#@&%! *#%^@

I told myself I wasn't going to bitch about this, but I just can't help myself.

I decided to fill up my tank tonight before Friday, because Odin only knows how much gas will cost by then. I figured it all out. Labor Day is coming up and the oil companies decided to rape us a little early. Someone actually tried to tell me that the price went up because of the hurricane.

Um, excuse me? The hurricane hit the southeast, not California! There are no oil tankers or refineries in Florida or anywhere the hurricane hit. All that shit is in California. Am I just totally stupid or horrifingly mis-informed? Gas prices went up because of the hurricane.....yeah, and I moonlight as a porn star.

You know, at least the receipt could say "I'm sorry" or even "Thanks for taking it in the shorts at the pump" but, no. Just a whopping $43 bill that is double what it was not that long ago. Christ, I can remember when gas was under $1.

I also heard from a co-worker that the government is considering charging an extra tax on hybrid cars. WTF??? I had to slam this one down immediately. If we purchase a hybrid car, we get a tax break, there is no fucking way in hell that this would be completely reversed. That is insanity and grounds for a revolution. Of course, I couldn't say it quite that way to a co-worker, but I had to tell her that her source was high on crack.

Sometimes, I get this tinge in the back of my brain that tells me I am beginning to sound just like my father. That almost makes suicide justifiable. But, then you don't know my father....

Thank gawd....

GAS

Unfortunately, this is not a rant about how the gas stations have decided to jack up prices another 20 cents right before the Labor Day weekend. (20 fucking cents!)

No, GAS is actually my personal acronym for Give A Shit. Today, I have run out of GAS. I leave for my vacation on Friday, and I have lost all interest in everything. Even blogs on food aren't catching my eye.

I guess I should qualify my lack of GAS by saying that I am not completely out of GAS for everything. I guess it's just mostly work and the home that are lacking in GAS.

Historically, when it gets this bad, I don't even want to acquire GAS, I would rather maintain my "Out of GAS" attitude until it's imperative that I have GAS. This is proving true today.

No, I won't eat Mexican food for lunch to give myself GAS - that's a whole other story - and not one I care to indulge in.

The worst part is that my lack of GAS shows the strongest in this post.

Copycat

Lately, I have been blog cruising again. Since I have zero inspiration to write anything witty or charming, I decided to copy an idea that I keep seeing on other's blogs: Defining Facts About Me (like anyone really cares anyway).

1. Um...
2. Yeah....
3. Ok, enough of this shit...
4. So, like, I just turned 41 - duh
5. I live with my cat in my rental house - which I just love my little house, oh, yeah, I love my cat, too
6. I'm not just a "cat person" - I love all animals, with the exception of skunks, and certain reptiles
7. I have been playing guitar since I was 14 (but I'm not as good as I should be for playing that long)
8. I am overworked and underpaid (aside from Bill Gates, who isn't???)
9. I have satellite TV, but I only subscribe to movie channels
10. If I could afford it, I would be a hermit with a cabin in the woods
11. I suck at blogging
12. I love to shop
13. I hate sports
14. Yes, I am still a man
15. I rarely drink
16. Smoking is my only vice (I don't count swearing uncontrollably for no apparent reason)
17. Camping is a way of life, not a "weekend trip"
18. Fishing is therapy
19. I plan to die incredibly deep in debt since I have no children
20. Been married and divorced twice
21. It will take a miracle (or a miraculous woman) to get me to marry again
22. I take more vitamins than you do (maybe)
23. I eat whatever I want, but try to control the size of the portions
24. And that's why I need to lose about 15 pounds
25. Yes, that really is my picture
26. I have met a handful of women through on-line dating - most of which were psychotic
27. I went to college 10 years after graduating high school
28. I used to have long hair - down to the shoulder blades
29. Sometimes I can spell
30. I love to cook
31. I got interrupted and forgot what I was going to type here
32. Blatant stupidity has to be my biggest pet peeve
33. I seem to be preparing for something, but I have no idea what it is
34. I take almost everything seriously, but then make jokes about it all
35. Sarcasm is my best friend
36. "Yes" is my favorite word in the English language (unless the question is about me dying, going to prison, or getting a terminal illness)
37. I always finish last (I'm really not bragging here) because I really am a nice guy.
38. My bark is 99% of the time worse than my bite
39. However, I have learned the skill of engaging my brain before putting my mouth in gear, so I rarely even bark
40. Dunno what else to say without sounding like a braggart or getting way too personal. So I suppose if there is something you are dying to know, just ask.

Another One Bites the Dust

Had another band practice tonight. It all started out well enough, but then the bassist informed the drummer and I that he was asked to join another band. Since we have been struggling to find another guitarist or keyboardist, or just someone who can sing, the bassist has been a little jaded.

So, since I won't be available for the next two weeks (I go on vacation this Friday through the 11th), I guess he just decided to jump ship. Yeah, I never had high hopes, but this just figures.

I have also been trying to get together with a couple of other guys for over a year, but they just can't seem to get their acts together enough to dedicate any amount of time to it.

The longer I participate in the musical arena, the more musicians I find that must be related to Kellogg's. Tony the Tiger has fewer flakes in his stash than the people I keep running into. Of course, then I have to wonder, "Am I equally as flakey to these people???" Holy stinging jellyfish, Batman, I hope not.

Yeah, we all have our quirks, even people that aren't artistic in any fashion, but I swear, musicians are the fucking worst.

Well, at least I have re-built my studio machine again, so I can start my woodshedding projects once more. Maybe I'll actually start writing music again. Seems like that gets harder with the years. There was a point in time where I just wrote about what was going on in my life: love, social issues, personal growth, etc. But, now, I don't think I can actually write about how much it pisses me off that I pay more in fees than my 401K pays me in interest. I just don't think that anyone else would find that interesting.

Maybe I could write about the problems I have with not having enough RAM. Or how about how I can only fit 92 MP3s on one CD? No, wait, I've got it: I will write a song about how I can't think of anything to write in my blog. That's the ticket.

Mofos

One week from today, I go on vacation for a week. All my managers and supervisors know this. (slightly over-managed...just a touch) We have a whole new batch of customers coming on board as of September 1 - the day before I leave. I had to re-program several reports to include and split out these new customers so that we can monitor their processes directly. This has been a major undertaking on my part since I am the only one in my department that can do this level of work, and I have no assistant or back-up (brilliant, huh?).

So, I have had to reject other requests, with the explanation of why I can't do ad hoc requests at this point in time. I thought everyone understood. But that's what I get for thinking.

Since I gave my first rejection last Friday, I have been pounded with at least 10 "emergency" requests - most of which are also related to my re-programming tasks. These people simply do not understand that if I do not get these reports changed before I leave, then all the new customer data will not get reported. Can you say "duh?" It's not like I am trying to explain a formula for cold fusion, this is simple common sense.

Fortunately, I am a little smarter than these people. I had started my reprogramming early and am actually 99% finished. I just hope I don't forget something (which happens a lot lately) and leave a nasty bit of data dangling off the deep end somewhere.

I also believe that one of my managers is just trying to see how far she can push me until I lose it and start calling her names that will land me in HR. She has a habit of bringing me insanely massive data requests at 4:55 pm. Oh, yeah, I can surely get a year's worth of data in less than 5 minutes. We only process about 1.5 million records a year, no sweat!

For Halloween this year, I think I will rent a Superman costume and don a pair of horn-rimmed glasses similar to Clark Kent's. I will be the transformed hero: Supergeek. Faster than ethernet. Able to jump to conclusions in a single query. More powerful than a dual-core CPU!

Now that's just way too fuckin' geeky.

Whew

Alas, my date of birth has come to a close. Granted, my numeric count has increased another digit, and I don't like that part, but, all in all, it was a good day.

The abrading woman was not present at work today, which was a great relief - as was ranting about her earlier.

Band practice last night was a blast. But, the drummer confessed to me that he may not be able to keep playing. Story of my life.

Too exhausted to rant and nothing of great consequence to blab about.

I really need to control my use of commas.

The Annoying Bitch I Work With

This post is not, by any means, an attempt to compete, compare, or contrast with The Disgusting Girl I Work With. It is simply a rant.

First, understand that the company I work for is about 85% female. This makes for interesting cross-cubicle chat - much of which I have the misfortune to overhear whether I want to or not. "No, I can't walk with you today; I'm on my period." I don't want or need to hear this shit. I am a fairly sensitive man, but I don't really want to know anyone's bodily functions at any given time. Just like I don't think they would want to hear me say, "I can't come to your cubicle at the moment, I have a really bad case of jock itch."

But there is one woman in particular that affects me like fingernails on a chalkboard. The mere sound of her voice sends me into a state of near rage. She is older than dirt and annoying as hell. She claims to have a programming background and all I can think of is how she must have been programming with punchcards in the 1950s because there is no way she could have been programming with anything remotely current.

Today, our phones went dead for about 5 minutes. Immediately, she had to ask to anyone within earshot (which included half the county) if there were other technical issues as well because she was having problems. Evidently, she was the only one that was experiencing any other kinds of technical difficulty, so it was immediately apparent to me she was experiencing an EBCAK (error between chair and keyboard).

This wasn't enough, she had to repeat her question, even louder that the first time, and accentuate it with grunts and sighs of disgust. It takes a tremendous amount of willpower for me to not slap the backside of her head.

When the phones returned to service a few moments later, she silenced herself. Unfortunately, this silence will only remain a short while before she begins to complain about something else. This is her pattern. Anything can happen to anyone in the department and she will begin her whining - even if her complaints are completely unrelated.

Example:
"Damn, my keyboard froze!" Anonymous departmental worker.
"Is the network crashing? Our systems suck! I can't add these numbers together!" Annoying bitch I work with.

When this woman put in her notice, I celebrated. Then she retracted her resignation to return on a part-time basis. I got drunk out of depression.

To make matters worse, the person coming in to replace her position is yet another individual that I despise. I am very selective with my feelings of loathing. I don't randomly hate anyone, they have to earn that much emotional dedication. The replacement woman is a fat, snotty, know-it-all whale. I have nothing against anyone struggling with their waistline. I have my own bulge to deal with. But when it is accompanied with seriously retarded attitudes, I lose any tolerance.

So, I get to trade one annoying bitch for two. Isn't that just special?

Um...yeah

In 2 days I hit 41. Somehow, I imagined I would be in a different location on the Monopoly board at this stage in my life. It wasn't necessarily supposed to be Park Place or Boardwalk, but even Marvin Gardens would be pretty cool. Instead, I feel more like Antonio Salieri at the end of Amadeus: reigning king of mediocrity.

My accomplishments are not all that spectacular professionally nor personally. I have survived 2 divorces with no children. Sometimes I wish I had a daughter (always wanted a girl over a boy), and other times I am grateful I am not separated from a child of mine - that would kill me. On the flip side of that, my family line ends with me, so good-bye to traditions.

I have successfully walked away from a great job to have a lifestyle that I can't really afford. My hobbies are too expensive, and I live paycheck to paycheck.

At this point, I often question all the decisions I have made along this journey and wonder what would have happened if I turned right instead of left at selected intersections.

Overall, I conclude that all the things I have done (or haven't done) were all what was supposed to happen to me so that I could learn what those decisions mean in the grand scheme of things.

It doesn't help that my last grandmother passed away on my birthday a few years ago.

Vuja De

Did you ever have one of those moments when, out of nowhere, you catch someone's eye, someone you don't know? In that glimpse, something happens. A spark goes off in your brain, a swirl occurs in your stomach. There is a connection; something lost through centuries of knowing. You know this person, you feel them in every fiber of your being. Your eyes lock like those of a deer in headlights. You feel their eyes smile at your soul. This is a person that belongs with you, someone who owns your heart for all eternity.

Nah, never happened to me. Just wondered.

Norom - ID 10 T

I am not a wise man. I am not a psychotherapist. Sometimes, I don't even learn from my own mistakes.

This doesn't stop my friends from asking my advice on their personal issues or even my opinion. But, when I do give what I think is a very profound outlook on a situation, I really wish they wouldn't do the exact opposite of what I suggest. It's like the biggest insult.

"Let me think.....if Gern would do this, then I will do that."

If my opinion or advice is so highly sought after from my friends, then they must truly think I am an idiot incapable of making any intelligent decisions for myself. Of course, I have made plenty of mistakes, but I have made plenty of good decisions as well. But, don't let that stop anyone from making me feel like a worthless piece of shit whose opinion certainly must be the opposite of reality.

I guess I will just shrug it off and return to my cave where I will go out and kill my evening meal. Maybe later I can rub some sticks together and make a fire - only to roll into it and burn to death.

Viva Las Vegas

At the end of September, I am supposed to be going to Las Vegas for training. The vendor of one of the software programs we use at my company is hosting a seminar for all levels of skill. Of course, there is a special section for people in my line of work. No, they don't hand out bibs and diapers to us, nor do they ship us to the event in short busses. My field is rather dull and technically geeky, so someone decided to herd all of us pocket-protector types into one section.

Since I lived in Vegas for 10 years prior to moving back to my "home" state, the whole trip is a little anti-climatic. But, I am hoping to spend a little time touching base with some old friends before I leave town, so that should be cool.

Of course, if the Michigan thing intervenes with this trip, they will trump any plans to travel south to Vegas. Naturally, I am secretly hoping for this to occur, but I have to remain tight-lipped.

The person who trained me for my position resigned from the company today. That was a big disppointment. My main source of support is now gone, and I will have to completely fend for myself from now on. Not that I am incompetent or anything, it was just always nice to have that person nearby as a back-up. And speaking of back-ups, I don't have one at all for me when I go on vacation at the first of September, nor one for my training escapade. Fucking great. I can't wait to see the mess I will find when I return. Or, worse yet, I can just see my supervisor(s), manager(s), and director telling me I will have to cancel my vacation. That would make my mother happy as hell.

I must be somewhat of a rare individual. What I mean by that is I am actually looking forward to visiting my mother. I know a lot of people that dread visiting with their folks, but my mother is a riot and I enjoy her company - in small doses. I don't want to live where she does, but I do like talking with her and running around with her. We have fun, it's pretty cool.

The biggest drag about the whole thing is that I will be driving for 12 hours just to get there. Ugh. I usually like road trips, but I would rather volunteer for root canal with no anesthesia than drive across the entire state of Nebraska. Damn. Someone should build a 100-foot fence around that state and make it the new federal prison. Omaha and Lincoln are ok, but everything west of Lincoln is massively desolate. Desolation runs rampid where I live, too, but at least I have mountains to look at. Big difference.

I had a very enjoyable band practice this evening. We jammed for about 2.5 hours. It was probably the most fun I have had playing with other musicians in over 15 years. I was actually offered the chance to play with a country band whenever they were short a guitar player. I kindly refused: I played country for a living many years ago, and I have earned the right to hate country music - no thanks.

The new amp arrived, and it's one extremely loud mutha. Gonna have to get used to that.

Blogstipated

Did you ever have one of those moments in your life where you just had nothing at all to say?

This has been one of those times.

Whitewater

For all the years I have lived in the West, I have never been whitewater rafting. Until today. For those of you who have never tried it, let me be the first to tell you that it is a scream. Of course I didn't start with the death-defying package that is sure to turn your hair silver, but I did select a trip "for all levels of expertise."

Seven passengers and one guide climbed aboard a 16-foot commercial-grade rubber raft and floated for 2.5 hours down the river. The "whitewater" part was only the first three-quarter mile, but it was definitely one of the most invigorating experiences I have ever had.

The sun was hot, and the water was cold. Mix the two together and you get a potential case of hypothermia. But, alas, I am slightly sunburned, without a trace of even the sniffles.

Being the only adult male, I volunteered to be one of the "captains" and sit in the front of the raft. This bestowed upon me the responsibility of leading my side of the raft in oar strokes. We paddled quite a bit when approaching agressive sets of rapids, ensuring a higher rate of speed when we hit the turbulent currents. The result: being more soaked than a water ride at a theme park.

Even though the trip cost $43 per person, I still feel it was money well spent. Now, I just have to find yet another trip that may very well turn my hair silver.

You Can't Make this Shit Up

SEATTLE - A Seattle man died after engaging in anal sex with a horse at a farm suspected of being a gathering place for people seeking to have sex with livestock, police said Friday.

The horse involved in the incident was not harmed, and an autopsy of the unnamed man concluded that “the manner of death was accidental ... due to perforation of the colon,” a police spokesman said.

“The information that we have is that people would find this place via chat rooms on the Web,” said Sgt. John Urquhart of the King County Sheriff’s Department.

Although sex with animals is not illegal in Washington state, Urquhart said that investigators were looking into whether the farm, located in Enumclaw, 40 miles southeast of Seattle, allowed sex with smaller animals that resulted in animal cruelty, which is a crime.

“If you’re talking about sheep or goats, there could be some issues,” Urquhart said.


Just in case you think this is fake:
http://msnbc.msn.com/id/8589349/

I totally fucking give up on humanity.

Corporate Shuffle

I don't expect the universe to remain constant. I expect change. But this doesn't mean I have to like change.

I started with my current company almost 2 years ago. Within my first 6 months, my supervisor resigned and my enitre department restructured. One year later, it was announced that my department was to be completely outsourced.

I applied for another job within the same company rather than become an employee of an out-of-state firm. I got the position and have been happier in my new position.

Within 2 months, my new department completely restructured. Naturally, I experienced deja-vu. I changed managers and was moved to a new cubicle. Of course, it is hardly discernable that I have a different manager, since I rarely speak to my new manager, but always am fulfilling requests for my previous manager.

Today, it was announced that my supervisor is shifting to another part of my department (yeah, we are a little middle-management heavy; I have a supervisor, a manager, and a director). Another member of my team will be my new supervisor. I don't "warm up" too quickly in the workplace. It takes me a while to build a working relationship with my co-workers. So, 6 months of progress is now shot all to hell.

I am supposed to leave on vacation for the week of Labor Day. There are several "critical" items on my radar that have to be resolved prior to my leaving. They won't be solved. I will return to a state of chaos and blame.

Yes, I am complaining. Yes, I should try harder to adapt to change. But I still don't like it.

Fuck it. I'm getting a doughnut.

The Beast

The prey of the beast screamed bloody murder
The line is so fine between hoping and hurting
Former believers they beg for release
As love looking down on them smiles and picks his teeth

Trapped in between heaven and hell
He knows all the secrets and don't want to tell
There's nowhere to run and there's nowhere to hide
Love knows you all too well He will find you

Love is the ghost haunting your head
Love is the killer you thought was your friend
Love is the creature who lives in the dark
Sneaks up, will stick you and painfully pick you apart

Love is a poet, love sings the songs
Pointing his finger you follow along
Voice are calling, the monster wants out of you
Paws you and claws you, you try not to fall

Love is the leech, sucking you up
Love is a vampire, drunk on your blood
Love is the beast that will tear out your heart
Hungrily lick it and painfully pick it apart

Love is a ghost, haunting your head
Love is the killer you thought was your friend
Love is the teacher who lives in the dark
Sneak up and stick you and painfully pick you apart

-Concrete Blonde, 1990

Suicidal Tendencies

One of the difficulties I face with blogging is that I have found other blogs to read. When I read what some other bloggers are writing, I either lose my will to live (because my writing sucks in comparison), or I lose yet another idea to write about.

I expanded my list of blogs that I read yet again today. While this guy doesn't need any more links, The Disgusting Girl I Work With took away my entire day. I had to literally cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud and drawing attention to myself.

There went my idea for "Cast and Crew" - a demented view of my co-workers. But, now I can't even begin to compare with DG, so, fuck that.

In fashion news, I have decided I have officially entered the "Old Fart" domain. I tried to find a pair of shorts that weren't made of fleece material, yet still looked like shorts. It is impossible unless I want to wear grandpa-esque, elastic waistband, plaid golfing crap that only make one look like the Salvation Army was the last stop on the fashion parade. Today I saw a man wearing what must have been denim capris for men. The shorts were so fucking long, they could very well have just been "high water" pants. Come on, fashion gurus! SHORTS are supposed to BE short! That's why they are fucking called shorts!

But, of course, women's shorts keep getting shorter, both in leg length and waist height. I imagine that, soon, women will be wearing eyepatches around their midsection, and still complain that men look at them as nothing more than objects.

Here's a big clue: If you don't want to be stared at, then don't wear something that draws attention to yourself. I think I will file that in the "Duh" cabinet.

In the meantime, I need some real inspiration.

Just Desserts

I hate it when I have colliding feelings. A part of me is very depressed while another part of me is very relieved.

I have this lame side gig where I design websites. I have 3 clients. Wow. 3. One is really great, but I don't really do any work for them any more because they don't want anything else done with their site - it's my least favorite project.

Another client is on the edge of being dropped by me because they are such complete idiots. I never thought of myself as a genius, but I have great difficulty working with people that have a severe case of cranium rectumitis. Maybe that makes me a snob, but I don't care.

My third client is also a giant pain in the ass. They are a chamber of commerce for a rich suburb of DFW. They were in a pinch and I offered my services to them to re-design their site. I was very proud of the work I did. They were slow in payment to me on several occasions, and I wanted to drop them many times. But, the work was steady - $50 or so a month for tiny changes and updates (all this after my initial design fee which was several hundred dollars). Yeah, I don't charge much.

I always wanted to have the chamber as the brightest spot in my portfolio. Today, the chamber dropped me. So, part of me is relieved that I no longer have to deal with their questionable business ethics, yet the other part of me is distraught over losing my design. MY design!

I have always been the "idea person." I am the one that has a good initial idea, and either someone else steals it, or I give it away. Fucking stupid. Usually it's because I lack the financial resources to get something off the ground. Other times, it's just outright theft.

I had an idea to start a publication and website in my area for homeowners who sell their properties themselves (For Sale By Owner - FSBO). Three years later, I am doing piecemeal work for a true business cretin that has taken my concept and beaten it so close to death that I am ashamed to admit the work is mine. In fact, I usually place my company's name and a hyperlink to my site at the bottom of earch site I develop. Not this one. I don't want anyone to know I have anything to do with that piece of shit.

I found out about losing the chamber right before I left work. Upon leaving, I went to drop off a CD to my so-called bandmates and decided to go to Sam's Club. Sam's is the only place in town that is rarely out of IBC root beer - and, obviously, it's a buttload cheaper.

I should not go shopping when I am depressed. I was fairly successful at not draining my account, but I still spent more than I should have. Sadly, the "comfort food" aisle didn't do much for me. But the deli aisle did.

I came home to embrace my meal with some television before starting the process of turning over my work to an alien. My beloved feline, Zoe, salivated at my culinary choice for the evening (one of her personal favorites) - pork...specifically pork spare ribs. I had to warn her repatedly to stay away from my food, and she complied without argument. But I had to take a picture of her staring at my food with desire.

She is the only true aspect of stability in my life. No matter what, she loves me, and I love her. She chose me over ten years ago and she has never left my side. I have put her through a lot of shit, and she still climbs up my chest to knead her paws on me. She has, on occasion, actually leaned close to my mouth and placed her lips on mine. She knows what a kiss is. I have moved her 7 times and she has never complained. Well, if she has, I haven't heard it. She was in a car accident with me. When she goes, a very large part of me will go with her.

So, this was supposed to make me feel better. You know, to just vent, let it all out. Bullshit.

I wonder if any other bloggers find themselves in situations where they are out, doing their thing, and they start to think about how they will write about what they are currently experiencing. It happened to me early this evening. I was loading my haul from Sam's into the back of my SUV, and I was literally plotting out the sentences. It briefly felt psychotic. Thank gawd I didn't actually write what I had thought about.

Italian Cream Cake for dessert. Mmmmmmmmmmm..........

Ready.....Set......Stretch

Yesterday, MSN had an article on their home page about blogging. The headline cracked me up. It was something like: "Can you be fired for blogging?" Of course, the meat of the article had to do with people that actually talked in specifics about their job, releaseing trade secrets, etc. Of fucking course you could get fired for that shit. Sometimes I honestly believe the media is convinced we are all retarded. Oh, yeah, that's why I don't watch network television...

So on that note:
I work for...oops! I almost got fired!

The company I work for is "nice." Genuinely "nice." This makes me suspect them all the time because NO ONE is "nice." Altruism is but a faint glimpse of a hope for humanity. So, I don't trust anyone that is "nice."

About 6 months ago, a new program started where I work. It's all about health - mental and physical. Yoga classes started, health questionnaires flurried about, e-mail contests began. At first, I thought, "Wow, these people actually care about my well-being..." Nades. (Midwestern slang for "no fucking way.")

Yeah, well, it was all cute and inspirational for the first 3 minutes. Now, every day there is something new to be added to our little "health awareness" program.

Each day:
1) Stretching exercizes at your desk.
2) Walks on your breaks
3) Drink so much water you spend the bulk of your productive time in the bathroom
4) Log all your activity on a spreadsheet and turn it in for recognition
5) Company-wide e-mail that will make you feel like a piece of shit for not participating
Each week:
1) Yoga
2) Chair massages that you have to pay for, and are violently ecnouraged to do so, so as to not waste the massage therapist's time (but did I ask for this????)
3) Report your progress to the program coorinator's administrative assistant

I have blocked out any further requirements in order to keep myself focussed on my actual job. I figure that if I participated 100%, my company would have to hire 2 or 3 more people to work with me because I would be too busy walking, drinking, stretching, and completing progress sheets. But, hey, what a way to make a living. Almost better than being a porn star. Almost

I know it's a great idea. I know it's for the betterment and "wellness" of the organization. Just don't fucking cram it down my throat.

Oops, I'm late for my stretching....

Soul Mates

Once upon a time, before there was time
Before there were two, there was one
One so complete and beautifully sweet
But knew it must be undone
There were things to be learned and wants to be yearned
Some answers must be found on their own
And yet throughout time, their paths intertwined
And somehow they always lead home
Throughout all their lives, they breathed and they sighed
Each waiting for the other to end
For when time came due, both of them knew
The two become one once again.

Once upon a time, before there was time
Before we two, there was one
One so complete and beautifully sweet
But knew we must be undone
There were things to be learned and wants to be yearned
Some answers we must find on our own
And yet, throughout time, our paths intertwine
And now they only lead home
Throughout all our lives, we breathe and we sigh
Each waiting for the other to end
For when time came due, both of us knew
We two become one once again.

-Me, circa late 20th Century

Brain Rain

What is this drizzle I keep writing? I never proclaimed to be remotely interesting, but this droll kind of pablum I have spewed forth the last couple of entries just bores me to tears.

I guess that is just how life has been plodding along for me lately. Bland. Beige.

I went to the "jam session" tonight. I was almost embarrassed at how badly I played. Two months of no practice will make a loser out of anyone, I guess. Not that I am all that great in the first place, but tonight was humiliating. Strangely enough, these guys want to keep going. I can't fucking figure that out.

We got a new drummer tonight. He looks like Huey Lewis. Well, sort of. I looked around the room and I thought, "Is this what I have become? Am I really this old?" Yeah, I am, but I sure as hell don't look as old as these other guys.

Took a short break for a phone call and realized that I am still writing just plain crap.

Oh, yeah, so I guess I am still on for this music gig. Don't know or much care where it leads at this point.



I spent $1000 I didn't have today on a new amplifier. Silly creditors. Don't know I will default? It is my destiny.

I honestly have more integrity than that, it just felt fun to write it.

I think what I hate the most is that when I am not sitting in front of an empty post, I can think of loads of stuff to write about (heh heh....I said "loads"....). But as soon as I sit down to actually write the damn thing...complete mental failure. I know I am not a true "writer." I read other posts and see what "real" writing is about. It's not the crap I come up with.

Until I can give my mind an enema and write something more productive, I am calling it quits - at least for tonight.

Commaholic

It's a strange day. It's strange, first of all, because I didn't sleep worth a shit. I was exhausted from breaking up camp and driving all that distance home. I was exhausted from attempting to mow my lawn, only to have my battery-powered electric mower run out of juice. (So, I have this half-mown lawn that just looks absurd.) But once I got into bed, I just laid there. Odd.

This morning, the alarm went off and, as usual, I slammed the snooze bar a few dozen times until the DJ started playing a song I liked. So I let the music play and fell asleep again. I was ten minutes late to work.

Today's workload is actually light (superstitiously looking for some wood to knock on). Most of my managers are gone on vacation and it's all pretty quiet.

So this gives me some time for yet more reflection on who, what, and where I am in life. While I was gone over the weekend, I received a generic acknowlegement letter from the job I applied for in Michigan. Cool, they got my materials and they will get back to me (aka - Don't call us, we'll call you). I guess I was thinking about that a lot earlier, doing calculations on the difference in salary and the lower cost of living. Not too bad when, in the best case scenario, it's an increase of 13K per year. That equates to about an additional 17K with the change in the cost of living.

I came to the conclusion, with all the "trade-offs," that I want to get this job - no matter what. Of course, that is just my mood today, it could change tomorrow, or even after lunch.

This whole series of thoughts has left me in a bittersweet mood. Always liked that word and concept - even wrote a song called "Bittersweet."

Oddly enough, my current employer will probably send me to Vegas at the end of next month. Talk about "one step forward and two steps back." I lived in Vegas for 10 years before coming back here. Weird. Even though it will be work-related, I still plan to take an extra day on my own to visit some old friends. Yeah, that's if I get to go.

10:30 now and I am already plotting my lunch attack. If I acutally ate breakfast, my hunger would be worse, but for now, I am starving. All I can think about is how I have been planning to make a batch of perogi - even though it's an all-day process. I still have my grandmother's recipe and I just love them to death. Plus, I thought it would be kind of cool to have some to take to my mother when I see her in about 4 weeks. She would like that.

After work I am supposed to meet up with some musicians and have a "jam session." Honestly, I just wish they would cancel on me. This all started out pretty cool, and then one of the other guys started suggesting songs that, well, they suck - at least from my point of view. I was burned out on some of these tunes 25 years ago. Funny how that didn't change even after not hearing them for all that time.

This will only delay my law mowing, and I just can't be the typical, flakey musician and cancel it myself. Somehow I have convinced myself that I won't behave the same way most other musician's do and decide on a whim whether or not to show up. I love to play more than just about anything (minus great sex, or food, or great sex with food - not American Pie style). But, yeah, I think I like playing music more than fishing or camping. There, I said it.

Clever closing line goes here.

Aural Sex

My ears just popped. The sensation was almost orgasmic. That may seem trivial, but I just returned from a camping trip in the mountains. Upon arrival to one of my favorite places on earth, I realized that I had climbed over a mile in elevation from my starting point.

When the heat of the summer breaks triple digits, there is very little more satisfying than cruising up over 10,000 feet above sea level to cool down and relax around a camp fire. I try with all my might to avoid those "public" camping sites that charge somewhere between $10 and $20 per night because, well, mainly I don't see the point in driving all that way just to have to be next to someone you don't know. I grew up camping to get away from people.

So, this place has a beautiful lake that is filled with trout. I love fishing. It's like zen for me. I can sit on the banks of a lake with my line in the water for hours. It's a wonderful time to relax, reflect, and uncover parts of myself that I have forgotten about.

This trip, I actually caught my first fish of the season. Yeah, August, and I haven't caught a fish yet. Okay, I actually caught 2, but only landed one. Sure, sure, that "fisherman's tale" of the "one that got away." No shit. I didn't see the one that slipped off my hook, and I won't make any presumptions as to whether or not it was related to a great white shark. But, the one that I did land on shore was a decent, pan-sized trout. When I first moved back to this area 4 years ago, I spent the first summer camping and/or fishing almost every weekend until it was way too cold to go anymore. I caught and ate so much trout that I am now sick of eating them. So, as has been my rule for the past 3 years, I let the fish go back into the lake.

Unfortunately for me, prior to leaving Friday evening, I neglected to call in to the county courthouse to see if I am supposed to appear for jury duty tomorrow morning. I remembered this morning while I was still 100 miles from civilization. Just a few minutes ago, I called into the court system's automated message line and discovered I do not have to appear for jury duty and my civic duty for the remainder of the year is satisfied. So, no more worries.

Now I am at home, refreshed, rejuvinated, and one camping-smelly mutha. My "aroma" is a mixture of campfire smoke, bug repellant, and sweat. Yummy. My cat won't get too close to me for any length of time, so I know I have to smell completely repugnant. Yes, a shower is definitely in order, but first I have to mow my lawn. That kinda sucks, but it still has to be done. Then a shower will complete my metamorphisis back to being human once again.

I almost wish I did have to go to jury duty tomorrow. I could use yet another day away from my humdrum Dilbert existence at work.

I can't seem to remember the words to "Big Rock Candy Mountain."

Darwin Had A Point

She tricks me into thinkin'
That I can't believe my eyes
I wait for her forever
But she never does arrive

- The Cars, 1978

So, I have heard that saying "When one door closes, another opens." But, what if you discover that there was already a window open, so it didn't matter if the door closed or not? And, why was the fucking door open in the first place? Did you want someone to just walk right in? What if they trashed everything? What if they ripped you off? Keep that damn door closed until you are walking out the damn thing. And lock that fucker behind you.

I watched "End of the Century" again last night. I was interrupted by a phone call from my mother, but I still managed to finish it before crawling into bed around 1:00 am. Yes, I am a night owl.

I don't think there is a single person on this planet that can ever truly understand my love for the Ramones. They changed my life forever. They helped me expand my horizons and musical tastes. They showed me how simplicity can be perfect and beautiful, while remaining fun and energetic. They taught me that not everything has to have deep meaning.

While all good things must come to an end, the finality of the Ramones is all too final. 3 of the 4 original members are dead - 2 from cancer. There can never be a reunion - just like the Beatles.

But, that is just my personal whining. I know I am not the only person that feels that loss.

I saw the Ramones on their last tour on my birthday. During the show, Joey announced to the audience that day would forever be dubbed "Ramones Day." So, in 3 weeks, when I hit 41, I will celebrate my Ramones Day. Gotta dust off my black leather jacket.

So, what does the title of this post and my initial paragraph have to do with anything else in this post? Doesn't matter. It's time for lunch.