Day 150

So, perhaps I've been slightly negligent in my postings. I've skipped the last couple years in NY, and the first 7 months or so of my time in the KSA. But here I am, 150ish days straight out here, on top of most of the couple months before that, and I'm going a bit fucking crazy.

Though crazy is nothing new for me, I've always been a bit...well awesome. And with that awesome genetics had to make certain sacrifices, so people tell me, as far as I'm concerned I sweat perfection and crap excellence, you don't even want to know where the Genius comes from, but there are some stains on the sheets you're welcome to examine.

At this point I've assimilated fairly well to my new, not so American, or European, or any fucking place a sane person would live environment. I'm on the couch, in my villa, in my private compound, shielded from the hordes of unruly, unwashed locals. Just another day in the life.

Ramadan started today. If you're unfamiliar, it's a month long Muslim holiday of sorts. During daylight hours there is no drinking (anything), no eating, smoking, sex, basically any indulgence you can add to the many indulgences that are already illegal here. Did I mention Muslim law is THE law here. Which means I will not be allowed to drink (anything), eat, smoke, or have sex during daylight hours either (in public). The sex thing I've got covered...unless it includes masturbation, in which case I'll need one of you to post my obituary in a few days. However, no water? Are they aware it's usually between 42 and 50C degrees here? For you McDonalds eating, hummer driving Americans, that's 107-122F, average. That's fucking HOT. It's really fucking hot. I like water, very much. I like public masturbation even more. This is going to be brutal.

The Resurrection

Do not be afraid. I am The First and The Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever.

Many of you, and I use that term loosely, have probably wondered, cried, spent many a night tossing and turning about my supposed 'absence.' Fear not my feeble minded minions. I am not, and have never been absent in your lives. It was foretold, on the 1,030th day I would return, in the physical sense, and I have. You may rejoice. But you may also know I have always been present in your minds, in your hearts, the hidden webcams in your bathroom...and that pasty face pressed against the glass against your bedroom window that you can never quite catch.

I am every time your loved ones prove you wrong. I am every word you don't understand. I am every joke you don't get. I am the Genius, the constant reminder that you are less than. And in my Genius I give you hope of what you could be, for that you are welcome, it is my gift to you. It is true, my gifts are many, but your hands are small, so I keep most of them to myself. Do not ask questions.

I have traveled the world in my physical time away. I grew weary of the despair and futility my gifts brought upon the people of New York. I look into your eyes and see the recognition of what you will never, can never be, it is my burden to bear. Do not weep for me.

I traveled many, many places. I wandered wearily through the very...friendly...strip clubs of a land known as "Houston." Eventually I made my way to the desserts of the Middle East, and 7 months ago settled in to a friendly liberal area known as "The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia," which for the durations of my posts, and in hopes to avoid any government backlash, I will refer to as "The KSA" in my future posts. Of which there will be many.

Take heart, and take heed my children, for He hath returned.

Not Gay

There are things in my life of which I choose not to speak. If you've known me for a while you know this, I don't talk about feelings, I don't bring up the past, and I for damn sure do not talk about my love for the OC. Until now, I feel, you, as my devoted worshipers, my faithful geniusi to be, deserve to hear a little more from The Book of Joe. Do not confuse this with me "owing" you anything, I don't. Consider this tidbit a gift, be thankful, praise my name.*

An excerpt from The Book of Joe, Chapter 1:

For the world time exists in terms of JC, and Pre-JC. For JC, there is OC, and Pre-OC. Pre-OC was a sad time, a lonely time. Californians were snobs. Pretty, but shallow and fake. A place JC loved to vacation but could never assimilate. The beaches bleaker, sunsets dimmer, 17 year old boys with rough backgrounds from Chino adopted by their public defender and taken to be raised in a life of luxery were just that...17 year old boys with rough backgrounds from Chino adopted by their public defender and taken to be raised in a life of luxery. Nothing more.

And then Pre-OC ended. The OC came, and there was joy. The laughter of JC shook the skies, His tears nourished the crops. The world florished, there was happiness, the time of The OC was a boon to the world. Bless you children, I digress.

The OC was wrongly cancelled after Season 4 in 2007. Some people fear beauty, they fear genius, so they cancel it. This is a pain I have known my entire life. Yet I will not declare a Post-OC era to have begun. Not now, it's too early, 1 year later and there is still so much to be learned from the first 4 Seasons of The OC era. I realize it is hard, I too felt the stain of the OC fading from my soul after these long 18 months since. As you know I have dedicated myself anew to the era, the life, the genius of The OC, and I encourage you to do the same.

I caught the first 13 episodes on hulu.com, the rest I have downloaded off of isohunt as torrents. I watch them alone, in body, but could I ever really be alone with Seth, Summer, Ryan and Marissa on my screen, and in my heart? Praise be. I keep a running commentary, yes, I actually say things out loud, alone. I refuse to deprive the world of my genius even in solitude.

Watching the first season the second time around I have come to recognize some things, see a little deeper into the vast ocean of The OC. I recognize the aspects that draw men in, the values I hope become ingrained in my people and lasts long through the Post-OC era. Those first episodes, the way Ryan looks at Marissa, what guy hasn't known that feeling, seeing that girl that makes your heart ache, the one it pains to look at. But you can't stop looking, nor would you want to, you feel that pain, that love, and you know you're alive, you know there is beauty in the world.* I remember the first time I had that feeling, I doubt she ever dwells on me but I'd like to think she kept a few of my singles tucked somewhere safe all these years. Praise be.


I must get back to my studies. My dears, my geniusi to be, go, experience The OC, and rejoice. For once you are one with The OC, you have opened up the avenues to join me in the Post-OC era decades down the line. Learn their love, appreciate their laughter, if you are home alone quietly masturbate to the makeout scenes with Micha Barton. Praise be.

-JC, 2008 OC

So...this happened.

Some of you may have noticed after returning from vacation I have dropped off the map. Well, I've been reunited with a once important part of my life. Officially we ended it abot 18 months ago, really it's been more like 2 years. Marissa and I are back together...kind of...taking it slow. To be honest I didn't see a reunion ever happening, it's not really my thing, at all. But, she's back, and I'm happy, I am really really happy. There have been some tears, but mostly it's been all laughs. She makes my heart ache like none other. So bare with me please while she and I work some things out, the distance isn't easy since I'm in NY now and she's still in The OC. Compounded with the fact that Ryan is still in the picture, but only for now, in Season 2 they'll break up and it'll just be me and her. I love you Marissa Cooper.

Poooortland

I had my first day back in Portland today, I would rate it a massive 5/5 Boners.



First things first, I woke up at that crack of noon-thirty and headed out to a pleasant lunch with the rents. Not quite the same as my typical lunch of "whatever's not rotten in the fridge," but it did the job. Afterwards, and yes I know I may catch, well already have caught flak for this, but I decided to hit up the old tanning bed for a little color on the skin. I was a little reluctant to give up my beautiful ghostly white, but there are pros to not being the great white beacon in the night. Afterwards I definitely noticed less people shielding their eyes when the light bounced off my skin, and less children ran from me in fear, so I got that going for me.



I even did a little shopping, by myself! This was a big step for me, I rarely shop alone, I am not to be trusted when it comes to fashion. Thankfully I found a nice gay man to help me pick out some clothing, even helped me try it on...which was wierd, but I never skip a chance to show off the goods...



A short, painful run later I was ready for the Caberet. My two "escorts" Jessie and Cassie were wildly innapropriate, which is par for the course. Pretty sure they spent at least half the night making out, which forrrced me to spend half the night watching. When I wasn't watching them go at it, I enjoyed the show. It did make me wonder, what's my talent? If I had to get up there for a talent show what the hell would I do? I'm not sure being dashing and charming counts, but if it did...



Ultimately I chose the perfect act. I would be introduced, and the spotlight would flash to me sitting 20' above the stage in the lights. Without a word I would fall. Just drop, like a rock, face first, splat. No moving, no rolling, no nothing when I hit the ground, just a lump face first in the floor, utter silence. No one would know if it was a joke, if I was hurt, dead. They wouldn't laugh, wouldn't clap, just sit there in confusion, then the lights go out. Welcome to my world. My talent is akward moments.

Oh and check out the sweet fiery aftermath of my fake tan, no longer the pasty flash in the night, I am now a fiery pillar of...ferocity? And pain.

A new post! What the hell?

I suppoooose it's time I updated this thing. I can't, I mean I choose not, to sleep, so may as well! It has been...more fingers than I have long since I last posted, I would say I just haven't thought of anything genius lately, but we all know that just doesn't happen.

I actually do have some drafts I wrote up but never got around to posting, random musings, rants, and an account of Jess's visit that I'm sure her lesbo lover Cassie is dying to read. I will edit them and post them soon, not that I ever need to edit. I crap genius.

As for me life has been trucking along. A few ups and downs, the downs are mostly when I run out of cookies. The ups, when I have lots of cookies. I haven't worn underwear in months, which has been pretty nice. I'm a little worried my neighbors are getting more than they bargained for with my see through curtains, though I haven't heard any complaints, so in case they're reading this: yes it's real.

Portland better watch out, I'm headed back for vacation in a few days. I am extremely excited to get back to my friends and family on the West Coast. Someone offer me a job there, I'll take it! No, not that kind of a job, but what the hell I'll take that too. I'm getting constant pressure from the mom to move back, that and to settle down and make babies. I've got the last part down, just not sure what the hell to do with them. Maybe I will do some job hunting while I'm in town, anyone looking for a Cabana boy? I can peel a mean grape, and I can swing a fan like a motherfucker. Anyways, the trip will be awesome, I'm considering dressing up for the occasion, so don't be surprised if you see me in pants.

Sword Fight!

I was chatting with one of my many lessers the other day, as per usual, she^[1] was impressed with my massive brain^[2], and my delightful knowledge of all things genius.^[3] However, at some point a topic came up on which we were forced to agree to disagree.^[4] The topic in question: Sword Fighting.
What is sword fighting, one of you may ask.^[5] No, not two pansies going blood for blood with 3 foot long razor sharp blades of death…to be honest, that's pretty gay. ‘Enguard! I shall poke you in the heart with my spork’ If this scares you, check your local lost and found, you may be missing your balls.^[6]

What I am talking about is two Men, whipping it out, toe to toe, crossing streams, battling where it counts, in the pisser. It’s grizzly…manly…heroic...not weird.
Now before you get the wrong idea, there are rules. Simples rules really, manly rules:
1. You hold your own.
2. No eye contact.
3. YOU HOLD YOUR OWN, important enough to say twice, you will not live down a violation of this rule.
4. Finally, keep the compliments to a minimum.

Other than all that, it’s just two guys peeing. No. Big. Deal.

I am surprised there are people who have not heard of this activity. I imagine most of those are only children, or were raised in ‘houses’ with multiple ‘bathrooms.’ I would love to yank that silver spoon out of their mouths, and pee on it, with my many brothers, at the same time. Take THAT silver spoon. Though, men usually stop sword fighting around 10 years old, due to space, society, discrepancies in ‘sword’ size, etc. There are a few exceptions, such as camping, strolling away from the campfire, dropping trough and discovering you have a little competition the next tree over. Can you hit that raccoon from here? Careful, he’s got rabies. Also, if it’s your freshman year of college, you’ve been drinking whiskey all night, and you find yourself alone in a stall with Tommy Martin, in that situation it is ok to sword fight as well.^[7]

I would wager the women giving me fake numbers and pointedly tapping their wedding rings when I bring these topics up, are the same ones quick to complain about their man’s bathroom habits. He pees on the seat, on the floor, occasionally on your mom’s toothbrush when she’s visiting from out of town, yada yada yada. You know what? I pee with 100% accuracy. I hit the seat every time. Perhaps if your man spent a little more time sword fighting, and a little less time trying on your shoes while you were at work, he could pee with my sniper like precision. Apology accepted.

What is really needed here is a census. Acknowledge your heritage. The world must know. Our children must know. You are not ‘eccentric.’ You are not ‘unusual.’ You are not ‘mildly retarded.’ Most importantly, you are not alone. And you need not pee alone any longer. Men, brothers, now is our time, hold your heads high, swing your swords low, the throne is ours for the taking.

^[1]And everyone else.
^[2]phallus
^[3]Yes, genius.
^[4]Secretly, we agreed to agree I was right.
^[5]There's no reason to ask, I'm about to explain it.
^[6]On another note, while you're trying to poke me, I'll be poking your girl, not in her heart.[a]
^[7]I'm just saying.

^[a]In her vagina.

Don't Sleep Where You...You Know...

Ok, I'm in some serious pain today. I would NOT recommend spending half the night asleep at the computer. No, I would not recommend this at all. Aside from a neck that feels like I've been turning tricks all week (no offense Jess), things are ok.

I got butt hurt by work at the beginning of the year. So that's put a damper on my otherwise thriving sex life^[1]. When not playing palm jockey, I've been trying^[2] to figure out what I'd like to do with my life, because this, is not quite it. Jessica suggested I look into becoming a boner doner. I am looking into it, though not completely sold on the idea. It sounds as if I'd be doing charity, no, not Charity^[3]...charity^[4]. And we all know how I feel about ugly people^[5].







^[1]Not thriving.
^[2] Buying lotto tickets.
^[3]2007 March Playmate of the Month.
^[4]Boning ugly women.
^[5]Worse than the Jews.

Blazer Mania

Portland traded Tyrus Thomas (TT) to Chicago for Lemarcus Aldridge (LMA) a while back. Chicago fans are STILL trying to say they got the better end of the deal. I found this quote below by a Portland fan, I feel he words the best response to the blind retards in Chicago:

"Not all of us are rabid, we just really enjoy the direction our teams heading. Do you enjoy yours? But it's pretty well known that that Paxson, was Pritch Slapped. Don't feel to bad, he's done it to others as well. Also, don't remember one comment from the TNT guys even mentioning TT, that's how well known his game is.I do remember LMA dropping 18 footers...in the 4th quarter...while TT looked on with a fat lip. I also remember seeing the youngest team in the league come into your house, eat some of your food, and take a crap on your front porch."



That's right Chicago bitches, your front porch has been crapped on. Rip City pride.






PS: Kevin Pritchard, is the young savvy GM of the Blazers. He has made several aggressive and successful trades, getting the better end of a few teams, thus fans coining the phrase "you've been Pritch Slapped."

Fast Forward

As I sit here, in my pajama bottoms and home made scarf (you're welcome Catherine, for wearing it) I wonder where to begin. First off, I'd like to offer a 'you're welcome' to Jess, for allowing her to continue to call me and remind me that the world indeed needs more genius. For the rest of you, I am 'you're welcomed' out at the moment, however you may continue to provide me with tithings and I will accept them with a gracious nod.

Shortly after my 'Boner' post, I moved into a new apartment. It was long past time as I had grown tired of my ex-roommates measly 1 porno that I would watch when she wasn't around. I also got tired of being chased every time I went running. I will say, there were some perks to being the only white guy in the neighborhood, I never had to pay for donuts, of which I ate many.

I have found a neighborhood where I am slightly less conspicious. A Jewish neighborhood. As with much of NY, it has been a learning experience, for them, I already know everything. They have learned there are many different types of Jew, some being much more hardcore with their top hats and fancy side burns...always walking. I rent from a non hardcore Jewish family, hm, not sure if 'non hardcore' is the proper term. Either way, they're pretty fantastic and I am enjoying NY much more now that I do not live in fear of the people around me...only the wrath of God for not being one of the Chosen.

That is all.

Living the Genius

Wow. Last post was on Sept 30th?! I owe my fan an apology. I have deprived you of my genius for far too long. I can see you all, running around bumping heads like blind gerbils without my words to guide you, and for that, I am sorry...you should have been born smarter. But you must not give up hope my little less thans, all is not lost. I have been out studying the genius, thinking the genius, living the genius, all to provide you with more, more genius. And so I take my apology back, my long hard time away was done in service to you, and you are welcome. The dippy smile on your drooling faces is thanks enough, but you may also thank me below.

B...b...boner?

A dear sweet female friend of mine asked me an interesting question the other day. “What does it feel like to get a boner?” My initial thought was, in my hands or in my mouth…wait, no, not gay! Slut! Trick question.

I took the rest of the afternoon off to hunt and lift weights, simultaneously. Let’s see a gay man do that. Well, after a few hours I settled down and realized she was actually asking about having a boner, attached, my boner. My hunting buddy Pedro and I had a good chuckle over that one while I drilled his ass behind the pickup.

And to be honest, I didn’t really have an answer. I’ve had mine so long, it’s possible I don’t give it the attention it needs. Oh sure I give him the old low-five every now and then (much more often than now and then), I keep him clean and in good working order. But really, what does it feel like to have a boner?

I didn’t have much of a response. And really I’d say there are different types of boners, and one cannot discount circumstances…a spandex boner is totally different than a jeans boner. Don’t even get me started on sweat pants boners. Oh, and morning wood, ie morning boner…yeah knock knock, who’s there? A Herculean morning boner, that’s who.

This will take some though. A bit of the old ‘research.’ It’s fairly ridiculous I have this massive appendage between my legs and don’t really know what’s going on with it...this arm length godlike python that I treat with casual indifference. I don’t know about you gentleman, I happen to be a man of science. I will find your answers Jessie. No longer will I ignore the dinosauric bulge in my pants. No longer will my boners wilt unloved and unattended. The time of the boner is nigh, and I will ride that boner to success……boner.

New Fans

It ras recently been brought to my attention that one, perhaps several of my...friends, have introduced this blog to their parent/s, mayhaps portraying me, The Joe, in a less than gentlemanly light...on ocassion. I'll not relent from any of my previous posts, I was discussing this with little Juji down at the orphanage where I volunteer earlier. It's true, I may be crass at times (due to my upbringing), I may swear, which the nuns at the church I attend say is hardly a sin anyways. Sure I may even be a little greedy, donating only half of my paycheck to handicap charities every month, but I...I...totally lost my thunder, no idea where I was going with this. Well, back to the hospital, where I save lives.

Vrroooom

I bought a new bed this week. It's an exciting time. Yes, I realize what that implies about my life.

I walked into the store wanting bottom of the barrel. I purchased my last bed in Oregon off Craigslist for $100 straight cash. Well, for some odd reason, I had this fantasy that a twin bed would be great for me, mobile, comfortable, perfect. My father helped endorse the idea in my head by mentioning he slept in a twin for years...that was all I needed to hear, twin bed city here I come.

The salesman seemed slightly taken aback at my desire for a twin bed, even though I made it clear that I wanted the twin extra long. Somehow I felt that would make it like 5 times bigger. And hell I don't know where I'll end up having to move this thing to, compact is good, right? So blah blah blah I finally bought a fancy new twin bed (the fancy part was the salesman's idea, I had my eye on the mattresses in the alley out back), to be delivered friday.

And then reality hit me. The look at the saleman's face when I said I wanted a twin...the way he showed me two queens for every one twin...the fact that while yes my father did probably sleep in a twin for years, probably while he was at Westpoint, where his underoos were also chosen for him. The way my roommate, and everyone else laughed at me when mentioned I bought a twin size bed. My confidence started to faulter. I started picturing a racecar frame around my child size bed...I needed someone to give it to me straight...er than everyone else already had. I called my dear friend Sky and he set me straight with one blunt sentence:

"What were you thinking, do you ever want to get laid again?"

My brand new full size bed will be arriving tomorrow.

I doubt I'll get laid, but fantasy is a powerful influence. Hell I know guy that almost bought a twin size bed.

I would drive 3000 miles.

I drove my car back to NY from Oregon. Jesus that's a trek and a half. It was an interesting, albeit quick trip. Some things I learned:

1. Iowa sucks.

2. Eastern Oregon, Idaho, Wyoming, and Utah are awesome, to drive through at least. Incredible scenery, no cops, high speed limits, courteous drivers. Compound that with a highway that imposes very little on the landscape so one can enjoy the route all the more.

3. Despite what one sees in the movies, there are no hot hitchhikers willing to do 'anything' for that ride into the city.

4. Iowa sucks.

5. I can pee in a bottle while I drive 80mph.

6. I can drive 415miles without stopping (nor peeing in a bottle).

7. If you have the opportunity to cruise the George Washington bridge in NY...don't. It's a clusterfuck.

8. My car can cruise 3000 miles no problem. But for some reason the day AFTER I've completed my journey, the stereo will quit working. Acura owners beware, must be a design flaw.

9. Music with attractive female voices keeps me more alert than attr...male voices.

10. Hotels/motels allll along the cross country route are very busy. Who would guess all 3 hotels in Bumfuck, Idaho would be full up? Same goes for Bumfuck, Wyoming, Nebraska, etc. Call ahead or you'll be stuck turning tricks for truckers to catch a few zzz's in the cab.

11. The 'Kum-N-Go' in Nebraska is a rip off. I had to wait 20 minutes for a BJ. Kum-N-Go my ass.

12. Oh, and Iowa sucks.

Goodbye West Coast...again

Well, the past couple weeks on the West Sieeede has been sweet. In a few minutes I hop in my car and head back out to NY. Shed no tears from me, my nightly alotment should be plenty. I put off packing far too long, and was planning on being on the road hours ago. So all is as it should be.

I got a portable dvd player, endless hours of porn and a shotgun seat full of booze. I reckon I won't even notice the boring drive.

52 Hours in the Inferno

I've been working in California, and for 'training,' was sent on one of round trips for a little experience...Cali - Hawaii - Guam - 2 stops in Japan - back to Cali...sounds fun! It was not. All of those places are balls balmy, and our turnarounds 4 hours. Balls to that. But I'm back in Cali, lounging nude, watching movies in the hotel. So worth it.

Headed home to Portland on thursday, gonna have a mean drunk. It'll be nice to see people in person instead of just creeping them out with text messages at odd hours when I'm lonely...which I've become quite adept at.

In closing I'll quote an anonymous Oregon text message poet:

"I watch you sleep."

Crap

Damnit! I was mid post aboutt how I'm in Cali now and how great the West Coast is...then the website vomitted...hell with this. Instead I'll regail you with my Halloween idea; Me as Magic Johnson deccked out in Laker's gear, and 3 friends with clipboards as my aids. Hm, maybe keep that one to myself actually.

Pay it Forward

I got cut off today, no signal, guy just barrels into me. As per usual, I let my finger fly fast and true. He stops, mid-day NY traffic and this guy stops...to tell me that's not nice. What the hell is going on here? He took full credit for blindly barreling into me...but giving him the bird, uncalled for, he was truly offended. He was as polite as can be...and as he proceeded to cut cars off left and right weaving into the horizon, I was left to ponder, who's the douche bag now?

Day 37

Did I mention I finally found an apartment? It proved much more difficult than I initially didn't think. Craigslist is both the bane and boon of my existence. The nice beach area I wanted to live in was a no go. The ghetto-fab basement apartment with random chick and no AC, for some reason that worked out. The good thing about this place, besides the rent, is that I'm the only white guy for miles, and I'm still rocking the Taurus rental, so everybody thinks I'm a cop. I hope they don't kill cops here.

There's some weird shit on Craigslist. I had some of the most cryptic responses. One fella even asking for pictures...which I sent, but only a few head shots. I didn't get the place, which I wasn't too upset about.

There was one chick I blew off that my friends just won't let me forget. She also was from Oregon, bi, and had a girlfriend that she warned would sleep over often. Don't ask me how I screwed that up. Apparently there are somethings you just don't take out during a first meeting in NY, whatever.

I can't recall where I was going with this...it's so fucking swampy in the air. I can't focus.

Oh yes! First day here my roommmate made the mistake of leaving her porno dvd out; Phatty Girls 5. When I returned later it was, of course, gone...well, the case was gone. A quick check of the dvd player confirmed my suspicions. I perused the DVD and found it satisfactory. 2/5 possible boners.

Alaska

Well I got to do a little travel this weekend for work. First I hopped one of our planes to Seattle, did a little work and then hopped a commercial flight up to Alaska. After about oh...6 hours I was one of our planes headed back to good ol' NY.

It wasn't as bad as it may sound. Our flights are great, plenty of space, a few comfortable seats, decent food, easy sleeping. Commercial flights on the other hand...pure hell. A couple hours of delays, and I didn't even have the chance to pay for food on the flight. I'm fairly certain they'll soon start charging extra fees to breath on flights, or use the bathroom. I can handle no legroom. But the narrowing of the seats has got to go. I can no longer sit comfortably next to anyone. Ok, I can sit comfortably, but the people next to me can't be very comfortable with my shoulder grinding into their temple, that and my aweful gas.

In the few hours I was there, I did see enough of Alaska to decide I need to explore it further. I arrived at 9:30pm Saturday night and it was still bright as day. The people were very nice all around. The cabby that took me to the hotel was by far the most brilliant cab driver I've ever had the pleasure of stiffing. It felt odd seeing people dressed up to go out, party, etc in what seemed like the middle of the day. I think there are reasons people get slovenly drunk in the dark. On the plus side, I feel the shining light could save many from hookups aided by the dark of night. On the negative side, dim lighting and many beers is my bread and butter.

I'm back!

Well at least I plan on tryyying to be back. I'll try to try.

It's day 13 in NY, and I'm still alive.

It kind of smells here. I didn't see the sky for my first 3 days. Not because of cloud cover, more of a dirty haze. Every morning people said 'oh that'll burn off,' but it did not...and I lived in fear of this skyless place.

I am still 'in training,' which means I do a lot of following, very little 'doing.' I feel a little worthless, but hell it's always been my dream to get paid for being worthless.

My hours have been strange, I've been in as early as 5am, and as late as 4:30am. My sleep schedule is fucked, properly. Finally they had me 'ghosting' the schedule of my 'trainer,' which meant going in anywhere from 2-6pm, and getting out anywhere from 11pm-4am...but then some more classes came up! So this week I'm on a morning schedule for class. They're lucky I'm a podunk Oregon boy with nothing better to do than work and sleep in the hotel.

I'm fairly excited about 'blogging' again. That felt fairly gay to say. I have many more exciting things to enlighten you all with. In due time.

PS: There are a lot of jews here.

Update

My lust for blogging has faded.

I will continue trying to fight the good fight on here.

In other news, I may be headed to Africa.

We all saw this coming. It's about time I got back in touch with my 'peeps.'

Best show ever?

So, which would you say is the best show ever? The OC Season 1, or Season 2?

What? A show other than the OC? That's bullshit and you know it. OC trumps all.

Is there anyone reading this from the OC that can perhaps make some introduction? I'd like to meet Tailor. I think here and I share a lot of common interests. She's hot, I like hot girls. She's got boobs, I like boobs. She's got a nice ass, I like a nice ass. And from what I hear, she likes guys, and I'm a guy. I'm pretty sure it's a perfect match. I know her and Ryan are kind of having a thing right now, but for her I'd be willing to wait an episode or two for that to cool off. He's still pining over Marissa and I just don't think he's capable of providing Tailor with the red hot loving my loins are known for. (and no, the 'red hot' no longer refers to that rash...thank you antibiotics).

Now of course, all of this is based on the fact that I have never seen the show....I merely....know a guy....that watches the show...yeah...a guy. He's slightly obsessed with it. Really strange. I wouldn't be caught dead watching the OC, that's usually when I'm poundin beers and pumping iron....so don't try calling from 9pm-10pm on Thursdays....that's when I'm pounding beers and pumping iron.

Dance Party

At 2AM we got held up at a train crossing for 10 minutes! So what else does one do but open all the doors, blast music, and have a late night dance party in the middle of the street. The car next to us got out and joined in the fun.

I have been wanting to do that for months. It was fantastic.

Things I would purchase with $1 million:

Coke in a glass bottle
Calf implants
Laser hair removal (I don't know where)
A tatoo
A bling watch
Gatorade
The long lost sleeves to many of my shirts
Senators, but no important ones

I'm alive

Ok, I know I'm a bum. I know I never post on here anymore. Not sure if that will change or not but I see people still visit faithfully, so for you, my loyal fans...I will press on.

Hmm...that being said I really can't think of shit to say. So take a look at my living room below. That monstrosity was built superbowl morning for the...superbowl. And we decided to keep it for the...ahem...winter Olympics...and now that those are over well it would be silly to get rid of it before March Madness...and then the NBA playoffs...and then the...the...summer...gam...gol...bowling...tttournament...league....games...yeah. It's not coming down, deal with it.

Sigh

No time for blog posts.

No sleep.

No eat.

Tomorrow I officially begin.

Shit.

I wonder how long I can pretend I'm competent.

I'm hoping long enough to bathe in Crystal (with the tilde). Not the cheap stuff without the tilde...though that would be kind of nice as well.

Lunch time, I'm going to buy some Crystal, no tilde.

I can't look myself in the eye.

Weekend

Ouch, my tits are sore today.

There was much sloth this weekend.

Tried the wings at the Bare.

Watched Seahawks dominate.

Aided Pat's quest for to develop a 'whore mode.'

Woke up to find Keith in my house twice.

Woke up to find an 18 year old girl in my house once.

Drank beer.

Watched new Dukes of Hazzard movie.

Vomited after watching new Dukes of Hazzard movie.

The Million Dollar Bet(s)

So I've been a lazy ass piece of shit lately. I mean fucking lazy. People would come to my house and go "god damn you're lazy." When it was just the not working out, that was fine. But it's gotten worse now. I've started eating tons. Literally, I bought a 2000lbs bag of rice from Freddy's the other day. Tons. Whiiiich, was actually even still fine by me until recently. I was fine with putting on a few extra because at my arms were still big and my stomach was fairly small. Well as someone says sometimes, "times they are a changin'." I started to see a negative correlation with the shrinking arms and growing gut, and I don't like it sir, not one bit.

So what does one do when they're dangerously unhealthy? I made bets with Pat. I figure it's been a month of newness for me; computer, suit, job, soon car, so let's do it up right with a new body! Yeah! In a few years I'll be able to afford the lipo and botox. Ew, creepy.

Ok, the first bet gives me 1 month to be able to do 100 continuous pushups...gyar. I think I may have been a bit ambitious...seeing as how it's been months since I've done any pushups... I have until Feb 19th. The way Pat was celebrating after we shook hands does not bolster my confidence. I think his exact words were "shit yes, easiest money I've ever made, are you going to pay me now?" Hmmm....the first night of the bet I did a set to see where I was. I pretty much maxed out at 40. We could be in trouble folks. Huh? Yeah I said 'we.' You're in on this with me right? Supportiv....hey, come back here...son of a bitch. I'll keep this updated on my progress. This Sunday I'm going to max out again and check my progress. Today I do 30 sets of 10pushups. Oh wait, I mean today I try to do....yeah.

The second bet gives me 2 months to run a 6:30 mile. Now I know for some of you this is a simple task. And when I was a smaller lighter man it would have been a cakewalk. But I'm around 230lbs these days. That's a lot to move. But damn, doesn't a cakewalk sound fantastic? I've never really sat and pictured it before....it's wonderful....cakes everywhere...and a runway...oooh pretty. Ok, we're going to forget that last sentence ever came out of me. Huh? Just remember I've got dirt on everyone...everyone. So I have until March 19th for the running task. I think that one shouldn't be too hard, at least it's fucking possible. These pushups are killing me.

Why did I post this? I oughtta get rid of this damn thing. Blah. Grumpy much?

I am Man, hear me roar.

There was so much sloth this past weekend. And sloth's good friend gluttony....it was...it was...beautiful.

Keith and I woke up Saturday early Saturday with ambition unbecoming the likes of us. Yes, Keith slept on our floor the night before...a night of heavy metal at Rock N Roll pizza, amongst other things, can take a lot out of a chap. A delicious breakfast and some coffee at nearby Wenchells Donuts provided us the strength needed to search for a new couch...one that fits in the house this time...not one to sit next to the wonderful leather couch in the garage...that does not fit in the house.

After procuring said couch (a wonderfully soft two seater) from a local thrift shop for a mere $45, our ambition was far from quelched. What else did we need to begin this incredible weekend of football? Wings.

In our endevour to critique the wings all over town, we have yet to try one of the pillars of the wings community in town: Fire On The Mountain. Wings are their specialty, not an afterthought. I like that attitude. 42 wings, a new couch, and kickoff for the greatest game of the...week: Seahawks Vs Redskins. The wings were gone instantly, cookies were a nice follow up along with bottles of PBR. Yes, bottles, what kind of joint do you think we're running here? Well soon enough the "itis" set in on Keith and Pat. They slept through the final 3 quarters of the game. I however enjoyed every second, except the ones that I did not enjoy. Did I mention we also brought in the seat from the suburban to sit in also? We did.

I don't know what all went on over the rest of the weekend. All I remember is lots of food. Pizza and turkey melts on Sunday. Popcorn, beer, football, more football, and I think Keith moved in at some point, because he was here when I woke up Sunday....already watching football with Pat.

In retrospect, I'm not sure if it was worth the several years I took off of my life...no, actually, I'm certain it was worth every minute lost. I'll enjoy these precious moments while I can.

All hail the weekend of Man.

Back back back in time!

I can't believe how long it's been since my last post. So much crap I could have put in here...and now it will fade, never to be remembered again...I'll just do what I always do, talk about meaningless crap instead.

So New Years was interesting. No need for all the logistics, just know that it ended up my brother threw a party at my house. Which is fine, we share some friends. The crowd was a little bit young...18-22ish. And it did show. I have some fantastic pictures I can't post on here. I'd say there were about a dozen kids from ivy-leagues I caught on cam taking bong rips and irish car bombs. You better believe those shots are going in the blackmail bank. Joe needs a new pair of shoes....and early retirement.
There was some wrestling, some choking, more car bombs, some theft (which was graciously rectified later), blackouts, lust, gluttony and even an arrest. I awoke to two extra bodies in my bed. For a moment I thought it was Christmas. But no, the jailhouse number on my 'recently dialed' list reminded me it was in fact, New Years.
By 8:45am we had everyone out of the house and were cooking up some breakfast over in the 'rents large, vacant kitchen. By 5:00pm Pat and I had the entire main floor spotless, even more so than before the night began. The basement? Oh...errr...haven't actually gone down there yet...yeah...I'm sure it's fine.