New and Improved Skip Still Thriving

Well I'm sure some of you miss the wine and cheese that you grown accustomed to from me, but this new attitude thing is sticking. I'm preoccupied a lot of the time with work demands and then focusing my energies on the tee shirt thing, so that doesn't leave me much time for bitching and moaning. I would like to comment on a few interesting factoids just for kicks this evening.

1. Did you know that you don't have to get your car inspected in Georgia?

Amazing. I went to go change over my registration to GA and $38 later I walked out with a license plate and a registration document. I don't have to pay nothing until my birthday in 2006. Huh? There has to be a catch I'm overlooking? $20 for a license and $38 for a plate....and that's it? Word.

2. Nothing is open on the Lord's day here.

Sundays are so fucking pathetic in this part of the country that I'm surprised the suicide rate isn't higher. I guess the folks here just procreate on that day instead.

3. Miller High Life is the champagne of beers.

Seriously.

4. I'm mega concerned about Elizabethtown sucking royal ass.

The reviews are all over the place on Cameron Crowe's latest flick. I'm sure the soundtrack is boss, but I'm worried.

5. My hair is getting long.

I've been really gun shy about walking into the local hair butchery and taking my chances down here, so I've forgone actually worrying about the mop. Now I'm starting to look like Prefontaine and shit. Only bigger. While interviewing a lady today at work she mentioned that she used to sell hair products in this area for a living and I asked her opinion on where to go to get a trusting cut. To be continued.

6. The work schedule thing is no better than what it was in Philly.

Smoke and mirrors. All the promises of normalcy when I moved are out the window. We are down two Supervisors and haven't hired anyone in 3 months to replace the first guy who split. I'm officially back to working random shifts and days (including weekends) and hating every minute of it. It's like a big see saw as well. I had to get some accommodation on some days I need of later this month for a visit from my peeps and in the process fucked up Joolie's days off since we essentially at 2 members of a 5 person team. Something has got to give.

7. Response to Poison Scooter is tepid at best.

I was counting on my friends, family and loyal readership to come through and buck up when the shirt thing launched and I've been underwhelmed at the response. C'est le vie I suppose. I'm going to press on regardless of the support I am receiving because it's fun, Joolie is an amazing talent and I'm certain we can make something of this on a larger scale. George Michael says "You Gotta Have Faith" and I'm thinking he's right.

8. Am I really on the verge of turning 34?

I have conversations at work all the time about husbands, wives, kids, pregnancy, home ownership, etc. and they continue to sound like concepts I'll never grasp. I'm such a fucking kid. I swear. I dress like a 16 year old and act like 20 year old. When am I going to grow up?

9. 80's night is tonight.

I always look forward to 80's night for the nostalgia aspect. The music comforts me. The dancing makes me forget about everything that is wrong with me or my life. I get in the zone and just forget about all the bullshit. God Bless 80's Night.

10. My cooking skills have deteriorated since I've moved.

I had the chance to make dinner for Joolie for the first time to celebrate our shirts arriving and I stumbled. I over cooked the mash 'taters and the corn on the cob like a fucking rookie. I was beginning to think that Joolie thought I lied about being able bodied in the kitchen. She ate it up like a good soldier, but I'm sure she was thinking "this ain't no Mickey D's."

Put Up or Shut Up

The time has come. The shirts are in. If you want one, email me @ poisonscooter@gmail with your size and I'll invoice you. $15 gets you the shirt below on your doorstep in under a week. Paypal does the work.

Yum.



The lovely Joolie Poison modeling the freshest gear from Poison Scooter.

Insane or Smart?

Who remembers Harvey Danger? I suppose they would be considered a one hit wonder of sorts from the mid-90's.

Paranoia, paranoia, they're coming to get me...

Anyway, apparently they are still around and making what appears to be decent music. I actually liked there stuff back in the day, so it was easy for me to give the new stuff have a chance. What's interesting about them is that they are self releasing their new album right to the internet for free. Huh? Sure, they are putting out in stores for sale and all, but you can go here and get it via direct download or bit torrent right now if you want. For nothing.

Why you ask? Well, they go into detail here about their reasoning, some of which I completely agree with. Having been on a major record label in the music industry in my past I can tell you first hand that the artist sees little money from record sales anyway, so I say go for it. The way bands make money is shows, through ticket sales and merchandise. How do you get people to your show? Get them to hear your shit and like it enough to come. Simple.

FedEx Rocks?

Our first batch of tee shirts have arrived for Poison Scooter and I'm ready to start getting the word out there. Getting them was a slight ordeal, but I'm shocked to say that I was overwhelmed by the customer service of FedEx. First of all, the company that made our shirts left a vital digit off my mailing address, so the driver who orignally had the package called me on his cell phone and gave me a head's up that he couldn't figure out my address. Furthermore, he provided me with his cell phone number to call him back when I got the message. Rather than disturb this guy, I called FedEx customer service without a tracking number and they were able to locate the package in question based on me answering a couple of easy questions. They then told me that would re-route the package to the correct address. Easy enough. Well, the new delivery date conflicted with work, so the new driver again called me and provided his cell phone number for me to call him back when I got the message. Again, rather than bother the driver I called customer service and again they located my package with no tracking number as easy as pie. I asked to pick up the box today at the terminal rather than wait around for a driver and they said that was fine and provided me the location of the facility holding my package. This morning the terminal holding the package called me to confirm that I was coming by to grab the box and I indicated I was planning on it. I was completely shocked that I was at a shipping and recieving facility not a pick up location for customers and the people there helped me locate my package which was neatly tucked off to the side for me to come get it. At this point I'm thinking, man FedEx is going out of it's way to help me....that's cool as hell. Then I get home and check my voicemail and it's a guy apologizing for "FedEx's mistake" in not being able to deliver the package, a courtesy call to make sure I got the package at the facility. Huh? What company does this? Proactively calling customers and taking responsibility for mistakes that they didn't even make. Unheard of. The bottom line is that FedEx totally rocks.

Tuesday Night Drunk

Nothing like getting tipsy on a Tuesday night. I decided that I wasn't going to waste a day off from work by sitting in and doing nothing, so I ventured out alone tonight. Spent a couple hours being creepy guy at the bar until I got Joolie to come by after work and join me for a beer. Drank a little more than I bargained for, but managed to meet a couple decent guys that Joolie has befriended here. I told myself I was going to be less judgmental of people in an effort to make friends, and I think I did that tonight.

I am slightly concerned about how many "dudes" Joolie knows in this town already, but deep down I don't care. There is just something about her that makes me love her unconditionally. It's not like she's my girlfriend and I'm constantly meeting guys she has hooked up with. However, since I do think she is amazing and possibly the most incredible person I have ever met, I can't help but wish that there were less instances of her being in a bar where there are 10 patrons and she has kissed half of them.

I'm probably out of line even talking about this tonight because I'm drunk and that is the worst time to start writing shit down. I am trying really hard to be someone who cares, but doesn't care too much. You know? Even mentioning this shit tonight makes me seem like I care too much. And that's scary. And I'll most likely have to explain it down the line...

Piss Off

So I bought this doormat from work that says Piss Off for like 7 bucks. I like it, although it comes off as slightly unfriendly I suspect to my neighbors. Oh well. And for some reason I thought I needed a floating shelf for my living room. That was until I realized that I have no studs in any of the walls on which to mount this shit. Plaster city I guess. But the piece de resistance is my pickup truck wall art that is over my toilet adorning the master bathroom. White trash. Spending money makes me feel good. I have no idea why.

I went to Target yesterday before watching the Eagles get destroyed. Before I knew it I spent 80 bucks in like 20 minutes. I bought silly Halloween shit, a frame for this piece of art I purchased, a dust buster, bottled water, and on, and on, and on. I'm a spending machine. So much for saving money when I move to Georgia. Thank goodness when I take money out of an ATM I usually last about 2 weeks on that one withdrawal.

I'm Old

When I drink these days, I need like a week to recover. I swear. Last night I had a bunch of Jack and Coke after I finished my Rockstar and Vodka and then put down a vodka/tonic at Bees Knees. Met up with Joolie and the rest of the crew there before heading to a packed and sweaty Soul Bar for dancing. There I had some Stellas and then Joolie and I rolled to Firehouse where I put back a few Pasbts. This concoction completely fucked up my gullet. I'm convinced that I'm allergic to PBR. I crashed last night at 3 AM, got up at 11 and had breakfast with Joolie as we watched Breaking Bonaduce and then I went back to sleep @ 3 PM and got back up at 7 PM still feeling like poo. There goes Saturday. Oh well, I'm going to watch Amityville Horror and pretend that my shits are solid. It's called denial.

Giddy Up

Had my follow up appointment with the oral surgeon today who tells me that my wounds are healing nicely. Well, after he berated me for not following instructions and getting drunk after my surgery. Apparently drinking several hours after getting my mouth cut open may have delayed my healing a touch. And using a straw by accident might have fucked me up a bit too. Oh well, the good news is that it's all over with.

It's been raining pretty steady for a couple days and that makes me a little nostalgic. I think of Manchester, UK and my time spent there. And then I think of Philly. As stoked as I am to renew my desire to fit in here in Augusta, part of me still wishes I could go back. But I'm refusing to let myself go down that path this weekend. At least not tonight.

I'm ready to mix me up a Diet Rock Star and Absolut Mandarin and get my crunk on. It's First Friday, although a very wet one, and I've yet to experience this blessid event that happens monthly in Augusta. I'm not sure it's going to be cool, but I'm sure I'll be drunk. And socialable. Got to spread the Poison Scooter word...

Speaking of which, our tee shirts are in town...just not at my crib yet. Fedex has them and will attempt to reach me sometime early next week. And our stickers should arrive mid-week. As predicted we are "live" by mid-October. And Joolie has been feverishly coming up with designs for our next two releases. Check them out here. If you are interested in perhaps purchasing our logo tee (white scooter on black tee) for $15, shipping included, then email me @ poisonscooter@gmail.com with your size and I'll send you an invoice. Feel free to pre-order another design if you are feeling Eat My Dust or Here Comes Trouble more than the logo.

In any case, bottoms up friends. It's the freakin' weekend and I'm about to have me some fun.

The Response

Brother Dan, not to be confused with father and recent home purchaser Brother Mike, is a part time musician with a new demo on the loose. Steady gigging in Manayunk will only take him so far, so I've decided to pass along a track of his to get the music in the hands of the people. Even though the dick has decided after I've worked on a logo and a Myspace account for him that his band needs a new name. In any case, this song Pretty Baby is incredibly infectious and catchy.

You can download it here and see what I mean: Pretty Baby by The Response

Moving On

Damn, I guess this blog demonstrates just how life is a series of ups and downs. If I go back and look over my postings since I've moved to Georgia, I can clearly see a man who is struggling to deal with all the shit that is happening to him. I feel as though it's like watching the Titantic a little bit, it's kind of long and depressing. My apologies. I used to be a guy who rambled about entertainment pretty steadily and occasionally I pontificated about the sadness that is my life. Now I feel as though I've reversed that a bit. I'm a guy with a depression blog who sometimes mentions a song or film that is moderately encouraging and then I go back to whining. Fuck. Sorry. I hope that in the past week or two I've spared you any of the downer stuff and managed to get this shit back on track. I've been trying really hard to not get too down about my situation, or at least not go into agonizing detail about it on here.

For those keeping score however, I guess it's true what they say about relocating. The folklore goes like this: Give it 90 days and then shit should be okay. Well, congrats to me. I just made it to the 90 day mark and I'm still alive. And I didn't move back to Philly or have a nervous breakdown. It's been a crappy ride for the most part, but I'm ready to fully embrace the rest of my life now that I've managed to square away a few things. The hardest part of moving was saying goodbye to my friends and family in Philadelphia. I was very worried that I would become a memory to most of them rather quickly, and that scared me. Nobody wants to find out that they were expendable. Since coming here I've heard the words "I miss you" from my brothers and sisters so much that it borders on annoying. But each time I do hear it, I feel able to take another step forward. You dig?

I'll admit that when I first landed in this oasis of the South I panicked. I was scared to death about fitting in, finding friends, adjusting. I freaked a bit. I tried too hard to make some things work and not hard enough on some others. It's a crisis situation, or at least it appeared to be one, and I was ill equipped. I've always been a tool when it comes to dealing with the fairer sex, as some of my readers can attest to first hand. I don't take rejection well, I kind of spaz out for a while and eventually I'm able to be human again. What's ironic is that me moving here was supposed to help me "fix" parts of myself that I didn't like in Philly, and this was one of those. So what do I do when I get here? I repeat the same mistakes again without thinking about it. Classic Skip.

1. Get drunk and hook up with teenage girl. Check.
2. Mistake friendship for something more with good female friend. Check.
3. Piss and moan and refuse to go out and meet people. Check.

I am pathetically predictable to the extent that I sometimes feel cliched. I know I'm a pretty decent friend, I look out for people unconsciously almost. I don't even really care when people take advantage of me, in a sick way I kind of enjoy it I guess. For some reason though, I get really emotionally attached to people that wind up not being able to give back to me what I need that I sometimes retract and decide to forgo even trying to meet new people. And I'm smart enough to know this is counter productive. I always say you have to give to get, but when my ego is bruised I sometimes don't practice what I preach for a little while. It's one of my many, many quirks.

I'm not very good at apologizing or swallowing my pride either. God, the qualities when you add them up add up to shit. But it's who I am. Let me say that on occasion I have said some not very nice things about people on here, and although at the time I write things I fully intend the words I am putting to paper. Hindsight, however, is always 20/20 as they say and I guess in reality if I know who I am, I must accept that other people are who they are. We all can change, but I can only really worry about myself. And I know I need to change. I need to be more outgoing, easy going, fun. And I plan on it. Starting now I'm all about making every day better than the one before it. Fuck all this pissing and moaning shit. I'm sick of being a cry baby. And besides, I want to get laid and nobody wants to fuck a sour puss.

In closing, I guess I will ceremoniously wipe the slate clean publicly and say I am sorry for treating some people like shit either in my mind or in person. An ex-girlfriend used to say to me that she wasn't bad, just drawn that way. It's a dumb Roger Rabbit reference that actually kind of always annoyed me. But I think in some cases it's very apt. These folks aren't bad people. And I know that. I am pretty sure you can figure out who you are.

Funny Men Dying By The Bag Full

Rest in peace Nipsy and Don.

Nipsy Russell, that rhyme master and game show staple, died at age 80.




Don Adams, Inspector Gadget inspiration and star of Get Smart, dropped a few days ago.




Both have a place in the history books, but haven't been funny in so fucking long. Pack it in boys.

Rock School

Whoa. As much as I loved Jack Black in School Of Rock, you must check out Paul Green in the documentary Rock School. This dude is a nut. Trucker mouth, completely over the top, always yelling at 9 year olds. It's amazing to watch. Although we don't learn nearly enough about the man, we do get to see how learning rock and Zappa songs helps a lot of misfit kids feel better about themselves. just trust me, it's a cool documentary.

Fall TV Season

It's been a while since I pondered the merits of commercial television for my faithful readers, so let's discuss some of the new and returning shows shall we?

ABC looks primed to keep their edge as the best network outside of HBO for programming choices. Boston Legal just rung up Emmy victories for both James Spader and William Shatner, the highest rated midseason show in like 20 years is Grey's Anatomy, let's not forget Lost is back to give us no more answers and now we have Invasion to triumph with a time slot immediately following the Emmy winner for best drama in Lost. I'd say ABC likes their chances to dominate in the ratings this year. Especially considering that CBS and NBC have taken significant losses in the sitcom category the last couple of years. No more Raymond, Friends, Frasier, Will and Grace stinks and the mere fact that Two and a Half Men is the #1 comedy on TV tells you a lot about what's wrong with the world. Doesn't anyone watch Arrested Development for fuck's sake? Nope. Yet somehow it's back for a 3rd year and continues to rack up Emmy awards.

But not all is lost for NBC and CBS. My Name is Earl is genuinely likable thanks in great part to Jason Lee, his porn stash, a skinny but no less stupid Ethan Suplee and a rather hilarious Jaime Pressley. This style of sitcom, Malcolm in the Middle as opposed to Yes, Dear, possesses the potential to trick people into thinking they are watching something other than a horrible sitcom. I just hope the writing keeps this one fresh enough to watch. CBS on the other hand has it's staple of cop shows like all those CSIs and Without a Trace and Cold Case, and has added a couple hundred more this year. People like them, so why would they change gears? I thought CSI got really strong at the end of last year culminating in the big Tarantino directed finale, so I'm hoping they renew that energy. Although I'm certain folks will watch regardless. I'm steering clear of most of the new cop themed shows just so my palette doesn't get diluted. I've never thought we needed so many procedural cop dramas even back when Law and Order kept cloning itself, and I'm not changing now. Also in CBS's favor is that crowd pleaser Survivor is back (with my Philly girl Steph I might add), Amazing Race is fresh off an Emmy win and they just had a superb summer with both Rock Star and Big Brother finding major audiences. CBS is the leader of the pack when it comes to reality TV. Who saw that coming? Slow and steady wins the race FOX.

Speaking of FOX, I don't know shit about that channel's lineup. Same with WB and UPN. I guess I've become a bit of an adult and I've narrowed my vision to shows that appeal more to my demographic. There was a time, not so long ago, when I was hooked on Dawson's Creek and 90210. But nowadays, you can have your OC and One Tree Hill. If I want to look at young hotties I'll put on MTV for 10 minutes. And if I want soap opera shit, well I guess I find it on HBO where they can show boobies and say fuck. I'm all jazzed up for new Curb Your Enthusiasm and the Ricky Gervais series Extras on HBO.

To come full circle, I just watched Boston Legal and Grey's Anatomy today thanks to the magic of DVR and I have to say that I really enjoy both shows immensely. They have a great blend of laughs and drama, and the casts are pretty and talented. I'm not really into the Desperate Housewives bullshit, so for me this is where my money goes. Not since the days of LA Law and ER/Chicago Hope have I felt the airwaves had quality legal/medical dramas worth watching. Sure I know that ER is still on, but honestly it's become a parody of itself by staying on the air for so long. I'm sure there are some out there that can't wait to chew up Criminal Minds or Close to Home or Invasion or Surface, but do you think any will last past a season 1? Come on, Geena Davis as President? The airwaves are flooded with junk right now. Don Johnson and the kid from Undeclared have outlasted Adam Goldberg and Chris O'Donnell with their very similiar premised lawyer shows. And that's just fucking weak. Do yourself a favor and watch Boston Legal and Grey's Anatomy. You won't be disappointed.

Outer Banks, Hot Tubs and Industrial Rugs

As weddings go, getting hitched on a sand dune in front of vacationing friends with no church service to speak of isn't half bad. On Thursday morning I headed out to Kill Devil Hills in North Carolina to attend the wedding of an old friend Jared Little. Jared was marrying his girlfriend of forever Lori and they both being kind of laid back people came up with a plan to incorporate their wedding ceremony into their annual Outer Banks trip with friends. I've attended this trek to the Outer Banks on only one occasion and was unimpressed with the locale, but many of my friends have continued on this tradition and it seemed fitting to squeeze in a wedding on this year's journey.

The drive from Augusta to Kill Devil Hills is roughly 7 hours, so I decided to head out the morning of the wedding. I arrived to the ajoining properties, two very large, blue houses named Boardwalk and Park Place where all vacationers had been spending the week with roughly 45 minutes to spare. It was a quaint, early evening ceremony presided over by a friend in lieu of a judge or priest behind the houses, less than 100 yards from the Atlantic Ocean. Both the bride and groom's families were on hand to witness the event although they were situated at nearby hotels while the mansions were reserved for the friends along for the vacation.

Considering that the wedding was taking place towards the end of a week long stay, many of the celebrants had "enjoyed" themselves immensely and appeared tired when the reception got underway. I made the trek more or less to see a few friends from Philly, but considering that one got food poisoning and was in bed by 10 PM, another got insanely drunk and passed out, I was left to fend for myself and mingle with a lot of people that I have been distant from over the past few years.

There was a time when I was living in the country (post-college) and became immersed into a group of folks called the Woxall Gang. Many of these people have gotten married over the years and they have always gone out of their way to include me when these events take place, even though we haven't really hung out socially in a long, long time. There is still a bond with this group despite our distance, but considering all the changes I have gone through over the last few years, when I am around them I feel pressured to live up to an image that is no longer me.

My involvement with this trip was extremely limited. I was invited and I was considering not going up until the night before. A lot of my not wanting to go was related to my aching teeth, but some of it was the idea of facing people who I think still reserve some weird judgment of who I am. Since I was very non-committal about even going, I left myself in the precarious position of not really having anywhere to "stay" once I arrived. I managed to store my stuff in a friend's room, a priviledge that was revoked when I came barreling in to grab my wedding gift in my bag and interrupted a sexual romp. I should have knocked I suppose. In any case, being a man without an island and practically one of the few remaining singles in the group, I was essentially the last man standing. I drank way too much, even drove home some of the groom's family completely shitfaced, and spent too many hours in a hot tub. At 5 AM, once I had been abandoned by The Dude, the person I spent the most time with, I managed to wander about the house and find a hallway to sleep in. The size of the houses was intimidating and I never properly toured the entire place nor took stock of if there were any empty rooms with beds. I fully intended to crash down the street at another house that my friend Chris had rented for the week but he is the aforementioned "passed out" friend. Long story short, I picked the hallway that was filled with rooms that housed the couples with kids. So at 7 AM I was awakened by little Joey who was running the halls. I managed to drift in and out of sleep for 2 more hours before quitting and getting my ass up for good at 9 AM. As irony would have it, in broad daylight and with more time committed to learning the layout of the houses, I came to find that the "living room" was located near the top of the house and it was quite full of couches that could have been used for a bed. I'm a dummy.

Friday morning was ugly on the coast, rainy and cold. A lot of folks cut short their stay and began heading out a day early, back to their destinations. The houses were rented until Saturday, but considering the rather tame reception and horrible weather, I guess some folks had enough. Myself, I was more concerned with having to work today at 3 PM. I had such a lousy night's sleep, I was exhausted but felt up to just getting home. My momentum drove me to say my goodbyes and get on the road by 11:45 AM. The plan was to push through and get home by 7PM. Sadly my body had other ideas. By 2 PM my eyes were getting heavy, and by 2:30 they had closed while I was doing 80 MPH on 95 South. I was forced to pull of into Selma, NC, rent a hotel room and just crash. Not exactly how I planned for this trip to go...

In hindsight, I probably should have stayed in Kill Devil Hills, relaxed all day, found an empty room in one of the houses, hit the hay early and got up today and pushed straight through to work. I guess I didn't trust myself to make it all the way back by 3 PM. Or maybe I'm just so disconnected from my friends these days that I was uncomfortable to the point of wanting to leave? I even thought that perhaps I was just so lonely there, a lot of couples and the theme of marriage running amok makes a man think about his bachelorhood, that I wanted to just get away from the event as quickly as I could? If I had brought a date, I may have been more eager to stay.

In any case, I got up around 7 PM yesterday in Selma. Somewhat refreshed, but absolutely starving. I grabbed some food, watched some TV until 1 AM and then went back to sleep taking full advantage of my $38 hotel room. (Sidenote: This was possibly the nastiest hotel room I've ever stayed in.) I was literally 1 mile from the Ava Gardner museum, but alas it was closed as was much of what Selma had to offer after nightfall. I got up this morning after an awkward night of sleep in a hotel room locate was felt like mere feet from 95, at least based on the constant buzz of highway traffic that was inescapable. Making the remaining 4 hours was no problem today, even with a brief stop at South of the Border to snap some pictures, I was home in time to eat breakfast and unwind before having to make my way to the office.

The best time I had was when I was silently taking pictures of my friends. I always seem to be happy when I'm behind the scenes, a complete change from who I used to be. I was always so obnixious and forceful, and falling back into that role around these people made me very aware of just how much I don't like that version of myself anymore. I'm not unhappy that I decided to go, I did get value out of seeing a lot of old faces and it was very good to be around people who know me for a change. Even if the man they know is just not the same, they still know the history of Skip. The closeness isn't there enough for me to explain in a brief interlude all the changes I've undergone over the past few years, and so I can't blame any of them for expecting me to just be the same old "crazy" guy they all remember.

And oh, forgot to mention that I managed to get a speeding ticket in North Carolina 20 miles short of the wedding location on my way there. Awesome.

See the photos here.

Broken Record

I know, I know. You are sick of me making mention of my nagging pain related to my tooth excavation. Sorry, I can't help it. That shit still hurts and I'm still popping percocets on a nightly basis. Last night I popped them and tried to fall asleep to the Young Ones on DVD...very scary. A show that featured talking rats is not what you want to see while medicated to the eyeballs. And I can barely understand them with subtitles on, damn limeys.



One more day of work and I'm off to North Carolina for a quick 2 day trip to see some old friends and be part of yet another union between two people. I'm not the biggest fan of weddings, but I am okay with one that is taking place on a Thursday on the beach. Those Sunday church affairs are the pits. I just hope that my pain eases up for me to be equipped to deal with 15 hours of driving in a period of 54 hours. I'm set to work @ 3 PM on Saturday which calls on me to rise and shine on Saturday morning at roughly 6 AM and make the trek back from NC. Sounds like fun. I did get a call from some folks already in the Outer Bank region celebrating and it seems as though most folks would be happy to see me, so I really can't pass up the chance to go and see some friendly faces.

On a very unrelated note, the new Liz Phair album is very retro. Exile in Guyville 2. Nothing like her last CD which was rather good in a very over produced, Avril wannabe sort of way. I've always had a thing for Liz...so perhaps I'm kind of partial? In any case, you could do worse than listening to a couple tracks on your own and seeing what's up.

My Blue Period

The drugs have me in the blue zone....and it's rubbed off on my redesign of both my Blog and my Myspace profile. I'm digging the new look and feel of both. But I'm also very, very high right now.

Feverish

I had no choice but to bail on work today. I was off to a sluggish start this morning and never really gained enough energy to make it through the day. I made it in to work, but by 3 PM I was toast. What sucks is that it's a short week for me since I'm heaing to a wedding in North Carolina on Thursday, so I do have a ton of shit to get to that will take a back seat until tomorrow. Sometimes being the boss kind of blows.

I did however complete my Customer Service Appreciation poster at home today. Appreciation week is coming up shortly and all managers are responsible for making up a poster in honor of the staff. At least that's how I interpreted the assigment. Considering I'm on drugs, I can't be certain that I really understood what was expected of me. In any case, I bought glitter glue and that has to count for something. Maybe I'll snap a shot of this "art work" and let you all see it? Alright, check this bad boy out:





Incredible. I know.

Anyway, this lingering pain has got me kind of nervous. I've had a fever all day long and I still feel like someone bashed my face in with a metal chair. I don't want to keep taking pain medication for the rest of the week because I'm starting to be so lethargic and spacey on the shit. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

Frosty, How I Love Thee

One of the perks of having trouble chewing is the mushy dietary supplements like pudding and apple sauce. But the best part of that kind of diet has got to be the daily dose of Frosty from Wendys. Goddamn that shit is so good. I spent last night in a weird state of not quite awake, not quite asleep due to my Percocet and really struggled to get out of bed this morning. The pain is kind of dull, but still lingering and as much as I wanted to eat some wings while watching the Eagles today, I decided to pass them by for some potato soup instead.

Speaking of the Eagles, another nail biter today. I'm confident we have the skills to go 12-4 minimum this year, but losing Akers might be a shitty way to start off the season. I completely blame my Giants fan brother in law for our troubles with Akers. Once he drafted him for his fantasy squad, I knew trouble was afoot. The curse.

Back to my drugged out sleep story. Last night I had all these moments of clarity, I was analyzing all these different events in my life and I was able to see exactly where I went wrong. The mistakes were so obvious and down right silly. Percocet is a very powerful drug I suppose. I also felt oddly inspired as I was coming up with all these tee shirt ideas for Poison Scooter while floating around in my head. Thankfully this stuff isn't habit forming...

Oh wait, I just read the literature and this stuff may be habit forming. Ouch. That sucks.

Anyway, another breakthrough has been made. One of the chicks who moved here from Philly has a husband who apparently turns out to be a Birds fan and I ran into him at the bar today. That male camaraderie I had been missing came through today with Pablo, my new friend from Chile. It was nice to actually talk about guy shit, like sports, music and being in love. Baby steps. I'm getting there people. I managed to put together a decent weekend of socializing while recovering from invasive oral surgery. Imagine what I will be like at full strength in the coming weeks. Ha.

Time to work on those shirt ideas and watch my fantasy football team stave of a late run by my Dad's pathetic squad. And I'm working on an after photo on the mouth. I just need to be able to open up wide enough...without crying or screaming. Stay tuned.

I Haven't Got Time For The Pain

Well, despite my horrific pain yesterday once the Novocain wore off, I decided to forgo taking pain meds so that I could drink some alcohol and go out to the bars. Now that's what I call dedication. Ryan Sullivan is our tech support dude down here and his brief relocation to help us get up and running is over. So last night was his farewell party and I didn't want to miss it. And as I mentioned I want to be more socialable to make this relocation work.

Vodka isn't as effective as Percocet, but it did help a little bit. It was weird to roll over to the local karoake bar and actually see some faces I know in there for a change. As predicted I did my crowd pleaser Creep to rave reviews. And I even got Joolie liquored up enough to duet with me on Cruisin', her favorite song. She was a little nervous, but I thought we sounded great.

After some singing, the party moved down to the Soulbar for 90's night which apparently is beat as hell. I didn't even recognize the songs being blasted and I was an adult in the 90's. No one was dancing when we arrived, so that should have been a sign to turn and run. I made another beer before the pain, mixed with liquid diet and alcohol was making me too woozy to go on. As much as I love bumping and grinding with the ladies, I like not fainting in a bar and hoping someone will carry me home.

The good news is that I woke up this morning around 6 AM ready to die and popped some pills. Re-woke up at 10:30 and I feel really good. Most of the swelling is down and no more bleeding. I think the worst is behind me and I'm officially wisdom tooth free. I made it until the latter part of my 33rd year for those bitches to come out. That's commitment.

Oh Sweet Wretchedness

Woke up today, popped my valium to quell my nervousness about the surgery and waited for Joolie to arrive right on schedule. The power of valium is something I need to look into....because I felt a but sluggish, but overall worry free and a little dare I say happy once it fully hit me. The doctor was the one running behind today and my surgery was pushed back until about 10:30, but once I got up in the chair and the ball was in motion apparently things went rather quickly. Then again, I was knocked out so time flew by for me. I can't recall much, but I vaguely have some memories towards the end when they were bringing back from slumber land.

I got my prescriptions, was wheelchaired out to the Joolie's awaiting Vibe and hit up the CVS for some drugs. All the while I could faintly feel the blood draining from my wounds, but the ice pack they provided was doing a good job of convincing me that this was really nothing to worry about at all. Joolie dropped me off and even though I had popped a pain pill, the knowledge that my Nano was over at UPS waiting for me was too much. I got dressed, drove over there (the idea of a nice Frosty from Wendys contributed) and made the pick up. I came home with Nano in hand (it's getting filled as we speak with my pathetically undersized collection) and plowed through some TIVO'd shows. My Name is Earl was kind of funny, CSI was decent, Big Brother finale sucked since Maggie won. The whole time I'm still wondering why I feel alright, not too drowsy, etc. And then all of a sudden it hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. I guess the drugs they pumped me full of to perform the surgery have worn off and I feel like someone punched me with all their strength on the right side of my face. My tongue is still a little numb which scares me since I'm worried that when it gets feeling back I'm in for more horrible pain. For a short time I was harboring ideas of being able to forgo some pain pills tonight so that I could possible go out and drink some alcohol. This kid Ryan who moved from Philly to Augusta is leaving to go back to Philly tomorrow and his farewell bash is being held at my neighboring Karoake bar Greene Streets. I'll be able to see folks come and go from the bar out my window...

Part of me wants to go to shake off the vibe I've been projecting of Mr. Unsocialable, and another part wants people to see me do a song and be shocked at what I can do with a microphone. But all of me wants to just cry and pray that the pain goes away. I guess for now I'll play it by ear. Nap, shave (finally), watch Lost, Invasion and Judge Alex...see how I feel in a couple hours.

The Root of Evil (not all evil, just tooth evil)

This is my before shot:




That's Hot!

I've Stopped Shaving.

The new fall TV season is upon us and my TIVO is already filling up rather quickly. I've been pushing off watching a lot of stuff since I have tooth surgery scheduled for Friday morning and I'm certain to be recovering from that all weekend long. Gives me something to look forward to I suppose. Lost, Invasion, My Name is Earl, The Office....I got them all lined up and ready to go for post operation viewing.

Yeah, so I'm going under the knife and I'm actually pretty worried about it. It's only mouth surgery, but considering my Mother was only having her gall bladder removed and ulitmately wound up in a coma and died, I'm a little skittish with the whole operating thing. It's going to be weird having Joolie drive me to this place, sit in the waiting room for 2 hours while they rip out my teeth, take me home and tuck me in bed. I guess she owes me for the Atlanta "trip" from a couple weeks ago. My hope is that everything works our effortlessly and that my worry is unfounded.

Sidenote: Nano Pod has shipped from China. It's on the way. Yummy.

Rockstar

Who called that shit? I did. Week 2. JD Fortune is the new lead singer for INXS. Of course, in this fickle age we live in, I highly doubt anyone will actually buy a record with him on vocals or line up to see them play live....but at least he can say he is in INXS.

My boy Marty better put on a solo jammy jam 'cause unlike JD, who kind of became a clone of Michael Hutchence in an effort to win the contest, continued to be himself and really showcased that he has pipes and a pretty decent idea of how to write a good song. The song Trees of his still rattles around in my head all the time. And any guy who can make me like a Pink Floyd song must be doing something right.

Out of my head, out of my mind.

Am I crazy or is the new Paul McCartney album pretty fucking good? Maybe it's my lack of MP3s? Maybe it's my love for the Beatles. But I'm finding it quite catchy. Speaking of catchy, the new Franz Ferdinand is nothing new, but I like it bunches too.

So I made the plunge. I'm awaiting my Nano Pod to arrive in the mail as we speak. Since I gave away my IPod to Joolie (subsequently that shit was stolen from her car this weekend) and I really miss the concept of an MP3 player, I went for it. I'll let you know just how hot that shit is when it arrives.

Buying things makes me feel better about my life. For like 10 minutes. Well, that's enough from me....back to self loathing.

Waste

So I get a call from Randell my friendly CompUSA technician who informs me that he spent the better part of this morning watching Shark Tale on my computer proving that my DVD drive is in fine working order. Thanks numbnuts. How about trying a DVD-R in that drive since that was the fucking problem?!?! And then he says that the Firewire port that I can't seem to get to work consistently "checks out just fine too." Well, that was a wise move on my part. Allowing CompUSELESSA hold on to my computer for 4 days only to tell me that its all in my head and that they didn't do anything to resolve my issues.

What is the point of buying Apple Protection Plan if I can't just get a new drive or port when I say it's busted? I paid $150 for some country retard to tell me that "ain't nothing wrong"? When I challenged him on the DVD-R issue over the phone, he said that perhaps the DVD-Rs I'm using aren't formatted properly for my drive. Well, since Brother Mike, a certified Apple technician himself, is the very person who provided me said DVD-Rs, I tend to think that isn't the answer. I'm not sure what to do now? Buy a new fucking computer just to get my ISight camera to work consistently and allow me to regain back all of my MP3s? Or just deal with it?

To vent my frustrations with this mess, I decided to upgrade my phone to the Razor phone after all. It's hot. Of course it hasn't rung yet, but when it does I'll hear the soothing voice of Ben Gibbard to alert me of a call. My little digital camera wound up busting on me recently, so the camera phone feature comes in handy.

And in closing tonight, I would like to paint a picture of my Friday night. Come home from work after 11 hours, immediately begin knocking back Mickey Lights, watch Janelle get tossed out of the Big Brother house and take with her my desire to fucking care at this point, make plans to hang out with a friend, have the same friend cancel those plans @ 10:30 PM, continue to drink beer, wander over to the local karoake bar wasted at around Midnight (sadly becoming a trend for my Friday nights...), get up and perform Radiohead's Creep which impressed the karoake regulars enough to ask that I sit with them, small talk while pouring Miller Lights down my throat, sneakily request Cruisin' (the Gwenyth Paltrow/Huey Lewis version) as a duet for me to perform with Trish the best female singer in the joint, bring down the house with our rendition, walk right from the stage to the door and across the street to my house, eat hot dogs/cheese curls until ready to puke and fall into bed naked and wasted. Ah, Southern Comfort.

Incommunicado

I decided to FINALLY to get my computer "looked" at by a professional and now I must suffer the consequences. I'm without my best friend in the world, my beloved eMac. God, I'm lost without my computer. No IM. No aimless surfing. And until now, no blogging. I'm staying late at work to make this all important blog. And it's Friday.

It's not all bad news, since the inagural purchase of Poison Scooter gear has been made and I'm expecting to be in a position to start selling some t-shirts come October 1.

Oh, and check this out. I went to Best Buy to grab a hot ass black Nano Pod and they were sold out. Bummer. Now I'm wondering if I just use my "Best Buy" money on a Razor phone instead? But then again, no one calls me so what's the point.

Discovery

I learn new things every day. For instance, I learned that it doesn't matter that I have been participating in fantasy football for the better part of 10 years, I still suck. Brother Mike is in his rookie season in my fantasy league (quit snickering dammit) and already attained his first victory. And at my expense. Well that grinds my stones. The good news is the value of one of my players has dramatically risen due to the fall of Javon Walker. Donald Driver never looked so tasty as he does right now.

I also figured out that I'm so afraid to live without my computer for one minute that I am seriously considering buying a new one this week. I really hate that my disk drive and firewire port on this ride are failing me, so I'm thinking I upgrade, get my eMac fixed and then sell it to someone for a couple hundred.

I can't make heads or tails of Best Buy's Reward Zone but somehow they sent me $40 in coupons today. And I have about $50 on a gift card from back a while. Can you say Nano Pod? That little black one is calling out my fucking name. And I just totally gave away my Ipod like a week ago. I'm a freak.

Augusta - Now In Technicolor

I found this really cool stencil on a door on Ellis Street. I added some photos to my collection. Browse away.


Unleash the magic.

Breaking Bonaduce

This is the greatest reality TV show ever.

Nights Like These

Ah, Atlanta. Bright lights, big city...you remind me of Philly yet you look cleaner.

We rolled into ATL looking to kick that town in the nuts about 9:30 PM. The drive wasn't by any means overwhelming, just absolutely boring. Not the company, as Joolie is an incredible wing (wo)man, just the scenery, or lack there of, that litters I-20 from Augusta to Atlanta is bleak. We found our hotel, checked in and began to slowly realize that the part of town that houses both the venue and our hotel appears to be the financial district of the town, i.e. it's a wasteland after 5 PM. We wandered aimlessly waxing philosophically about relationships and our stations in life, hoping to find a bar to pre-game at. No such luck.

We hit the venue instead, an interesting if underpopulated space, about 10 PM, grab a couple of drinks and perch ourselves in full view of a pillar blocking the over-anxious Wilco-wannabe band that is warming us up for the Lucero experience. In between text messages, Joolie slurps and slurps her Redbull and vodka and we try to engage strangers in conversation. Apparently unlike Philly, in Atlanta no one wants to meet anyone new. Everyone had their friends there and that was all they needed. By the end of the opening act's set Joolie had made it through 2 Redbull and vodkas and a Jager shot with ease. It was becoming more and more clear to me that her decision to not eat anything the entire day before consuming alcohol was going to become one she would soon regret. The words were slurring and her balance was completely off and Lucero hadn't taken the stage yet.

Fast forward. Lucero comes out, their fans go nuts, Joolie immerses herself into the crowd while I hang back. From a safe distance I observe the dance of the intoxicated that Joolie has perfected, she is eager to become one with the music, the people and more importantly with someone who is not there. As Joolie attempts to charm some local boy into helping her enjoy the show, I can see that she is quickly moving past the point of being drunk and into the abyss of possibly blacking out. The straw that connects her mouth to the flow of vodka soaked Redbull hasn't left her mouth for what seems like hours.

Although I had not stopped drinking, I was nowhere near the point of intoxication when it was obvious to me that we needed to leave the show and call this night just that, a night. Lucero was still grinding on in the background as I walked Joolie to the restroom since she had announced "she wasn't sure how to use it." Ouch. This girl is wasted I thought to myself. Once Joolie emerged from the Ladies bathroom, I looked her in the eyes and said "do you want to leave?" to which she replied "NO!". Without any coaxing or prodding by me she immediately changed her answer as she began to take one wozy step forward. "I want to go" she said.

At the top of the very demanding set of stairs that leads down and out of the club, I decided to sling Joolie over my shoulder caveman style to save her from what had become a challenge for her, walking. Luckily our hotel was about a block from the bar and I'm quite able bodied and she is like a feather in my arms. When the lights went out on our night in Atlanta and Joolie was nestled up in the covers I leaned in to her and said "do you realize that it is not even Midnight?" to which her response was "Nun-Uh!"

We had been in town for less than 3 hours and our crunkness was over. I spent the better part of the next couple of hours making sure she was going to make it. The idea of someone jumping out of bed, opening the hotel door and trying to piss in the hall is a little unnerving to me. Joolie was falling into the wall, the tub, the coffee table, it was all quite humorous in hindsight. I didn't mind a bit since I'm sure if I was in the same condition she would gladly accept the challenge of caring for me. That's what friends do right? We make sure you make it when it seems like you might not. We hold your hand when you want to hold hands. We hug you to make you understand that it's going to be alright.

The aftermath of this night was to wake up in a hotel bed next to me. What a lucky lady. As we ate our continental breakfast and Joolie bemoaned the fact that she cannot remember anything from the night before, I thought to myself how lucky she was to have me there. And how lucky I am to have her. Sure she was pissed that the entire trip cost us about $200 and we really only got drunk and passed out in record time. Sure she can't remember one song that her favorite band played. Sure she was too hungover to do anything except leave Atlanta in our wake as we checked out and split town before noon. But, what can you do? Even if she can't recall the night before, I know she was having fun. I could see it in her eyes that she was happy to be there. The catastrophe will make a good story for the coming weeks at the very least.

Look at the laughter on our faces. Fuck Atlanta. A city is a city. You've seen one, you've seen them all. Ha.

ATL Bitches.

So I'm venturing out of Augusta for the first time since I moved here and will be heading to Hotlanta Friday after work. Joolie coaxed me into going to see a band called Lucero play at a place called The Loft in the downtown area. Even though it's only a 2 hour drive, we said "fuck it" and grabbed a very local hotel room to the venue. This will allow a couple of things to happen that wouldn't otherwise be possible.

1. We can get shitty at the show.
2. We can see Atlanta in the day time on Saturday.
3. I will have a place close by to go crap in when my anxiety takes over during the show.

Leaving town might be a good thing since apparently it's Border Bash weekend here in the greater Augusta area. I am not too sure what this event is all about, but I think it has something to do with college football, something I know nothing about. Some people I guess root for Georgia and some for South Carolina (?) and they are playing this weekend? I have no clue. But I'm sure the town will be a mess and I'll be glad to be gone.

The downside is that 80's night at the Soulbar coincides with my trip to Atlanta. Sigh. I will miss dancing/sweating my ass off and pimping it with the ladies. Or rather, they will miss my presence there and for that I am truly sorry.

I Have Arrived

So my business cards came today. How cool is that? I haven't had a business card since I got them for being President of Temple's Student Government in 1994. At least not one with my name on them. So what if I had to make them up myself, and pay for them and they promote a tee shirt company that has yet to get off the ground and actually make or sell an actual tee shirt. The point is that they are cool.

Hurricane Relief

So here's the deal. I mentioned in passing the other day that my cousin Sam recently moved to New Orleans a couple weeks before I moved here to Georgia and that I was more prone to send him cash in an envelope than to donate money to the Red Cross and hope it finds a way to touch him. At the request of one of my friends and loyal readers, Saybolt, I am going to expound on Sam's story and provide a temporary mailing address for him just in case others feel the way that I do.

My cousin Sam Landherr is a member of the Coast Guard, as is his lovely wife Heather. In May of this year they relocated to a suburb outside of New Orleans and decided to buy a home that they could grow into over the coming years. Sam and Heather are hitting the late 20's and are beginning to think about starting a family. For the past week and a half they have been living in a hotel in Alexandria, Louisiana and working 14 hour days to help with relief efforts. I guess it kind of sucks to be hit with the devastation on a personal level by having to evacuate your newly purchased home, have it destroyed while you can do nothing and then on top of it all, selflessly continue to do your job. Having Sam down there I get to here about all the stuff that the media isn't portraying on TV and I can tell you, this disaster is a lot more incredible than you or I think it is. And today I found out that Sam and Heather are being split up by the Coast Guard, Sam is staying put in Alexandria and Heather is being sent to Baton Rogue, since there just aren't enough people to help out in all the areas that need support. I think about what these two are going through right now and feel completely shallow and self centered to always being whining about crap and talking about what movie was good or bad. Not that I'm going to stop with that, it's just this event is putting things in perspective for me. While I mull over whether I will go see a movie or shop for shit I don't need today, Sam is driving to his home for the first time since the hurricane hit to assess what the damage is, i.e. tally up EVERYTHING that is gone.

Anyway, I'm putting some cash in a card and sending it Sam and Heather. I'm sure they aren't expecting it, and in the grand scheme of things it's a small act that won't make things much better for them. But I want them to know that I care about their situation and like I mentioned before, I know first hand that they are in a position to use all the help they can get. If the urge strikes you to donate some money, perhaps you would consider sending them something directly as well. Or maybe you could take the time to write up a little card to say that you are thinking about them. It's just a thought.

Samuel and Heather Landherr
c/o Louisiana Convention Center Hotel
2301 N. MacArthur Drive
Room 253
Alexandria, LA 71301

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

Kanye West is a mad man. And I love it. Choosing to attack Bush on national TV was ballsy. I didn't see it happen, but I've read his quotes and I couldn't agree more with his sentiment.

What happened to the summer movie season? I'm off today and there is NOTHING that interests me that is out in the theater right now. I'm considering seeing Wedding Crashers again just to get in a few more laughs before summer officially ends.

Hit up Best Buy today to grab some new music since it's apparent that I will never be getting access to my lost MP3 collection. Sniff, sniff. Purchased Cat Stevens Greatest Hits, Kings of Leon Aha Shake Heartbreak and Stereolab's Oscillons from the Anti-Sun 3 CD set.

I guess I'll hook up my photo printer finally. It's been sitting here for a couple weeks just wondering what the hell it's purpose in life is supposed to be. I've been uninterested in reading some frigging manual that makes no sense to me, so I've put it off. But since it's Sunday, the beatest of all days in Augusta, I'll submit to the pressure and hook that bitch up.

Topical = Atypical

If you have been reading this crap for the last couple of months I'm sure you've picked up on a couple of themes.

1. I have problems with women.
2. I watch a lot of TV shows that no one else does.
3. When I read a book, see a film or hear some new tunes, I pass along the information as if my opinion matters.

It has occurred to me recently that I don't even really pay attention to the news of the world all that much. Like this shit with New Orleans or gas prices. I'm more concerned with not having access to my 700 mp3s that I lost, than I am about the devastation of entire large US city. And perhaps that is selfish of me?

I read an open letter to George Bush from Michael Moore today and I kind of remembered when I was a citizen of this country who gave a shit about it's future. I guess my heartbreak over Bush getting re-elected lead me to just tune out all the junk that is going on around me. I'm still shell shocked from the election, to the point that I barely think about anything outside of entertainment and heartache. I do know that part of me feels like this is the kind of crap I knew we would have to contend with by re-electing that fool. I defy anyone who is a supporter of President Jackass to come to his defense over our governmental reaction to this catastrophe in the South. You can't. The arrogance that our elected officials have is the bed we made and must lie in. I guess I've decided that I'm sleeping on the couch.

Oh well, what am I going to do? I could send some money to the Red Cross, but I'm more apt to put some in an envelope and send it to my cousin Sam who just moved to New Orleans right before I came here to Georgia. At least I would know where it's going that way. But instead I'll probably hold onto my money for when gas prices top out at $10 a gallon. Wait, I thought we pretty much took over a country in the Middle East that has tons of oil? Did I miss something? You all laughed when I bought an Echo. Now who's laughing?

Tears

I made a girl cry today at work. Actually two girls cry, in a span of 10 minutes. The first one was justified I think, but the second one caught me off guard. Sometimes it sucks having to tell someone the truth, even if it hurts them. That was the case today for both parties.

First I told a "friend" that I didn't think she was being much of one to me. It felt good to stand up for myself, but part of me wonders if her tears weren't just a mechanism to make me feel sorry for her and let up. I held firm in my resolve and told her exactly what I was thinking and feeling, so ultimately I pushed things over to her and we'll see what happens next. Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy that I made her cry, that would be cruel. I just hope that her tears make her think about how she has been towards me. Whether or not we are friends in the future will be up to her now, and I'll make certain it is on my terms. The doormat days are over.

Now, the second victim today was an employee of mine that is on the verge of getting fired. I'm used to the routine by now, the crying to illicit sympathy, but damn if sometimes it doesn't get to me. I'm surrounded by a lot of single, young working mothers and their problems with money and child care make me sad sometimes. I bet it's hard as hell to juggle a family and work, so even though I was holding my ground with this situation, I did feel bad for making her upset. That's the nice guy in me.

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.