Bobby Joe Thorazine: Editorials For The Apathetic

Weekend Review

     So, how was everyone else's weekend? Great. Mine sucked royal ass.

     Four seizures. I had FOUR seizures this weekend. The doctors can't seem to do anything but, guess. My colleagues, naturally, panic. Me...well, from my perspective it's not a big deal. I just black out for about an hour. Still, ...I'm getting tired of everyone else acting like the world is coming to an end. Not to mention, I chewed threw my lip Saturday. Back to the doctor.

     I hate doctors. They suck. As a customer, I am a wet dream. Excruciatingly patient, very kind, excellent tipper. As a patient I am a nightmare. I don't trust those fuckers. They're overworked, completely stressed out and they're guessing half the time. Honestly, if they would LISTEN to me when I talk everything might be okay but, that seems to be entirely too much trouble. Last visit I tried to tell them about my family's medical history, specifically my Uncle. You know how we all have that Uncle or Aunt or Third Cousin twice removed that we are just just like in so many ways? Well, for me, it's my Mother's brother. About a year ago HE started having seizures. Some medication that they tried to put him on didn't work. As I tried to tell this to the Doctor and her Intern it became obvious that they really weren't interested. They had the bed side manor of drill sargents. Without considering any of the information I volunteered they put me on exactly what my Uncle said had NOT worked. Great choice.

     In other news I was at the Nick, the CBGBs of the south, in Birmingham Saturday. I'm sitting at the bar and in walk these three bitches in formal wear. They were not only disastrously drunk but were in, what could only be described as, the most obnoxious moods I've ever seen. They started cussing the bartender out over complete bullshit and ended up getting thrown out. I know I shouldn't take delight in other people's misfortune simply because of their background but, there is something about watching Barbie dolls get cut off and thrown out due to bad behavior that really makes me smile. ...And the whole while in evening wear...I love it.

     They really were bitches, and you guys know my theory, never get on the bad side of anyone fixing your car, cutting your hair or handling your food. Bartenders count in the last category.

     Well, last but not least, that featured blog entry from last Thursday went over really, really well so, it's definitely a keeper. This means I need to know about all the good ones. If you folks have suggestions, let me have 'em. Just bear in mind that I may not always have exclusively good things to say. I'll try, but I can't make promises.

Who Da' Man? ...Seriously, Who?

     I know it sounds cliché but, T.G.I.F.  I am so glad the weekend is here. I have a lot of publicity work to do for my rock n' roll band, I need groceries, I need to re-string my instrument, I got tons of laundry and my bed room is a wreck. Never-the-less, it will be two days away from driving this desk. Not only that, I get paid today. Yes!

     I think I'm gonna get real drunk this weekend. It's been one of those weeks where I go, "no matter what, I'm not tying one on this coming Saturday!" but, I think things have changed enough to warrant a good buzz. Not only that, I can't find any pot.

     At any rate, Today I'd like to address something that is very confusing to me, confusing in that I can't decide if I think they're great or just plain horrible. That is, Hip Guys. You know the one's I'm talking about. Not the one's who really are "hip" or, more appropriately, are truly cool. I'm talking about the guys who think they are just the shiiiieeeetttt! even though they have half the town passing them on the street, looking back over its shoulder and whispering to its friend, "What the hell is up with that guy?" The one's who still have their pants so ridiculously big and low that their entire ass hangs out underneath their ridiculously large jersey and they have to walk by shifting side to side like someone moving a china hutch. The guys who have shaved off all their hair but, still manage to have something in their eyes. The guys with no money but a $700.00 necklace on and a $250.00 watch. A tooth pick in their mouth and an attitude they don't deserve, they hobble slowly in front of you on the side walk with the candy machine air that they rule the world...or at least the neighborhood.

     What a dork. I mean, on the one hand I think it's great because they are good for a laugh but, on the other hand I just think...what a dork. I guess these guys wouldn't be such a train wreck if it weren't for the fact that they are so convinced that they are so cool.

     Now, I admit that I am a very vain man. I've was (and to a degree, still am) the one with long messy hair, dyed wild colors, clad in leather, denim, frills and cheap jewelry. A bit of an 80's left over. That almost makes me unqualified to critique these guys. Almost...  One thing that makes me okay is, vain or not, I realize that I'm a traveling circus. Not to mention, the new "hip" seems to be a throw back to myself. David Bowie hair, T-shirts originally designed for twelve year old girls, tight jeans, pointy toed shoes or boots, tacky jewelery and lots of sloppy eye make-up. This, I can get behind...I mean, ...well, you know what I mean. I do give this look two years before it's monstrously dated. Regardless, if you're going to look like a trashy, sex clown, then by all means, go for it. Just know when to throw in the towel. Otherwise, you're just going to be a variation on the ghetto waddlers.

     No matter what, these guys (possibly myself included) need to be told that they are actually kind of stupid looking and acting. In my case, I'm a musician,. I'm supposed to look and act like a nut case. It's part of my job. I'm not sure who these guys are trying to impress but, it can't be anybody with any taste. It's always a fine line to walk trying to be exciting and different but, still fit in. The sad case is, some people get way too attached to their chosen persona and never let go. Just think, one day we're going to have a barrage of old men who walk around with their pants falling off and big gold teeth, smoking wretchedly cheap cigars and holding their dicks all the time. Won't that be fun?

     Help me out, folks. Who else just looks ridiculous? Who else needs to be informed that they are, in fact, not cool?

Thursday Blog in Review

     Alright, folks it's time for our very first BLOG SHOWCASE, the Thursday event where I will review some quality blog sites (and occasionally some "not-so-quality" ones) for the benefit of you, the reader. I'm sure we all know the feeling of trudging through site after site of impotent, inarticulate junk trying to locate something of quality to distract us from our day. Post after post we encounter yet another construction of sentence fragments and teen angst. Around the corner there's more maladroit poetry or another site of inane photos managed by some lonely "Peggy Hill-sh" house wife. Well, my plan is to collect the addresses of good sites to explore, bad sites to avoid and the hysterically embarrassing one's to visit for less than mature ridicule.

     It was a bit of a struggle to decide which one to discuss first. I got few suggestions and no one that I wrote requesting permission to review them has responded yet. With this in mind I decided to review my favorite one first, Eka's Soul Diary. There is already a link to Eka here so I have no fear of "giving away" her location. Also, I have nothing but good things to say so, I doubt she'll come after me later for my critique. ...Unless, she starts having one of her weird emotional fits brought on by the gelatinous aliens which control her mind.

     I first discovered Eka, who began here at tBlog but has recently moved to Blog Drive, the way I have discovered many other great bloggers. I was in the process of posting a rather long and laborious play, one scene at a time, when comments started appearing with her handle on them. She was not only patient enough to endure all of my Magna Carta sized posts but, had very complimentary things to say. At first this was just a nice ego stroke from a stranger. Once I began reading her posts, however, I felt a warm sense of honor and awe that someone with such a dazzling command of language, such a keen intellect and such amusing creativity would compliment me. Not only that, she turned out to be rather sweet.

     My favorite parts of her blog, other than her wonderful sense of humor, are her phrasings. The metaphors and similes she uses are always so eloquent and her thoughts are expressed so well. She seems to have a gift for stating, in written language, feelings and ideas I've wrestled forever and comparing them to just the right animal force of nature. Something that always leaves me with a satisfied grin and the sense that it could never be said better. As her accent lightly decorates the edges of her compositions, she addresses such monumental topics as the creativity of art, the questionable laws of politics and society's obsession with alien life. These may be followed by such common ones as relationships, the daily grind or the importance of underwear. Her approach is often cynical and self deprecating without being cold or depressing. Even when she talks about feeling miserable it's not in a way that lacks hope or will drag the reader down with her. Even when she's responding to belligerent, ignorant or unseemly comments or posts of other bloggers she is controlled and articulate.

     Speaking of comments, you'll notice on her comments icon it says "mental donations." This is an example of something else I love about her site and that is the way she decorates it, with ideas. Her original site here on tBlog, had pictures of its author but, they weren't very typical. She had bits and pieces of her face, enough to give you a basic idea of what she looks like but, never enough to complete the image. A"you get to see parts of me but, it's still a deconscructed puzzle" approach. In fact, Eka said once that she blogs out of a need for privacy. I took this to mean that her motivations were similar to mine. The need to express one's self with out exposing one's self. These pictures said the same thing to me.

     Her links are all very good (I'm on there, naturally) and the overall look of the site is very attractive. As time goes on and she developes the site more I'm sure these things will only get better, as will her writing. To quote the author/blogger herself, "Presently, I have many skeletons in folders waiting to be clothed with flesh and bones."

     Normally, when reviewing things in this fashion I like to try and say good AND bad things about them. I think it's important to be honest and constructively critical in these instances. In Eka's case however, I haven't really found anything that hasn't impressed me. If I had to complain about anything it would have to be that she isn't ask prolific as some bloggers, posting an average of every two or three days. Also, all the posts that were on her old site have been deleted so, looking back at what she's had to say in the past is impossible. Outside of that, Eka is still my favorite and if you haven't checked her out yet, I strongly recommend doing it today.

     "I have a blog! In my blog thoughts were composed in the most delicate manor that showcased my writing ability, my passion for life and plenty of other things that I can't think of at the moment." Eka the Ferret

Thursday On Alabama Soul Dirt...

     As I'm sure most of you with similar blogs know, it gets difficult to come up with subject matter for this thing every single day. You end up repeating yourself or, worse yet, just blathering like a jackass. Well, last night it occurred to me that instead of spending ALL my time bitching I could spend some time encouraging people to check out things that are creative, educational and fun. I could even make it some sort of weekly feature the way Paintedbat does Ass Wednesday or Angiekruger now has, what is it? Boobs Tuesday? Well, the girls have the skin covered, so to speak, so I'll expose you folks to something aesthetic. The first thing that comes to mind that needs press is my fellow bloggers. With that in mind I would like to feature a different writer every so often, tell you about them and, hopefully, get some more traffic for those who deserve it.

     Starting tomorrow this is what's going to happen. I'm going to make an active effort to seek out quality blogs and write a basic review. I'll spend today deciding who the premiere should be and planning an outline and tomorrow we'll debut. If any of you have suggestions on who I should cover, not just tomorrow but period, let me know. Private messages would be best so as not to hurt any one else's feelings ("such-and-such suggested me, why won't he take their advice and review me?") but, I'll leave it up to your discretion. You may even suggest yourself if you're feeling particularly arrogant. Regardless, hopefully it will help develop this community and, more importantly, you won't have to read anymore half assed posts from moi.

Pottey Mouth Politics

     Good day, folks. What's on the agenda for today? First off, at the risk of sounding like John Kerry, I've decided not to move from tBlog. Every other site I've looked at has been just as much of a pain in the ass for other reasons so, what's the point in starting all over. This thing seems to be getting a little better (*crosses fingers, crosses self, spits back wards, eats raw garlic, throws up the goat etc.*) and HOPEFULLY that will continue.

  Now, let's discuss something a little less depressing than usual. Semantics. Mainly in regards to so called "bad" words. Why are certain words vulgar? It can't be the connotation because we have hoards of euphemisms for each one. Maybe it's just the way they sound. Maybe it has to do with their origin. I don't know but, for whatever reason some words get edited from t.v. while others don't.

     Let's take the words for genitalia first. Why is cock profane? Penis isn't. Penis is a much worse sounding word in my book. It a weak word, a creepy word, a sad word, an emasculating word. Cock is a much better word. It's strong, bold, definitive. It sounds like something a man word be proud to have. Peeeenisssss is just weird. Or take pussy. Pussy is a cute word, a soft word, an adorable word even. Vagina, now there's an ugly word. It sounds like something with teeth. Vagina! No man with a peeeenissss would want to put it anywhere near a vagina! It makes no sense. Dick I don't guess is too bad but, cunt is definitely a dirty, ugly word. That also sounds like something that might bite you. So does twat. Pussy and cock are the most appropriate words that come to my mind...no pun intended.

     Bosom. That's a strange word. Sounds like a weapon that a comic book villain would employ. Tit or boob aren't much better. This is a case where the more proper word is more flattering. Breast, while also being something you eat at Thanksgiving, is a much more sensitive and appealing word than tit or boob. Tit and boob sound like clown toys.

     Ass. Ass is sort of a weird word but, I think that it's much more appropriate than butt. Butt sounds like something on the bumper of your car, bottom has almost no connotation at all and let's not even discuss the ridiculousness of words like hinney or fanny. Ass seems to be the most expressive. Ass hole and butt hole we should probably just eliminate from the language all together, except that, horrid as they are, there still much better than rectum. That sounds like a monster on a sci-fi show. "Look out, the rectum has burst through the port wall and is going to eat Commander Rikker!"

     Clit or clitoris. Again, not the best word. Certainly not for what it describes. This is another instance where a word like pussy would be far more appealing. Something soft, feminine and possibly mysterious. It should really be a word that brings to mind images of velvet or feathers. Something like plush would be better than clit. Of coarse anything replaces stupid terms like man-in-the-boat but, what are you gonna do?

     Shit. Shit is an ugly word used to describe an ugly thing. Almost every term for it is ugly in some way. Poop, crap, dung, doo doo, you name it, it's all pretty weird. Honestly, I don't know if changing the term to something less odious would really be appropriate or not. Imagine someone saying, "I need to take a pillow". Might be kind of weird. Still, anythings got to be better than bowel movement. That just sounds like some kind of war game.

     Fuck. Fuck is a great word period. Granted, my first romantic night with a woman I probably don't want to fuck, per say, as much as make love but it's still useful. It can be a noun, verb, adjective, adverb you-name-it. However, why can you say screw on t.v. and not fuck. Screw really sounds nasty. It sounds like it would hurt. Fuck, sounds really nasty too but, in an appealing way. Regardless, if used appropriately fuck could very well be the best word in the English language.

     So why are these things dirty? Why can you tell the doctor "my penis hurts" without him getting offended but not "my cock is killing me"? Why can you say to your priest "Our intimate life is perfect" but not "She is a great fuck"? Why can you discuss, on radio talk shows, someone's clitoris but not their clit? It doesn't really make any sense. Now, of coarse, if these words weren't vulgar they would probably loose some of their appeal. That's why you scream "shit" when you stub your toe and not "chipmunk". Regardless, it's all a little perplexing.

     In conclusion I would like to say that, as someone with an incredibly foul mouth, few words really offend me. Even the one's that do have to be used in certain contexts (see: nigger). I believe that words can be damaging to others but, not what the word is as much as what is being said. The most hurtful things people have said to me in my life involved no profanity what so ever. So why can't you complain about not being able to shit on t.v. but, you can talk about diarrhea, diaper rash and vaginal bleeding. Honestly, that's what I could really do without. Products like that, if you need it, you'll find it.

     This has been another pointless blog entry. Any and all comments and critiques are welcome and encouraged. I'm Bobby Joe Thorazine...good day.

     (Dedicated with sincere reverence to the memory of Johnny Carson 1925-2005 R.I.P.)

If These People Don't Chill Out I'm Gonna Fucking Kill Them!

     Ah, Monday. Isn't a good thing that most of us have the sense enough not to carry weapons to work? My supervisor actually said to me today that you give someone responsibility and they should do the work, simple as that. My response was that you have to train someone first. She said that it sounded like I was accusing her of not being able to teach. I didn't have the heart, or perhaps the courage or stupidity to tell her that that was in fact my belief. The woman is a horrible teacher and somehow she's managed to move up the proverbial ladder in the academic field. I like her as a person but, she is a prime example of one of the things wrong with our country's educational system. She knows what she's talking about so we should too. Explain something once in a big hurry and that's all that should be required. It doesn't matter if the text book is inaccurate or incomplete. We should just know.

     I like my job, I like the work, I like the people I work with but, I'm beginning to hate the organization I work for. There's no way any normal person could understand and keep up with the system and the changes it constantly institutes. It's impossible. Yet, she lives under the delusion that if someone mentions information in your general vicinity some time in the last twenty years that it should become dogma. Semantics shouldn't matter. Language shouldn't matter. We're all machines and if information goes in we should process it. Period.

     I like the woman but, I'm loosing respect for her. She CAN'T teach. She has no patience. If she understands something then there's no reason why everyone else shouldn't as well, automatically. Even if she DOESN'T know the answer everyone else should be able to figure it out, on their own, right away...just not by asking questions. That takes time and we don't have any time. We should just absorb information like a sponge.

    & nbsp; So why do I still like her? Simple, she's, at the very least, honest. I never feel like she's blowing smoke or being overly polite or unnecessary. For a university this place has a startling number of conservative, naive dingbats running around. There's one girl who comes in our office daily who works my last nerve because she's soooooooo sweet. You could be buried under work and she will dig through it all just to find you and say good morning. Her voice is radically soft and girlish. Her smile could blind you. She seems tragically hurt when others aren't beaming as much as she is. I like syrup on my pancakes but, not the whole bottle. That amount makes me sick and so does this perky, dowdy little wallflower. The worst part is she can not take a hint. There are so many like her, all attending weekly services at the local Baptist church and voting strictly republican, I almost long for my supervisor's cold dispatches.

     ...Almost.

     Where I went to college the students were always screwing their advisor's and the faculty would show up at the house parties. I lost count of the number of instructors and administrators that I got stoned with. If someone was queer, militant, alcoholic, lazy, experimenting with controversial gene therapy you knew. Everyone knew. Here, at the university I work for, everyone seems to have to put up a front. They have to constantly keep everyone fooled and that seems to include themselves. I don't want to loose this job but, honestly, I don't know how much more of this bogus crap I can take. Especially when I'm expected to blend in.

     I keep getting asked by various readers if I'm really a lesbian. I'm not. I am a straight, white man brought up in the heart of the heart of Dixie. If I can be real anybody can. So what the fuck is wrong with these people?!? The lady who organizes campus events is always asking for suggestions. I'd tell her that she needs to hold some event where everyone can definitely get laid but, ...she's one of those radically Baptist republicans. What are you gonna do?

The Immortal Irrelevance of Selfishness

     My roommate and his girlfriend are both great people. I like them a lot. The girlfriend is kind of flighty and basically a worrier, the kind that apologizes constantly. The girl would apologies for using your toilet instead of going outside or carrying it home in her purse. Good person, just riddled with low self esteem. Tom, my roommate is probably the nicest person I've ever met without making you want to throw up from sugar poisoning. Well, last night I got to witness their first real fight. Weird.

     Katie had a friend who committed suicide yesterday. Her temporary solution seemed to be to not eat and to donate blood. Tom is taking about 87 class hours right now, as well as teaching, editing a literary journal and working, almost, full time. He didn't have an opportunity to eat. When a light headed Katie called to talk about her grief, an exhausted and starving Tom asked her to call back after dinner. She freaked, returning her Christmas present, screaming and storming out.

     I had been on my way out the door to go in search of stamps. I ran into Katie balling in the parking lot and she asked if she could go where ever I was going. After hearing her story I suggested we go find her some food and me a drink. On the way, the suicide victim's sister called, unaware of anything except a message that she should call Katie or her family. I listened while the news was broken through a barrage of tears. Afterward, Katie opted to be taken back to her car so she could go and console her friend's sister in person. I went to get that drink.

     The one post I already did about suicide got deleted so I'll tell you my thoughts on the subject and what I told Katie last night. I've had two people close to me take their own lives and the way I finally rationalized it was to admit that I had no idea what was going on. It was their decision and, even though I don't like it, I have to accept it. For all I know an arch angel came down and said, "Off yourself or another tsunami hits the tropics!" They may have saved millions of lives by taking their own. ...Probably not but, you never know. We have no way of knowing what was going on in their heads at the precise moment and if we love and respect the person who did it, then we must ultimately respect their choice. Maybe not the most warm idea but, it kept me from loosing it during the morning stages.

     Anyway, I took Katie back to the apartment. I went to get stamps and two fingers of whiskey in order to avoid her and Tom in case they weren't, or for that matter were, finished. As I sorted through all the sad imagery in my head I became very serious. I was glad to find the bar almost empty. Empty that is, except for one girl whom I took out on one date some years ago and hadn't seen since. She was drunk and oh so glad to see me. And, as usual, she was one of those profoundly glib chics that I attract who never take a breath and can not take a hint. It just made it even more irritating that she's really, really attractive. I glanced Heavenward wondering why God insisted on mocking me and where this crazy bitch was last weekend. She continued to beam and talk and I continued to quietly sip my booze.

     After a couple of hours I decided to head back home and catch some late night t.v. before bed. Tom and Katie were gone and it was nice to have the place to myself. I managed to get stamps and mail bills while I was out, ran into a cute girl and possibly defused a potentially horrible situation. Add to that, there was a really interesting documentary on Trio about homosexuality in animals. All in a nights work. So why did I wake up feeling guilty for going out? Seems I'm as bad as Katie is about apologizing except I do all of it to myself. It was money spent.   ...Of coarse, it was also merits gained. Glad it's Friday.

Good Friends, Bad Times

     Thursday, time to do payroll. Wouldn't be so bad except that our computer program was apparently designed by someone who was on both acid and crack. If you don't weave through the correct series of surreal twists and turns at just the right time everything gets negated and a paisley hand emerges from the screen, slaps you in the head and throws all the paperwork on your desk in the trash. Everyone here hates it. Everyone, that is, except for a few higher ups who say "Oh, no, it's great. You just have to get used to it."

     Yeah, right. If that were the case, I'd already have it down and I wouldn't be lying awake at night plotting the program designer's, the program salesman's and the jack ass who purchased it's bloody and untimely demise.

     Outside of that, I had another depressing experience here recently. I ran into an old college friend a couple of days ago and he's really gone down hill. His gloomy demeanor, his lack of ambition, his horrible odor, all indicated that something was going on. He's a mutual friend of my bassist Rick, who has been getting the guy work and when I mentioned that I saw him, the response was rather morose.

     "Let me guess, you ran into him in a bar," said Rick, with a tone disappointment.

     "Yeah. Is he alright?"

     "No," Rick cont inued flatly, "He's a raging alcoholic. It rules him. I saw him the next day when he arrived at work. He was still up from the night before."

     Sad. I'd like to help the guy but, it's obvious that he doesn't want it. Every option I've offered as ways of improving his life gets rejected rather quickly. How do you help someone who just keeps slapping your hand away? I have this terrible image of him driving through Birmingham, drunk as a top and plowing into someone else's car killing everyone involved. If that were to happen, how would I tell myself that there was nothing that I could do? I'd organize an intervention but, so many of his friends have deserted him or moved away. I wouldn't know where to start.

     Of coarse, someone would be dead and I'd be going, if only I'd tried to get him some help.

     I have my own problems driving me nuts right now. It's hard to imagine making room for someone else's. Plus, with some of my past behavior, I'd kind of feel like Keith Richards telling Charlie Watts that he needed to slow down. Still...

     Recently when I've tried to reach out to people I've drawn back a nub but, I don't believe in ignoring others to save yourself. I don't know. The last thing I want is another family member or friend pushing me away for trying to do the right thing but, I guess that's just going to be my destiny.

     We'll see. I'm going to try and locate him again and then he and I going to have a talk. At least then I'll be able to say I tried.

Reasons For Considering A Monestery

     Well, how was everyone's holiday? Hope it was enjoyable and enlightening. Mine was long and extremely weird. "How weird was it?" you ask. Ladies, gentlemen and otherwise, ...you are not going to believe this.

     First of all, Friday night. As I told you I got that messed up karaoke invite. Well, yeah, I went. In fact, I went for two reasons: 1) I remembered making a promise to try and be more pro-active in my social life and 2) because I knew it would give me something interesting to tell you people. Had I known the entire of circumstances I would have saved us all a lot of time and just shot a public official.

     My roommate, who talked me into this visit, takes me to a frat bar. I have no problem with fraternities or sororities or the people who join. Some of my best friends are members. However, I am not a big fan of bars that cater to them. Any place that has no stage and has sports on the tube twenty-four/seven is just not my bag. Despite that, we walk into a sea of drunk people, all screaming a yelping and chanting. My neo-trash/glam attire makes me stick out like a soar thumb but, also makes people get out of my way. Within seconds I spot the girl Tom was telling me about. She's this VERY cute little Asian chic running around, screaming and spanking people with a plastic pitch fork.

     Okay, I think to myself, this has potential.

     She was exactly how Tom described her. She was loud, aggressive, personable and wild. I couldn't deny being attracted to her. However, as always there were some problems. First of all, Tom didn't set up any kind of meeting or anything. He just told me she'd be there so I'd consider showing up. Second, it takes about two seconds of talking to her to realize, this girl isn't looking to date ANYBODY. Flirt with, dance with, go out with, hang out with, sleep with etc. but, nothing more serious than that. She's young, in her prime and smart enough not to take that for granted. She and I are at two totally different points in our life and it's just not a good idea. Scratch that one off the list before her name even goes down.

     I did meet a couple of other women there. One had just been hired by the same place that I work and was continuing her PhD. We had a nice conversation until it surfaced that I never finished my bachelors. Nothing overtly negative but, I could see the wheels in her head working much the way mine did when I met pitch fork girl. Of coarse, shortly after the PhD lady left I think I got hit on by the bartender.

     It's hard to say. Normally I can always tell when a woman is interested, no matter how terrified/apathetic/nause ous/litigious she looks. This girl was different, however. To begin with she tells me to always get my drinks from her. She says that she'll give me more whiskey in my glass than the other bartender.(side note: the bar did have George Dickle, so that was a plus.) I figure that she's looking for tips. We'll, after I get a drink from her and pay she takes what I tipped her and puts it into a communal tip jar. It's at this point that I become confused.  She was one of those chesty, blonde, Barbie-in-a-tight-T-shirt types and so it's not like I was sending any signals her way. I mean, she was cute and all just, you know, not my type. She didn't give me any looks or even really smile. It may be that she had something against the other bartender and feels the need to protect her clientèle from him. I don't know. If she was interested, I'm afraid she was out of luck.

     Next, my roommate and his girlfriend tell me that they've signed me up to sing a song. I get really irritated but, finally agree to sing if I can pick the song. It should have become clear to me at this point that I was getting drunk. I choose Aerosmith's Big Ten Inch Record, a swing ditty from back when the band was still doped up and cool. Not my best performance but, compared to all the drunk frat boys singing "Carry On My Wayward Son" I was Freddie Mercury. At any rate, it was right after that I decided to leave.

     Saturday night. I went to see some friends' band play at a different club. The singer's fiance', whom I've known since grade school was there as well. She's the one that I watched beat up her boyfriend for no reason what so ever and then offer to help me with some problems so I wouldn't hate her. She never came through with the help and I realized that she only said that to keep from looking bad. I refused to talk to her because I knew I'd say something that I'd regret. Saturday I decided that I needed to fix the situation. Despite everything she's still my friend and I didn't feel comfortable disapproving of her.

    I asked for a moment of her time and we walked where we could hear. I appologised for avoiding her but said that the reason was because I felt a little betrayed. The last thing she had said to me was "I'll call you." She didn't and I felt manipulated. I tried to say it nice but also stern enough to let her know that I really felt that she'd done something wrong. She responded by screaming that I was an ass and that I needed to take responsibility myself. If this was important to me why didn't I call her? I was really taken aback and didn't know how to respond. I told her about leaving a message on her machine that I never heard a response to and she screamed at me for "accusing her fiancé of not giving her phone messages". I walked away and she came after me telling me never to speak to her again. I told her not to worry and she pulled a clump of my hair out. I put her off of me and she screamed not to touch her.

     It was at this point that I realized something important about myself. I am not a feminist. I always thought I was but, I'm not. Secretly, it seems that I don't think that women are equal to men because if a man had done that I would have broken my fist on his face. Instead something inside me just kept saying, "She's a girl" and it wasn't all the other people in the room who'd have kicked my ass. Hard but, true.

     So, good thing I've been more pro-active about my social life, eh? I know most of my readers are female and I'm afraid that you'll have to forgive me for my observation but, it seems to be very true.

     Ya'll are fucking crazy.

Embarassment Is Fundamental

     Topic of the week seems to still be tBlog sucks. It's got a hell of a lot of nice customizing options and a great community. Those are the pros. The cons, well you know, it shuts down every five minutes, there's no support, it deletes posts at will, it's incredibly easy for unwelcome traffic to drop by, the list goes on. I've been shopping and the general consensus seems to be that blogdrive is the place to go. I set up an account but I can't really seem to get it to cooperate...yet. We'll see. In the mean time, I'll be here until I'm not.

     That being said, let's address something that affects everybody, something with more sociological and anthropological impact, something that is truly important. I'm talking about, of coarse, karaoke.

     Last night my roommate, Tom, asked me if I would be interested in joining him and some of his classmates at a local bar for karaoke. I immediately declined. He continued to push me and even said that there was a girl there that I might be interested in. Again I said, "No, thank you" and left it at that. Social contact is nice but, listening to inebriated, tone deaf college kids sing Pat Benetar while I vomit under the table doesn't sound like a pleasant way to spend the night.

     As I showered I considered the request more, mainly because I like Tom and didn't want to be an ass. The negative aspects of attending were numerous and obvious. Bad singing, bad music, cheap alcohol, brain dead co-eds, the whole "birthday party" feel of the entire thing and, let's not forget the worst part...those who take it seriously. The positive aspect are ...  The positive aspects...   Hmm. There have got to be some. Let's see, I'll meet some new people. Of coarse they may all suck and that wouldn't be positive. It could be funny...though not in a "ha, ha" kind of way but, more like in a "He caught V.D. from a toilet seat? That's funny." kind of way. It would be a change of pace. Of coarse, so would mainlining Draino. Hmm.

     I know, there's that girl that Tom mentioned. But wait. How does he know what I'd be interested in? He's seen me with one woman since we've met and that was for one night. Still, you never know. After my shower I resolved to ask him about her.

     "So, why do you think I would be interested in this girl?"

     He thought before he replied. "Well, she seems a lot like that girl that you went out with that one time, uh..."

     "Jennifer?" I offered.

     "Yeah, Jennifer. She has that same way of, uh..."

     "Never shutting up?"

     "Well," Tom hesitated momentarily before making his confession, "Yeah."

     Great. Just what I need. I asked about her age which he estimated at twenty-four. Old enough but, just barely. I don't know. Tempting but, is it worth sitting through several hours of bad crooning for? I doubt it. My bassist did give me a small amount of pot so, I could just get ridiculously high and go. I could do about fifteen shots of whiskey before stepping into the land of Hung. I could also stay at home, get rest, save money and not have to sit through a drunken, atonal tribute to the Pet Shop Boys and Garth Brooks. Tough call.

     I advised someone else today to take up karaoke because she wanted to sing and was considering American Idol. As bad as bar room wailing is, it's no match for the crap that comes outta that show. I'd rather listen to cat's fight than Clay Akins or Ruben Studdard any day. It's not that I don't think people should attend karaoke, I just don't think that I should attend karaoke.

     Still, I like Tom and his girlfriend. Part of me wonders if he isn't asking so there will be someone that he doesn't hate there. Part of me wonders if this girl is so special that he's really trying to do me a favor. Part of me wonders if she didn't ask him if he knew any single guys and I was the easiest person to accost. Hard to say. I'll take any advice on the subject but, it'll probably be Monday before I can tell you what the result is.

     In closing, I'd like to say that I am a big fan of loose inhibitions and wild, ridiculous behavior. Waking up in a strange place can be exciting from time to time. Being informed that you dropped your pants and peed all over the table at the front of the stage...that's a different story. Making decisions like this, especially at the bequest of a friend is tough. What if Jesus comes back and I'm there, on stage, drunk as a bucket of squirrels, singing the theme to Flashdance in order to "keep those who can't sing off the mike?" How would that be? Huh?

     Wonder what that glib chic looks like.

Tea Time

     Well, folks, I hate to say it but, I am getting in line behind the vast many to leave this place. tBlog is just to unpredictable and has no support so, like many others this week, I'm hitting the road for greener pastures. I'm not sure what new blog host I will start an account with but I am looking right now. If anyone has information, suggest ions, or warnings about other sites, please let me know. I'll probably continue here until I find what I'm after but, the second I locate something suitable I'm out.

     This place does have it's appeal and most of that appeal is you. Part of what I was hopeing to find when I started here was a nice community that I could feel attached to and I did. I have always felt welcome and respected here and I have had the pleasure of meeting some very talented and insightful people. It's going to be a little hard to split but, you gotta do what you gotta do. tBlog has run it's coarse and I believe that it's time to start throwing tea in the harbor. Who's with me?

Click, Click, Who's There?

     I've complained a lot about this site but, the truth is, it can be a really great thing. It's an opportunity to say anything with as much or as little anonymity as we choose. Most people, it seems , take one of two approaches. Some post because, here they can be whoever they want. Others, like myself, do it because we can truly be ourselves. No one out there knows what I look like, my specific age, my address, my phone number, my schedule, my past, my shoe size nothing that I don't want them to know. This isn't to protect myself from my visitors. I don't care what you people know or think about me, really. Hell, most of you are so far away I'll probably never meet anyone here face to face. It's my so-called friends that I want protection from.

     I have always been 100% honest on this thing. I have shared things here that I would never tell anyone who truly "knows" me. I could, if I chose, be someone completely different. I could tell everyone out there that I'm an elderly Puerto Rican woman who owns a fertility clinic and worships the sun and you'd be none the wiser. I could and, to an extent, I don't necessarily think that there would be anything wrong with that. Instead I use this as a means of genuine self expression, something I don't think I'd feel quite as comfortable doing if my "friends" were privy to this site. I wouldn't have delved as deeply into my love life. I wouldn't have discussed my insecurities as much. I wouldn't have talked about "gettin' gay" with my old roommate. In many ways remaining faceless has helped this thing serve as the therapy I was looking for when I started. I like it.

     A couple of people have recently expressed their frustration with those in their immediate lives getting on to their sites and looking into their deepest thoughts. They expressed the feeling of violation shared by those whose older brother reads their diary. It's rather sad. Here these people have been brave enough to share things with us that they wouldn't with their partners and simple identity has come back to bite them in the ass. As a result they have considered shutting down their sites and moving to another blog host. They loose their privacy and their territory and we loose their company. Now we know why Batman wears a mask.

     I'm not suggesting that everyone should keep their identities secret, mind you. Pictures on here are nice, especially if they provide us with things like a look at angiekruger's ass. What I am saying is that it's probably best to be careful who, outside of this web community you share your post's existence with.  If you really want to bare your soul make sure you're not getting naked in front of the entire senior class.

     Something else we should probably address are those who AREN'T exposing themselves here. As I said, if someone wants to "play dress up" here that's their prerogative. Just be careful when you talk to people. It is possible to hide behind a computer screen for devious purposes. There could be, and probably are, plenty of twisted individuals out there posing as over-sexed, teenage girls in order to make friends that they plan to hurt. Certainly you should be very cautious about meeting someone face-to-face that you hook up with on here. You should also be careful about the relationships that you form. I discovered blogging when I found my ex-girlfriend's site. If I were less scrupulous I could have gone on there, posing as someone that she would trust and developed a bogus relationship for ill purposes. I'm sure there are those out there who do just that so, be careful.

     Over all, I think that this is a healthy, positive thing. The benefits are enormous and I look forward to new days much more than I used to because of the adventures I can vicariously have through all of ya'll. I have made friends, learned new things and considered ideas that I otherwise never would have. I've discovered fabulous writers and philosophers, seen wonderful photographs and art and even heard some really good jokes. Like most positive things in life however, there is a down side. We can keep that down side to a minimum by simply being careful.

     Good luck and since I haven't said it before, it has been a genuine pleasure to get to know each of you.

     ...Well, most of you.

I'VE HAD IT!!!!!

     Well, campers, there was a really interesting post here about suicide but, TBLOG FUCKING DELETED IT! I admit it, I'm officially getting sick of this crap. If somebody knows of a better place to call home let me know. In fact, I say we start a campaign to move the whole fucking community. Let the Xian-Nazis and the wet brained teens keep this piece of shit and lets just go somewhere else.

     Sorry, I'm just really pissed. I'm tired of this thing eating HOURS of typing. This post wasn't even up for thirty minutes. I left a message for, Rocky and if I don't get a satisfactory answer then I'm afraid I'm just going to have to hit the road. AAGH!

     Hey, Grrlpink, I think you should quit your job at the stankmachine and start your on host site. Hell, I'll pay for the privilege of joining. Just so's it doesn't eat it's own young.

Bullshit: the Fine Art of Phone Solicitation

     So, how was everyone's weekend? Great, that's lovely. Me, I saw a fantastic, balls-out, country band at a local punk club. They're called the Rounders, they're from Chattanooga and even if you don't like country, you can't help but appreciate these guy's show. If they come your way, check them out. You will not be sorry.

     So, let's talk about something besides sex, our stupid co-workers or how much we hate tblog for a change. First off, I was about thirty minutes late for work this morning, something I've never done on this job. Fortunately, my supervisor is always around an hour and a half late so no one was really the wiser. Anyway, as I'm settling into my morning, the girls at the front desk tell me that there's someone on the line claiming to be responding to a maintenance request. My phone had begun acting up on Friday and I remembered thinking that I needed to call someone about it but, didn't didn't remember doing so. Seems that i was beginning to surprise myself and make up for my tardiness.

     Yeah, right.

     I answer my phone. "This is Bobby."

     The male voice on the other end is vibrant and fast. "Boy, you're harder to catch than my wife's boyfriend," it says with a hardy laugh.

     "Uh, okay," I eloquently respond. "What can I do for you Mr. ...?"

     Without giving his name, he began a rapid fire explanation of his call. He wasn't with maintenance but rather some supposed office supply place that was sending out gift cards to customers.  These were to show gratitude for business, only I'd never known us to do business with the name he gave, ever.

     "So, I'm gonna send this to you, just need to get your home address," he jauntily concludes.

     After his light speed schpeel I was a little dizzy and confused. Not so confused however, to give this guy personal information over the phone.

     "I'm not giving you my home address."

     "Well, I understand," he says, unphased. "I just don't want this thing to grow legs and walk off so, what's your home address?"

    & nbsp; "I'm not giving you my home address. You can forget it." I was becoming irritated. I offered to give him the office address just to see if he'd bite. No good. He wanted a person address and nothing else. Again I refused.

     "I just don't want this thing to grow legs and walk off," he said. He was beginning to loose his chipper tone.

     "I don't even know what that means," I replied with genuine irritation. Much to my surprise, the stranger hung up before I could criticize anything else about his call.

     Obviously, it was some sort of scam. The people across the hall told me about a company that calls and asks for your copier model number, posing as maintenance and then sends you $2500.00 worth of paper, saying that you authorized the purchase. Seems like a good way to get arrested and sued to me but, they said that that wasn't the case. Regardless, there are some sleazy sales people out there.  All these telephone solicitors trying to convince you to change phone companies were one thing but, out right scams are another. I worked, VERY briefly, for a place in Orlando that was supposedly soliciting donations to abused children. In reality, all the money went into the pockets of the callers and the proprietor, or "boss" of the whole scheme. Once I realized what was going on I quite, drove straight home and bathed for about three days straight. Later I secretly exposed the entire building to smallpox, spread rumors that there were terrorists and urinated in their coffee machine. HA! Yeah, you sick, gangster fuck, drink my pee!

     Anyway, it bothers me that so many people are so willing to involve themselves in such scams. I know that unemployment has a little to do with it but, Jesus, if you're gonna do that you might as well just knock over a Savings and Loan and get it over with. At least they'd be insured, unlike the miserable, gullible, charitable shut-ins that you're spending hours to hustle. I'm sure it's easy for these people to convince themselves that what they're doing isn't "so bad" but, honestly it is. I don't want anyone but my friends, family and co-workers calling me EVER. If I pick up the phone and hear a strange voice it better be because one of my friends handed my phone number to a single, slutty friend of theirs. And that single, slutty friend better be prepared to show up, medical records in hand and give me good company, a message and two and a half hours worth of head. My phone is only for my people, period.

     I know that leaves out all the legitimate charities that call around Christmas but, I'm sad to say...tough. The bad guys ruined it for everybody. Actually, it's not the bad guys, it's the authorities. If the government would institute harsher laws for such fraud and the police would ...well, police such problems, then maybe the real charities could make calls without having jaded citizens hang up before they can finish a sentence. As far as all the people trying to get you to switch to Cingular Wireless, well, we'll just have to take care of them ourselves. Currently, I'm working on a sonic weapon that will travel through phone lines to the source of these annoying calls and sterilize the person making it. It may take time but I believe that, with it, we can eventually wipe out whatever gene it is that leads people to believe that this is a noble or even acceptable profession.

     In the mean time remember, never give personal information over the phone or the web and if the person calling you seems really happy to being doing it in the first place, then they're full of shit.

The Truth About Back Door Men

     Seeing as how I'll be taking the weekend off I figured that I'd leave you folks with an extra post today, a very special post. This is a post that was spurred not just from a front page conversation between myself, angiekruger, Tinkerbitch, CarrieL and, of coarse, grrlpink, but from hoards of questions from female friends over time. The topic: ass sex.

     Women are always saying to me "My boyfriend wants to do...THAT!!! Why are men so fascinated by anal sex?!?"

     Simple: women aren't likely to say "yes" and that makes it a conquest. If every woman in the world was going "please, please give me that sweet, sweet butt lovin'!", we would avoid the idea like grim death. How hard was it to talk your first boyfriend into cunnilingus? But, when your talking about something uncommon like anal, s & m, threesomes, that's usually a challenge. Remember, men are by nature competitive. This often develops into kink.

     I'm going to make two confessions here. These are things I've never told anybody and, honestly I don't know why I'm posting it except that I have the luxury of anonymity. First, I am one of those guys who is drawn to the idea of "gettin' down with the brown". In my case, it has to do with my first sexual experience. We were VERY young, had no business getting sweaty and weren't using contraception. This was a "safe" way to do it. For me, it takes me back to my first time and in that I find excitement and gratification. Maybe not any better but, it could be worse, it could have been left with a desire for young girls.

     At any rate, my experiences with anal sex have taught me one main thing and that is while it may be exciting no matter what, it only feels good if someone doesn't want you doing it to them. That's not right. It feels like your having sex with a vice grip but that's because the woman is so tense and freaked out she can't relax. She's expecting it to hurt. If a woman likes it, and there are some who do, it's a totally different sensation. They relax way too much. As one friend of mine put it "It's like entering a really big room through a very small door". It is. It's like having sex with a donut. A person's rectum can expand a tremendous amount when they want or need it to. There are also a lot of nerve endings there. It's also just really "naughty". This leads a lot of recipients to enjoy the process however the penetrator ends up with an entry point that you could drive a truck through. Many guys loose interest in it for this reason when they find a woman who's actually into it.

     On a pseudo side note I want to tell you about my experience with liquor. There are two kinds I will not touch no matter what. If I drink tequila I WILL get into a fight. I will walk up to the biggest, meanest guy in the bar, call him a butt faced pussy and slap him in the head. After a few mornings of waking up with black eyes and bloody knuckles I decided that tequila was not my friend. Another is Jaggermiester. If I drink Jagger I WILL have sex with someone or something. Usually, I'll regret it.

     This brings me to my second confession. One night, after a long binge with that Nyquil tasting hooch I had my first and only homosexual experience. An old roommate of mine and I were shit faced when he choose to, not only come out of the closet but, to confess that he had a crush on me. Like a drunken idiot I thought "Well, I'd be nice to try everything once, right?" Ugh.

     Well, we tried everything. That stuff about anal penetration being better for men because of the prostate is crap. That's why you see men on their way to the proctologist on the verge of tears. The first time I went and the doctor rubbed my prostate I nearly passed out. The sex, however, was different. It didn't hurt. It didn't feel weird. It didn't feel good. Honestly, I didn't feel much of anything. It was just kind of like somebody rubbing my butt. Now, that may have been the Jagger but, who knows. All I do know is that I don't completely see why women are freaked out by it and I don't see why some people are really into it. I also learned that I am definitely heterosexual.

     My advice to girls whose boyfriends want to try it is, if you really are turned off by the idea, don't do it. If he's a decent guy, he'll understand and you'll just move on. On the other hand, if you can find some excitement in the decadence of exploration, why not give it a whirl. Best case scenario, you'll find something neat and kinky to play with occasionally, he'll most likely stop bringing it up AND he'll be less likely to scowl when you bring up something weird and wild you want to try. Worst case scenario, you'll be able to say "been there, done that and I ain't going back". Bear in mind however, if you're really tense he'll probably love it (physically, at least) and want more.

     Over all, I don't really see what the big deal is. As I said, my fascination with it has to do with my own early sexual development. There are much "dirtier" things to try, much more dangerous, much more uncomfortable things, much more exciting things, much more pleasurable things. All around if everyone had the opportunity to do it more frequently under comfortable circumstances I think the women would find that it's not that bad and the guys would find that it ain't all that.

     As always, these are just my opinions. Don't forget to vote for a featured blog and see you Monday.

Aliens Overdrew My Checking Account!

     Eka00 (who, by the way, we're all glad wasn't swept away with the waves or molested by looters) mentioned a series of rumors going around that the tsunami was the result of alien intervention and/or an act of God. She took great issue with the masses of people more than ready to blame all the destruction and the 140,000 deaths not on tectonic shifting but, "little green men" acting on behalf of Jesus and the United Nations.

     First, let me say that I used to be one of those paranoid zealots. Always convinced that Armageddon was right around the corner and that the human race was the result of aliens fertilizing the Earth's belly. I was raised very Southern Baptist AND read things like Secret Life and Holy Blood, Holy Grail so, I was your class D type, X generation loon. While I'm still a bit superstitious about some things, most of my otherworldly beliefs have disappeared with my ability to drink all night without a hangover. It is with these qualifications that I state that 90% (if not more) of all the paranormal blatherings we hear on a daily basis are, ...what's the word? ...Bullshit. Yeah, pure bullshit.

     Now don't get me wrong. I still believe in God and I still think that there's probably life among the stars and I've seen ghosts, but so many people take it way too far. Everything becomes some otherworldly trick. Like the X-files. Again, don't get me wrong, I love the show. Hell, I'd have tuned in once a week to watch Gillian Anderson read to me from the phone book. Still, did you ever notice that Mulder was ALWAYS right. It was ALWAYS an alien or a vampire or a government conspiracy. Just once I would have loved for it to have been like an episode of Scooby Doo where they catch the villain and unmask them, you know..."Professor Hyde-White!"

     "...And I would've gotten away with it too if it weren't for you meddling F.B.I. agents!"

     Ugh. Anyway, this seems to be a human tendency, to automatically assume the worst and the most far fetched. Well, folks, I'm here to tell you, Elvis isn't alive. JFK is dead. Roswell was the result of alcohol poisoning. Everyone is always talking about all these secret government documents. Well, it's the not-so-secret ones with all the information in them. They've all but proven that flying saucers are nothing more than gay weather balloons. All these angels people report seeing are just Bulgarian Cave Pygmies. And that video footage of Bigfoot walking away from the camera and looking over his shoulder... ...Nick Nolte.

     Yeah, I still believe in God. I don't think that he/she/it is that gray bearded old man with a fist full of lightening that's always in the paintings but, I do think that God exists. As far as e.t.s I think that either A) we are a complete fluke or B) the universe is literally teaming with life. Whether it can come all this distance or not is questionable. The "spirit world"? As I said I've seen ghosts. I know they're real. I just seriously doubt that they're hanging around, watching me masturbate and going through my mail. Government conspiracies? Yeah, I think there's tons of them. I just seriously doubt that they're anything more complex than the way Burger King employs illegal aliens of the Mexican kind. The Freemasons...

     ...Okay the Freemasons are in league with the devil but, that's a given.

     No matter what I think it's time that we stop worrying so much about what may or may not be happening in the stars and start concentrating on what's going on right here among the living on planet earth. Whether or not the government has frozen Hitler's body doesn't really matter as much as A.I.D.S. or famine or tsunami victims or pollution or war or poverty or economic disasters or education...

     Education. Now, there's a good place to start.

     I'm Bobby Joe Thorazine and this has been my opinion. Don't forget to vote for me in the featured blog section today. Thanks and have a wonderful, down-to-earth, debauched weekend.

Side Post

     Just a side note, I'm running this thing to be featured again since it was all fucked up and wouldn't let people vote a couple of weeks ago. Special thanks to Grrlpink who provided me with the extra tbucks to do it. Anyway, if you feel incline please drop a vote for me. Thanks.

P.S.-This stupid site has deleted a good deal of my posts from last year and I can't figure out how to revive them. If anyone has any ideas, I'd love to hear them. Thanks again.

Vanity Thy Name Is Bobby Joe Thorazine

     So, I woke up today about ten minutes before I'm supposed to be at work. Not a real problem. I've been running late before and managed. I may not be completely showered or shaved but things always work out.

     ...Ooo, wait. Today is different, isn't it? 

    & nbsp; It suddenly dawned on me that I had to host a "welcome back" at the School of Nursing first thing this morning. I also had a new work study student coming in at 8 o' clock who would need to be trained before I left. To make matters even worse, it was raining and I left my umbrella at work. What the fuck?

     I showed up at work at around five after eight. The new work study was waiting on me to let her in and debating on whether or not to leave. I was soaked to the bone and that was as close as I'd had to a shower. I let us both into the office and gave this poor, intimidated child a crash orientation in office policy and procedure, all the while trying to dry my hair with what ever left over lunch napkins I could find. After dropping more responsibility on her than she deserved I left the new girl by herself and ran down the hall to meet the Student Life Event Coordinator.

     On the way I hit the bathroom to see if I did, in fact, look as bad as I felt. Hair was still wet but, everyone's would be today, I thought. However, it looked sort of dirty and my recent need for a trim was really beginning to stand out. There were large bags under my eyes and my teeth were an unhealthy brown from having forgotten to brush them in my tardy, morning haste. As if all this wasn't enough, there in the middle of my unshaven cheek, was the largest zit I'd gotten in fifteen years. It was a dark yellow and resembled something off the X-files. When mashed it literally exploded and left a red blemish with an even more unseemly appearance. I didn't look as bad as I felt. I looked much worse.

     With no time to dwell on my ripe and crusty cond ition, I left the bathroom and continued to the Student Life office. The Events Coordinator didn't seemed phased by my dirty, frazzled nature. Nor did she seem upset that I didn't have a staff shirt with me. She merely provided me with a clean one, loaded up a supply off hot chocolate and other hospitalities and hustled me out the door to my host location: The School of Nursing.

     I learned something today. Girls who go into nursing, around Birmingham at least, are hot. I mean it. Every other girl that walked in that building was the sheer personification of sex and the rest were nothing to sneeze at themselves. Most even lacked the seemingly ever-present wedding/engagement ring indicating that there was a good chance that they were single. Meanwhile, I looked like I'd been rolling around in the gutter.

     I spent two and a half hours serving up hot chocolate and offering out continuous "welcome backs". Most conversations were pleasant and over all it went well. As far as the beautiful girls, I was forced to admit to myself that these future nurses wouldn't get along to well with a smoker/drinker/bad dieter like me. Not to mention, they were probably all there in the hopes of landing a doctor for a husband. By the time it was all over, so was the rain and I walked back to my building with the remains of the cocoa and a general sense of relief. Back, as they say, to the grind.

     Vanity has always been a weakness of mine but, it seems that it's being over run by practicality these days. I don't have the time to worry about my appearance and comfort, not with all the work I have to do. For the first time, weekends are really starting to feel like weekends, like the only opportunity for relaxation and superfluousness. It's okay. I must say though, I'd really rather not grow up.

     Say, Tinkerbitch, you got any fairy dust that'll correct that?

More Woman Problems

     Seems I'm developing a theme here.

     I gave up sex, drugs and constant drinking in the hopes that my life would improve and it seems to have done just the opposite. I need to get back on my "herbal" diet for sure. I probably need to give up my monastic tendencies and start chasing women again, too. Only problem is while this town is jam packed with beautiful women, they all seem to be either taken or just plain stupid. There's a song called "Girl Crazy" that says they're all "married, scary, gay or twelve" but, I think it left out fucking ignorant. I can't count the number of times in the past that I've seen some beautiful chic across the room and introduced myself only to be met with "Dee, dee, dee, dee, blaaaaaahhhhh, duh, ugh, I love to watch American Idol."

     No, you won't do.

     I can find grass in my sleep. Why can't I find any women who aren't testaments to forced sterilization. I dunno. A lesbian friend of mine offered to hook me up with someone worth while but, what she considers attractive attributes and what I do differ considerably. Not just physically, either. The last time she introduced me to someone the girl turned out to be a real mess. It sure would be nice to get off work and have someone to decompress with. I don't mean physically, I don't even really miss the sex. Hell, I can do it better than ANY woman can, I just miss the commiseration, the comfort, the company.

     Who am I kidding? I never had any problems in the past finding what I wanted...at least temporarily. I'm probably ruling everyone out for a reason.

     No. No, I'm not gonna do it any more. Tell you what, I'm gonna locate at least one female that I'm interested in in some way before February. I'm going to try for a change. I may not ever get laid again but, I will date. I will explore possibilities. I will try.

     There, that feels a little better. I guess I better get back to my work. People need to get paid more than I need to find companionship.

     Wish me luck.

And Now A Word From Our Sponser, Shear Hatred And Frustration

     Everyone I work with is fucking mentally retarded!!!

INSTITUTION OF HIGHER LEARNING, MY ASS!!!!!

     Sorry. Just had to vent for a moment.

2005: Just Another Day

In the eloquent words of Vince Neal, "Happy Fucking New Year!"

The good news is I'm done posting that stupid play. I'm sick of it so I know ya'll must be. Also on the good news list: my band had our first decent rehearsal last week. We got together (with a new drummer) after two years and forgot EVERYTHING that we knew. Luckily it's all coming back. I'm also starting to get my foot in the door with all the new nightclub management in the area so booking won't be too hard. We just need to record a new demo and complete our press kits. This brings me to one of today's delimas...

     Press photos for bands are always so bland. It's always four or five people standing in front of a brick wall trying way too hard to look cool. We need something different and eye catching. The last ones had us dressed sleazy, wallowing on my dirty sofa, clutching booze with half naked women hanging all over us. That got a lot of attention. The only idea we've come up with this time, so far, is to make it look like a Sears family portrait. You know, posed like a family, dressed tacky (short sleeve shirts with ties, hair parted right above the ear, tape on our glasses etc.) and maybe one of us sitting in another's lap looking really scared. Problem is, The Red Hot Chili Peppers did a family portrait shot for one album. I dunno. Any suggestions are welcome.

     Speaking of suggestions, we come to my "real" job. I work for a university and have to host a welcome back function. They were planning on handing out hot chocolate to the students however, we're in the middle of an unseasonable heatwave. They considered handing out the packs for the chocolate with packs of Ramen Noodles as a winter college meal but, the extra money for a thousand packs of noodles may not be in the remaining budget. They considered not handing out anything but, then the kids just won't pay any attention to us at all. I'm supposed to brainstorm ideas by the end of the day and so far I'm stumped. Again, suggestions are welcome.

     Well, aside from all that, I'll just say that it's good to get back to daily expression and to start a new year, even with all the problems that come with it. But that is another post...