Born A Genius

Day 150

2011-08-01T12:18:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-01T11:46:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-18T20:28:00.001-07:00

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.

2008-09-16T16:42:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-22T00:15:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-08-15T23:57:00.000-07:00

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!

2008-02-25T17:53:00.000-08:00

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...

2008-01-31T11:09:00.001-08:00

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

2008-01-07T13:25:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-06T16:45:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-06T16:39:00.001-08:00

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?

2007-09-30T10:22:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-08T19:02:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-30T22:46:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-08-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-20T15:07:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-15T01:01:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-09T00:44:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-01T20:16:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-23T21:25:00.000-07:00

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!

2007-07-09T20:38:00.000-07:00

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

2007-01-02T19:34:00.000-08:00

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?

2006-12-10T15:52:00.000-08:00

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

2006-06-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

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.

2006-04-16T23:43:00.000-07:00

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

2006-02-25T19:29:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-31T14:22:00.000-08:00

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

2006-01-23T16:31:00.000-08:00

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)

2006-01-20T16:53:00.000-08:00

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.

2006-01-17T01:04:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-01-06T15:38:00.000-08:00

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.

Jacket, I hardly knew ye.

2005-12-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

Oh jacket my jacket;
For two years now I have dawned ye
And praised Newport Harbor
That which spawned thee,
Jacket oh jacket lying, lying on my living room floor.
Jacket jacket, why doth thee torment me,
Jacket oh jacket, why doth thee resent me,
Relent relent please
content thee, with my suffering
nevermore.
Unzip unzip thou bastard cloak,
Release thy serpents grip
From around my throat,
Jacket oh jacket, if I could choke
Thee, I would smote thee so.
From the dastardly depths
Of a bastardly hell,
My fair jacket was spawned
By the devil himself,
I took it foolishly
Muleishly
Right off the shelf
Oh what a fool,
I've condemned myself,
In Hades I burn!
Jacket oh jacket I spurn
I spurn thee so!
'Unzip unzip!'
Screams down the river Styx
Clawing, gnawing,
Fighting, biting
Flinching, wincing
Fingernails rip
As I pray I may
I please someday
Fix,
Thou jacket
Yes jacket
You jacket
My jacket
You wicked
You wretched
Bitch.

Coming out...

2005-12-12T16:49:00.000-08:00

Well. I finally did it. I started telling people about my blog. Until now, besides strangers, the only people in my life that view it are my sister, her husband (Brizzett), and Ms Cartier (who's own blog inspired this brilliance). Times they are a changin'. You might start noticing some new commentors around here. Don't be afraid. Just don't make eye contact, and don't use large words...such as 'sober.' And we'll all be just fine.

One of the agents at my office kind of discovered my blog once. It was a harrowing experience. From the resource room I start to hear one of the younger agent's banter:

Agent: "Born a genius...what is this? Oh, I think I found Joe's blog."

Joe from across room: Pees myself..."oh don't worry about that, just ignore it"

Agent: Reading outloud from my profile..."'I'm the best looking motherfucker you've ever seen?!" Laughing out loud now (or LOLing for you fucking nerds).

It was about this point another agent started showing interest and my face began getting very very red.

Joe: "Uhh let's errr just uhh..."

Agent: "I'm just going to go and clear this from the internet history."

Joe: "Thank god."

And that was that.

I still haven't shown my parents the blog yet. I think they would enjoy it but I'm waiting until I settle it down a little. So like when I'm dead. Keith, Pat, and Maya all found at at Silver Dollar last Friday. I spend so much time online that I never realized how difficult it is to tell people that my blog is titled "Born A Genius." At least it's difficult to say with a straight face. Even though it is true. Die naysayers. Now after I say anything strange or funny, I get the "that should go on your blog." I decide what goes on the blog you peons! I decide who lives or dies! Do not question my genius! My genius is not to be questioned! Just pay your alms and get to the back of the line.

Grade 'A' Bloggin!

2005-12-08T18:28:00.000-08:00

I was just perusing my blog, dilly dallying and reading some old, and not so old posts (ie today's). I've realized that many of my posts resemble the diary of a high school cheerleader. Perhaps it's true what they say, "you are what you eat." Haha, that's disgusting. I'm hungry.

Sunday, bloody Sunday!

2005-12-08T10:17:00.000-08:00

Ok, so that last post, about how I haven't been posting, that was supposed to be this post, but I get carried away by the slightest of breezes, or the shiniest little trinkets.

Here is my post about last Sat/Sun, the chain of events was so miserable, it was incredible to be a part of.

'Twas Saturday...8pm...the night was black as the Abyss and cold as yer grandmother's frigid abandoned old cunt. I was about to undo me belt and get ye old EZ cheese when a terrible sound shook the foundation of me humble home. Do dododo do dododo da da da da da. Gyarrrr 'twas the offensive tones of AC/DC's Back in Black...ie my ringtone...sigh. Wow I better stop typing like that or I won't ever finish this. Long story semi-shorter.

Lisa, the Libster and Brie convinced Pat and I to go out to RJD2 at the Holocene. Pat and I take our ritual shot with a beer back before we leave the house. Then we show up early (in reality we were late), they aren't there yet (they were later) so we go have a beer next door at Sassy's (very sassy by the way). They finally show and we all get our tickets right before they sell out. Well, the girls have to go get cash before the doors close so they leave us to the crowds. "Fuuuuck that" I believe were my words. Within 5 minutes Pat and I were back at Sassys. We only had 15 minutes until they closed the doors for RJD2 so we each took 2 more shots of Jack, chugged a beer and headed back next door.

I wish I had brought my camera, but I was wearing my euro jeans and they were bulgy enough. Madjestic (local) opened up and was awesome as always. Lisa convinced me to take another shot and I grabbed a beer...only to find out when we returned that Pat had grabbed 10 beers...gyarr. I remember RJD2 being pretty good. After Pat handed me 2 of those beers my memory cuts out completely. I haven't blacked out like that in a long time. Apparently Pat lost his car key (thank god) and we took a cab home. I don't remember a damn thing after 12:30. Nothing. Bah! That's obnoxious.

Well, Sunday I was supposed to wake up and work for a lady from the office (Leslie). Well she wanted me to help her move furniture and shit that was way out of my job description. She annoyed me into it. So I slept through that.

Then I had to hold an open from 1-4. I got up in plenty of time, though still drunk, I was ready to roll! I started milling about the house and Pat informed me that the car we took a cab home and the car was at the Holocene. No big deal, I'll call a cab. Got cleaned up, called and explained to Les what happened, etc etc. Cab comes and I'm ready to go! My first open. Well we get to the car and the window is smashed out. Great. No big deal. I put a jacket over the glass and hop in! Nothing could bring me down! Full of positive energy...and whiskey. Well I get to the house early, and realize I forgot my lockbox key...shit, I need that to get in. Ah well, I was told she'd most likely still be home if I arrived early, which I did.

"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Nobody."
"Nobody who?"
"Nobody who is going to let me in that god damn house."

I don't think that joke makes sense. So I reach into my pocket to grab my phone and call Pat, to see if he can use his company van to drive me my lockbox key. Oh, what's that, my pocket is empty? Snap! My phone slipped out of my pocket in the cab. No phone, no window, no lockbox key, no problem! I hop into the windowless ride and head on home.

Got home, got the key, got back, opened 'er up and blammo! All systems go. Sure I was still a bit typsy, which later turned into a vicious headache. Sure at times I considered myself an utter failure. Sure I opened the house up a little late. Sure I had no clue what I was doing. But you bet your ass I sure as hell got it done.

And of course within a few hours I decided that it was fucking hilarious. Is it strange that I laugh at my misfortunes?

LKJWEFOIJC

2005-12-08T09:50:00.000-08:00

There's been an eery silence throughout my blog this week. Some might say it's because my physical body was slaughtered by irate African pygmies. That they shoved bamboo shoots under my nails, burned the hair from my body, pierced my skin with 10 gauge needles. Then dangled me from the needles in their dark forboding rainforest, where all I could smell was the vile odor of my own burnt hair while the mosquitos, gnats, army ants, and other freakishly oversized insects slowly devoured me alive...but more than likely the itching, the stinging, and the knowledge of my imenent doom would drive me so insane that long before I actually died, my wretched tortured body would cough up my soul in hopes of some sort of reprieve...that may have happened to me. These could be disembodied soul-less hands sputtering and twitching in the throws of death, spewing blood all over my office while they mirraculously randomly type out this blog post with their sporatic sightless movements. That could be. Others might say that I've just been working long hours. More than likely, most would not say anything at all, since there's like 2 people that ever visit this blog regularly. 2 fantastic people is what I meant to say.

PS: The hands need work on the title.

How not to get me to work for you.

2005-12-02T11:25:00.000-08:00

1. "Pet" me awkwardly when I've done well.

2. Laugh and shake your head when I come up with new ideas. Accompanying this with phrases such as "silly rabbit" and "ohhh you" really adds to the affect.

3. Tell me to do conflicting things and then when I'm in the process of doing one, tell me I should be doing the other. Do this a lot.

4. Take months to provide a job proposal. When you do write it, make it poorly worded and vague.

5. When I ask questions about said 'proposal,' take months to get back to me with answers, make sure not to answer everything. Remember, "always leave them wanting more;" applies to every situation, no matter what.

6. Make up lists of things for me to do. Instead of simply handing me the list, go over each item in detail. Make sure to explain even the simplest tasks as if I were completely incompetent. Do this often, and make sure there are plenty of colleagues around.

7. Ignore anything you don't want to hear. When I say I am looking for full-time work, offer me part-time. When I say I have my own retirement fund, offer to contribute to a different one. Repeat multiple times.

8. Try to influence my decisions by mentioning my parents. Say things like "I think your mom would want this." If my mother happens to actually be in the room; look at her while you speak to me. Make sure I know that the there is "big-kid" talk going on, and that perhaps I should fetch coffee whilst you decide what's best for me.

9. When I want to meet to discuss something, agree, then cancel. Do this for 3 weeks. When you finally decide to meet with me, send me a letter of the things you'd like to discuss.

10. And finally, if you really want me to give you the old 'F-you,' include this paragraph in your proposal:
"I have talked to outside personnel firms and it is clear I can get a good person to work for me who has administrative assistant skills that are better than yours for less money. And I can get someone who has completed college and had some years of work experience who would be cheaper than what I am proposing to pay you."

Because god damnit your right! You can find someone to organize your shit for less. And who has finished college. You are completely 100% correct. So despite this stellar offer you have taken the time to grace me with, I will have to respond with a firm "no thank you." What's that? Why? You ask. Well, like you said; you can find someone more competent and cheaper than me, yet you still insist on hiring me? Well that's just poor business sense. I'd rather not work in an evironment where that sort of decision making is endorsed.

Run Lolita Run

2005-12-01T09:35:00.000-08:00

I've decided to run the Portland marathon next year. It's going to take days of training. Hours of mediocre work. A casual indifference to boredom. And quite possibly, a lot of pot.

Who's coming with me?

SEA-HAWKS SEA-HAWKS SEA-HAWKS!

2005-11-28T13:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Pat and I attended the fucking incredible Seahawks game. It was...fucking...incredible.

A few of my buddies up in Seattle have season tickets for the Seahawks. The main man, Morgan, rounded up an extra 20 or so tickets and recruited a crowd of us. I believe I've mentioned Morgan previously on my blog. He is the single most offensive man I know. A great guy, loyal, funny, smart, and just fucking brutally offensive to whoever, whenever. It is truly a sight to see. I love the guy.

So Morgan attends every home game for the Hawks. And he tailgates every home game for the Hawks. Morgan takes his tailgating very seriously. He arrives promptly at 9:15AM at the designated tailgating parking lots. The game Sunday didn't start until 1:05pm. Pat and I left Portland around 7ish so we got to the fiesta 10ish. We found Morgan's car because of the 20ft American flag pole he sets up next to it. It was recognize Morgan, he was wearing a full body camo hunting suit with a Seahawks jersey over it. He had shaved his hair into a mohawk. His face and the bald areas of his head were completely painted. It was fucking sweet ass sweet.

He brought a beirut table (beer pong for you Northwesterners). He brought a burn barrel (with plenty of wood) to keep us warm. Of course a keg. And SoCo. And so much fucking attitude he'd make the devil blush.

Anytime a NY Giant fan walked by, there was Morgan, booing, yelling, motioning. He got people so riled up that the boos and jeers would follow the Giant fan past every group he walked by. Even in the stadium it was the same way. The Giant fans were booed into submission by everyone in the stadium. Morgan however, managed to even get a few to change seats. When he discovered there was a NY fan sitting two rows in front of him, there was a constant stream of foul degrading shit coming out of Morgan's mouth. It was impressive.

As if all of this wonderfulness wasn't enough, it ended up being the best Hawks game of the year. The NYG missed 3 field goals in a row that would have ended the game. We saw overtime, and in the end the Hawks pulled through. 3 misses in a row! Their kicker was 23 of 25 going into this game. He had only missed 2 this season! And he misses 3 in a row at the end of the game and overtime! The stadium was going infuckingsane. I read an article today that mentioned how loud the fans were yesterday. The Giants had 11 false starts many of which they attributed to not being able to hear over the crowd. http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news?slug=cc-sixpoints112705&prov=yhoo&type=lgns

That's what I'm talkin' about baby.

Turkey Lurkey Doo

2005-11-28T13:26:00.000-08:00

So much deliciousness.

Carrie, Cale, Keith.

Our small kitchen table.

"Sit back down on your speaker Keith."

My first thanksgiving alone turned out pretty fucking delicious. I wasn't 'alone' alone. Just away from all of my family, and in charge of the what-have-yous. It ended up being a full on orphan thanksgiving. Pat, Caleb & Carrie, Keith, Sean and myself. Yes, that is Sean P, ie 'Nigga P' formerly of Taiwan, back in the states for good. I was in charge of the turkey. While I was cleaning it I was really tempted to take a picture of myself 'making love' to it. And then of course show everyone the picture after we ate. I decided that was a bad idea for a whole host of reasons. So instead I smothered the turkey with 2 sticks of butter, garlic, onions, and all that jazz. Did you know that shit takes 5 hours to cook? Jesus H. Needless to say we ate a little later than normal. Carrie brought a freshly made apple pie. And we all stuffed ourselves to exhaustion. Hours of competitive ping-pong also helped us build up our appetites. This post is putting me to sleep. There's no reason for it really, other than my own giddiness at our successful thanksgiving. Blah.

Exotic Dancing 'On Demand'

2005-11-22T11:19:00.000-08:00

What a fantastic day! Fantastic week even! I've discovered the most marvelous things on On Demand cable. First off, they have recaps of every single NFL game that I can watch anytime I so choose. That's pretty sweet in and of itself. Pat wet himself when I showed him that. I wet myself when I discovered that we have all sorts of On Demand fitness programs. Such as pilates, hip hop dancing, belly dancing, and freakin' exoctic dancing. We have like an 8 episode guide on how to strip. How fantastic. They go over how to walk, eye contact, hip rolling, oh baby oh baby. I think I'll just record them to video and give them to every woman I know for Christmas...and die horribly alone.

Bologna-Day!

2005-11-21T15:25:00.000-08:00

Damnit I have to start carrying my camera around more. I got the shit slapped out of me on Saturday. I wish we had pictures of it. The first slap wasn't too bad. I responded with a "my grandma slaps harder than that." Which immediately got me another slap. That one hurt a good deal. And I suppose I must have mumbled something, or perhaps awakened some beast in her. Because the unprecedented 3rd slap came flying in quickly...and hit my neck. My fucking neck. Her nails got me good too. Don't get me wrong, this was completely solicited on my part. I told her to do it when I wasn't expecting it. She follows instructions well. I suppose I deserved it for the bruises I gave her way back when. Hmmm, on second thought, nope, I only deserve candy and kisses. I can now check being slapped off my to-do list.

I wish I could check napping off my to-do list for today. But sadly, it will most likely go undone for most of the week. At least I can check 'haircut' and 'eat pizza' off the list. 'Put on underwear' will have to wait until tomorrow.

Sooo everybody got big thanksgiving day plans? Great, that's great.... Me? Oh yeah I've got big plans, big plans. Errr, I was gonna maybe go to Subway, rustle up a turkey sandwich...by myself...sniffle... Maybe if any of you are having an early dinner, you could let me know, I could swing by and rifle through the trash when you're done...I'd appreciate it oh so much...sniffle sniffle. Nah Pat and I are going to do an orphans thanksgiving. It's my first away from all family. My folks are going to Tulsa and my mom feels terribly guilty that she's leaving me to fend for myself...so she calls me all the time to make sure I've made plans...which I haven't really. So I will keep tormenting her. I'll call her thanksgiving day and ask her how to cook bologna so it tastes like turkey. I'll send her pictures of me all bundled up digging through dumpsters...it will be brilliant. And coincidentally enough, there'll be a cherry red Beamer waiting for me under the tree this year. Am I a bad person?

Ramblings, ignore this post.

2005-11-17T14:45:00.000-08:00

Muah ha ha ha ha! I feel evil. This week has been sinfully sexcellent. Though I've actually committed no sins. Unless smoking a little p o t is a s i n. Which I don't think it is. Oh crap, and well, a little of the ol' one hand dance. I'm fairly sure that's a sin. If not, then the 12 year old boys I think about while I do it certainly make it a sin. If not even that, then well, that's fucked up.

Is anyone else as excited as I am for the new Johnny Cash movie?

Been listening to him non-stop all week in preparation for this event. Ok, not quite non-stop. Been listening to Fiona Apple too. Her old stuff. I don't know if the new stuff is any good. She's coming to town on the 22nd and I actually considered buying a ticket. I decided to pass, but damn, she's fucking good. I think her intro to Criminal is one of the best opening lines to any semi-recent song. "I've been a bad bad girl." The tone/volume/etc she uses for that line just immediately engages you, or I guess me. I won't go into the rest of my "insights" into Fiona Apple. I just think that line is on par with Kafka's opening line in the metamorphisis: "As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect." Or "vermin" or "bug" depending on the translation. That is one of my favorite opening lines in all of any literature, that I've read. Yes, I am comparing Fiona Apple to Franz Kafka. Wow. Maybe I do need a good slapping. How did I get from Cash to this? I'm going to end this now.

Meatless? Monday.

2005-11-15T15:58:00.000-08:00

Tote Bag

Boo fuckin' ya. Last night was Meatless Monday. Meatless Monday is a charity event sponsored by Gardenburger and Rogue Brewery to raise money for ARC. Which is a non-profit group that supports the mentally disabled. Those fuckers know how to party. I'm a huge meat fan, I love meat, I eat sides of meat with my meat, which was most likely preceded by a meat salad and meat water. But god damn I was impressed with the veggie food. I ate every delicious bite. All 10 servings which were to be accompanied by 10 samples (4oz) of Rogue Ales. Which would have been a fine time indeed in and of itself! But then shit got crazy.

We got to the 3rd serving and the Rogue server that Pat had tipped brought us an extra round. Well, sweet, I like beer. Until the next server, a volunteer who happened to be the Chairman or something of one of these organizations, showed up at our table and dropped us off another round of the 3rd sample and gave us a quick "better catch up boys." So we start downing these samples, and then another volunteer server, a colleague, dropped off another round "I can't count," she says. Apparently all of them lacked that ability. The entire night. Quadruple samples of Dead Guy Ale. Double servings of veggie chili. Three rounds of Chocolate Stout. Who knows how many samples of Traintrack Ale. On and on and on. I was as close to loosening my belt as I ever have been in a public place.

It didn't hurt that somehow we buddied up with some business director and his wife at the table next to us. Everyone seemed to know him because of this recycling coffee bean bags into tote bags thing he created with ARC, etc etc. They were great company and what he's done is fantastic. I just can't figure out who he thought we were. From sample 5 on, he became a fixture at our table. We were toasting, pounding samples, high-fiving...ok, there were no high-fives, this time. In the end he's telling me to call him directly to get the bags at cost, hoping to hear an order of 600. 600! Holy rusted fucking metal! Of course by this point we were 30 samples in... All said and done the kind gent gave me the tote bag he had on him and I spent a large portion of the night sleeping on top of the heating vent on my floor. Fucking good people, good food, and great beer. Next year I'm bringing everyone I know.

5 Shots Couldn't Stop Me.

2005-11-11T15:54:00.000-08:00

Pat is my housemate. Pat does high-end remodeling for a living. Recently Pat got a promotion at work. 2 employees were fired, and Pat assumed the responsibility of driving and keeping one of the work vans at our house at night. Part of Pat's new responsibilities includes keeping the van in good repair, and keeping it organized. There are thousands of dollars of tools in these work vans. I almost forgot one of the most important parts of this new promotion: when parked at night, the van must be backed up against something. Obviously, so one cannot bust the window and thieve tools out of the back. Every night Pat backs the van all the way up our driveway getting the backdoors snug against the garage. Pat takes all of his responsibilities very seriously. As he should. It is afterall, his future.

We live in a semi-sketchy part of town. Though it is quickly improving, there is no denying the sketchiness. There have been several shootings in the area in the couple years. There are small pockets of great neighborhoods within this semi-sketchy area. We live in one of said 'pockets' of decency. Which is great. We have never ever had any problems in our neighborhood, or greater area for that matter. Even though we are a throughway to sketchier areas. Christmas comes year round in our area. One can see flashing red lights anytime they wish. But, like I said; "we've never had any problems." A positive attitude goes along way, or mayhaps 'tis just good fortune that shines over our little block of heaven. Well, good fortune can't last forever. At least not in our part of town...

"Hey Pat...it's Joe man... Fuck dude... Where are you? I caught some guy trying to break into the van. I don't know. I thought I heard something outside...next thing I know I'm chasing him down the street man, fuck. I caught up to the dude and tackled him. He he's in custody now. Don't worry man, I think we got everything he took... I just got back from the hospital a few minutes ago, I'm all right. I was stabbed in the shoulder, but I'm fine man... I can't really drive or anything, my shoulder hurts, and I don't know how many pills they've got me hopped up on, but it's a lot... Finally everything's settled down, fuck man... The van's safe, so don't worry about that or anything... I'm making some dinner now...do you think you could grab some Big Dan's Chili Sauce on your way home? I'd totally do it...but you know, my shoulder and all... I mean no worries if you can't... I just thought since, you know, I got stabbed for you... Really though, you know, if you can't pick it up, you can't pick it up... I guess I can walk or something..."

'Lazy fucking bastard' does not even begin to describe me.

Tripod.

2005-11-10T16:45:00.000-08:00

I have a whole shitload of ideas for the Beer Olympics. There's like 20 events I have to weed through. No thanks to you blog bums. I'll post them on here sometimes soon. First I need to have a go at the fine print of each event.

In other news, I've decided to stop being honest. Ok, well that's a lie, which would be a good start, but I don't mean I'm going to be dishonest, just not quite so forthcoming about things. I mean fucking christ, look how long that last sentence is. I have way too many streams of thought and conversation going on at the same time. Like totally, way too many bro. So I will just keep most of them to myself. It's a Godfather move. When he slaps his son or his cousin or whatever and says "don't ever let them know what you're thinking." It's a power play. Silent, pensive, deliberate, muahahah. I think it will greatly help my business skills. Crap, for some reason that reminded me of the night I convinced people I was a competitive hip hop dancer. But wouldn't dance anymore after "the accident." I can't believe people bought that. Or when Fog went around telling everyone our Iraq war stories...ok I was definitely not cool with that, but everybody bought it and was high fiving us. I would have told the truth, but I wanted to finish my beer in peace. Actually you know what, those were pretty good times. Scratch all of this, I'm just going to start lying.... Did I ever tell you about how I got the nickname 'Tripod?'

New Event!

2005-11-09T15:29:00.000-08:00

6. The Keg Walk! I used to do this when I was in the Fermentation Society at Trinity. Fill a keg with water and see who can walk on it the farthest. Like a log-rolling type event. Booya! That's a good one.

7. What about a taste test event? Someone's given Coors, Bud, Miller, PBR, etc. and has to be able to label them correctly? Not a very exciting event. Hmmm. I think this one will get axed.

I wonder if the cops will have a problem with this.

Beer Olympics! YES YES YES!

2005-11-09T14:55:00.000-08:00

Yeeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaw. Alright you motherfuckers and motherfuckettes, it's time for the goddamn 2005 Beer Olympics! The weak, the handicapped, the easily offended, do yourselves a favor and stay the fuck at home. We want your base, your wicked: the strippers, the prostitutes, nihilists, pagans, the conservatives alike. Sloth, gluttony, ass-slapping, beer-chugging, excessive urination; no Sin will go unrecognized, no soul will leave untarnished. What monumentous event could bring this dark army together you ask? Where could such a mass gather without bringing forth the hand of God to smite them? What reason could there possibly be for this for orgy of Sin and debauchery? The First Annual 2005 Beer Olympics, that's what.

Ok, so it may end up not being exactly as advertised above. But it should be a fuckin' good row. The plan is in it's infantile stages at the moment. I've come up with 4 solid events. And am working relentlessly on the rest. Flyers, food, maybe t-shirts and a trophy, it'll be sweet. And if nobody shows up, well Pat and I will just get wasted and fight. It's a win win.

I wouldn't mind some help coming up with ideas. Here are the events thus far:

1. 40oz Dash (Race to drink 400z bottle of beer the fastest. Regular beer, not malt liquor)
2. Keg Toss (Empty keg, toss as far as you can, disqualified if you step over line. Done this one before, surprisingly awkward.)
3. Keg Stand (self-explanatory, longest keg stand wins)
4. Beirut (More skill in this event than drinking. Not sure if I want to do doubles or not. I'll have to type up a quick summary of the game for participants and spectators alike)

Those are the events I have right now. I was also thinking maybe a 5. Wheelbarrow race would be good. Now should we do the human wheelbarrow, where one man crawls across the ground and the other has his legs, or get real wheelbarrows and watch them tip?

I think maybe 8-10 events would be good. I'm trying to have beer, or beer paraphernalia as a part of all events. Obviously all can't be events with mass consumption of beer or nobody could complete it and it wouldn't appeal to a wide audience. Events that involve other skills are definitely needed.

Anyone who reads this is encouraged to contribute any ideas on possible events, or variations of current events. Maybe it will even get you a t-shirt! Possibly not.

Whimpy Whimpy Whimpy

2005-11-07T15:52:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I totally whimped out this weekend. I didn't get slapped. One could argue it was a lack of opportunity...but then again I suppose I should have made the opportunity happen. After all, those boys didn't get molested by Michael by coincidence. He spent years becoming an American Idol. Garnering the respect and trust of millions...to give himself the opportunity to molest boys.* I took the easy route and just asked a girl to slap me. I could tell it would be a mutually beneficial slap. People don't realize how much stress and tension they build up throughout life. How much repressed anger is balling up inside of them. That's why Fight Club was, and is still, such a hit. I'm pretty sure she was excited about the slap. I know I was. Buuut then it got later and later. Aaaand I forgot to get slapped before I left. It totally hit me the next morning. They all must have thought I wussed out. In retrospect I realize that she stood up to slap me as I was leaving, but was just too polite or scared to bring it up. I can't believe I forgot. I feel like a tool. And keep your affirmations to your damn selves! On the pluse side, I did do one new thing, I think they call it 'reverse cowgirl.'

Slap me. Harder. Harder damn it!

2005-11-04T12:00:00.000-08:00

Yeeeehaw. Time to post! Buuuut...I have nothing interesting to say. I'm in a bit of a quandry here. I have the time, the energy, but no content. I get to work some on Saturday, kind of a trial for the new job. I know, lame. That's how normal things are around here. There's no way things can be this, this...regular. Unacceptable. Things must change. This weekend I will take 3 risks. Doing something out of the ordinary can be a substitute for a risk. After all, people hate leaving their little comfort bubble. Maybe I should try to get slapped. I haven't been slapped since the 4th grade during a kickball argument. I insulted her good. Wait, amend that. I haven't been slapped *by a female* since the 4th grade. I have this vague memory of getting wailed across the face by Keith in a bar recently. I'm pretty sure it was retribution because I slapped the shit outta him earlier. Cocaine is a hell of a drug. Just kidding. We were drunk.

After a little, and I mean very little thought, I came up with (or remembered) some pickup lines that I think might get the job done.

1. Do you have a sister that's not such a prude?
2. What's a nice girl like you doing with a face like that?
3. I'm fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman on earth tonight.
4. Hi, will you help me find my lost puppy? I think he went into this cheap motel room across the street.
5. Would you like to come over to my place later? You can bring some friends because my face seats five.
6. Hi. I'm an astronaut, and my next mission is to explore Uranus.
7. I bet you could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.
8. Are your parents retarded? Cause you're sure special.
9. Baby, you must be a slut because you give out more ass than a donkey dealership.

And of course the old standby:

10. Backdoor beauty?

Jigglyyyypuuuuff.

2005-11-01T10:09:00.000-08:00

Ok, I still haven't figured out the best way to post photos. So these are out of order. Bear with me, I'm beautiful. You're lucky to even see these. Getting a digital camera was probably a bad idea for me. For years only an elite group of people were privy to these moments in life. It was one of the perks of being friend with me, and by 'one of,' I mean 'the only perk.' And more often than not, it was more of a curse to have these images burned into your retinas for eternity. Which is why not all of the photos make it! Muahahahaha... Oh, and also because none of the photos on my cam caught the costumes very well...hard to carry the camera around when you're in tights all night. I'll post more pics when AJ sends them to me.

Is that...Jigglypuff?

Just because a guy dresses up as a Pokemon, doesn't mean he won't start some shit.

It looks like Jigglypuff is dry humping a chicken. In reality she just hit the chicken in the balls because he was holding me back as I talked trash. Better his than mine.
Most of the crew. A priest. GI Joe. And southern pimp, sporting the mullet and stash, he also had purple pants, it was a fantastic outfit, topped off by the creepy lone nipple ring Pat has, for real...not so hot on men.

Tina Turner and GI Joe? She had bruises on her arms.

AJ pouring shots. You can kind of see his sweet ass bar. Did I mention it is fucking sweet?

All in all, a decent Halloween, as predicted. It's always the same. A straight 6 outta 10. Damn Halloween. Next year, my place, it'll be 'off the chain,' as they say in You Got Served.

10/28/05

2005-10-27T10:06:00.000-07:00

It's been a slow week.

One of those weeks where I kind of make some progress.

But probably not enough.

The house is kind of messy. Pat's hands are f'ed up from work. I've been erging at my parent's house after work. Time in the day is short, productivity is low. I did manage to find a new job, kind of. We haven't come to terms yet, but the Magic 8 Ball says 'outlook good.'

And of course everyone is getting amped up for Halloween. Ugh. I don't think I've ever been to a really kick ass Halloween party. Of course my memory is short. Halloween mostly just means stress and lots of phone calls. I always end up having at least a decent time, but it's no new years. Pornoween was unique but too tame last year. This year so far it looks like rollerskating or Beaverton. What the hell is that? Why are all these huge parties happening in Beaverton? I want to boycot and go 'relax' at the coast. But everyone is caught up in this damn Halloween madness! And no, I cannot boycot alone, I am weak and extremely vulnerable to peer pressure. A minor victory can still be had, I will plan nothing, know nothing, coordinate no one. I will be a blob, a tag-a-long, "that guy." Somebody better have something good planned.

Bah Humbug.

2005-10-25T09:34:00.000-07:00

I tried and tried but couldn't get that f'ing post to work right yesterday. The whole uploading pictures thing is new to me and well, I never claimed to be a smart man. I just don't get why they don't make the 'preview' match how the post actually looks when one posts it??? You would think that by 'preview' they meant preview of the actual post...but no, it shows up as something that looked completely different. In my case; an organized, properly spaced blog post with pictures! Alas, 'twas not meant to be, the actual post showed up all patchy and looking like mange.
Now that there's a pause in my typing...I don't know why I'm putting this post on here......................oh that's right, anyone know an easy way to incorporate pictures in a post?

D-Day

2005-10-24T15:59:00.000-07:00

It was a long long weekend with not nearly enough down time. Friday was a garage night with ping-pong and beirut until we collapsed. That was only a warm-up to the events of Saturday.

4pm: Joe starts drinking alone at The Alibi.

4:01: Steve (pictured left) starts talking to Joe.

4:45: Keith and Caleb show up.

5:10: Erin, Julia, Ben and Aimee show up.

5:30: We all leave. Steve stays behind, still talking. Thanks for all the rounds Steve. You're the man, even though you never ever stop talking...and spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon in a dark bar drinking...still, the man.

5:45: Encounter a very friendly gentleman on the max train. Unfortunately he is also the drunkest he's ever been in his life. Wearing a camo shirt and shorts, and drinking a bud on the max which he dropped twice. The second time picking it up upside down and pouring it on his crotch...then trying to drink from the bottom. Eventually his pants fell down and we discovered he also wears camo bikini briefs. The strange thing was how polite he was. He apologized several times; and after the pants incident he kept asking been not to tell "nobody." Oh I think we all knew my friend. The...cat...was out of the bag. After the max stopped, the young gent
stumbled across the platform and crumbled on the ground. Ben and I lifted him to a nearby bench and went on our merry way.

The Derby was a good time. There were lots of scantily clad women. Many of whom were all tatted up and looking for a fight. I quickly purchased a 'Guns N Rollers' shirt, ripped off the sleeves, tossed one sleeve around my forehead and beat the hell out of this 70 year old woman. It's important to establish your role early on, those bitches will eat you alive.
There are some kinks to work out (like 2 hour beer lines), but all in all the Derby was pretty sweet. Next time my camera will be ready.

I don't think this girl realized what was going on. Or maybe she is just a plumber. Erin has better pictures of this. I must say my butt is looking pretty sexy.

Stupid girl walked in the way.
I'm on my knees mimicking the girl next to me.
She can show ass-crack in public.
I can show ass-crack in public.

There were some good crashes and a few near fights. It's a shame the real season doesn't start until February. At least we've got the Blazers right?....right?

We started drinking really hard after the Derby. I introduced the crowd to Irish Car Bombs and we enjoyed singing along with the karaoke. I felt the headband should stay. Later the sleeveless T made another showing...gyar.

I hadn't really hung out much with Erin and Ben before. Those two know how to have a good time. Anytime there's nipple, you know it's gotta be good. I wonder what the people around us thought. There are a lot of pictures that I'm not putting on here.

Ben demonstrating how he wooed Erin.
Off camera I'm taking notes.

All the old-timers took off around midnight so I waited for Keith to show up and then we stopped by the Dancin' Bare for a game of pool and a nightcap...or so I thought. My neighbor's party was still ragin' at 2:30am so I headed on over for some 'meet and greet.' Long story short, there was a firetruck, some cop cars, etc etc, I got to bed around 4am. A solid 12 hours shift. Ouch.

Ok, this has taken too long to post, I gotsta go. And I can't get the damn photos to line up with their descriptions...so I deleted most of the descriptions. Whaaatever. I'm so done with this post.

Someone call Captain Ahab.

Rushless???

2005-10-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

NO! Rushmore! The perfect movie. Not the greatest. Not the best special effects. Not the most profound plot. It just is what it is. And that is why I love it. Everything is perfect about that movie. I become enraptured everytime I watch it. Each movement. Each sound. Each song. Perfect. It is so deliberate, so painstakingly exact. Words cannot express my appreciation for this film. That is all I will say on Rushmore for the time being. If you have not seen it, I'd recommend you do...twice. The first time you can't possibly catch everything. The second time it is better.

Aside from enjoying that movie last night. And the night before (thank you netflix), I've been working on a few other things.

1. The Roller Derby is here!!! Tomorrow it begins. It made front page of the A&E section of the paper today. I won't lie, I'm flyin' half mast. We're all starting the 'festivities' at 3:30 a bar down the road from me. Sweet. Super-sweet. Diabetic.

2. I convinced my father that a digital camera would be a fantastic house-warming gift for me. I have picked out the one I want and am awaiting his assured approval. I could sell a Big Mac at a fashion show. Silly anorexic models. This mean you, yes you, will now get to see my blog with pictures!!! Do you need a moment to clean up the puddle in your seat? I do. Ew.

3. The house: Well, progress has been slow. Pat and I have been focusing on other things. We have now been living together for almost 6 weeks, and there has been virtually no violence! Oh, and if you are new to my blog and just reading this, Pat and I are hetero-co-owner-housemates. Well, I am hetero. His mouth says no but his eyes tell a different story. This weekend I think we'll get the guest room cleaned out and turn it into an office/guest room. Right now it is pretty much a 'crap/storage room.'

4. The job: Well, still have the same one with the company that I like and the position I loathe. But there have been exciting developments for a new one! Details are being ironed out as I type. Business plans are being drawn up. I will bathe in Crystal by the year's end. And you will see pictures of it! Yay camera.

5. The blog: Just updated it today!

Sigh.

2005-10-18T09:38:00.000-07:00

Speak of the devil and he show's his face.

I write a post mentioning Sean P and out of nowhere he calls. He turned down a new job in Taiwan, is taking another month to travel, and will be back in the good ol' U.S. of A in late November/early December. New and improved even. Apparently he has a bunch of metal pins in his hand now. That damn Asian's face fucked his hand up good. Looking forward to seeing you man, crazy son of a bitch.
I'm jealous of my friends. Bastard Sean has lived in Italy and Taiwan, and bounced around to a handful of other places. Dylan is living with his girlfriend in Poland...that seems fucking weird to me for some reason...yet strangely appropriate...are the Polish kind of douche bags too? Big Cat was teaching out in Asia somewhere for the past year or so, now he's moving on to Austria. And fucking Fogatron, I called that bastard to go get a beer last week and his message said he was off to Europe for a month. It seems like every year he takes off for a month or so. I think I'm doing something wrong; so I'm going to change it.

Not a Genius?

2005-10-17T15:10:00.000-07:00

Well, it's a disappointing day. I've come to learn that my entire blog is founded on a lie. Apparently I am not a genius. I took some an IQ test today and scored a 138. Genius is considered to be 140+. I don't know where I went wrong. I suppose the blog could still be right. I could have been 'born a genius' and just squandered it with years of drugs and booze. Or perhaps it's the lack of intellectual stimulation. All those years of doing nothing in school could have caused serious atrophy in the brainial region of my noggin. Either way you look at it; I am no longer officially a genius. Don't cry for me, I'll still claim the rank of genius. Oh a few hacks with their online tests won't deter me none. I'm on a mission. What that mission may be! is still up in the air. Why I'm on this mission, well, that is also going to fall under "undecided." But I tell you this; geniusness will be required on this mission. Geniusness the online tests say I won't provide. Geniusness the online fat cats say I can't provide! Well I say a pox on them! I will elevate myself to a level of genius previously unheard of. I will walk down the street with my massive, beautiful, bulbous brain, and people will look at me and say "god damn that's a big brain." The innumerable women in my harem will massage and stroke my giant brain. Countries will crumble under one of my mere thoughts...my merely superior thoughts, muah ha ha ha ha. Muah ha ha ha ha...love me.

Jump Ropin' For Freedom

2005-10-14T13:49:00.000-07:00

If a store is going to be closed for an extended period of time for remodeling, put it on your god damn website. I was so excited to pick up 2 jump ropes at Champs today on my lunch break. I had picked out the exact ones I wanted online. I had a gift certificate. I was ready to buy. But no, closed for f'ing remodeling. F' that. I bought one at the Nordic Track store instead, for $21 less than the one I was going to buy. It's a regular speed rope, they didn't have the 6lb rope for strength training and men with huge testicles. I cried a little.

Of course this whole project is a bit on the ambitious side. I've jump roped maybe a few times in my life. I have never done it as a part of my training regiment. And can't imagine sustaining it long enough to count as a decent steady state cardio workout. Jesus, I can't bounce 225lbs in the air for 40 minutes. I'll die. I'll die trying is what I meant to say. I'm excited. Those guys you see jump roping are always in wicked shape. I wonder if they consider 'double dutch' a training technique. I'll keep the blog updated on my progress, maybe even pictures...sexy pictures.

10/13/2005

2005-10-12T16:36:00.000-07:00

I've completed the move to the Irving office. It's kind of depressing. Aimee was sad. I share an office with Scott over here, he's a bit finicky. There are no windows. I can hear the Chinese movies the girls at the nail salon next door are watching. And it gets so hot, so very hot. If I didn't know better I'd say they tranferred me to hell. Shoot me please. Just one time and I won't ask it of you again. Dead center, right in the forehead. No big deal. In truth it was a good move. Less people distracting me over here. Yay?

This post is fairly lethargic. I woke up really lethargic today. Stayed up too late reading my statistics textbook. Is that strange? I did abs first.

Pat almost kicked my ass last night, not that he could. We were baking cookies (in a non-gay way). Half-way through, Pat turns up the temp to 360 degrees. I screamed 'fuck' a lot, the wrapper says 350 degrees, I told him that's why men beat their wives. He didn't appreciate the implications. If he'd stop wearing dresses around the house, I'd stop talking to him like that.

I need to get out of town sometime soon. I came up too short to visit Sean in Taiwan for a month. I shouldn't have cancelled my trip last year. I can't believe he's been gone for over a year already, crazy bastardo. Anyone know of a realtor looking for an assistant in Oregon? I'll bring their business to unparalleled levels. If not, then anyone know of a decent part-time evening job? I'm looking for a second income. My escort service hasn't taken off like I planned.

Borrring

2005-10-10T15:21:00.000-07:00

So sore, so so sore, and tired, very tired. I feel like I'm turning into an old man, or a fat kid. We were talking about it this weekend and decided something must have gone wrong for me somewhere. Why? Because I should be a fat kid. I was born a fat kid. Literally, I was a tubby ass baby. But somewhere along the road I thinned out, physically at least; inside I'm fatter than ever.
Friday was fairly typical. Pat and I were beat from long work weeks. Plans got changed. We ended up watching "Bad Santa" with AJ. Fantastic movie, fucking brilliant. It was sarcastic, it was dark, it was lewd. Needless to say, I'm a fan. We followed that up by breaking in the new ping pong table. Well, AJ mostly broke it in, at the same time he destroyed our dignity. Winning 5 out of 5 games and stealing the thunder from the inauguration. On the plus side we made good use of the giant blue leather couch that is stuck in the garage, or rather stuck out of the house. Even still, he managed to take the pleasure out of the couch by making me tuck my penis between my legs after another loss...It was emasculating to say the least. Let us not speak of it.
Saturday started out good, got lethargic, then ended with a bang...well, ended on a good note. Brought a delightful, yet sick friend some breakfast. I didn't do it by choice, I tried to go back to sleep, the cricket made me do it. I learned that Home Depot sucks. And we blew off Cassie and that crowd to go to the Dancin' Bare. Good times were had. I 'slept' in the reclinger, again.

Sunday I woke up early again damnit. Fucking let me sleep for once. So I drove to the office to pick up AJ's parents key for their new house. I picked up donuts for the moving crew (us), and we got to work. AJ, Pat, Caleb and I make one fucking sick moving crew. Our average height is probably 6'5, average weight like 207lbs. Even so, AJ's parents have a lot of crap, we were sore and tired afterwards...so logically we invited Keith over and went across the street to play baseball. I threw my arm out until it was almost numb and it pained me just to be alive. I have not been in that much pain in a long time. I iced the hell out of my shoulder. Now my shoulder isn't so bad. All of my muscles hurt equally. This is far too long of a blog post. It ends here, for better or worse.

Holy rusted metal Batman! A roller derby!

2005-10-07T11:11:00.000-07:00

It takes a monumental event for me to know where I am going to be 15 days ahead of time. I sleep through things, drink through things, workout through things, reschedule, don't schedule, kind of schedule, misschedule, forget, "forget," have car problems, family problems, suffer from cramps, bloating, whims, pregnancy, and even plague. But I know where I will be October 22nd in the year of 2005. Oh I know Sir. I will be at the Portland Expo Center Hall C, watching the Rose City Roller Derby Bout. I will be there; I will not be square.

Not only will it be women, on skates, beating up other women, on skates. That alone would almost gaurantee my attendance. However they went the next level and got it sponsored by PBR. What a wonderous day this will be. The cherry on the cake is, they all look like mega-whores. I've seen fights, girl fights, animal fights, bum fights, I've even seen an elephant fly, but I ain't never seen whores on skates duke it out. Go look at their pictures: www.rosecityrollers.com.

The plan is to meet at a bar, get drunk, take the max out, be as obnoxious as possible, get drunker, and maybe fight some chicks. *Plan is subject to change.

Who's coming with me?

The Road To Recovery

2005-10-04T13:21:00.000-07:00

Now I didn't publish that previous post just to make you feel better about your pathetic lives, with all your impulse control and toned tan tummies. I published it as a goodbye. Goodbye to the sloth and gluttony I have so lovingly embraced. Mmm sweet salacious sloth...she curls up in my lap at night, stroking my belly, whispering sweet nothings into my ear while gluttony dabs the sweat from my brow and peels grapes...some nights she even pre-chews them so as not to excite me with all my own chewing....STOP!

Goodbye you foul temptresses! You fiends, evil sirens, disgusting sucubi! I CAST THEE OUT! Yesterday I began my journey to sweat out their hypnotic alluring toxins. I erged and I erged until my back spasmed. I did push ups until my pecs burned and veins throbbed down my arms. I did leg raises, bicycles, obliques, and crunches until I couldn't sit up with pushing myself up with my arms. Sweat poured from my body, grunts thundered off the walls, the room flooded with determination and grit. A small dinner of broccoli, steak and rice replenished all the essentials and I was good to go for the night...until I went to bed STARVING. Did you know if you chug 4 glasses of water before you go to bed it kinda, sorta takes the edge off the hunger?

Today I've had 2 pieces of toast and a yogurt.

I am fitness.

I am self-control.

I am herculean.

I am mastadonic.

I am so hungry.

I am starving.

You know those signs that say 'don't feed the animals'?

Thinner

2005-10-04T12:58:00.000-07:00

I'm so hungry.

I'm starving.

You know those signs that say 'don't feed the animals'?

Ignore them.

Feed me.

I went on a 3 week eating binge. I blame Pat for keeping so much pot around the house. I ate everything. Multiple everythings. Which is normally fine, if I disconnect my ass from the recliner...if. But no, I did not. I ate. I lounged. I ate. I lounged. I may have sinned myself a few times somewhere in there. Christ. I hit rock bottom on Sunday. I gave AJ and Kiah a ride to there car, which they had left downtown the night before. AJ, Kiah, Pat and myself decided to have a pleasant Sunday evening dinner. We sauntered on over to a McMenamins in the North Western area of town. The menu didn't have what my belly needed...At first I wasn't even sure what my stomach was a achin' for...until I just blurted it out. BBQ bacon chili cheese burger. It's not on the menu but by god they'll make it. Although they did toss out a few disclaimers about not being liable for heart attacks and such. It was soooo worth it. I warmed up with a little bit of chicken tenders, then some fries, and then made sweet sweet love to that bbq bacon chili cheese burger...I'll admit, I was a little quicker than usual; I went at it hard and fast, finishing a little quicker than I'd like to admit. But in the end, I think we were both satisfied...until I got home...and started looking for crackers to go with my cheese...when that failed I told Pat to make me a PB&J...when that failed I ate some ice cream...straight out of the tub...a tub for tubby...my tears made the ice cream salty.
I

Back to Kindergarten Party!

2005-10-03T14:54:00.000-07:00

What: It's a back to kindergarten party! They shut down the school so now it's ours to rule. Tetherball, four-square, hopscotch, maybe some tag, softball, basketball? Any other ideas?
Where: Kenton school, across the street from my house.
Who: Anyone who wants to come. Possibly a few people who don't.
When: Hmm...
Why: Uhh, who doesn't love kindergarten? Duh.

PB&J's and juice boxes served at my house afterwards.

Mental Note: Plan this

What?

2005-10-03T14:32:00.000-07:00

My blog continues to plague me. It just exists there, not getting any more interesting. Not accumulating pretty pictures, because, alas, I have no decent digital camera. Really I'd say it's just more of a 'blob' than a blog. Clever, eh...no? Hm. The blob continues to grow.

I got a new ping pong table this weekend. It is full size. Came with two nets, paddles, balls, the works. It is set up in the garage next to the giant leather couch we can't fit into the house. It's an exciting acquisition. We were also supposed to pick up a fooseball table, but I've been pretty much extremely lazy lately. I've reverted back to a few old bad habits since buying the house with Pat. They end today.

I did start thinking again, which is nice. Which reminds me, I have some things I need to go write down before I forget to breathe.

Busy Busy Busy

2005-09-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I made big plans! Wake up early, go buy a new sledge hammer, strip down to my shorts and tear into a concrete block for a few hours. It's gotta be taken out of our backyard, and I was gonna be the guy to do it... Oh but that wasn't all of my big plans! All sweaty and flushed from sledge hammering concrete, I was gonna head on over and play some softball in SE for a few hours. Knock a couple homers, make a couple dazzling defensive plays, perhaps even give a couple of firm ass pats. Sounds like a good day! But no, not finished yet. Next I was headed over to AJ's to watch the UofO football game in the bar in his basement. Get the guys together, pound some beers, maybe even get a good circle jerk going. What? After that we were to proceed to the bars for some pool and relaxation. A solid saturday, going strong from 9AM-Midnight. Can't beat that.

Well, what actually happened is a different story. I did wake up fairly early; 8:30AM. Gave my mom a call and a quick life update. By 8:50 I was out of bed and ready to go!...turn on the heater and get myself a bowl of Crispy Berry Crunch (Cap'n Crunch knock off). So I curled up next to one of the heating vents in my robe...on my leapard print bean bag chair...with my Crispy Berry Crunch...and Haunted the new Chuck Palahniuk novel I bought Friday. Ok, ok, I'll read a few chapters while I eat...then get to it!

80 pages go by...Alright! Made some progress, at page 100 I close up the book aaaand...get to it! Not a fucking chance. By page 120 I've moved into the recliner and grabbed a slice of leftover bacon pizza. My eyes never even leave the page while I take down the slice without chewing. At page 215 I'm fully in the zone. I've missed 3 phone calls and another slice of pizza is missing. I still have time for a little softball and then the football game... At page 300 I realize I'm in for the long haul. Whisps of bong rips float through the air, a warm 2 liter of coke sits next to me, 2 more slices of pizza gone, the robe, gone; just me, my underwear, the recliner, and my book. I thought I was busted for a minute, there was a knock on the door and I ran to my room in my underwear. I came out in shorts and the perpetrator was already rattling away on his lawn mower, trailing a wagon full of tools behind him...door to door lawn service? Whatever, I have a job to do.

I finish just before 6PM. I have passed on 2 tickets to the Lion King, softball, football, a handful of errands, eating anything decent, and getting dressed. I missed 8 calls, consumed 403 pages, 5 slices of pizza, a few gulps of warm coke, several bong rips, about 9 hours of my time, and all of the remaining dignity I had allotted for the weekend.

The book was good.

That'll do pig, that'll do.

2005-09-23T11:27:00.000-07:00

I have met one of the most disgusting people ever squeezed out of the ol' birthin' hole. For the sake of anonymity, we shall call her "Babe." Well, Babe is an incredible specimen of human being. The house of cards she has contructed her entire life on, is infused with contradictions and just outright crap. I digress, the point of this is not to discuss her virtues.
Physically, she is repulsive. She has the old lady fake blonde going, and for a while she had like a mini-mullet. Her face, while baggy, is actually semi-normal; ignoring the unhealthy hue of her pallid skin and the oft present frown stamped on her face. The true wonder of her, and I say that in all honesty, it is truly a wonder, I would and will go so far as to call it the 9th wonder of the world (the 8th being the fact that no one has unloaded a shotgun into her face thus far), is her gigantic, dinosauric, mastafuckingdonic, ass.

"Gyar, she's 3 feet across if she's an inch I say."

The ass is just so...big. It's ridiculous. And since I now have a 32" TV, I'm beginning to think I was underestimating her ass. It very well could be over 3' across. I mean we're getting into yards here. Christ, you know what sorts of things are described in yards? Golf courses and football fields! I'm almost curious to see it...but I think I'd vomit...or try to touch it, and pee myself. She was bragging the other day about how she walked a BLOCK! One, fucking, block. She's lame man, and I'm not talking about her personality. I'm talking "boy, git me my gun" lame. I'm talking late night, momma smothers her with a pillow lame. The kind of babe that'd suck the teet dry and then eat her starved and weak siblings. And don't you go feeling sorry for her one fucking bit. It's not glandular, she always tells me how in shape she "used to" be and tries to give me workout and health advice. I admit, she may have decent things to say about that, however I can never understand her with all those fucking Big Mac's stuffed in her mouth.
People get overweight, sure, whatever, no big deal. But to sit there day in, day out, and just devour everything she can get her hands on, often eating far more than myself in a day...is just well sick and offensive. I am 6'4, 220lbs. I like to eat a lot. But after lunch, I do not eat 3 drumstick ice cream cones back to back to back; she does.
And it's not like it's purely a physical thing. Her personality is even worse. She's soooo lazy. She doesn't even do her job. I'd say she does about 70% of her job, and relies on other people to make up the difference. She gets mad at me when I try to help, then she gets mad at me when I don't know the answer to a question. She gets mad at me when I refuse food she offers me. She gets mad at me if I don't offer her any of the food in my desk. She gets mad if I go to the store and don't bring food back for her (even if she doesn't ask me to). Apparently I should know, and it is common courtesy to bring ice-cream cones back for her unsolicited. Apparently this lack of common courtesy I display, can make her so mad that she shakes and tries to go home early. First off, who gets so bent out of shape over a 'common courtesy' issue? Secondly, it was a FUCKING ice cream cone! Calm your fat ass down woman. You can see I am dealing with a formidable force here. She's like an eternal scab. Kind of gross on the outside and in. If you pick at it you can often times make it worse, for the time being at least. But unlike a scab that eventually goes away, she never does. She keeps harrassing you, bothering you, whispering about you under her breath in front of you! She is the eternal scab that never heals.
Today, all day she has been giving me 'updates' on the whole hurricane situation in the gulf. Which is an interesting bit of news, that I am already fully aware of. But she loves telling people things they would never care about, and then forcing her opinion on them. She was telling me all about the roads the government and media was telling people to take, etc, etc, but oh they can't take that road! The first hurricane took that one out, blah blah blah. Then she pipes up "do you even know what I'm talking about?" and I, being the decent honest man I am, reply "I have absolutely no clue." She takes offense, turns back towards her computer and mumbles. Minutes later she tells me how it's heading for San Antonio, when I fail to feign the appropriate level of interest, she mumbles "you probably don't even know where San Antonio is." I ask her "what's Texas?" I don't think she's amused...
Muahaha...now she's making me feel evil and scheming...not that I am opposed to those feelings, but I try to be as least evil as possible. Ok, not true. I do enjoy tormenting her. I made her cry twice. Once was over that ice cream, can you believe she cried over that? She's just so mean to everyone. She's mean to the other gal (whom we'll call Amy) that works with us. But Amy is a single mother, who works extremely hard to support to children completely on her own. So Amy, understandably can be more emotional than I am at times. She is under a lot more pressure than I am. Well, "Babe" realizes this and only intensifies her coldness and rudeness to Amy. Amy takes it very personally and gets even more stressed out. So I strike back. "Babe" cannot fathom the degree of indifference I am capable of. And it drives her insane. She cannot phase me. She threatens to quit, I shrug my shoulders and say in my annoyingly cheery voice "now that's not a good attitude is it!" I undermine things she does and says all the time. She knows I do, but how can she stop me? I'm always right. I used to have her job, and did it 10times better than she's even capable of. She can't get under my skin and she hates it. Now some of you may say, but what about this ranting blog post? Well, I write this more out of pure fascination than anything. I believe I am past feeling hatred for her. She really quite the case study. Plus, she enjoys it when people give her attention, whether in a positive or negative light, she doesn't care.

Ok, that's all I have time to post for now. I know by this point you too, are enraptured by her grotesque beauty, so stay tuned, there will be more insight into the sirenesque man-beast known only as "Babe."

Huh?

2005-09-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

Having a blog is too much pressure. What sorts of things do I post on here? Pieces of work? Rants? Raves? Or just stream of thought? I don't know! And all of my fans, err...fan, constantly putting the needle to me. (You know who you are). I slave away 21 hours a day. Most of the other 3 hours are spent getting to work. It's a 14 mile walk, up-hill, both ways. Which I truly don't mind so much, except for the Yeti's. But I do it, I make these sacrifices, why? Because I am a giver, that is what I do. Ghandi, Martin Luther, Mother Theresa, and JMC...that sounds about right. I mean they would have spread the good word through blogs if they had the option, but they didn't, suckers.
But do not worry my minions. I will continue to spread the good word, the word of Joe. My army is growing daily. I have befriended 4 dogs and 1 obese cat these past few weeks, they will prove great allies in the revolution of 'Joe' to come. Tsunamis, hurricanes, floods, do you not realize why these things are happening to you?? It is because you have no FAITH! You live your lives ignorant and shameful. The stupid, the weak...geeks, fags and jesus freaks. A pulpy mass of nihilists and liars. You are born blind, live blind, and die blind. "I see!" you say, "I see the truth!" How can you see? How can you have sight if you don't recognize Me as your one true Lord and Savior? For if your eyes were open, you would recognize Me, you would see Me in all that exists. I am the air you breath, and the blood that flows through your veins. If you do not see this, then all know you are still living in a world of darkness and ignorance. I pity the lie you live.

Cultured and Crass

2005-09-21T09:11:00.000-07:00

Joe for God sakes how many times do I have to tell you to stop shoving the cat up your ass to get the gerbil.....yeah about that. Anyways friend, let me get your friends information so I can email him and ask him questions about teaching in Thailand. I'm going to be in China until Dec. 4th then New Zealand until January 19th. Then I gotta figure some other shit out about my life, I'm trying to go through this intern here from France about an internship in Australia for six months, I'm hoping to God that goes through my man. Send me that guys info as soon as you can. Thank you very much for your time Joe, I know you are really busy with spanking it and looking at playboy and hustler magazines, How is the real estate industry in Portland going? Still fucking suck, yep that is Oregon, heck if the deal is real good overseas you gotta come down. Send me one back thanks my man. The only thing that really really sucks about being in Hong Kong for three months (besides the chinese people (I can see you smiling on that one, honkie) is that I will miss thanks giving's this year at Morgans, fucking sucks. Dude he has a stripper living with him that works at the vu, no shit. He specifically had her move in after my four days in Seattle were up before I got here to China. Seriously what an asshole but you know I would do it to him too. Here from you soon brother. AAC4EVER. sky

Update

2005-09-08T09:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I've been a bad boy and haven't updated in a while...perchance in hopes of a spanking? I have been extremely busy with my pops, job hunting, the new house, and such. Such taking up most of my time. Well, what I am getting at is that I don't have time to update today. And pool, bbq, beers, and dancing to 90's music kept me from updating last night. Soon, tonight at the latest there will be updates, and celebration. I hope quells the hunger a bit Cam.

Meat Coma

2005-08-31T10:54:00.000-07:00

Talk about a hot beef injection. No, not the kind they make men get before they're allowed to do straight porn. (I still refuse to believe Peter North ever took it). But the kind of beef injection that a guy named Bucky, who grew up in Texas, and curses like a crippled sailor can give you. A guy that gets a hard on making 7 racks of ribs, briscuit, and a huge platter of BBQ'd chicken on a tuesday evening. And for what? For who? Just a few of the guys.
To give you an idea of the BBQ prowess of this guy, (I won't even mention the smoker attached to the grill) the meat was literally falling of the ribs onto the plate. There was no way of getting around it, fingers, hands, face, all covered in BBQ. Not just BBQ sauce mind you. Any schmuck can make a somewhat decent piece of meat and drown it in BBQ sauce. Creating a mess and hiding the true flavor of the meat. No no, Bucky don't play that game. When I got home it was meat I smelled like, with a strong hickory smoke about me. I smelled like BBQ, not BBQ sauce. The goal of the true BBQ cook is to bring out the best flavor of the meat. And don't think for a second that Bucky leaves his responsibilities there. About 6 minutes into my gorging I'm gettin' quite a thirst going, my hands is grimy, full Corona sittin' in front of me. I didn't say a word, I never even saw Bucky look my way. Next thing I know he's popping the top on my beer and slapping my back.
I made it through a chicken breast, several slices of briscuit, and I don't know how many ribs. On top of cornbread, some beans (the woman made the beans and bread). When I got home I was as close as I've ever been to hallucinating, besides all of those times I took shrooms and acid and hallucinated. It even affected my breathing, which was shallow and raspy until about midnight. I am a fat man trapped in an athletic, incredibly handsome man's body.

No Sleep For You

2005-08-30T08:54:00.000-07:00

It's tuesday morning. It's going to be a long week. I average about 5 hours of sleep a night. I would like to increase this number. How many hours of sleep a night do other people get? Am I alone on this here? Do other people wander around with dark half moons peeking out from underneath their eyes? How does one begin going to sleep at say, 10:30? It just doesn't seem feasible to me, Aqua Teen Hunger Force always starts at 12, there's no getting around that.

Catch Up

2005-08-29T23:25:00.000-07:00

I finally pieced together saturday night.
- Pregame at Keith's.
- Walk to Wanker's Corner (bar in Wilsonville, not nearly as slummy as we were hoping, actually not really slummy at all) .
- Start putting down pitchers of PBR with Pat, Keith and Cale.
- Shots of Jack.
- Pitchers of PBR.
- Keith and Pat go to win the pool table.
- Shots of jager.
- Pitchers of PBR.
- Jager girls make first visit with keychains, we send them away to find us jager t-shirts.
- Shots of jager.
- Jager girls come back with hats, we take them and send them off for jager t-shirts.
- Keith and Pat are unsuccessful at winning the pool table, one of them hits the 8ball in.
- Pitcher of PBR.
- Run into guy I know from PCC, shake his hand in the bathroom before I have a chance to wash mine, apologize under my breath.
- Jager girls come back with two t-shirts, Pat snags one immediately, they start asking trivia for the other shirt. Did you know that there are 56 spices in jager? Keith did. Son of a bitch.
- Waitress stands up on our booth and starts dancing, WTF?
- Shots of jager .
- Once again waitress is up dancing above us, this time my head is a prop, once again, WTF?
- Pitcher of Terminal Gravity.
- I see Pat dancing, I laugh.
- I'm chugging beer, I don't know what it is.
- Back at Keith's.
- Climb over fence to hot tub.
- Sausage fest in hot tub.
- Climb over fence out of hot tub.
- Blackness.
- Wake up at somepoint soaking wet in my underwear on Keith's couch.
- Wonder if I peed myself, too early to think about that.
- Stumble into Keith's room to wake him up, adapt plan, pass out next to him in my wet underwear.
- Wake up at 8am.
- Did I leave my clothes at the hot tub? No, they are right there on the floor, get dressed.
- Notice something strange on my hand, blood?
- Ketchup, dried ketchup.
- Remember I don't eat ketchup, in fact, I loathe ketchup
- Am informed that I was the target of kethcup covered tater-tots while I was passed out on the couch, fuckers. I hate ketchup.
- Am dropped off at home at 8:30
- Pass out face down on my bed for 6 hours, some people call this a full nights sleep.
- Wake up at 2:30.
- Remove my shirt to shower.
- Look in mirror, what the hell is all over my chest, blood?
- Ketchup, dried ketchup.
- I hate ketchup.

An Introduction

2005-08-28T20:37:00.000-07:00

I have a friend, for the sake of anonymity let us call him 'Jeff,' because that's his real name. A quick aside here, have you ever fucked a sheep before? Well neither have I. But Jeff has. Ok, not a real sheep. It was an inflatable sheep. It really wasn't his fault. I blame myself and genetics. No, not because I guided it in for him. Well I suppose in a way, I did. NO! Not that way. I was one of the group of friends who bought it for him. This was back in high school. We all chipped in and got Jeff some things for his birthday. One of them was the notorious sheep. We picked it up from the Erotic Bakery in Seattle. I think we may have also gotten him a penis cake, but I'm not sure, and it's not relevent, we're talking about sheep fucking here people, stay focused. If you know Jeff, which we did, you would know that any gift like that, he will eventually try out, at least once. I would actually wager that if the gift had been given to me, he would have borrowed and penetrated my inflatable sheep. Which would be sick and disgusting because he knows he'd been getting my seconds...what?
I do not know all of the details of his encounter with the sheep. But I know the important ones, which is what's...important.

After enjoying a pleasant dinner with his family Jeff feels an emptiness in his heart. Sure, it was a great day, school was good, homework was done, but there was just something...missing. Sighing, Jeff shrugs it off and wanders upstairs to his room for some video games... About 5 minutes into an enthralling game of Final Fantasy, something cathes Jeff's eye in the corner. Ahh, it's the inflatable sheep his friends got him for his birthday. What a great group of guys. Especially Joe, good ol' Joe, so smart and witty. But it wasn't Joe who caught Jeff's eye on this cool Seattle evening. It was that sheep...that beautiful...sweet...sexy sheep. The sheep beckoned him "come to me Jeff, come to me..." Jeff felt a tingle between his legs, his pulse quickened, he obliged the sheep's command. Hand trembling Jeff reached out to touch the sheep...to stroke the sheep. It was so wrong, but it felt so...so, right. Tucking the sheep under his arm Jeff stood and walked to the end of his bed. His pants were growing tight...why not take them off? Sliding his pants around his ankles Jeff knew where this was heading. The touching and kissing were nice, but he needed more, and the sheep would give it to him, well, take it from him. Pants around his ankles, standing nude in all his glory, Jeff took the sheep in his hands and held it in front of him...admiring it's smooth black plastic, it's beautifully rounded backside. "Be gentle," said the sheep. Jeff's awkwardly thin pubescent body tensed, the time was nigh. And suddenly he was whole. Soaring in exstacy his grip tightened on the sheep as he thrusted his aloneness away. "I love you sheepy" he whispered breathlessly. Then a knock, and the door swung open. "Jeff I wanted to..." His mother trailed off mid-sentence. Jeff froze, mouth agape, standing ass naked, half inside a plastic sheep. The silence that ensued was brutal. What does one do when their mom walks in on them fucking an inflatable sheep? You have two options, remove the sheep and allow your mother to see the man her son has grown into. Or you leave the sheep where it is, maintaining the minuscule amount of dignity you have left, but at the same time removing any doubt your mother may have had in her mind about the attrocious act you were committing. Jeff chose the latter. His mother waited for a moment, shocked, appaled, probably thinking a condom would have been a good idea all those years ago. And then she was gone, door closed, Jeff still standing, still naked, still balls deep in an inflatable sheep. What the fuck does one do now? Well, I don't know what the appropriate action would have been. But I can tell you what Jeff did. He finished.