How crazy is Easter? I mean, besides the fact that Jesus rose from the dead (a.k.a. as a zombie), but that there's a bunny rabbit that lays fucking eggs. Colored eggs even. I can understand Santa, because he's got elves building toys for him and he's got a list that he checks twice and reindeer that fly. So we've got the whole backstory to that, but the fucking Easter Bunny?
Is he some strange Government project gone wrong? Is he a freak accident when a chicken and a bunny breed? Oh yeah, while you got me on that, we all assume that the Easter Bunny is a guy but yet, chickens are females, so is he a hermaphrodite of the chicken/bunny breed? Why are the eggs colored? Is it due to a poor diet or does he have some type of internal bleeding?
These are all valid questions. I'm not overthinking things. Someone today said that I'd be bad if I had kids because I over thought things, but she was way wrong. These are the right questions to ask because when kids talk about the Easter Bunny they should all be talking about the same thing, or the Easter Bunny "story."
"Well my dad told me that the Easter Bunny comes at night time."
"You're dad is a fucking liar. In fact, you don't even have a dad."
Do you see the problems that the inconsistency of a story could cause a young, impressionable child? Especially of something like the Easter Bunny. All I'm saying is that we should get the story straight, it may not be believable, but at least have the backstory set up, or else next time I see you Easter Bunny...instead of eating ham...I'm going to eat you.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
The First Ever Contest Winning Blog
Well the contest is over. I was happy to see the turn out for this wonderful contest. So here are the winners...
Third Place goes to cowboys with sad songs. I would have actually given this one the first place prize if it was November but since it's March, I just didn't feel like I could touch on the subject.
Second Place goes to miami mike. I know he likes to be slapped around and.
And here it is, the moment we've all been waiting for...
First Place goes christine. I read this and I thought of a story as a child. As you read further I'm sure you will think that I over reacted but it really fucked me up as a child. So enjoy this Contest Winning Post.
I love movies. If you know me, you know that I have seen just about any type of movie made. There are even times when I know the studio that distributed the movie.
I'm the youngest in a family of four children. The age difference between my brother's and my sister is between five and ten years. When I was growing up, I was always too young to hang out. Too young to know any better. Needless to say I spent a lot of time by myself. As the years went on I'd say I developed something called the "Only Child Syndrome." You get it when your age difference is so great that you literally feel like an only child. My imagination grew. It started off small until it became a huge blob in my brain.
I watched a lot of movies dealing with aliens as a child. Hell, The Last Starfighter is one of my all time favorite movies, but the day finally came when I saw this awesome, kid friendly movie made by Steven Speilberg called Close Encounters of the Third Kind. In my eyes, this was neither awesome nor kid friendly. It freaked me the fuck out. The scene that disturbed me the most was when the aliens took the kid away from his mother. I can still invision it. How scared shitless I was when I saw that. Knowing that if it could happen to that kid, it could happen to me.
After seeing that movie, I couldn't sleep alone for about a year. I would stare at my closet, waiting, anticipating for the aliens to come and take me away. I know my brother Brian, who shared a room with me, got annoyed with me at times. I would stay awake until he went to bed. There was a Friday when he wasn't going to bed. I went downstairs and sat on them watching the t.v. through the windows in the door that led to the living room. Almost falling asleep, but staying awake knowing that if I got caught up past my bed time I would be in trouble. When the show he was watching was done, I ran upstairs and pretended I was there the whole time.
I know what you are thinking, "Dan, those aliens weren't evil." The thing is, nobody told me that. So I just assumed that sooner or later they would come for me, since I believed they were real.
A year went by and eventually I just said fuck it. If they come for me, they come for me. What's a blanket covering my head going to do? It's not like it would make me invisible and if they flew billions of light years just for me, they aren't going to be fooled by a kid hiding under the sheets.
Needless to say I was way over this until Speilberg fucked with my head again. I saw E.T. with my two older brothers and my mom at the movie theater. I didn't realize that my brother's wanted to sit in a different place then us, so when the movie was done I looked over to see my mom. My brother's were gone. I had flashbacks, bad ones, from the earlier alien conspiracies. I ran up and down the movie aisle, crying because I knew that E.T. took them away. This of course was not true. Brian and Mike got up from their seats and started walked towards the exit door when the credits began to roll. I stopped, and saw them. It was at that point in time that I would never fall for Speilberg's evil tricks again.
To this day though I sometimes look in the closet and see things moving. I don't know what it is, or who it is, but I now just raise my middle finger and roll over to my side, and go to sleep, knowing that one day it might happen, and if it does, I'll be ready.
Third Place goes to cowboys with sad songs. I would have actually given this one the first place prize if it was November but since it's March, I just didn't feel like I could touch on the subject.
Second Place goes to miami mike. I know he likes to be slapped around and.
And here it is, the moment we've all been waiting for...
First Place goes christine. I read this and I thought of a story as a child. As you read further I'm sure you will think that I over reacted but it really fucked me up as a child. So enjoy this Contest Winning Post.
I love movies. If you know me, you know that I have seen just about any type of movie made. There are even times when I know the studio that distributed the movie.
I'm the youngest in a family of four children. The age difference between my brother's and my sister is between five and ten years. When I was growing up, I was always too young to hang out. Too young to know any better. Needless to say I spent a lot of time by myself. As the years went on I'd say I developed something called the "Only Child Syndrome." You get it when your age difference is so great that you literally feel like an only child. My imagination grew. It started off small until it became a huge blob in my brain.
I watched a lot of movies dealing with aliens as a child. Hell, The Last Starfighter is one of my all time favorite movies, but the day finally came when I saw this awesome, kid friendly movie made by Steven Speilberg called Close Encounters of the Third Kind. In my eyes, this was neither awesome nor kid friendly. It freaked me the fuck out. The scene that disturbed me the most was when the aliens took the kid away from his mother. I can still invision it. How scared shitless I was when I saw that. Knowing that if it could happen to that kid, it could happen to me.
After seeing that movie, I couldn't sleep alone for about a year. I would stare at my closet, waiting, anticipating for the aliens to come and take me away. I know my brother Brian, who shared a room with me, got annoyed with me at times. I would stay awake until he went to bed. There was a Friday when he wasn't going to bed. I went downstairs and sat on them watching the t.v. through the windows in the door that led to the living room. Almost falling asleep, but staying awake knowing that if I got caught up past my bed time I would be in trouble. When the show he was watching was done, I ran upstairs and pretended I was there the whole time.
I know what you are thinking, "Dan, those aliens weren't evil." The thing is, nobody told me that. So I just assumed that sooner or later they would come for me, since I believed they were real.
A year went by and eventually I just said fuck it. If they come for me, they come for me. What's a blanket covering my head going to do? It's not like it would make me invisible and if they flew billions of light years just for me, they aren't going to be fooled by a kid hiding under the sheets.
Needless to say I was way over this until Speilberg fucked with my head again. I saw E.T. with my two older brothers and my mom at the movie theater. I didn't realize that my brother's wanted to sit in a different place then us, so when the movie was done I looked over to see my mom. My brother's were gone. I had flashbacks, bad ones, from the earlier alien conspiracies. I ran up and down the movie aisle, crying because I knew that E.T. took them away. This of course was not true. Brian and Mike got up from their seats and started walked towards the exit door when the credits began to roll. I stopped, and saw them. It was at that point in time that I would never fall for Speilberg's evil tricks again.
To this day though I sometimes look in the closet and see things moving. I don't know what it is, or who it is, but I now just raise my middle finger and roll over to my side, and go to sleep, knowing that one day it might happen, and if it does, I'll be ready.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
The People Shall Choose...
At the Corner Bar is looking for a good topic to write about. This is where you, the people, have a chance to win the "You Pick the Topic" contest. Third place winner gets shit. Second place winner gets a slap in the face. First place winner gets the chance for me to write about your topic. So wipe off your dusty, original ideas and post them down below. Winner will be announced on March 12, 2005. Good luck assholes.
Friday, March 04, 2005
How Much Damage Could I Do With A Pen?
"A lot of people ask me stupid fucking questions. A lot of people think that what I say on record, or what I talk about on a record that I actually do in real life, or I believe in it. Or if I say that I want to kill somebody that I'm actually going to do it or that I believe in it. Well shit, if you believe that then I'll kill you. You know why? Cause I'm a criminal."
Eminem
I've been feeling a lot of heat from people the last three days. When they post it, or even when they don't post it, I've been under attack. At work, at home, on my phone, on a boat, on a goat. Luckily I have a bomb shelter built into my brain so I can go hide in it until the fire has ceased. But fuck it. Why do I need to hide? It's not my style.
People, people, people, listen the fuck up because I'm only going to say this once. This is my place. I go here to write. I'm not writing for the New Yorker, L.A. Times, U.S.A. Today or Mad Libs. I'm writing for myself because I'm easily entertained. Do you think that everything I write I stand behind? Fuck no. This is supposed to be fun. Do you really think that I sit around all day and dwell about the things I write about? That I really think that pet names are the equivalent to slave names? That the lady who corrected me is a shitty English teacher, who had no friends growing up? That I'm really arrogant and lazy and that I'm all high and mighty? That all personalized license plates are fucking stupid? (Bad example because they really are stupid) NO!!! It's a character I get into when I write, because if I wrote like "Dan" then it'd be sugar coated goodness and if you really wanted that then you'd go and watch an episode of Davey and Goliath.
You are supposed to read it and laugh because we are "At The Corner Bar." So you can either be someone who comes here, sits back in your chair, have a drink (non-alcoholic if you choose) with some friends and talk about your day or you can be that guy who comes here looking for a one night stand and to start a fight just because you are "in the mood." Which one are you? Think about it, get back to me, but until then...next rounds on you so buy me a fucking drink.
Eminem
I've been feeling a lot of heat from people the last three days. When they post it, or even when they don't post it, I've been under attack. At work, at home, on my phone, on a boat, on a goat. Luckily I have a bomb shelter built into my brain so I can go hide in it until the fire has ceased. But fuck it. Why do I need to hide? It's not my style.
People, people, people, listen the fuck up because I'm only going to say this once. This is my place. I go here to write. I'm not writing for the New Yorker, L.A. Times, U.S.A. Today or Mad Libs. I'm writing for myself because I'm easily entertained. Do you think that everything I write I stand behind? Fuck no. This is supposed to be fun. Do you really think that I sit around all day and dwell about the things I write about? That I really think that pet names are the equivalent to slave names? That the lady who corrected me is a shitty English teacher, who had no friends growing up? That I'm really arrogant and lazy and that I'm all high and mighty? That all personalized license plates are fucking stupid? (Bad example because they really are stupid) NO!!! It's a character I get into when I write, because if I wrote like "Dan" then it'd be sugar coated goodness and if you really wanted that then you'd go and watch an episode of Davey and Goliath.
You are supposed to read it and laugh because we are "At The Corner Bar." So you can either be someone who comes here, sits back in your chair, have a drink (non-alcoholic if you choose) with some friends and talk about your day or you can be that guy who comes here looking for a one night stand and to start a fight just because you are "in the mood." Which one are you? Think about it, get back to me, but until then...next rounds on you so buy me a fucking drink.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
To Be Or Not To Be, Don't Correct My Question.
At times I find it tough working in retail again. Nobody loves working in retail and if they say they do, they are a fucking liar. One of the benefits of working where I do is that I work in a mall on the Vegas strip. For the most part, I talk to people from all over the world. The other day when I was ringing up a customer, I found that I was having problems talking with her. You see she was a dud when it came to talking and so I was forcing my way into her small little world. I eventually found out that she was from Arizona and the reason why she was down here was that her husband was participating in a skeet shooting competition.
"How long has your husband been doing that for?" I asked in the nicest way.
"You know you shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition. You should say, 'How long has your husband been doing that?' I'm an English teacher, I should know."
Now, this of course pissed me off. Ok, first of all she was so boring that I've had better conversations with myself. Second, she thought she had some type of power outside of her class. The nerve of her.
"I'll remember that the next time I write a paper for you," I said in the most sarcastic way possible. In a way where I was standing at the customer service line of good manners with a middle finger in the air, but yet, still not crossing it. Lets just say we stopped talking after that.
So I did end it with a preposition, but do I really fucking care? Fuck no.
Yes, I'm an English major but do I always talk proper? No. I said I was an English major, not English.
I'm sure when she was younger she had no friends. She was an only child that would stare outside of her window, looking down at the other kids laughing and playing, swearing to herself that one day she will make them all pay. She swore to become a crappy English teacher who would always correct you every chance she got.
It's those teachers that really make students not want to write. That make them dread going to class. I understand the need for structure because if we didn't have it, people would be talking "all crazy n' shit." But lets worry about getting those creative juices out first. Lets worry about having interesting conversations with strangers. Lets worry about the nature of the flow and not having it blocked by a "damn" of rules. Bend the rules. Bend them, don't break them. Oh fuck it. You got my panties all up in a bunch. Next thing you know it, I'll be up on stage with a man behind me playing the bongos. I'm done writing now. If you don't like it, what else do I have to write for?
"How long has your husband been doing that for?" I asked in the nicest way.
"You know you shouldn't end a sentence with a preposition. You should say, 'How long has your husband been doing that?' I'm an English teacher, I should know."
Now, this of course pissed me off. Ok, first of all she was so boring that I've had better conversations with myself. Second, she thought she had some type of power outside of her class. The nerve of her.
"I'll remember that the next time I write a paper for you," I said in the most sarcastic way possible. In a way where I was standing at the customer service line of good manners with a middle finger in the air, but yet, still not crossing it. Lets just say we stopped talking after that.
So I did end it with a preposition, but do I really fucking care? Fuck no.
Yes, I'm an English major but do I always talk proper? No. I said I was an English major, not English.
I'm sure when she was younger she had no friends. She was an only child that would stare outside of her window, looking down at the other kids laughing and playing, swearing to herself that one day she will make them all pay. She swore to become a crappy English teacher who would always correct you every chance she got.
It's those teachers that really make students not want to write. That make them dread going to class. I understand the need for structure because if we didn't have it, people would be talking "all crazy n' shit." But lets worry about getting those creative juices out first. Lets worry about having interesting conversations with strangers. Lets worry about the nature of the flow and not having it blocked by a "damn" of rules. Bend the rules. Bend them, don't break them. Oh fuck it. You got my panties all up in a bunch. Next thing you know it, I'll be up on stage with a man behind me playing the bongos. I'm done writing now. If you don't like it, what else do I have to write for?
Monday, February 28, 2005
A Quick Note
To all that read my blog...I have now changed it to where you don't need to sign up to write comments. You can just go down and post them where it says post comments. Easy enough. Now stop being lazy and write something BITCHES!!!
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Please Don't Call Me That
What is the obsession with pet names? I mean is it really necessairy to call someone "Bubie" or "Sweetie Poompky?" I mean, we were given names so that we don't have to be called other ones.
When you think about it too...a pet is something you own. It is something you take care of, you take to the vet, it is something that you clam as your own. "This is MY pet. Watch as he does a trick at MY command." So by giving your significant other a pet name, does this mean that you are claiming your territory? That you own him or her and claim them as your property? Like when those white assholes would re-name slaves on their cotton fields. And it's not like you can tell your girl/boyfriend to not call you that. It may hurt their feelings or it may really piss them off. And if that's the case, that it does mean you are "taken," if your friends start calling you by your pet name, would this free you from this symbolic prison or does it just make the matter worse?
I'm all for peace and love. Finding that someone special to open up with. To watch a movie with on those cold Saturday nights. I am not for these pet names. I will not stand up for it. I am not Toby...I am Dan McCauley...hear my voice.
When you think about it too...a pet is something you own. It is something you take care of, you take to the vet, it is something that you clam as your own. "This is MY pet. Watch as he does a trick at MY command." So by giving your significant other a pet name, does this mean that you are claiming your territory? That you own him or her and claim them as your property? Like when those white assholes would re-name slaves on their cotton fields. And it's not like you can tell your girl/boyfriend to not call you that. It may hurt their feelings or it may really piss them off. And if that's the case, that it does mean you are "taken," if your friends start calling you by your pet name, would this free you from this symbolic prison or does it just make the matter worse?
I'm all for peace and love. Finding that someone special to open up with. To watch a movie with on those cold Saturday nights. I am not for these pet names. I will not stand up for it. I am not Toby...I am Dan McCauley...hear my voice.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
"All Apologies"
What else should I be
All apologies
What else should I say
Everyone is gay
What else could I write
I don't have the right
What else should I be
All apologies
In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
I'm married
buried
I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn with freezeburn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy
In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
I'm married
buried
married
burried
yeah
yeah
yeah
yeah
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All apologies
What else should I say
Everyone is gay
What else could I write
I don't have the right
What else should I be
All apologies
In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
I'm married
buried
I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn with freezeburn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy
In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
I'm married
buried
married
burried
yeah
yeah
yeah
yeah
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
"Can't Keep a Good morMan Down"
People say that Mormon's are crazy and stalkerish in a way but I grew up with a great set of friends who were L.D.S. (Latter-Day Saints) I mean, they are my "brothers" (not that kind of brotha) and a second family to me.
Now that I've left the town of Kalamazoo I can't help but wonder if I was somewhat protected by them. You know the sense of a mob family protecting the ones close to them. When I was at L.D.S. events, no one ever approached me about religion. In fact, it was rarely brought up around me. Or maybe that's just a conspiracy theory. Maybe I didn't pay that much attention to their religion and now that I've stepped outside of the circle, I'm noticing things that I never knew before.
As I have ventured out west, I have been living with one of my older brother's and his girlfriend. She was raised L.D.S. and during her youth decided that this was not the path for her. This religion was not one that suited her lifestlye. She later converted to Catholicism and has enjoyed this religion ever since. The one thing I'm learning though is that Mormon's do not like loosing one of their own to the "dark side," a.k.a. other religions. And even though she has told them that she no longer wants to be a part of their community, they still send postcards, flyers and this letter.
Now, I'm not sure if this is morally right or not, but fuck it. I'm going to post the letter and let you decide for yourself. I am going to be a little biased here because in a way this letter somewhat creeps me out. It seems to me that this is a letter that a guy would write his ex-girlfriend. "I'm still gonna win you back. Just you see," even though she's over him and moved on.
Dear Sister Cotton,
As of the month of January I have been asked to be a home teacher to you for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I would like to know how best to reach you. I have only an address for you and would like to stop by to visit. If you prefer another method of communication like email or phone I would be happy to keep in touch with you that way too--whatever works best for you or your preference.
Please let me know how you would prefer I get in touch with you. My information is below.I look forward to hearing from you. In the meantime I will try to stop by to meet you in person. If we miss one another I will try back periodically. Until we can catch each other I will continue to write.
Thanks,
Rod S.
P.S. Because Bishop Wallace has asked me to put together a ward photo directory for him, I am looking to be able to take a quick photo of you to add in our booklet.
Now that I've left the town of Kalamazoo I can't help but wonder if I was somewhat protected by them. You know the sense of a mob family protecting the ones close to them. When I was at L.D.S. events, no one ever approached me about religion. In fact, it was rarely brought up around me. Or maybe that's just a conspiracy theory. Maybe I didn't pay that much attention to their religion and now that I've stepped outside of the circle, I'm noticing things that I never knew before.
As I have ventured out west, I have been living with one of my older brother's and his girlfriend. She was raised L.D.S. and during her youth decided that this was not the path for her. This religion was not one that suited her lifestlye. She later converted to Catholicism and has enjoyed this religion ever since. The one thing I'm learning though is that Mormon's do not like loosing one of their own to the "dark side," a.k.a. other religions. And even though she has told them that she no longer wants to be a part of their community, they still send postcards, flyers and this letter.
Now, I'm not sure if this is morally right or not, but fuck it. I'm going to post the letter and let you decide for yourself. I am going to be a little biased here because in a way this letter somewhat creeps me out. It seems to me that this is a letter that a guy would write his ex-girlfriend. "I'm still gonna win you back. Just you see," even though she's over him and moved on.
Dear Sister Cotton,
As of the month of January I have been asked to be a home teacher to you for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I would like to know how best to reach you. I have only an address for you and would like to stop by to visit. If you prefer another method of communication like email or phone I would be happy to keep in touch with you that way too--whatever works best for you or your preference.
Please let me know how you would prefer I get in touch with you. My information is below.I look forward to hearing from you. In the meantime I will try to stop by to meet you in person. If we miss one another I will try back periodically. Until we can catch each other I will continue to write.
Thanks,
Rod S.
P.S. Because Bishop Wallace has asked me to put together a ward photo directory for him, I am looking to be able to take a quick photo of you to add in our booklet.
I could be totatlly wrong here. This could be something that I don't understand because I'm not a member and I'm on the outisde looking in. This letter could be someone who cares about you in the long run. That may think that you are lost and you need help to guide you back. Just wants the best for you and in your times of need, you may not necessairly know what's best for you. Giving you a shoulder to rest your head.
All I know is that this letter found itself in front of me and I thought I should share it with the world to discuss. I'm not judging the L.D.S. or any other religions for that matter. What do I know? I'm just a dumb, Catholic Mick who will probably be spending his after life in a very warm climate if you know what I mean.
Crazy or not, this is how their religion works. I know the L.D.S. means well but it's not my cup of tea and that's ok. The world keeps revolving, people keep breathing and the sun still shines. In the meantime though...please return to sender.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Read Between the Lines
It seems that not only do I live in "Sin City" but also the personalized license plate capital of the world. I don't have physical proof that it is but I can sure validate it with my eyes. This is one of the many mysteries that I can't seem to solve while driving on the streets of Vegas.
The first one is how people who smoke in their car don't like to use their ash tray for their cigarette butts because it would make it dirty, so they throw it out of their window. I mean, that's what it's there for. Use it. It also pisses me off when people who smoke don't understand why I don't like it. Maybe cause it fucking stinks?
The other being how people get pissed off at me when I'm going five over the speed limit. They tend to ride my ass because they think it will make me drive faster, but it only makes me slow down. What I like to do when it becomes a two lane is speed up so they can't pass me. I find it ever so amusing. My brother informed me that I shouldn't do that little trick out here because you never know who has a gun. I still do it anyway because I find it amusing. What's so important that an extra minute is going to make a difference?
Ok, ok, I'm getting off the main subject here. I took a deep breath and now I'm focused. So what kind of person gets their license plate personalized? If you think about it, the only people that ever see the plate are the people who are stuck behind you at a stop light. It's not like a hot ass woman is going to read, "Sxy Man" and assume that you are the man of her dreams and will want to fuck you right there and then. If anything, she's gonna think, "He must be trying to compensate for something."
And then there are the ones like "Fst Car" on a Ferrari 550 Maranello or "Ice Crm" on an Ice Cream truck. We know what they are but people like to state the obvious. Like we are too stupid to figure out what kind of car it is. Like we are common folk and are not cool enough to get "way kwl" on our car. I just see it as an elite club of assholes, like a Fraterinty, but way worse. And no I'm not jealous at all. It's just how I see it. And yes, I should be writing about more important things that are going on in the world but in my world, the most important world, this is at the top of my list to fix and if this doesn't happen soon, I may have to "tke nmz" and "Kick Az"
The first one is how people who smoke in their car don't like to use their ash tray for their cigarette butts because it would make it dirty, so they throw it out of their window. I mean, that's what it's there for. Use it. It also pisses me off when people who smoke don't understand why I don't like it. Maybe cause it fucking stinks?
The other being how people get pissed off at me when I'm going five over the speed limit. They tend to ride my ass because they think it will make me drive faster, but it only makes me slow down. What I like to do when it becomes a two lane is speed up so they can't pass me. I find it ever so amusing. My brother informed me that I shouldn't do that little trick out here because you never know who has a gun. I still do it anyway because I find it amusing. What's so important that an extra minute is going to make a difference?
Ok, ok, I'm getting off the main subject here. I took a deep breath and now I'm focused. So what kind of person gets their license plate personalized? If you think about it, the only people that ever see the plate are the people who are stuck behind you at a stop light. It's not like a hot ass woman is going to read, "Sxy Man" and assume that you are the man of her dreams and will want to fuck you right there and then. If anything, she's gonna think, "He must be trying to compensate for something."
And then there are the ones like "Fst Car" on a Ferrari 550 Maranello or "Ice Crm" on an Ice Cream truck. We know what they are but people like to state the obvious. Like we are too stupid to figure out what kind of car it is. Like we are common folk and are not cool enough to get "way kwl" on our car. I just see it as an elite club of assholes, like a Fraterinty, but way worse. And no I'm not jealous at all. It's just how I see it. And yes, I should be writing about more important things that are going on in the world but in my world, the most important world, this is at the top of my list to fix and if this doesn't happen soon, I may have to "tke nmz" and "Kick Az"
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Soon people...soon
I know many of you have asked me why I haven't written a new one in awhile and I really do plan on getting back into the writing habit but as of lately I just haven't. I have a lot of things on my mind right now and I don't think it's the best place to share it on the World Wide Web. Sorry. I hope to have a real one done by tomorrow. Thanks Peeps.
Friday, January 21, 2005
"Off to Never, Neverland"
Ok, so yes, I do get emotional during some movies. SOME. I've seen Garden State for like the tenth time with one of my good friends Jim Beam. I don't know but there's something about that last scene that always gets to me. I mean, it really touches me. Maybe because there have been times when I wish that I wasn't such a pussy and used a "career" excuse or that she won't kiss back. You know, the same old sob story. Someone cry me a river. The point that I'm making here is that it's funny how I couldn't even cry at a friend's funeral. I mean I tried and forced myself but not a tear could come out. Yet a movie with fictional characters could make me get all choked up. The funny thing is that this isn't the first time that this has happened.
I remember watching Turner and Hootch, yes the one with the dog. I watched that by myself at my parents house on Fairfield Ave. I remember I was in the kitchen getting a slice of pizza when I noticed that Hootch was shot. "Oh he's going to be ok," I thought to myself, "Why would they kill the dog?" Wow, was I way off on that one. They killed the fucking dog!!! I was a young lad growing up, so it disturbed me a little bit. I don't care that the "bitch" that Hootch had sex with doggie style was pregnant with his babies. I didn't find that cute because in the end, they killed the dog. So much props to Beasley the dog's performence, a.k.a. Hootch. In all honesty, I think that he should have been nominated for an oscar or some type of award that was geared towards dying animals.
The last (yeah I know I really only touched on two movies) is the one that will have goons around the world agreeing with me. I know, please future wife, don't read this. The end of Star Trek II. Yes, I said it. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. It's as if I can start living life again. I shit you not though, you watch that whole movie. I mean really watch it, not a bullshit watching to "humor" me and at the end when Spock dies a tear will fall from your face. Unless your emotions run cold like the Borg. My friend John and I claim that it was Shatner's finest performence, even though he's been winning awards for Boston Legal.
So what is the point of this write up? There really isn't one. I'm just saying it's funny how life plays out. How you react to certain things. How at one moment in time you will be sitting there, enjoying yourself and the next, you can't stand it. You are pissed and angry for things that you shouldn't be. How you could be perfectly happy and you are watching a moment and you get caught up in a movie. It touches you somewhere (Not the place where you have to point to the doll in a courtroom case) but in a place where you can always associate it with something special. A place that you are the only one that can go there. Your "Secret Garden". So don't be afraid to admit it. Don't be afraid to go there because it's a place that's yours and in these days, in these times, it's really rare to have that place. Even if it is a cheesey movie like The English Patient or The Love Bug, if it takes you there, if it takes you to a place where you can feel, grab on to it's hand and never let go. It will treat you well, I promise.
I remember watching Turner and Hootch, yes the one with the dog. I watched that by myself at my parents house on Fairfield Ave. I remember I was in the kitchen getting a slice of pizza when I noticed that Hootch was shot. "Oh he's going to be ok," I thought to myself, "Why would they kill the dog?" Wow, was I way off on that one. They killed the fucking dog!!! I was a young lad growing up, so it disturbed me a little bit. I don't care that the "bitch" that Hootch had sex with doggie style was pregnant with his babies. I didn't find that cute because in the end, they killed the dog. So much props to Beasley the dog's performence, a.k.a. Hootch. In all honesty, I think that he should have been nominated for an oscar or some type of award that was geared towards dying animals.
The last (yeah I know I really only touched on two movies) is the one that will have goons around the world agreeing with me. I know, please future wife, don't read this. The end of Star Trek II. Yes, I said it. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. It's as if I can start living life again. I shit you not though, you watch that whole movie. I mean really watch it, not a bullshit watching to "humor" me and at the end when Spock dies a tear will fall from your face. Unless your emotions run cold like the Borg. My friend John and I claim that it was Shatner's finest performence, even though he's been winning awards for Boston Legal.
So what is the point of this write up? There really isn't one. I'm just saying it's funny how life plays out. How you react to certain things. How at one moment in time you will be sitting there, enjoying yourself and the next, you can't stand it. You are pissed and angry for things that you shouldn't be. How you could be perfectly happy and you are watching a moment and you get caught up in a movie. It touches you somewhere (Not the place where you have to point to the doll in a courtroom case) but in a place where you can always associate it with something special. A place that you are the only one that can go there. Your "Secret Garden". So don't be afraid to admit it. Don't be afraid to go there because it's a place that's yours and in these days, in these times, it's really rare to have that place. Even if it is a cheesey movie like The English Patient or The Love Bug, if it takes you there, if it takes you to a place where you can feel, grab on to it's hand and never let go. It will treat you well, I promise.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
"Ha, I Kill Me"
I was standing in Eddie Bauer folding clothes, because that's what I do half the time, watching the front door greeting people. I do get some interesting people come into the store since it's in a mall, on the stip, in "Sin City," but today the closest thing I got to a different world was someone from Gary, Indiana.
"Hello, how are you doing? Can I help you find something?"
The day was dragging, slow. I wish I wasn't here doing this right now. Even the people in the middle of the mall who sell fancy nail products for a cheap price wasn't helping me.
"Can I smell your nail?"
No, it's "Can I see your nail," but since she is from Bolgaria, she is having problems saying that. Though hearing that all day it can drive a man crazy. I am bored. Please, anything, someone, something, help me. I feel a tap on my side.
"Do you think you can help me find a shirt my size?"
I turn and there is no one there until I look down.
"Holy shit, it's ALF."
Oh fuck, did I say that outloud? I hope I didn't but I can't remember.
"Um, actually it's not ALF, that's just a character I played on t.v. My name is Jeff."
I guess I did say that outloud. I shake his hand and introduce myself.
"My name is Dan. What can I get for you?"
He pointed to a shirt that was on the woman's side of the store. Do I tell him that it's a woman's shirt or do I just make the sale? Fuck it, why do I care?
"Oh sure that's a great shirt."
I grab the shirt and walk it over to the register. I ring him up and he pays. Of course I forget to ask him about the Eddie Bauer credit card but I really don't think he cares about that. He starts to walk away but stops and turns around.
"What are you doing tonight kid?"
"Um, nothing. I get off in five minutes."
"Well, you are going to hang out with me tonight?"
Now at this point I wasn't sure if ALF was gay or if he was just cool and wanted to party but what do I care? IT'S ALF!!!
"Sounds good to me."
I punch out and walk out of the door with my new Alien Life Form. We walk through the mall towards the strip I heard numerous people yelling things at him.
"ALF for president!"
"Hey, you want a Whopper?"
But he was a pro. He just walked on through and ignored it all. I eventually found out that he was staying at the "Real World Suite" though I don't really consider it real, but anyway, that's just me going off on a tangent.
He was a nice guy. He asked me about my life, my family, he seemed like he really cared. I found out that he has a family. A wife and two kids. He married a former Playmate. I don't remember her name but he showed me a picture and he did himself good.
Well after an hour of walking and talking we finally got to the suite. It was kind of cool because I have never been in anything like this before. He opens the door, my anticipation like the night before Christmas. E.T. was there on the couch. E.T! But wait, this isn't right. He was getting a blow job from a woman. A hooker. How do I know? Because the money was on the table. That alien from Mac and Me, he was there too. He was passed out in the corner in his own puke. ALF walks in like this is a daily routine for him.
"So Dan, do you get high?"
"Uh..."
What do I say to that? Do I say yes I do, though I really don't, or do I stand up and say "No To Drugs?" It doesn't matter because before I could say a word he pulls out some coke and a razor blade. There are four perfect lines right in front of me. I am curious but yet again before I could do anything ALF snorts them all up. He stumbles back a little bit. It appears that it was more then he could handle. He puts both hands on his head and kind of bends over. What was going on? He started yelling. I was getting nervous. I look on the table and for some stange reason I find out that it wasn't coke, but Spic and Span. He looked at me and he had crazy eyes. He then ran into the bedroom. He made some noise in there and came back out with a cat in his hand. Oh God. Oh no this can't be happening.
"What are you doing to do with that?"
"I'm going to fucking eat it."
"But it's a cat."
"Didn't you watch the show? I eat cats."
What do I do now? It is as if I'm in a Choose Yourself Adventure. Do I turn and run for the door or do I save that cat? I couldn't let him eat that cat. I know they shed a lot but damn, it's a cat. I pick up the Lava Lamp that's sitting on a table. God it's hot and is it really Lava? No time to worry about that. I take it and smash it against his head.
"Melmac this!" I yell as I thrust the lamp against his tiny, fury head.
ALF falls to the ground. The fall only lasted a second because he's so short. I felt bad in a way but yet it was a defining moment in my life. It was as if I was saying goodbye to my childhood days. I was finally becoming a man. ALF drags his body across the floor. He lays at my feet. I hear him quietly say,
"I kill me."
I pick up the lamp one more time, lift it above my head and end his washed up life.
"No, I kill you Alf. I...kill...you."
I pick up the cat and ran out the door. I never looked back and I never wanted to. To this day I wonder what could have been, what could have happened if I would have chosen the "dark side" but then I looked at the cat I saved, who I named ALF, and it all kind of fades away. Oh crap, the cat puked again. Oh man, it's eating it's own puke. Why is there cat hair on my coat? I guess life on Melmac was never this tough.
"Hello, how are you doing? Can I help you find something?"
The day was dragging, slow. I wish I wasn't here doing this right now. Even the people in the middle of the mall who sell fancy nail products for a cheap price wasn't helping me.
"Can I smell your nail?"
No, it's "Can I see your nail," but since she is from Bolgaria, she is having problems saying that. Though hearing that all day it can drive a man crazy. I am bored. Please, anything, someone, something, help me. I feel a tap on my side.
"Do you think you can help me find a shirt my size?"
I turn and there is no one there until I look down.
"Holy shit, it's ALF."
Oh fuck, did I say that outloud? I hope I didn't but I can't remember.
"Um, actually it's not ALF, that's just a character I played on t.v. My name is Jeff."
I guess I did say that outloud. I shake his hand and introduce myself.
"My name is Dan. What can I get for you?"
He pointed to a shirt that was on the woman's side of the store. Do I tell him that it's a woman's shirt or do I just make the sale? Fuck it, why do I care?
"Oh sure that's a great shirt."
I grab the shirt and walk it over to the register. I ring him up and he pays. Of course I forget to ask him about the Eddie Bauer credit card but I really don't think he cares about that. He starts to walk away but stops and turns around.
"What are you doing tonight kid?"
"Um, nothing. I get off in five minutes."
"Well, you are going to hang out with me tonight?"
Now at this point I wasn't sure if ALF was gay or if he was just cool and wanted to party but what do I care? IT'S ALF!!!
"Sounds good to me."
I punch out and walk out of the door with my new Alien Life Form. We walk through the mall towards the strip I heard numerous people yelling things at him.
"ALF for president!"
"Hey, you want a Whopper?"
But he was a pro. He just walked on through and ignored it all. I eventually found out that he was staying at the "Real World Suite" though I don't really consider it real, but anyway, that's just me going off on a tangent.
He was a nice guy. He asked me about my life, my family, he seemed like he really cared. I found out that he has a family. A wife and two kids. He married a former Playmate. I don't remember her name but he showed me a picture and he did himself good.
Well after an hour of walking and talking we finally got to the suite. It was kind of cool because I have never been in anything like this before. He opens the door, my anticipation like the night before Christmas. E.T. was there on the couch. E.T! But wait, this isn't right. He was getting a blow job from a woman. A hooker. How do I know? Because the money was on the table. That alien from Mac and Me, he was there too. He was passed out in the corner in his own puke. ALF walks in like this is a daily routine for him.
"So Dan, do you get high?"
"Uh..."
What do I say to that? Do I say yes I do, though I really don't, or do I stand up and say "No To Drugs?" It doesn't matter because before I could say a word he pulls out some coke and a razor blade. There are four perfect lines right in front of me. I am curious but yet again before I could do anything ALF snorts them all up. He stumbles back a little bit. It appears that it was more then he could handle. He puts both hands on his head and kind of bends over. What was going on? He started yelling. I was getting nervous. I look on the table and for some stange reason I find out that it wasn't coke, but Spic and Span. He looked at me and he had crazy eyes. He then ran into the bedroom. He made some noise in there and came back out with a cat in his hand. Oh God. Oh no this can't be happening.
"What are you doing to do with that?"
"I'm going to fucking eat it."
"But it's a cat."
"Didn't you watch the show? I eat cats."
What do I do now? It is as if I'm in a Choose Yourself Adventure. Do I turn and run for the door or do I save that cat? I couldn't let him eat that cat. I know they shed a lot but damn, it's a cat. I pick up the Lava Lamp that's sitting on a table. God it's hot and is it really Lava? No time to worry about that. I take it and smash it against his head.
"Melmac this!" I yell as I thrust the lamp against his tiny, fury head.
ALF falls to the ground. The fall only lasted a second because he's so short. I felt bad in a way but yet it was a defining moment in my life. It was as if I was saying goodbye to my childhood days. I was finally becoming a man. ALF drags his body across the floor. He lays at my feet. I hear him quietly say,
"I kill me."
I pick up the lamp one more time, lift it above my head and end his washed up life.
"No, I kill you Alf. I...kill...you."
I pick up the cat and ran out the door. I never looked back and I never wanted to. To this day I wonder what could have been, what could have happened if I would have chosen the "dark side" but then I looked at the cat I saved, who I named ALF, and it all kind of fades away. Oh crap, the cat puked again. Oh man, it's eating it's own puke. Why is there cat hair on my coat? I guess life on Melmac was never this tough.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
The Rise and Fall of Such a Perfect Thing
I can't wait for this month to be over with so I can stop hearing about everyone's New Year's Resolutions. "I'm going to stop smoking." "I'm going to go on a diet." "I'm gonna stop cheating on my girlfriend." For fuck's sake. Somebody shoot me. Well only shoot me if that was your New Year's Resolution because in the long run nobody EVER follows through on them. How do I know this? Well I'd see a lot more thinner people, a lot less people smoking outside and well, you get the picture.
I do have this theory that the "Resolution" was invented by some poor guy who was sick of being nagged by his wife.
"When are you going to get off your ass and fix this sink?"
"When are you going to spend more time with me?"
"When? When? When?"
So he came up with a genius thing called a New Year's Resolution, to get the old hag off his back, to give him some time to finish watching the game or taking a nap.
"Honey, I will be more productive next year. It will be my New Year's Resloution."
"What is that?" she asks.
"It's something that I've set out for the New Year. It means that this is the one thing that I'm going to change about myself, to make me a better person. It's a promise to myself and to you. I love you so much."
And this worked. For years he was able to get out of doing things. And he lived a happy life for a very long, long time but it was perfect, too perfect because this beautiful thing will be tainted when his wife finally caught on to his little scheme. And soon after, his wall came crashing down.
"Honey, will you give me a blow job?"
"Honey, will you make me dinner?"
"Honey, will you pick me up some beer?"
To which her reply was,
"I'm sorry I've been slacking off in those areas, It will be my New Year's Resolution for next year."
And with that statement the New Year's Resolution spread throughout the world like a virus. Each man and woman using it as an excuse so people wouldn't think they were lazy, or so people would leave them alone, or so it could buy them some time in order for other's to forget. And to this day it means just as much as it did when it was first used. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. So If you really want it to mean something, don't tell anyone, especially don't tell me, because then it will actually mean something rather then just being a "New Year's Resolution."
I do have this theory that the "Resolution" was invented by some poor guy who was sick of being nagged by his wife.
"When are you going to get off your ass and fix this sink?"
"When are you going to spend more time with me?"
"When? When? When?"
So he came up with a genius thing called a New Year's Resolution, to get the old hag off his back, to give him some time to finish watching the game or taking a nap.
"Honey, I will be more productive next year. It will be my New Year's Resloution."
"What is that?" she asks.
"It's something that I've set out for the New Year. It means that this is the one thing that I'm going to change about myself, to make me a better person. It's a promise to myself and to you. I love you so much."
And this worked. For years he was able to get out of doing things. And he lived a happy life for a very long, long time but it was perfect, too perfect because this beautiful thing will be tainted when his wife finally caught on to his little scheme. And soon after, his wall came crashing down.
"Honey, will you give me a blow job?"
"Honey, will you make me dinner?"
"Honey, will you pick me up some beer?"
To which her reply was,
"I'm sorry I've been slacking off in those areas, It will be my New Year's Resolution for next year."
And with that statement the New Year's Resolution spread throughout the world like a virus. Each man and woman using it as an excuse so people wouldn't think they were lazy, or so people would leave them alone, or so it could buy them some time in order for other's to forget. And to this day it means just as much as it did when it was first used. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. So If you really want it to mean something, don't tell anyone, especially don't tell me, because then it will actually mean something rather then just being a "New Year's Resolution."
Why Chivalry is Dead
To all my peeps out there, this is an old story which happened to me a couple of years ago. It would take place at the worst and piece of shit bar in Kalamazoo called The...wait...I'm not even gonna advertise. So enjoy a flash from my past.
I had a conversation with a friend of mine the other day about how chivalry is dead. She told me that she thought that guys were jerks and for the most part they only think about themselves. I just kind of laughed at her but it made me think, “Is this true? Am I the kind of guy that only thinks of himself, that puts himself ahead of other people?” A week later I was presented with a situation that would answer that question.
Put yourself in my position. I’m at the local dance club on a Thursday night, having a great time. I’m dancing with a girl friend (see the space, it means we were just friends, not dating) of mine when a man out of control bumps into her. He’s 5’4”, skinny as a toothpick and is wearing glasses. I look to see if she’s ok and she has a, “I can’t believe that guy just did that,” look on her face. What would you do?
Jump five minutes into the future. The man gets up in my face and starts talking shit. I’m 6-1, 210, so to me this guy is a little Chihuahua, just barking at me with no bite. A bouncer comes up to me and asks me to leave. Feeling like I’m in third grade I tell him, “but he started it.” But it doesn’t matter at this time. Trying to figure out what is going on, the other bouncers start forming a wall. A wall of meat heads walking towards me, forcing me out the door. Walking slowly backwards the little man who bumped into my friend pops his head up from behind the wall. “Yeah, fuck you! You can’t mess with me! I work here!”
After a few words exchanged, my friend and I go to the car. Surprisingly enough, my friend is more upset then I am with the situation. Calming him down I see in the corner of my eye two guys walking towards us. The only thought coming to my mind is, “these guys must have had a bad night,” because they looked drunk and pissed off with life. Out of nowhere, I get blind sided by one of the guy’s fists. It connects to the left side of my face, and the other connects to the right. I started to go down to one knee but somehow managed to stay up. My buddy becomes Clifford Peache, from My Bodyguard, and gets the guys off of me. They run off into the night while we try and put our torn shirts back on. The bouncer from the bar is yelling from the door at us to leave the property. I yell back at him, “We just got jumped,” which his only reply was, “don’t worry about them, they ran off.” Was that a conspiracy in the works? Yes it was ladies and gentlemen. I was just a made man and these “enforcers of rules” turned the other way. I went into their clubhouse, I played by their rules but somehow I was the bad guy in the situation.
So what did I say to bring this upon me? What did I do to get kicked out and jumped in the parking lot? “Hey buddy, you bumped into my lady friend here, could you please apologize to her.” In reality, all I wanted was for this guy to say sorry to my friend and that would have been the end of it; Scouts honor, cross my heart.
“So what happened to the girl? Was she ok?” Of course she was, she saw what happened to me, but stayed in there and danced the rest of the night away. The real kicker was that I stood up for her, I took a beating in the parking lot and she continued to go back to that place each and every week because, “it is a fun place.” Each week she let me know how they treated me like shit but yet, she still went. So look what Chivalry gets you now a days; getting kicked out of a bar, a bruised ego and two sore cheeks. And adies wonder why Chivalry is dead.
I had a conversation with a friend of mine the other day about how chivalry is dead. She told me that she thought that guys were jerks and for the most part they only think about themselves. I just kind of laughed at her but it made me think, “Is this true? Am I the kind of guy that only thinks of himself, that puts himself ahead of other people?” A week later I was presented with a situation that would answer that question.
Put yourself in my position. I’m at the local dance club on a Thursday night, having a great time. I’m dancing with a girl friend (see the space, it means we were just friends, not dating) of mine when a man out of control bumps into her. He’s 5’4”, skinny as a toothpick and is wearing glasses. I look to see if she’s ok and she has a, “I can’t believe that guy just did that,” look on her face. What would you do?
Jump five minutes into the future. The man gets up in my face and starts talking shit. I’m 6-1, 210, so to me this guy is a little Chihuahua, just barking at me with no bite. A bouncer comes up to me and asks me to leave. Feeling like I’m in third grade I tell him, “but he started it.” But it doesn’t matter at this time. Trying to figure out what is going on, the other bouncers start forming a wall. A wall of meat heads walking towards me, forcing me out the door. Walking slowly backwards the little man who bumped into my friend pops his head up from behind the wall. “Yeah, fuck you! You can’t mess with me! I work here!”
After a few words exchanged, my friend and I go to the car. Surprisingly enough, my friend is more upset then I am with the situation. Calming him down I see in the corner of my eye two guys walking towards us. The only thought coming to my mind is, “these guys must have had a bad night,” because they looked drunk and pissed off with life. Out of nowhere, I get blind sided by one of the guy’s fists. It connects to the left side of my face, and the other connects to the right. I started to go down to one knee but somehow managed to stay up. My buddy becomes Clifford Peache, from My Bodyguard, and gets the guys off of me. They run off into the night while we try and put our torn shirts back on. The bouncer from the bar is yelling from the door at us to leave the property. I yell back at him, “We just got jumped,” which his only reply was, “don’t worry about them, they ran off.” Was that a conspiracy in the works? Yes it was ladies and gentlemen. I was just a made man and these “enforcers of rules” turned the other way. I went into their clubhouse, I played by their rules but somehow I was the bad guy in the situation.
So what did I say to bring this upon me? What did I do to get kicked out and jumped in the parking lot? “Hey buddy, you bumped into my lady friend here, could you please apologize to her.” In reality, all I wanted was for this guy to say sorry to my friend and that would have been the end of it; Scouts honor, cross my heart.
“So what happened to the girl? Was she ok?” Of course she was, she saw what happened to me, but stayed in there and danced the rest of the night away. The real kicker was that I stood up for her, I took a beating in the parking lot and she continued to go back to that place each and every week because, “it is a fun place.” Each week she let me know how they treated me like shit but yet, she still went. So look what Chivalry gets you now a days; getting kicked out of a bar, a bruised ego and two sore cheeks. And adies wonder why Chivalry is dead.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Nirvana and Me....
After recieving the Nirvana box set for X-Mas I sit here at almost five in the morning drinking and listening to these tracks. It brings me back to the days of when I was confused. When my head was bigger then my body (Yes, I was a living bobble head) and when I wasn't invited to parties, when my friends had to ask the "host" if could go or not.
Ok, well Nirvana wasn't around back then but it's what I think of most. My insecurities. It reminds me of a day when I dedicated "Heart Shape Box" to Kelly Meninga because I didn't know what else to give her. I figured I gave her everything else, including the Kitchen sink, but it just didn't seem like it was gonna work. So who was there to guide me through this? A man who was more miserable then me and in some sick, fucked up way, I really admired him for that. I wish he hadn't killed himself but such is life. I got over it. The beauty to music is that no matter what the artist has done in the past, present or sometimes even the future, they can connect to you in a way that is really hard to explain. Their songs trigger something in our brain, that is a constant reminder of a certain place or time. It's not always a good place, sometimes it's a shitty place that we wish we'd never have to go, but either way, it's a place that's real. That keeps us alive. That keeps us wanting to breathe. To take in the life surrounding us. And even though some of these artists didn't want that same thing, they are giving it to us each and everytime we hit play on the c.d. player. To sit back and relax, and relate.
There have been times I wish I never met Kelly. There have been times when I wish I took back all of those hours we spent together. The times we talked till the wee hours of the night, but there has never been a time when I wanted to take back her "Heart Shaped Box."
Ok, well Nirvana wasn't around back then but it's what I think of most. My insecurities. It reminds me of a day when I dedicated "Heart Shape Box" to Kelly Meninga because I didn't know what else to give her. I figured I gave her everything else, including the Kitchen sink, but it just didn't seem like it was gonna work. So who was there to guide me through this? A man who was more miserable then me and in some sick, fucked up way, I really admired him for that. I wish he hadn't killed himself but such is life. I got over it. The beauty to music is that no matter what the artist has done in the past, present or sometimes even the future, they can connect to you in a way that is really hard to explain. Their songs trigger something in our brain, that is a constant reminder of a certain place or time. It's not always a good place, sometimes it's a shitty place that we wish we'd never have to go, but either way, it's a place that's real. That keeps us alive. That keeps us wanting to breathe. To take in the life surrounding us. And even though some of these artists didn't want that same thing, they are giving it to us each and everytime we hit play on the c.d. player. To sit back and relax, and relate.
There have been times I wish I never met Kelly. There have been times when I wish I took back all of those hours we spent together. The times we talked till the wee hours of the night, but there has never been a time when I wanted to take back her "Heart Shaped Box."
Sunday, December 19, 2004
The Power of Chubby...
Have you ever gotten one of those songs stuck in your head, the kind of song that just came out of no where? Then it's stuck in your head the whole day and you can't get it out. I really hate when that happens and it happened to me yesterday. It was quite an odd experience for me. I was getting ready to take my daily shower when all of the sudden "The Twist" by Cubby Checker and the Fat Boys pops into my head. Then it was like my brain put it on heavy rotation and wouldn't stop playing it, with no commercial breaks.
I finish taking my shower and dry off. I put my clothes on (Yes, I shower naked) and walk into the computer room where my brother and his girlfriend are at their computers playing a game. I start singing that song out loud when my brother asks me,
"Why have you been singing that song?"
What did he mean by that? Could he have read into my mind or was it stuck in his head too? Was this song spreading the nation?
"Why did you ask me that?"
"Because you were singing it in the shower."
Holy shit. I must have blocked it out. I had no idea that I was singing that song out loud, I only thought it was in my head. If I did that without knowing it, what else could I have done? Was this some type of government conspiracy and that song was my trigger? I don't know. I may never know. It was missing time and it was all because of "The Twist." I want those five minutes back. I want my life back Chubby. Damn you! Damn you all to hell!
I finish taking my shower and dry off. I put my clothes on (Yes, I shower naked) and walk into the computer room where my brother and his girlfriend are at their computers playing a game. I start singing that song out loud when my brother asks me,
"Why have you been singing that song?"
What did he mean by that? Could he have read into my mind or was it stuck in his head too? Was this song spreading the nation?
"Why did you ask me that?"
"Because you were singing it in the shower."
Holy shit. I must have blocked it out. I had no idea that I was singing that song out loud, I only thought it was in my head. If I did that without knowing it, what else could I have done? Was this some type of government conspiracy and that song was my trigger? I don't know. I may never know. It was missing time and it was all because of "The Twist." I want those five minutes back. I want my life back Chubby. Damn you! Damn you all to hell!
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year...
As I work at a customer service job in the mall, I get to hear all of the great holiday music. It really puts me in the Christmas mood. (Yes, that was sarcasim) The thing is, the more I listen to the music, the more I realize that my sweet, innocent child hood understandstandings of the lyrics have changed. It's as if people are blind to this and I put on those sunglass from "They Live" and I'm the only one that can see. "Oh Dan, calm down. You don't know what you're talking about." I do know and if you take my hand, let me walk you down the path of enlightenment. You think you know, but you have no idea.
"Do They Know It's Christmas," is a pefect example of one of those songs you remember growing up as a child. It was written and sang by an all-star cast for the Band-Aid charity, that helped raise money for Africa. I have heard numerous people tell me that it is this great Christmas song. I don't think people really listen to the lyrics and only like it because it's a catchy tune. I'm not going to go in great detail but I think that this one part is a perfect example of what I'm trying to get across.
And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time,
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life,
Where nothing ever grows,
No rain nor river flows,
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?
Ok, so the first thing is that it does snow in Africa. Granted it's not all over the place but there are some great ski resorts in southern Africa so there will be snow in some places for Christmas. The thing that really urks me about this song is that they are asking the question, "Do they know it's Christmas?" and my response is only this...Why would they care? Christmas is a CHRISTIAN holiday. Not everyone in the world are Christian's. Forty percent of the people who live in Africa are Islamic. Yes, I know that it was meant to raise money but do the kids now a days know that? When they hear this they probably think, "Man, that place is fucked up. No presents? I couldn't have that."
Next song is, "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause." I know that Santa Claus is the dad but I mean if you think about it, what if you were that kid? "Mommy's cheating on Daddy with jolly ol' St. Nick." In my mind, that just isn't right and not something we should be playing to the young ones. A child shouldn't witness his mother cheating on his dad with anyone, especially Santa. I love getting presents but at the cost of my parents getting divorced...I'm not sure. And when he moved in with us, it would always be in the back of my mind, "Santa's only giving me these gifts so I'd be happy and then mommy would be happy and there's no way that I'd ever call him Daddy number 2."
Ok...one last song...I promise...especially since I wrote this already and for some reason it did not save. Know this one, "Santa Baby"? Yeah, it's pretty much a song about a woman trying to seduce Santa. I mean, she must know that he's married but yet she's still trying to show this man the "other side of the mountain". Come on lady...this is adultry. She must be someone who had a bad childhood. People laugh and think it's a cute song but in reality, she's trying to ruin X-Mas. Is she really that lonely that she wants to want to sleep with a man who is so old he farts dust? I guess so. What's next, giving the Easter Bunny a hand job?
Ok, so I really do love Christmas but there are just some things that bother me. I really am not that bitter...most of the time...but don't push me cause I'm close to the edge. Silver and Gold and Wonderful Christmas Time are great Amercain songs (even though Paul is English). Listen to them, learn them and live it. I promise you that you will have a much happier Christmas. So Happy Holidays to you and to all of your loved ones and the next time you see Santa making out with someone, just remember if it is worth being put on his "naughty" list or not.
"Do They Know It's Christmas," is a pefect example of one of those songs you remember growing up as a child. It was written and sang by an all-star cast for the Band-Aid charity, that helped raise money for Africa. I have heard numerous people tell me that it is this great Christmas song. I don't think people really listen to the lyrics and only like it because it's a catchy tune. I'm not going to go in great detail but I think that this one part is a perfect example of what I'm trying to get across.
And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time,
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life,
Where nothing ever grows,
No rain nor river flows,
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?
Ok, so the first thing is that it does snow in Africa. Granted it's not all over the place but there are some great ski resorts in southern Africa so there will be snow in some places for Christmas. The thing that really urks me about this song is that they are asking the question, "Do they know it's Christmas?" and my response is only this...Why would they care? Christmas is a CHRISTIAN holiday. Not everyone in the world are Christian's. Forty percent of the people who live in Africa are Islamic. Yes, I know that it was meant to raise money but do the kids now a days know that? When they hear this they probably think, "Man, that place is fucked up. No presents? I couldn't have that."
Next song is, "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause." I know that Santa Claus is the dad but I mean if you think about it, what if you were that kid? "Mommy's cheating on Daddy with jolly ol' St. Nick." In my mind, that just isn't right and not something we should be playing to the young ones. A child shouldn't witness his mother cheating on his dad with anyone, especially Santa. I love getting presents but at the cost of my parents getting divorced...I'm not sure. And when he moved in with us, it would always be in the back of my mind, "Santa's only giving me these gifts so I'd be happy and then mommy would be happy and there's no way that I'd ever call him Daddy number 2."
Ok...one last song...I promise...especially since I wrote this already and for some reason it did not save. Know this one, "Santa Baby"? Yeah, it's pretty much a song about a woman trying to seduce Santa. I mean, she must know that he's married but yet she's still trying to show this man the "other side of the mountain". Come on lady...this is adultry. She must be someone who had a bad childhood. People laugh and think it's a cute song but in reality, she's trying to ruin X-Mas. Is she really that lonely that she wants to want to sleep with a man who is so old he farts dust? I guess so. What's next, giving the Easter Bunny a hand job?
Ok, so I really do love Christmas but there are just some things that bother me. I really am not that bitter...most of the time...but don't push me cause I'm close to the edge. Silver and Gold and Wonderful Christmas Time are great Amercain songs (even though Paul is English). Listen to them, learn them and live it. I promise you that you will have a much happier Christmas. So Happy Holidays to you and to all of your loved ones and the next time you see Santa making out with someone, just remember if it is worth being put on his "naughty" list or not.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
My first date with Kelly Clarkson
I was really nervous picking up Kelly in my white 99 Dodge Neon. For once, in about a year, I really cleaned it out. I even bought one of those nice little air freshners, the one that looks like a pine tree. If she only knew that I had done that. I don't do that for anyone.
I went to the front door and rang the doorbell. I couldn't really hear anything because my heart was pounding so hard. I wasn't sure if she would like Tulips or Daisies so I bought them both doing the typical movie scene, holding them behind my back.
She answered the door. She looked amazing, though I'm sure she would look good in anything. I handed her the flowers and to my suprise she liked them, all of them. She invited me in and told me she just had to finish something up before we left. I looked around and her house had a nice Southern feel to it. Like something you'd want your kids to grow up in.
"Do you want something to drink," she said as she poked her head around the corner.
"Sure."
"Great, I made this drink last night and I think you'll really enjoy it."
She walked from the kitchen with a glass filled with a red drink.
"Enjoy."
I took the drink from her and sipped from the rim of the glass. It tasted dry, like when you put your tongue on a piece of paper towel, but I did not want to upset her so I continued to drink. I could see the anticipation in her eyes.
"Boy you were thirsty," she said as she took the glass from me.
"I don't have a Kool-Aide mustache do I?"
She covered her mouth as she giggled and said in her cute southern accent,
"Yeah, but it's cute."
She went into the Kitchen and came back with a wet napkin. She wiped the corners of my mouth. Her soft hand grazed my cheek. My face started to get warm. The room started to spin. Is this what love feels like? Am I in love with her? The room started spinning faster and faster and my face started to feel like it was on fire. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. I started fading in and out until I was knocked out.
When I woke up, I was tied to a wood chair. From behind me I heard a voice.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you...much."
"What's going on? Why did you tie me up?"
"Well Daniel, is it ok if I call you Daniel? There are two reasons why I did this two you. The first reason is that I don't like Tulips and I really, really hate Daisies. If you knew anything about me you would have known that. The other reason is because of something you said about a friend of mine."
"What are you talking about? Are you crazy?"
"No, I'm not crazy at all. I am just sick of guys like you thinking you can be all cute and nice to me and get away with it."
"What did I do? What did I say?"
"Oh, you don't remember? Playing innocent huh? Do you remember when you told her friend Dana that you said that Mr. T is getting old?"
"No, I don't."
"Well you did. I happen to be friends with the bartender at the bar you were at when you told her that."
I broke out in a cold sweat. It was like everything I had been waiting for has turned into a cup of sour milk. How was I supposed to know that she was friends with Mr. T and how was I supposed to know that he was so sensitive about his age. Kelly's phone rings and she answers it.
"Hey you. I have him here. Are you coming over?"
Was she talking to Mr. T? Holy shit was he coming over? I wonder if I could get his autograph. No, focus Dan. I have a feeling that this isn't going to turn out good. I look around the room for something to grab onto. How could have I forgotten my Swiss Army Knife? She didn't even take it. Man, she's not a very good villian. It just so happens that my knife is in my back pocket. Luckily when Kelly talks, she doesn't pay much attention to what's going on around her. I was able to cut through the rope. She really needs to get stronger rope in the future. I cut my body free from the chair. I pick up the chair and raise it above my head. I bring it crashing down over her back. It shatters into a million pieces and she goes crashing to the ground. The phone slides across the concrete pavement. I walk over to it and pick it up. I hear Mr. T blabbering on the phone.
"Mr. T, this is Dan. I'm sorry to inform you but I've just foiled your plans."
"Dan, I wasn't going to do anything bad to you, fool. I just had baked a nice warm chocolate cake in my E-Z back oven and I wanted to bring it over to you."
In a way, his voice was soothing but I would not fall for his trickery.
"Mr. T,I know you don't know how to use an E-Z back oven. Nice try. I'm out of here."
I hung up the phone and threw it on the floor. Kelly looked so pretty on laying there knocked out. I got down on one knee and leaned in and kissed her on her lips.
"I'm sorry Kelly, I don't think there will be a second date."
I stood up and ran up the stairs. I found myself standing in the living room standing in front of a huge window. I took a couple steps back and then made a dash towards the window. I jumped through the window, glass falling everywhere. I was able to make a perfect landing on the soft, green grass outide. I tied up a loose shoe string and ran off into the sunset. This is the last time I will ever date a muscian.
I went to the front door and rang the doorbell. I couldn't really hear anything because my heart was pounding so hard. I wasn't sure if she would like Tulips or Daisies so I bought them both doing the typical movie scene, holding them behind my back.
She answered the door. She looked amazing, though I'm sure she would look good in anything. I handed her the flowers and to my suprise she liked them, all of them. She invited me in and told me she just had to finish something up before we left. I looked around and her house had a nice Southern feel to it. Like something you'd want your kids to grow up in.
"Do you want something to drink," she said as she poked her head around the corner.
"Sure."
"Great, I made this drink last night and I think you'll really enjoy it."
She walked from the kitchen with a glass filled with a red drink.
"Enjoy."
I took the drink from her and sipped from the rim of the glass. It tasted dry, like when you put your tongue on a piece of paper towel, but I did not want to upset her so I continued to drink. I could see the anticipation in her eyes.
"Boy you were thirsty," she said as she took the glass from me.
"I don't have a Kool-Aide mustache do I?"
She covered her mouth as she giggled and said in her cute southern accent,
"Yeah, but it's cute."
She went into the Kitchen and came back with a wet napkin. She wiped the corners of my mouth. Her soft hand grazed my cheek. My face started to get warm. The room started to spin. Is this what love feels like? Am I in love with her? The room started spinning faster and faster and my face started to feel like it was on fire. I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. I started fading in and out until I was knocked out.
When I woke up, I was tied to a wood chair. From behind me I heard a voice.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you...much."
"What's going on? Why did you tie me up?"
"Well Daniel, is it ok if I call you Daniel? There are two reasons why I did this two you. The first reason is that I don't like Tulips and I really, really hate Daisies. If you knew anything about me you would have known that. The other reason is because of something you said about a friend of mine."
"What are you talking about? Are you crazy?"
"No, I'm not crazy at all. I am just sick of guys like you thinking you can be all cute and nice to me and get away with it."
"What did I do? What did I say?"
"Oh, you don't remember? Playing innocent huh? Do you remember when you told her friend Dana that you said that Mr. T is getting old?"
"No, I don't."
"Well you did. I happen to be friends with the bartender at the bar you were at when you told her that."
I broke out in a cold sweat. It was like everything I had been waiting for has turned into a cup of sour milk. How was I supposed to know that she was friends with Mr. T and how was I supposed to know that he was so sensitive about his age. Kelly's phone rings and she answers it.
"Hey you. I have him here. Are you coming over?"
Was she talking to Mr. T? Holy shit was he coming over? I wonder if I could get his autograph. No, focus Dan. I have a feeling that this isn't going to turn out good. I look around the room for something to grab onto. How could have I forgotten my Swiss Army Knife? She didn't even take it. Man, she's not a very good villian. It just so happens that my knife is in my back pocket. Luckily when Kelly talks, she doesn't pay much attention to what's going on around her. I was able to cut through the rope. She really needs to get stronger rope in the future. I cut my body free from the chair. I pick up the chair and raise it above my head. I bring it crashing down over her back. It shatters into a million pieces and she goes crashing to the ground. The phone slides across the concrete pavement. I walk over to it and pick it up. I hear Mr. T blabbering on the phone.
"Mr. T, this is Dan. I'm sorry to inform you but I've just foiled your plans."
"Dan, I wasn't going to do anything bad to you, fool. I just had baked a nice warm chocolate cake in my E-Z back oven and I wanted to bring it over to you."
In a way, his voice was soothing but I would not fall for his trickery.
"Mr. T,I know you don't know how to use an E-Z back oven. Nice try. I'm out of here."
I hung up the phone and threw it on the floor. Kelly looked so pretty on laying there knocked out. I got down on one knee and leaned in and kissed her on her lips.
"I'm sorry Kelly, I don't think there will be a second date."
I stood up and ran up the stairs. I found myself standing in the living room standing in front of a huge window. I took a couple steps back and then made a dash towards the window. I jumped through the window, glass falling everywhere. I was able to make a perfect landing on the soft, green grass outide. I tied up a loose shoe string and ran off into the sunset. This is the last time I will ever date a muscian.
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