'll have no trouble seducing him - if that's what you want. What is harder is to form a relationship with him. This is not because he doesn't want a relationship, for it is, in fact, exactly what he does want. He is an intensely sensitive man who can be easily hurt and who often feels lonely and unfulfilled. The problem is that jealousies and unexpressed angers are very difficult to live with. In matters of love he always knows the cost of what he wants. If the cost is too high - emotionally, financially, or otherwise - he won't haggle. He'll simply walk away. The Scorpio man is secretive and hard to fathom, although he often appears likeable, affable, easygoing. What you see on the surface is what he wants you to see. But even when he is being most amiable, and he can be, there's a simmering danger to this man."

I sound like a fucking lunatic. No wonder women don't want anything to do with me. It all makes sense now, I ooze like a jerk off pheromone that repels women. Things got progressively worse when I started to go through the various star signs of the women in my life to try and make sense of why things don't seem to connect between us. Most scenario's point to my insane jealousy being too much for most signs to handle, with the harshest words reserved for a union between Scorpio and Sagittarius. "An affair without a future." Ouch. That hurts.

Now I was at the point in my reading when I pretty much had decided that my fate was sealed, I'm never going to fall in love or be happy. I wear my emotions on my sleeve, I always say too much or the wrong thing. On the one hand, I'm giving and loyal and I'm committed, but on the other hand I'm so intense it's like a stalker. Not intentionally, as indicated by my findings, but nonetheless, this behavior is killing my sex life. Why does a guy who wants to be with a woman and breathe her in and spend his time, money and hopes with have to be seen as possessive or jealous? What a bum rap.

Lest you think I'm all bad, I made it a point to find something in this fucking book that says some good things about the Scorpio. Yeah, I know we are intense, obsessive, fiercely competitive, but all of these qualities seem like double edge swords. And don't really roll off the tongue as redeemable or likeable qualities.

After much scouring, I came upon this passage that I'm hoping saves me a little. When I read it, I was like "hey, that's me!" Well, I said that about pretty much everything I read, but this part I was proud of saying it.

"Suspicious and wary, you are reluctant to trust your heart to anyone. But once you do, you love deeply."

Okay, so it's like a back handed compliment, but I'm reaching here people. My other choice was "Scorpio needs a positive avenue of expression-in career or love or creative achievement - or your feelings turn inward, become imprisoned, at times even destructive," which doesn't say much at all on the positivity front.

In closing, I'd like to say that yes, I'm slightly emo. Okay, maybe more than slightly. But it's not my fault. The ending paragraph in the chapter that describes Scorpios reads...

"What all Scorpios have in common is intensity of feeling. Emotion not only rules, it characterizes you. You are passionate in love, and passionate about everything in which you become involved: work, relationships, hobbies, causes."

Reality TV Destroys My Being

I'm too tired to sleep, so let's talk about tonight's television viewing experience.

Tommy Lee is a douche and his going to college show is almost as pathetically staged as Blow Out. I'm sort of sick of the "look at me, I'm a celebrity" reality show. The Osbourne's created a fucking monster with this stuff.

So Kaysar got voted back into Big Brother, thanks in part to my 121 votes for him, and is already on his way out again since that cunt Jennifer back stabbed him. Big Brother is a show that I find fascinating for the simple fact that the people in the house refuse to be able to strategize correctly ever, but what should happen is so obvious to the viewers. I saw this whole thing playing out exactly as it did and was helpless to stop it and I feel cheated. I'm at the point where I basically wait for a person to contradict what they said the very week before and I get acid indigestion from it.

Sweet Sixteen is back and the first little pudge ball was very, very punchable. And isn't that really why you watch it?

I'm still sticking with Rockstar, curiousity has gotten the best of me on this one. I absolutely fast forward through the drivel that comes out of Navarro's cake hole, but I have this need to see if Marty, Mig or JD are going to make it to the end. And I really have a boner for Jessica Robinson even though I dislike her whole persona more and more each week. Sidenote: Brooke Burke is kind of hot. Never really was a fan of her, but some of her outfits make me feel funny.

Broken Hearted Rock And Roll Star Shouts Out Loud

I've just devoured my second book in a week and thought I would share my thoughts. So You Wanna Be a Rock & Roll Star: How I Machine-Gunned a Roomful of Record Executives and Other True Tales from a Drummer's Life by Jacob Slichter is an insider look at how the music business really works. Now with my background, about half of this book is kind of a recap of what I went through about two years prior to Jacob, who was the drummer for Semisonic. I related to a lot of the situations that Jacob was forced into, especially considering how as a drummer (or in my case a secondary rapper) you are somewhat expendable. You never have the chance to really enjoy the spoils of "being a rock star" since you never really know where the money is going or for how long it will last. And when it's over, you really have to venture into the unknown and become a regular person again. All in all, the story of Semisonic is interesting in that they actually acheived success both in America and Europe, albiet with different singles from the same record. I guess the book is vanilla in the sense that no one gets kicked out of the band or has a drug problem, the guys in Semisonic are just regular guys who write songs and hit the road. I dont' know, I was kind of a fan of Semisonic and I was in a band and my band was hard to market, so maybe this book just speaks to me more than it will to you but I'm glad I read it.

On the musical tip, I finally watched I Am Trying To Break Your Heart about the plight of Wilco to put out Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Quite another fascinating look at the horror show that is the music biz. Here's a band that is critical acclaimed and has a strong audience that supports them and they turn in their masterpiece and get sent packing by Reprise Records. Along the way to finally wresting away ownership of the record and ultimately selling it back to BarNone Records (a divison of parent company Warner Brothers, as is Reprise) for 3 times what it cost to make, the band loses long time guitarist Jay Bennett...all while the cameras are rolling. Unlike that crappy Metallica movie, this film focuses on the music as art. Jeff Tweedy is a very unassuming and focused songsmith and watching the process unfold organically in black and white with cigarettes everywhere, I was itching to get back into music for about 90 minutes. If the business wasn't so fucked, I'd be back in there.

In lighter musical news, check out The Shout Out Louds record Howl Howl Gaff Gaff. It makes me think that as shitty as the business is, thankfully the end result when it touches my ears can be amazing.

The Place Looks Good

Nice rack!













A room for living.

Loose, footloose...

80's night at the Soulbar around the corner from my house is apparently a big time event here in Augusta, GA. The place is filled beyond capacity by 10 PM, people are moving and grooving, some in costume and you would bet money that the A/C just isn't working. Last night kicked off with a little pre-game session of 007s at my place with John and Andy (the neighbors) and Syd. 007 has got to be the easiest tasting drink I've ever had the good luck of tasting. Little Orange Vodka (O), equal parts OJ (O) and 7 UP (7). Tasty as fuck. Anyway, these drinks were going down easy and on a lot of empty stomachs, the state of drunk was upon us all rather quickly.

When we collectively made our way over to the bar, we all wedged in and began to just pour sweat out of every pore and crevice on our bodies. The dancefloor was in full tilt, bodies wedged up on the tiny stage that I recently saw El Scorcho play a few weeks back. The line at the bar was 10 deep, and way in the back of the place was a familiar face from work, a dude name Andy who works in our warehouse. Eventually Joolie got off work and arrived to join in the madness around 1 AM. From 10 PM to 3 AM, it was drink, dance, drink, dance, sweat, dance, sweat, dance...and let me tell you, dancing with Syd and Joolie as partners is kind of like living in the afterglow. Both girls are incredibly sexy and have the moves to make you lose your shit.

Whenever I am out with Syd and Joolie, and they are sexing it up, the wolves come pouncing. I get into big brother mode and basically feel like it's my job to keep them out of harm's way. This is exhausting work at times, and ultimately just gets me in trouble with all parties. I wanted to punch in the face no less than 5 dudes last night throughout the evening. Thankfully I made it home alive without starting a fight with anyone. I need to work on this issue for real. I'm like uberterritorial about my female friends...and sometimes it makes me seem like a douche.



Anyway, the after party consisted of Joolie, Andy from work and Syd coming back to my place for a night cap and eventually Andy and Joolie made their way home and Syd made her way to the couch to pass out. Having people over to my apartment was cool. It was nice to finally be able to host an event, now that I have my shit and all. I woke up today feeling like a bag of assholes, and I'm currently muddling through a closing shift at work until midnight. But I'm still thinking about last night and how much to my chagrin I'm 2 for 2 on going out in Augusta.

And just when I thought this week couldn't get any better...Brother Mike called and said that 10 DVD's containing all my mp3's and photos are on their way down come Monday. I sent him my busted External Hard Drive and he managed to recover all my stuff from it. What else can happen this week? My movers arrive! My job is going well! My social life is booming! And I will have all my music back!

From the lowest of lows to the highest of highs.

The Moment We've All Been Waiting For!

Well, pretty much the moment I've been waiting for.

My stuff is here. Yeah!

Of course my place now looks like a shit dump, but I'm not going to complain. I've got an actual living room. Kitchenware. Some photos up of all the important people, like naked Madonna and me and Gabe synchronized diving.

Incoming, Outgoing, Cycle of Life and all that Bullshit...

Today was eventful, and not just because I went back to a desk full of work after a 4 day hiatus. I wasn't at work for more than an hour when my phone rang and word had finally come that the movers were en route to the fair state of Georgia. Yee-haw! was my exact reaction I recall. Anyway, after a couple of follow up calls on their part I am proud to confirm that whern I wake tomorrow morning it will be because my phone is ringing and those fuckers are out front ready to unload. The sense of relief is overwhelming...I'm besides myself. In fact I may not sleep at all tonight I'm so giddy with excitement.

Of course, as this news hits, I also get a call out of the blue from Punk Rock Baby who wants to see me before she leaves for California this Saturday. Apparently her Momma bought her a one way ticket out of Augusta and she is dead set on moving to Cali for the short term to shake off this city which has driven her to the brink of suicide. When she arrived I had to admit that she looked better than she has in the past, I assume she has been staying clean and out of trouble. My one problem was that she decided to get a tattoo on her wrist that looks like a warning label. It says "WARNING: Augusta, GA can cause emotional and physical harm." Ah, kids today. I was kind of shocked, but who am I to judge? We hung out for a couple hours, chatted and said our goodbyes. It was all very pedestrian. Hopefully she will figure her shit out and come back from the west coast a new person. I'm not holding my breath. Here's a long overdue picture of her for y'all to critique.

Hot Topic, Pouring Rain and Vomit

This long strange trip I'm on gets more interesting every day. My long weekend is coming to a close and today I decided that for some reason I should see what the mall down here looks like. Newsflash: It looks like a mall. But I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me back up to what happened before I actually made it to the mall.

On my way down the front stairs of my building I ran into John (the gay Navy guy who lives downstairs) and another young kid who were frantically preparing for the eating contest that was going down at High Noon in the foyer of my building. John explained to me that Andrew (the young Marine in my building) was called out by a girl for being a pussy because he couldn't possibly eat 36 tacos from Taco Bell in an hour. Word of his challenge spread throughout the ranks at Fort Gordon and before too long people were volunteering to participate along side Andrew by eating other fast food gems like chicken nuggets and pizza. Eventually John became involved as sort of an impromptu host and he even went so far as to design and produce tee shirts for the participants. Glutton on Greene 2005 became the "it" event for a Tuesday at lunch time and I have the photographs to prove it.

4 gentlemen were going to try and eat various pre-determined amounts of fast food items within a window of time of 75 minutes. All gents were officially weighed in prior to the meal, for what reason I couldn't tell. The participants and their speciality item are outlined below.

Andrew - 36 total beef tacos (18 soft/18 hard shell)
Gallagher - 2 large Pizza Hut pizzas (1 deep dish with Pepperoni/1 plain regular)
Huellet - 36 Krystal burgers (imagine White Castle burgers)
Aaron - 75 Wendy's Chicken Nuggets with BBQ dipping sauce

Apparently these guys figured out the basic caloric intake of each and decided based on body size the appropriate amount each would need to consume. Aaron weighing in at 139 pounds only need to consumer 75 nuggets, Gallager was 30 lbs heavier and therefore had to eat pizza. I was in awe of the amount of pre-planning that went into this event. I'm also thankful that I stumbled upon it unfolding, espcially considering that my landlord even popped in mid-event to see what all the fuss was about. Truly a spectacle to behold. A bunch of people sitting around watching a bunch of people gorge themselves while Eye of the Tiger is blasting on a loop in the background. Cleary this event will lead to puking...and oh boy did it.

Mr. Nuggets blew his load at 46 deep and completely unloaded over our front porch. Mr. Taco didn't hit 20 before he was forcing himself to hurl just to "take away the pain." The smartest guy in the room was the Krystal burger guy who showed up late and took his good old time, only putting down about 12 before he called it quits. The clear winner was Mr. Pizza, but if you ask me eating two pies is nothing. If you want to see the tragedy unfold, check out my pictures.

To follow an act like this, I decided I needed to see the mall. After about 10 minutes I had seen enough and made some rash purchased at Hot Topic on my way out. Couple post cards, a Devil's Rejects pin and a Johnny Cash pin for my bag and some black shirts with bands on them. (What else would you expect from Hot Topic?) I'm now officially "that guy." The fat guy in his 30's wearing a System of a Down tee shirt to work. Ha. Anyway, the drive back from the mall was the scariest of my life as it was full on down pouring and the roads were flooded. I couldn't see anything and was scared to death. The rain here is unlike anything I've ever seen. Powerful and punishing....unless of course you are expecting it to wash away chicken nugget vomit.

Summer Cinema - Blowing Chunks

Two significant realizations were made today. One, movies should not be remade. Two, romantic comedies have run their course.

Let me first say that I didn't hate the Bad News Bears, aside from updating it to the year 2005, the script is the same and I loved the original. I rather found it unnecessary. Sure I laughed, but the movie made me think more about the classic version and how it was better on every level. And I'm not sure that's what Richard Linklater was intending. The kids are piss poor actors in this one. The new Tanner is a total rip off. The new Kelly has zero personality. And excuse me for flexing some pervert muscles here, Tatum O'Neal was a foxy little momma in the original, her replacement is clearly heading the way of college softball player (if you know what I mean). Overall, the rag tag squad is just boring in the remake. However, I did enjoy the new angles taken on Engelberg and Hooper. (I don't want to spoil it, but one kid is in a wheel chair and wheel chairs are funny.) The movie is very adult this time round, and Billy Bob Thorton is the man for the job proving in Bad Santa that he can work with kids and profanity just fine. What did concern me is that I'm not sure that Bad Santa and Morris Buttermaker are different people. Billy Bob is pretty much playing the same guy again, which in the grand scheme of things, didn't really bother me that much. I came away from this movie thinking to myself how does Billy Bob in the lead, Linklater behind the camera and a classic sports underdog story add up to just okay? Someone fucked up that's how. Never remake a movie that is already a classic. There is no point.

If you have been out to the theater lately you can't help but see the preview for the John Cusack/Diane Lane piece of shit Must Love Dogs. How played out is this formula? I mean come on now. Diane Lane is making a career off playing this really hot, 30 something who can't get laid and it's just all bullshit. And Cusack is getting puffy looking. I love him, but unless he has Jeremy Piven as his co-pilot in this type of movie, he's dead. Trust me, this movie will fail. And it sucks. You can tell by the preview. Speaking of which, how can you not want to see Reese Witherspoon play a dead doctor who falls in love with Mark Ruffalo from the beyond? Oh, did I mention that it's a comedy? And the ad actually says the following "and starring Napolean Dynamite's Jon Heder." Are you fucking serious? They are trying to use Napolean as a selling strategy for this hunk of sentimental horseshit? I nearly threw up on myself when I heard that. And another thing, Mark Ruffalo is quckly becoming a memory. The guy had such promise and now I'm thinking someone has filled his head with shit. 13 Going on 30 was cute, but dude don't make it your life. Leave that shit to Billy Crystal. Get back to basics and get in a decent movie. And not one where you wear a cheesy mustache.

Peter Jennings - Dead from Lung Cancer

This dude dying makes me feel old. I was never one to watch the evening news, but whenever my family did watch we always went with Peter Jennings. I guess part of that had to do with him being on ABC, since we always watched Action News on channel 6. Anyway, I never got into Brokaw and Rather much, even as an adult. And whenever something tragic or newworthy happened during the day time or night time, I would always choose to watch Peter. I guess you could say I liked him best. And he didn't look 67 at all? I guess I'm saying I'll miss him. So Long Peter!

The Dream

I'm half awake as I write this. Usually I have no interests in transcribing my dreams down, but I've had this same dream for years now and I'm starting to think maybe it means something significant.

The dream requires me to be walking through a vaguely familiar intercity neighborhood. Not quite the Fairmount section of Philadelphia, but more like the chunk of town right to the North of Fairmount. I usually begin the dream already walking towards my destination which is a house that is not exactly familiar to me. I have a sense in the dream of where it is, but my self in the dream never really "thinks" about the house too much. I don't know whose house it is, who lives there, why I am going there. All I do know is that is my destination. When the dream repeats every couple of months, I know right away where I am and what this dream is all about. The locations always look the same, and more times than not I'm running in the dream. The dream me is not more physically fit, and I'm now convinced that the running aspect of the dream has to do with fear of the neighborhood not a fitness program. There I am running through a sketchy area of town and I know exactly where I need to get to, a house located between 19th Street and 20th Street. I don't know the street name, but I'm oddly aware of what hundred block the house I'm after sits on. The thing is that in this dream I never actually find 19th Street, I find 21st, 22nd, dead ends. The dream consists of me just running and running through this section of the city, alone, exhausted and lost. The worst parts are when I make a wrong turn and get to a dead end in an alley. Or when I try to take a short cut through someone's house and they almost catch me. I never see anyone chasing me, but my dream self is convinced that some one is. Every time I wake from this dream I am still running and I never wind up where I was headed. There is no odd climax or happy ending.

So there it is, the repeating dream. I assume it's a metaphor for my life. That I'm searching for something that I haven't found yet in life. Or that I cannot find the destination because I'm trying too hard to find it. I am not one to consult dream analysis books or anything like that, but if you have an opinion to offer, please do. I'm not scared by the dream, just kind of spooked by the repitition of it in exact detail.

Feeling Nostalgic?

I find it funny how spending money on seemingly worthless things makes me feel better sometimes. For instance, I bought a friend back home something that I'm sure will make her happy and the act of buying it for her made me happy. I'm like that, all giving and shit. Part of my nice guy charm that is like Kryptonite to all persons with vaginas. In re-reading the first sentence of this post, I realize that I may have inferred that what I bought this lovely lady is worthless, but that's not the case at all. What provoked this entry was the online purchase I just made of badges, or pinbacks if you will, from a random live journal site I stumbled across. $20 secured me 25 buttons that I will no doubt fasten to my brand new Old Navy courier bag (the one I bought yesterday for $4.97) along side the existing buttons displaying the cast of Ferris Bueller's Day Off and a Billy Idol that have adorned my old bags for the past year. I have no idea why I started putting pins on my bag, I guess part of it was my way of rebelling from being a stock broker. I'm kind of like a 12 year old girl sometimes, in that I buy and support the silliest things. In any case, I'm kind of excited about my new badges.

I think what lead me to even looking for badges online was the reading I have been doing this weekend of the new Chuck Klosterman book. There isn't a passage about badges in it, but the book itself makes me nostalgic and reminds me of my younger days. And in my younger days I wore buttons on my trenchcoat just like any other misunderstood alterna-kid struggling to survive in the waste land known as catholic high school. If you haven't read any of Klosterman's works, I humbly request that you do. It's easy reading, very disgestable and pop culture filled. I'm sure my friends from college would all get a kick out of this guy and his observations on music, drugs and women. Ever since I read Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs last year, I've been touting the good name of Klosterman to all who will listen. For me, reading what he writes is like a kick in the balls. As a journalism student who had ambitions of writing about pop culture as a career, I feel like the ultimate failure. Everything this guys writes about is something that I should have written about. Our style is similiar, our observations are incredibly in sync. I want to be Chuck Klosterman. Anyway, I have thought to myself that this is a guy who went through the same experiences, the same change in tastes at precisely the same time that I did. We both went to high school in the 80's, explored college, grunge and weed at the same time. It's like we have been living parallel lives, orbiting each other. Although I have never met the man, nor do I think I would want to, I was happy to read in his latest book that he spent the summer of 1994 in Minneapolis and frequented a bar there that I know I played in that very same summer. It's entirely possible that a guy who is now a rock critic for Spin magazine was in attendance at one of my gigs, my new literary hero was in the same room as me and I had no clue. I can only hope that he was and he had the ability to recognize how incredibly talentless we were. Maybe one day he'll even write about it.

Small Step Forward

In case you were wondering, I never made it to Virginia Beach for my rest and relaxation. Nope. Things just don't seem to ever work out like they should for me. It's something I should get used to at this point. I'm not really in the mood to discuss the why behind my not going, but let me say that it was very disheartening to hear from both my Dad and my sister yesterday. They were both quite upset that I wouldn't be joining in the family fun this weekend, and I'm certain they were more upset because they thought I needed it. And I did. Oh well, another time perhaps?

Considering the change of plans, I've been basically bouncing around my city here and trying to remain positive and hopeful. There is really not a whole lot going on here, so I have to constantly lower my expectations. Yesterday I did some shopping at Old Navy for some clothes, toyed with the idea of buying the mini MAC since I have been having so many problems with my eMac down here, got Dad a birthday present that I need to Fedex him tomorrow and finished off a very uneventful day by drinking Heinekens in my lounge chair and chatting online to anyone who would have me.

Today, when I awoke, I was determined to not let another day of misery overtake me and I decided to just grab my camera and get in the car. Destination unknown. How daring! I went down to the Savannah River (a mere 3 blocks from my house) and rolled into the Fort Discovery Center, basically a second rate Franklin Institute. It sucked. Cheesey exhibits, a terrible movie about Space, a total nightmare. But at least I did something. I left the house. Of course, seeing families out as a unit having a good time made me sad. I really wanted to see my niece and nephew this weekend. I think the hardest part of moving away from family is the kids. I can talk to my brothers and sisters and parents on the phone or online, but the kids....man I miss seeing their faces. The way the unconditionally love me is a comfort I have come to rely on, especially when I feel down.

Anyway, I'm planning on keeping this post upbeat, so let's move on. I took some shots today and put together a little set on Flickr, so click the link if you want to browse. I plan on doing some more exploring today, since it's relatively early yet. Maybe a movie, maybe just a nice walk. Keep on moving...that's the way I have to be.

Embarrassingly Awkward

Jessica Simpson singing "These Boots are Made for Walking" is a train wreck. The song has been destroyed and is almost unrecognizable, the video for it is trash and someone please tell me what the hell Willie Nelson mixed with his weed to commit to this abortion? I am honestly scared of Jessica Simpson. It's like a living doll. Like Chuckie. She's not real.

Why do I want to bang her though?

Yank!

So I had my consultation today with the oral surgeon. I'm looking at over a grand to get the fucking broken tooth out. Apparently he wants to remove those 2 remaining wisdom teeth while he's in there fucking around with this broken one. And I have to go under which blows. I'll need to recruit someone from here to sit in the lobby for 90 minutes and drive me home after the surgery. How the hell am I going to do that? I don't know anyone here. The good news is that there is no rush...since the remaining portion of the tooth that is left in my mouth is dead from root canal. I feel like my life here is like Groundhog Day. Every day I get up ready to tackle the world and I walk 2 feet and a piano falls on my head.

R&R

In an effort to cleanse myself of all the worry and stress I've been dealing with lately (see pretty much every post since I moved to Georgia) I'm off to Virginia Beach for the next couple days to see my Dad and my sister Crystal and her family. I'm convinced that those bastard movers are going to call me Monday when I'm in VA and tell me that they are coming Tuesday so I have to hustle back on the fly. Who am I kidding? They aren't calling.

I'm truly hoping that this little trip gets me into a better place mentally. I have really withdrawn from doing anything here, I'm not mentally committing to this relocation thing. I guess the whole bad experience with the punk chick and the constant swarm of creepy dudes that always seem to surround my posse of girls put me off to the idea of going out. Tonight I intentionally avoiding phone calls because I'm just not good company. And I don't want to be like that. I promised myself I was going to make this work and be a different person once I moved. I need this time away to help me refocus on that goal.

Wish me luck.

You're Invited!

Let's have a pity party!

We can all get together and focus on all the shit that is wrong with my life and drink. It'll be a fucking blast!

We can discuss my social anxiety and how it prevents me from doing almost anything remotely social.

We can reflect on how I'm "such a nice guy" and a "genuine" person who always seems to end up on the shit end of the stick with the ladies.

We can dwell on my empty apartment and think of how some family in Mexico is at this very moment going through old Bloodhound Gang memorabilia and sitting on my fucking desk chair.

We can openly analyze how I am underperforming at work to the point of being second choice to a dead beat dad for a job that I'm now miraculously "qualified" to do.

We can think about all the times I should have made a move on the girl of my dreams.

We can talk about my family and force me to think about how much I miss them.

We can speak of my jealous nature, my obsession with my female friends, how I am a complete failure at most of what I try to do, my poor diet, my horrible attitude, my incessant need to "hate" everything, my prejudices towards all people, the way I creepily eye women like some sort of sexual predator, my inability to keep in touch with all of my friends far and wide, my distrust of mankind and my missing tooth.

I'm slipping into madness. And I'm convinced it has everything to do with my inability to coax my moving company to just bring me my fucking shit. I'm like compulsive with thinking about not having my shit here. I am starting to reduce the amount of sleep I get each night and I sit in the dark and ponder strategies on how I can get my stuff. Do I arm myself and drive to New Jersey to fuck some people up? Do I admit defeat and just consider this another blood soaked kick in the face? Do I turn into Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction and just keep calling and calling the movers and leaving hatefilled voicemails? God, I just want to move on and try to exist here in Georgia. I feel like my life is stuck on pause...and clearly this is not good. Pause equates to lots of time to think about how fucked up I am.

I'm this fucking close to getting on Zoloft.

Knocked Out

My new role is kicking my ass. I have so much to learn and I'm trying as best I can to learn on my own, but it's been long days, no lunches and neverending thus far. I'm spent when I get home and last night I was asleep at 10:30 PM. I don't think I've gone to bed that early willingly since I was 7 years old.

I am kind of happy with my team now though. I have a ton of people that are career minded and really want to work hard which is nice. I think overall they are starting to respect me and get me a little more each day. My number one star is a lovely young mother of two named Melissa who is so much like my sister Crystal it's kind of scary. Melissa is 5 feet of determination and has one of each at home just like my sis. Working with a clone of Crystal makes me homesick but happy all at once. A lot of my team are young mothers, some in bad marriages or going through divorces, so they are opening me up to a side of life that I'm not used to dealing with. I have to remember kids names instead of boyfriends names like in Philly.

Aside from working until I'm exhausted, I am still attempting to contact someone at the moving company that a) can tell me where my shit is and b) gives a rat's ass about my stuff. Today I talked to a guy who transferred me into a voicemail box. I have been emailing, leaving messages on voicemail and no one is getting back to me. My message today indicated that if I don't hear back by 5 PM tomorrow with a resolution I am taking police action. Which essentially means I'm getting Crystal's husband Jim to call and rattle some cages. Having a cop in the family comes in handy sometimes. Considering I'm planning a trip to visit my sister and her family at my Dad's in VA this weekend, I kind of need to know when my stuff is coming, if it's coming at all. With my luck I'll coax them into rushing shit down here so that they want to deliver it this weekend and I'll have to scrap my vacation.

In closing I want to say that in the midst of all the bullshit I had to deal with today I got a text message from my friend Katie in Philly related to an order she placed with our website. The message read as follows "Get my order to ship and I'll show you my knockers." It was just what I needed. God I miss that chick.