Andy Dufresne, Inmate 37927

Update + return from Asheville

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 04:01:44 GMT

Like Memento, let me start at the end and work my way backwards.

This past weekend I went to Asheville. Kind of a trip to clear my head, hit reset if you will. It was hotter'n the blazes of hell. That aside, it was a good trip. Found out that the bookstore I loved so much, the one with a Westvaco section, had closed its doors. Did stumble upon a couple of new music stores, all of which were chick full 'o records. Then there were the bookstores. A new one, at least to me, was cool. Though the owner seemed to be a obnoxious twat. I asked about some books in a glass case [hell, most every book in there was encased one way or 'nother], and he retorted "that's the $500 and up case. Do you still want to inquire about those books?" That, if you can picture it, with a snooty edge. I have enough money in the bank, actually thought about say "why hell yeah. Crack that fucker open ya slack-jawed sumbitch." :) I only liberated two books from that bookstore, which shall remain unnamed.

All totaled up, here's what I came home with:

Books:
John Man - The Gutenberg Revolution [HC, First]
Jim Thompson - The Criminal
Jim Thompson - Roughneck
Larry McMurty - Roads [HC, First]
Larry McMurty - Loop Group [HC, First]
Larry McMurty - Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen [HC, First]
Larry McMurty - When The Light Goes [HC, First]
J.R. Moehringer - The Tender Bar: A Memoir [HC, First]
Walter Cronkite - A Reporter's Life [HC, First] [which I've already read, but it was $5. So I couldn't pass it by]
Charles Dickens - American Notes [Westvaco Edition]

CDs:
Mike Ness - Under the Influence
Chet Baker - In Paris: The Barclay Sessions 1955-56
Built To Spill - You In Reverse
Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
Pelican - City of Echoes
Fugazi - In On The Kill Taker

Vinyl:
Bill Cosby - To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With [which is a hilarious album]

I spent right around $100 on all of the above. The CDs pushed me closer at about $7 a piece. I got really good deals on all of the books.

Alright, Asheville trip out of the way. Don't plan on doing a NYC/NJ or Savannah round up. Been too long ago, and there's no real point to it now. In the future, as in October, I'll try to do my travelogue closer to my arrival back in town. Coming up in October is a road trip damn near epic in width and breadth. I'm going to try and head in a big loop hitting the following cities: Memphis, Little Rock, St. Louis, Louisville, Lexington, and London [KY smartass :) To see family]. With that I'll be heading due south in the direction of my home in Knocks-vull.

I'm also going to consolidate all my blogs. I have five total, which is way too many. I'm reworking the design of my website now, and am going to do all my blogging on there. In the early part I'll still post a link here. I'm going to try and blog more, but we'll see how that works out. Well, there's one blog that'll still remain on its own. Todd has pulled me into the idea of doing a political commentary / local commentary blog. With it we'll post on other blogs to gain a bit of notoriety for ours. I reckon, out of the two of us, I'll be the more folksy, semi-literate poster. :)

What else? Hmmmm... not much new going on. Well, nothing I really want to speak about. First half of the year was pretty rough. Going to try and make this stretch into the beginning of my thirtieth year on this spinning orb a wee better. As Farnsworth said, separate the wheat from the chaff.

Anything I've left out, hell, remind me. I'm gettin' older than dirt. :)

My 'Nerd Test' results

Thu, 22 May 2008 21:21:12 GMT

I finally joined the 21st century...

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 00:27:05 GMT

... and bought an iPod. I got an 80 GB iPod Classic.

The passing of a great one.

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 01:58:18 GMT

I always find it odd at the receiving of friends and funerals of one of my close relatives that all sorts of distant people come out of the woodwork to tell you how wonderful the departed was while living. Because, for the most part, these are people that rarely ever saw the deceased. I can still remember a distant cousin from my grandmother's side talking to me about my grandfather. Which was odd because said cousin lived in Kentucky, and only saw my grandfather twice a year.

Not that I'm complaining. The four people from my immediately family that have passed on are people to be lauded. Especially my grandfather, and now, my grandmother.

A giant slice of my youth was spent at my paternal grandparents house. I would head up there on Friday evenings , and not go home until Sunday evenings. Throughout the summer I would accompany my grandmother on her sojourns across the vast landscape of the south, and ride along when she delivered meals to home-bound invalids. When not away with my grandmother, I would go with my grandfather to work on people's homes, and just any place in general he went to.

My grandfather was a giant man. One that I was always fearful to irritate. It wasn't until I started to become a young man that I truly appreciated and talked to my grandfather more and more. He passed in 1998, and not a day goes by that I don't wish he was still here. There have been moments of decision in life that I feel would have been a more comfortable transition had I been able to talk with my grandfather first. Though my dad and mom have stepped in, especially in the last couple of years.

My grandmother was a great woman. She was the backbone of our family, and the best damn cook I've ever met. It's still odd using "was," the past tense. She left us last Tuesday. By "left" I don't mean she went on traveling bus to Boone, NC. I mean she passed away. She had had a rough last few years, eaten away with Alzheimer's. That disease is the kind of travesty that makes me want to punch God in the face. It used to pain me so much to see her, a shell of the strong-willed woman she once was.

I'll miss her. No doubt about that.

Brewers' Jam poster

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 01:40:29 GMT

I'm trying to work drawing into my design more often now. Now I'm no MC Escher, so the art ain't that damn great. I realize this. But anyways, here's my latest effort for a local Brewers' Jam.

Nature - 0; Jody - 2

Mon, 30 Jul 2007 19:44:50 GMT

Nature - 0; Jody - 2

Big John used to let me tag along on his treks through the Smokies. We would hike from the highest peaks, through the lowest valleys. Even though I battled through pain the week after, I always enjoyed our hikes. We both would become so entrenched in the beauty around us that, for the most part, we would go miles upon miles without speaking. There was no need. You fully realize the un-necessarity of the human thought spoken aloud when you happen upon a doe dipping it's head to the water, getting a drink. I still remember clearly the trip back from Abrams Falls. We were bounding along when I noticed, through the trees, a single deer calmly drinking from the creek. I stopped, walked to the edge of the tree line, and openly stared. The tops of mountains are fantastic, but I don't think a solitary moment in all my journeys has meant as much to me as seeing that doe.

Since our falling out, I have yet to go on an official hike. Two years had passed, and I came to the conclusion that that was far to much time to have forgone a trip to the Smokies. In that early, dewy moment right before dawn on Memorial Day I headed out to visit Charles Bunion.

According to Kevin Adams of Trails.com "Charles Bunion is a classic Smokies hike and can be crowded any time of year except winter." He was somewhat right. I passed many a hiker that day, but it wasn't too overly crowded. I even happened upon a few through hikers.* The biggest problem I had was the [hold on a sec whilst I revert into backwards ass hillbilly mode] group of effin', Yankee ass, day hikers. There was a group of five of them. They typified everything that rednecks of this area bitch about. They were loud, obnoxious, and clearly not aware of other people nor the beautiful landscapes around them. The bulk of the time spent at the Bunion, a craggily rock face to which I decided to make my stopping point, they were bouncing around, being noisy, and, most importantly, pissing me off. Now mind you, we're around 6,000 ft above sea level. The drop off from the Bunion was both swift and fatal. Many a moment passed where I thought about knocking those dumbasses off the side of the mountain. Hell, they were worse than little children. I don't think for one moment that they ever really paid attention to the world around them. These types shouldn't hike. They should run marathons, or some such event. The bountiful lushness of the Smokies is completely lost on these fools.

Enough bitching.

The rest of my travel was nice. I did have to stop a few times because of both a pulled left calf [from my own dumbassness of not taking enough water], and the treacherous incline. I soon realized that on most of my hikes with John, we mainly stuck to somewhat straight trails. Inclines are not really my forte.

Charles Bunion = 8 miles roundtrip; 1,500 feet incline

Then I realized that I do, in fact, live in the shadow of the Great Smoky MOUNTAINS National Park. Mountains mean ascension. Ascension means sore knees, and strained calves for this here big fella.

Upon hobbling into work the Tuesday after Memorial Day I began chatting to one of the other designers on our team, Todd. He's an avid, way-the-hell-more-advanced hiker than I, and wanted to tag along next trip. We figured out a time that would work best, and he picked out the hike. He chose the lengthy trip to Spence Field via the Anthony Creek trail to Spence Field which starts in the valley right before Cades Cove.

Way before the crack of dawn, with two hefty griddle cakes in my belly, we headed to the mountains. We arrived at one of the many Cades Cove parking areas, and looked around for our trailhead. It was nowhere to be found. Going back to the Guide Book, it mentioned that the trailhead was at the back of the camping area... which was a good mile from where we parked. We decided "screw it," and headed off. The "camping" area is not really for real camping, it's for campers. Those big, typically off white mobile homes. That's not truly camping. Camping is when you're out in the middle of the forest, with only wildlife as your company. Those people in the "campsite" were merely hanging out near the woods.

One of the first things we noticed, upon hitting the trailhead, was that this trail was also a horse riding trail. That meant we had to be on the lookout for stink nuggets, and horse mines. We spent the better part of the trip hollering out "shit!" whenever we came upon a pellet, trail, or pile of scat.

The trip to Spence Field via the Anthony Creek trail was vertical. And I do mean vertical. Some pieces were nothing more than a zig-zag at an incredibly difficult incline. I'm not ashamed to admit that on many an occasion I had to stop in order to recuperate. The whole time I was thinking "what the hell are through hikers thinking? This is nuts!" Then it happened. We cleared the trees, reaching the apex.

Beautiful is a word thrown around a lot. Sure there are interchangeable words like majestic, bountiful, lovely, charming, delightful, appealing, gorgeous, stunning, arresting, beguiling, exquisite, aesthetically pleasing, magnificent, divine. Hell they're all good adjectives, but none are descriptive enough to fully encompass the look, hell the feeling, from being on top of a mountain. It's almost euphoric. I don't know whether it's exertion from the climb or simply the view, but something changes when you've hoofed it all the way to the top. Your body is no longer weary, your mind is completely clear, and everything seems to just click into place.

Upon finding a little alcove made by trees, we sat down, ate some grub, and almost immediately passed out. Upon my waking, Todd asked the time. I figured, worst case scenario, that I had napped for but a few minutes. Looking at my cell phone I realized it had been over an hour. "Shit." This time there was no horse feces in the vicinity. We decided is was high time to hoist our gear, and shake a leg. We bounded about the top of the mountain, scoping views from all of the open vistas of Spence Field.

Descending a mountain is in the realm of possibility for me. It's not really a problem, unless my boys are dying. Then the yellow flag is let out, caution taken into consideration. The biggest hurdle, when heading southbound, is that the trip will work muscles in your calves that normally do not get tested. Which is usually not that bad, until the rise of the sun the following morn. At that juncture it'll feel like the acupuncturist left a square foot of needles in your calves.

All in all it was a good trip. The later part, right towards the end, we started babbling on about BBQ pizza and beer. It's like we had already imbibed massive quantities of beer, bounding around loosely, screaming about our boys dying, and trying to channel our innermost John Wayne.

Spence Field via the Anthony Creek trail = 11 miles roundtrip; 3,300 feet incline

* Through hikers are people attacking the monumental task that is hiking the entire Appalachian Trail. These people are easily noticeable by their sweat-soaked clothes, rabid look in the eyes, and wavy lines above their head showcasing the long stretches without bathing.**

** While I poke fun at those crazy bastards that attempt to hike the entire AT I still have utmost respect for their shear determination. Hell, I cannot go on a day hike without injuring myself in some form or fashion.

Words

Mon, 04 Jun 2007 16:27:20 GMT

I cannot spell the word definitely to save my life. If I were in some wild-haired situation where the lives of millions depended on the correct spelling of definitely, well they'd be screwed. Sorry. I do not possess that part of the brain that makes one able to spell that dreaded word.

What are words exactly? The Oxford American Dictionary defines words as "a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence and typically shown with a space on either side when written or printed." Sounds 'bout right to me, but that only scratches the surface. Words can also mean so much more. They can topple nations, breathe beauty into atrocities, and change the definition of sex just by the tone of the usage.

So what have learned over the years? What was ingrained in the majority of us growing up? Choose your words carefully. Some folks use their gifts by crafting reams of exquisiteness. Others wield their power to spew hatred against their fellow human. The see-saw seems to be tipping away from love, skewing towards venom more and more every day.

But enough political mess.

I find myself using non-existent words day in and out. A few times I've been called out on this. Friends saying "that isn't even a word!" So what? What's it really matter in the grand scheme of things? It's not like I'm saying quxstelduch, fully expecting people to understand. Usually it's a modified version of preexisting words, making them fit Round peg into a triangle-shaped hole. If worked properly, it'll still fit. Just be obtuse. Think about it though. If you're using some jimmy-rigged term to emphasize what you're saying, shouldn't that be alright? As long as you're not trying to be oh-so cool, inventing new catch phrases. Those seem to reveal themselves organically more so than being forced upon us.

I think the word that sparked all these bouncy balls in my brain was "crappily." Something of that nature. My buddy stopped me dead in my tracks, and said "that isn't even a word!" My response, since he's getting his MBA, was "hey now, that's a word in my hood. May not be in you big, fancy MBA books." That shut him up. I'm taking great pride in knocking his knees out from under him when he attempts to act superior.

I'm trying to push the way words are used. Most times I fail, but sometimes I succeed. Life's all about those small pockets of success. In those, well hell, not to sound to hokey, but the world clicks into place. Stars align. The moon shines bright... 'n all that shit.

Top Five Fridays: Reader Suggestions

Sat, 19 May 2007 04:24:26 GMT

Alrighty folks, I'm taking a break this week, but have a challenge for each and every one of you that keeps up with my Top Five Fridays. Post your suggestions for what tantalizing subject you'd like to see me tackle. What would you like to hear me mock and ridicule... I mean take on with only the most forthright of thoughts and precise directions? The only thing I ask is that it be something that I am somewhat knowledgeable. Like going to strip clubs, and grilling fresh squirrel. No subject is too risque. Hell, if you post "top five ways to hide a porn collection from wifey," then I'll do it. Wait... that's a good one. Look for it next week. :)

Take care,
Jody

Top Five Fridays - May 11, 2007

Sat, 12 May 2007 05:46:32 GMT

Top Five Fridays - May 11, 2007:
Top five creatures found whilst cleaning the basement.

5) Serpentus terrorizism
The poet Samuel L. Jackson once said "I'm tired of these mothaeffin' snakes on this mothaeffin' plane." You'll feel the same after having had tens of the slippery, no-legged beings scurry around your feet and ankles. Heaven forbid they are big enough to squeeze all of the feeling from your extremities. Then you're in a heap of trouble bubba. One solution to avoidance is to strategically place chairs throughout out the room. This may not be a permanent solution, but will work until the exterminator arrives.

4) Aliendromeo symbioteosaurus
This one is a tricky creature, and also goes by the name Venomous carnagigan. Be very, very weary to hold any manor of confrontation with this beast. Any skin exposure will lead to cheesy piano playing, dorky street dancing, and a very strong affinity for My Chemical Romance music. That's right. You will become, what the youth of today refer to as 'an emo.' You don't want that. In research for these tips you are now reading we found that at one point in the past a young man by the name of Cletus had to be put down before he completely turned into the dreaded 'emo.' Bad times, bad times. Don't let your loved ones fall prey to such an abomination.

3) Verminoreios cheeseatus
These entities vary greatly in size, shape, and lethality. You have your garden variety field mice, which are a tad on the small side. Small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Then you have the full-fledged NYC sewer rat, otherwise known as a 'varmint.' At any size they are very toxic. Almost as toxic as having unprotected intercourse with Lindsey Lohan. Almost. The upside is that most of this species can be easily removed from your basement. All you need to do is box them into a corner, pull out your official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, and get to eliminating them like they're Black Bart trying to rob your family.

2) Clownaia creepifilum
Even though these loathsome creatures appear happy, on the inside they are simply sick, twisted shells of what used to be human in nature. Now all that appears is a metric ton of white powder, a half gallon of bright red lip gloss, shoes the size of a steamer on the Mississippi Delta, and a Mars-colored orb on the tip of their nose. If you have even the faintest inkling that one might be in your basement, be careful when descending the stairs. You may fail to return to the land of normality. I suggest boarding up all the doors to the aforementioned basement, selling the domicile post-haste, and moving into a single level residence. That's the only true way to completely avoid these giants of hideousness. That and stay the hell away from the circus.

1) Zombsarco slowus
These beings are easiest to track from the low, dull moans they project through the musty, basement air. Be forewarned, they may be slow, but they are in fact deadly. If one gets a hold of you, well let's just say that a messy downstairs will be the least of your worries. You have two options as far as these 'zombies' are concerned: First, you can set them loose on your neighborhood; second, you can vanquish them. For the former we do not seriously suggest this as a viable option. Unless you have an iron-clad fortress this will only reek more havoc on your person and property. The latter idea would be best served by reading the texts of one Max Brooks, who is an expert on the subject of 'undead disposal.' Pick up a copy of The Zombie Survival Guide before heading into the nether reaches of your basement. It may be your only hope.

Top Five Fridays - May 4, 2007

Sat, 05 May 2007 04:03:16 GMT

Top Five Fridays - May 4, 2007:
Top five ways to relieve stress at work.

5) Embed a scanner into the nearest wall.
It helps if you can chuck it into the wall on the first throw. This may take some forethought, and working out. Scanners can be rather bulky. I suggest some curls, bench presses, and triceps. Really work on your upper body. You're coworkers will be thoroughly impressed when you hurl that light-bulb-in-a-plastic-box all the way across three other cubicles. Just make sure to remove the cables first. You don't want to tick off the fellow employees with a power cable to the eye.

4) Flick Skittles into the light fixtures.
They won't melt or explode. Trust me. They'll just rest up there, making you lightly chuckle to yourself every time you look up. It's especially nice when you can get enough multi-colored ones to make your cubicle look like a discotheque. Then all you'll need is a Paul Oakenfold CD, glow sticks, and some E. You'll never stress again at work. Never.

3) Go on "sales calls."
And by "sales calls" I mean trips to the nearest bar, a movie, or home to take a nap. Anything to get out of the office for a little bit. Just make sure you actually go out on a sales call every once in a while. You don't want the big boss man questioning why you're always out, yet your sales total only reach a buck and a quarter. That may appear rather odd. Unless you're an extremely good sales person, and can sell you boss that you're really pounding the pavement. Then, my friend, I'll give you a gold, sticky star. What the hell, I'll give you two.

2) Plug in, tune out.
Put on some Her Space Holiday, ICP, Pat Boone, whatever the hell will blur out all that constant and consistent din of white noise wafting through the office. Make sure your earbuds are extra deafening. I think it'll say that right on the package: "This product will cause permanent ear damage if you crank your damn Hatebreed CDs up to 11, dumbass!"

1) Take up secondhand smoking.
If you go out to smoke with the others, you're guaranteed a break at the least every hour on the hour. Maybe more. Try going with different groups of smokers. Anyone that passes by your squared-circle section that you call your personal work space heading to smoke, join 'em. Hell, take one every three minutes. You'll never have any stress then. The rub is that you may not have a job either. This has the added bonus of making your clothes, and yourself, reek of cigarettes. Score! That's what we all aim for, right? The smell of murky, dark, back alley bars and honky tonks? If you don't want to smell like that then get the hell out of here right now.

Music/Lyric meme

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 02:40:39 GMT

Stolen from The Aubinator

Put your music-makin' device on "random shuffle," take the first 15 songs, post a random line from each, and invite the world to name that tune. Except, like the ma'am, I upped it to 20. I'm guessing that only two songs will be guessed correctly.... without help from Google of course. :)

01.] "From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one/She stared in my eyes and smiled/For her lips were the colour of the roses/That grew down the river, all bloody and wild"

02.] "I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow"

03.] "Please, remember me/At Halloween/Making fools of all the neighbors"

04.] "Came back only yesterday/Moving farther away/Want you near me"

05.] "Its cold here in the city/It always seems that way"*

06.] "I'm staring at the asphalt wondering/"What's buried underneath where I am?""

07.] "Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers/Radio's jammed up with gospel stations lost souls callin' long distance salvation/Hey, mister deejay, woncha hear my last prayer hey, ho, rock'n'roll, deliver me from nowhere"*

08.] "But you don't have to play so hard/And I'm nobody's fool/You don't have to go so far/'Cause I love you as you are"

09.] "Go down where the people say "y'all"/Feed the pigeons some clay/Turn the night into day/Start talkin' again/When I know what to say"

10.] "It's a wonderful time to be here/It's nice to be alive/Wonderful people everywhere"*

11.] "Yeah, you say that all the time/And you mean it only sometimes"

12.] "You know that voice is saying/"You've just got to carry on""

13.] "What if I could/say to you/Of what you wanted/Would not do"

14.] "Turn me inside out and upside down/And try to see things my way/Turn a new page, tear the old one out/And I'll try to see things your way"

15.] "When I see the moon/I hear the sound of the strip/Just calling my name/Just calling my name"

16.] "Silent perfections mystery all easy to fall from your lips/All the while lies are told to me in shapeless secrets"

17.] "Baby, let yourself fall/I'm right below you now"

18.] "You said there would be warm love in springtime/That was when you started to be cold"

19.] "As I stared at my shoes/In the ICU/That reeked of piss and 409"

20.] "Pleased to meet you/Nice to know me/What's the message?/Will ya show me?"

* The version I have is a cover, but the original singer/band will suffice.

Top Five Fridays - April 27, 2007

Sat, 28 Apr 2007 16:21:42 GMT

Top Five Fridays - April 27, 2007:
Top five ways to get kicked out of a beer festival.

5) Ask if beer is non-alcoholic.
Better yet, ask if they have any O'Douls, that'll get you booted post-haste. There are two reasons people flock to brewfests: to try out different beers, and to get good and knackered. Most of the time it's the latter rather than the former. So even the thought of trying to kill people's respective buzzes, well hell, you might as well head on over to a quilting bee. You namby-pamby, momma's boy.

4) Channel your inner frat boy.
Upon entering the first tent, shout loudly "woo-hoo, bring on the brewskies!!!!!!!!" That'll set the tone for the rest of the day. Then continue with your wayward ways by attempting keg stands, drinking from the tap, downing some of the rinse water, and start a rousing cheer of "show your tits! Show your tits! Show your tits!" I'm sure you'll be met with some hearty laughter, and a big pat on the back. They won't hurl you out, they wouldn't dare. You're a legacy!

3) Sport a camera, claim to be from "Grandmas Gone Wild."
If you're going to try this one out, please find someone from #3. That will really get things moving along. If you say you're from Girls Gone Wild, you may stand a chance at being accept amongst the throngs of people, if not cheered for your efforts. You may actually get to see some nubile jubblies. But if you say you're from Grandmas Gone Wild, the bullseye will be upon you my friend. No one wants to see some saggy, veiny, wrinkly milk bags. Do they?

2) Spit already sloshed beer into bucket.
C'mon now, this isn't the San Fernando Valley, and that's not Coppola's best you're swilling. This is a beer festival, and there is no cheese. Cheetos maybe, but that's about as close as you're going to get. Don't go sipping from your glass, pinky extended. Down that bitter, heady nectar of the gods. Chug, chug, chug!

1) Bring a big gulp cup to hold your "tasting samples."
Now I know what you're thinking, why hasn't anyone thought of this before? The "man" only gives you a small glass that has the appearance of a shot glass on steroids. Wipe the thought of bringing a bigger, better cup with you to the festival. The vendors are not going to go whole hog, and fill the cup. They'll just boot your goofy ass. And no, they will not accept that you're a "growing boy," "need your vitamins," and by "vitamins" you mean "beer." Trust me.

Top Five Fridays - April 20, 2007

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 06:29:07 GMT

Top Five Fridays - April 20, 2007:
Top five ways to spend your tax refund check.

5) Hire K-Fed to play your lil' sis' birthday party.
Ol' K-Fed's hurtin' nowadays. I'm sure you can get him to spit some flow at big, big savings. Hell, if you're feeling froggy, go ahead and hire Hammer, A-ha, and Quiet Riot while you're at it. You have plenty to spend, and it probably won't take much of a chunk out of your refund check. You'll be guaranteed that it's worth every penny.

4) Down payment on a brand new, used car.
I can see it in your eyes. That look of utter want every single time you pass Billy Tom Joe Bob's Fine Used Auto Mobiles. What gets your heart pounding more, the '68 Pacer or the '89 Fiero? They're both in cherry condition. All you need is to lay some flames on the hood, and you'll be rollin' badass-style! Now that you have the check you can slap a couple Franklins down on Billy Tom Joe Bob's desk, and say "gimme that fuchsia Corvair parked out front. Here's an extra tenner. Make sure it has a full tank of gas!"

3) Jell-o. Lots and lots of jell-o.
Whether it be a swimming pool, or just your run-of-the-mill bathtub, everything goes good with jello. It just depends on how good a year you had. Mix your desired amount, stand back, and watch it jiggle. Just be careful. All that jiggling, you could get motion sickness. Trust me.

2) 147" plasma screen.
Screw the ol' trick of purchasing a big screen TV for the Super Bowl, only to take it back the next day. Now with your pocket's overflowing with the government's money you can make that ginormous piece of plastic, circuitry, and wires your very own. Don't fool around with anything less than 100" when it comes to your viewing enjoyment. The bigger the better. You want to be able to see every last hair on Hurley's face, right?

1) Hookers and blow.
Throwing all your money away on prostitutes and nose candy is an old standby. Whenever anyone I know comes into any money, any at all, I suggest they waste it on ladies of the evening, and a mountain of uncle Montana's pure Colombian joy. And I sure as hell ain't talking about Shakira, though she may be able to fit in the first category.

Top Five Fridays - April 6, 2007

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 03:19:19 GMT

Top Five Fridays - April 6, 2007:
Top five songs to listen to via MySpace.

5) Willoughby - "Frankinstein"
I really like how soft and easy going this little ditty is. It'll put a smile on your face, and make you bounce back and forth.

4) Zac Keiller - "I Don't Want To Breathe"
This track is from Zac's unofficial score for the comic book mini-series 30 Days of Night, written by Steve Niles and illustrated hauntingly by Ben Templesmith. The entire is CD really sets the tone for the barren wasteland of Barrow Alaska, and perfectly underscores the utter chaos occurring in the comics. Keiller's score is a perfect match to Templesmith's artwork. David Slade should, but won't, take notice, and utilize some of Keiller's pieces.

3) William Fitzsimmons - "It's Not True"
As good as the music is, the tale spun makes it a hundred times better. I especially love the verse where he sings about being with someone else, yet still longing for "the girl." Brilliant tune. When you listen to the song, and you will, google the lyrics so that you may read along.

2) Josh Haden - "Hallelujah"
It was hard to narrow it down to just one song. All are beautiful songs, but picking just one means singling out "Hallelujah." I just love how it plays out. It has a stunning diversity between Haden's vocals and the dark, moody music underneath. His work with/as Spain was always top notch, and I'm glad that his solo album is seeing the light of day. Go buy the album. Go now!

1) Soulsavers - "Revival"
The only tune that can beat out Haden is this one. I've probably played this song a hundred times if once. I love the keys. Love the vocals. I just flat out love every damn thing about this song. What pisses me off is that the CD is not available in the US yet. For now I'll have to be content with the availability on MySpace, and hope they don't take it down anytime soon. Also, watch the video. It's just as stunning as the song.

Top Five Fridays - March 23, 2007 + March 30, 2007

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 05:18:29 GMT

Last Friday I was enjoying some fine company at the soon-to-be-new-4620-aka-hotspot-aka-the-place-to-be The Cali Bar*, and therefore could not post a TFF last week. Below you will find last weeks, along with it's continuation for today.

Top Five Fridays - March 23, 2007:
Top five signals to pick up on, for men.

5) Sends over a drink.
If she gets up the gumption to offer you a frosty beverage, you're in like Flynn. Just don't be a wanker, tossing it on her crisp, clean, white shirt, shouting "woo-hoo, wet boobies!!!" Have some class, man. Thank her kindly, and sip from that Blue Tornado she just purchased for you. Just be weary of that pineapple slice that it doesn't poke your eye out.

4) Puts "Let's Get It On" on three-peat, looks directly at you.
Could it be any more obvious? Well, we'll address that later. Get your butt off that bar stool, walk over to her, and try not to make an ass out of yourself. Though with her wearing out some Marvin Gaye, it may not matter what you say. Hell, you could probably chuck a beer on her shirt, yell "wet boobies!!!," and still have a shot. Maybe.

3) Licks her lips.
Easy there buddy. Don't get overly excited, and blow your chance... among other things. Also you have to watch out for the prostitute-factor. This could be a signal for 30 minutes, for the low, low price of $300. Or the woman could just have some leftover ketchup that's she's aching to get rid of with nary a napkin in sight. That's what we call misdirection. So pay attention, and figure out which one it is. May have to have a trial and error basis for the first few women.

2) Notices your Spider-man shirt, starts to discuss whether Wolverine or Batman is the better anti-hero hero.
Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!! That's a good one. Good luck with that there fella.

1) Phonebook to the back of the head, whilst shouting "dumbass!"
It's an underused approach, but works nonetheless. Hopefully, fingers crossed, you can still pick yourself up off the barroom floor, dust off the cigarette butts and beer bottle tops, and catch her before she leaves. The phonebook method is usually only employed after you've completely missed the all of the four signals listed above. Take the hint, she's jonesing for you dumbass. Go!

Top Five Fridays - March 30, 2007:
Top five signals to pick up on, for women.

5) He's been staring at your boobs for the past ten minutes.
Obviously he's interested in you, just maybe not the part you really want him to notice. Or maybe you do, who knows? Just employ a line like "I see you've met the twins," or "hey, I'm up here buddy." Most men will snap out of the glare, and notice you for who you are. Oh sure, they may go back into the trance, but you can at least try to keep them interested in what's coming out of your mouth. If may be difficult. Godspeed, and good luck.

4) Plays "Into The Mystic," "Can I Stay," and "Wild Horses", looks directly at you.
What he can't say, Van, Ray, and Mick will. If you can stop your heart from pounding a gazillion miles-a-minute, your next move should be moseying on over to him. Just be careful that he's not a player, and has read this blog to learn the secret ways to get women. Lord knows that's what I'm renowned for, picking up women. Oodles I say, oodles!

3) Sends over a drink.
Well, it somewhat depends on the drink. If he's sent over what you're drinking, then he's observant. If he sent you four Jagerbombs, you might want to smile, wave, and exit stage left. Short Mark, you know who you are, and what you've done. Dood.

2) Within earshot, starts discussing Grey's Anatomy.
So if you're having a few with the girls, you hear the McDreamy look-a-like talking about what Meredith needs to do, then that means he's letting you know how sensitive a guy he really is. But most guys think the people behind Grey's Anatomy screwed themselves early on. They let Katherine Heigl strip down to her skivvies in the first season. Now most men have no reason to watch the show. If they want melodrama, they can look to their workplace. Unless they're in construction, the lucky bastards.

1) Exists.
C'mon now ladies, haven't you already figured this one out? We're always interested in you. Always. All we have to be is breathing for you to understand that we'd like to get with you. No signals, no drinks, no looks are as obvious as the fact that we're sitting there. So grow set, oh women of the single world, and make the move. We guys have been taking the initiative for years, it's about time the reigns were passed over to you all. Take the ball, and run with it. You won't regret it. As Joe Isuzu once said, "you have my word on it.”

* Ginormous amounts of sarcasm laden in this statement. If you're familiar with The Cali Bar, you'll understand. If you're not from around here, and want to experience all-things-Cali, let me know next time you're in these here parts. I'll introduce you 'round, then we'll head to Judy's. Good times, good times.

Top Five Fridays - March 16, 2007

Sat, 17 Mar 2007 05:54:31 GMT

Top Five Fridays - March 16, 2007:
Top five reasons to get into opera.

5) Sing along.
Who the hell can tell if you're wrong or right, save someone who actually speaks Italian? Nobody. No Simon telling you you're "utter rubbish," as long as you do it with complete gusto. Chutzpah! Attack your performance like Al Wilson would attack a quarterback. I'm talking upturned hands, grasping at ghost globes. Full-on jaw movement, over extending every single syllable. Do it. Just do it with style, with conviction.

4) Put a halt to being an uncultured buffoon.
C'mon now. Let's improve your CD collection by replacing Justin Timberlake with some Giacomo Puccini. Doesn't that sound like a good idea? Forget bringing sexy back. That's so 2006. Start thumping along to some "O Furtuna," mosh to Le nozze di Figaro, and whip out the trusty ol' zippo for "La Mamma Morta." You'll be the bee's knees there young fella.

3) For the chicks, man.
I mean seriously, have you seen opera groupies? Hot! Don't even get me started on the performers. There's nothing sexier than a woman that if you get lucky with, you have to spend twenty minutes just untying her corset. Builds the tension, ramps up the experience. Trust me. Also the noises those freaky-deeks make in the sack will shatter your windows. Literally. So sound proof your bedroom, and invest in some trojans. No, I'm not talking about the ones with cod pieces, I'm talking about the pieces for your cod.

2) Piss off rich folk.
Isn't it nice how all attendee show up in their best bib and tucker? Very nice, yes? Well screw those hoity-toity bastards! Here's your attire: shorts [no matter what the season], ratty baseball cap, sneakers, and a Wu-Tang Clan t-shirt. Triple dog dare anyone to even attempt to comment on your choice in clothing. Oh their mouths with be open, just no words will escape. What would make it even better is if the t-shirt barely concealed your bulging, hairy beer belly. Though if you're going to employ this tactic, be sure to pick the lint from your belly button at least once every five minutes.

1) Learn a foreign language.
Any recollections of seventh grade Spanish flew the coup long ago. Here's your chance to dig deep, and tread unsoiled ground. Learn Italian the uncommon way, through opera. You'll be sure to impress your friends, family, and that woman at the end of the bar. Just don't act like a complete twit upon learning just a few words. Only embrace the language once you've mastered it enough to speak in complete dialogues. Phrases like "could you direct me to the post office," and "this cheese is very stinky" may sound all well and good to the impotent ear. But if you happen upon someone who is fluent, you may be called out. Just a forewarning, el dumbasino.

Top Five Fridays - March 9, 2009

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 05:19:28 GMT

Top Five Fridays - March 9, 2009:
Top five ways to tell that you need to upgrade your cell phone.

5) No touchtone.
Do you young whipper snappers even know what rotary dial phones are? Google it. Back in the day we had to use our fingers for something other than picking our nose and butt. We dialed numbers by turning a cylindrical, plate-like hunk of plastic. That's how we got in touch with "our peeps." That, or by sticking our head out the window and hollerin'. Nowadays the reckless youth gets pissed when they go into voicemail. We didn't have voice mail. It was called your mother, a piece of paper, and a pencil. That was our voice mail.

4) You have the extra large, Zach Morris-style phone.
Has someone every said to you, "is that a cell phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" To which your retort was, "yup, it's a cell phone." The only plus to having that phone is that you save money on a gym membership. You can do all manners of free-weight exercises with that bulky, grey monstrosity of a mobile. But it's 2007. The only good place for the official Saved By The Bell phone is buried out back next to Mr. Snuggles. Hell, it's probably as big as Mr. Snuggles.

3) No bluetooth.
"What is bluetooth? I don't know." That's what most of you are thinking. Those young 'uns that have never heard of rotary dial will scoff at your anti-techno-savvy ass, and proclaim, "do you, like, live in the dark ages? Gawsh!" Heaven forbid you use a phone as a phone anymore. You need text messaging, internet access, high megapixel camera, iTunes, skype, MySpace mobile, cuisinart galore! It slices, it dices, it'll let you chop your onions without shedding a single tear! Calling people with it? You must be from the dark ages, like, the 70's. Gawsh!

2) You carry around your cordless home phone.
You need to quit acting all big, walking around with that 5.8 GHz cordless. And for goodness sake stop acting like it's a cell phone by cussing the lack of cell tower coverage. You're not fooling anyone. Put that phone back on the base, and go get a real mobile. One that will let you make calls outside of that 500 ft bubble around your house. Then you will have our respect. Well, once you switch out the house speakers in your Pinto for real car speakers you will have our respect. Now you just have our pity.

1) Current squawk box held together with used chewing gum.
So you dropped it at work. Sure. Shit happens, we believe you. We just have a problem with the fact that you spit the then-being-nawwed-upon piece of Big Red into your hand, and rigged the phone back together. You're not MacGyver. If you hadn't already figured that out from the hairspray / lighter incident of '05. What scares me more is that once you get home you'll whip out the duck tape to do further repairs. Use the duck tape on stuff it's suited for, like your car. Not the cell phone. Next thing you know you'll be walking around with that damn thing taped to the side of your head. Unfortunately, it won't be on purpose.

Top Five Fridays - March 2, 2007

Sat, 03 Mar 2007 05:16:33 GMT

Top Five Fridays - March 2, 2007:
Top five alternative uses for your glove compartment.

5) Storage for your Oscar.
Screw putting it on your mantle, and placing it in the bathroom is so 1990's. Burrowing your golden statue away in the glove compartment is the new black. Now that Scorsese has won one, well hell, everyone has one of those damn things. Ben Affleck has one for crying out loud! Though he was the bomb in Phantoms, yo. Why couldn't he won one for that role? Anyways. More on the genius that is Aflac...um...I mean Affleck later. Back to the topic at hand, Oscar vault. That way you can find it every once in a blue moon, and be reminded "oh yeah. I have one of those. Hmm. Now why did I agree to do Catwoman?"

4) Trash can.
Out of sight, out of mind. Never have the words been more applicable. Most people just chuck empty Heath bar wrappers in the floorboard of the back seat. Now you can fold 'em up, and store them away in a their own little alcove. Just please, please I say, keep the garbage free of decomposable products. You don't want foreign passengers to wonder what that obscene smell is radiating from the front dash.

3) Stash your multitude of Post-it notes.
Cause who among us is not a Post-it note fiend? Constantly scratching away little notes and drawings further explaining "the bigger picture" unfolding in your life? What? Just me? Oh well. You too can start becoming an obsessive compulsive, now that you have a cubbyhole for your annotations on how to make a peanut butter / canned sardines sandwich amalgamation work. A postscript to the aforementioned quandary; it's all in the spices. Trust me.

2) Secret hiding place for bootlegged music and movies.
The RIAA and FBI would never think to look in your glove compartment. Your CD player? Check. Your back seat? Yu-huh. The passenger side floor board amongst the empty cans of Old Milwaukee? Oh yeah, you betcha. But never your glove compartment. It's so sleek, and looks like it's just part of the dashboard. No one would ever think to rummage through it, looking for your dubbed copy of Cool As Ice.

1) Snack repository.
Have you ever been on a road trip to California in order to get a sex tape with another woman back before your girlfriend sees it? Oh sure, haven't we all? Well wouldn't it be nice, sometime in the middle of the flatlands of Nebraska, to have a rich, creamy Snickers bar? Mmmm. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it now. I can almost taste the nougaty goodness. But where-oh-where to store such a delicious treat? How about a recess that's just a simple arm-length away? Sounds like a fantastic idea to me. If you really want to be like James Bond, install a refrigerating unit to keep everything in your treasure chest nice and cool. Nothing sucks more than traveling through the middle of Arizona, being hungry, only to find all your candy bars melted to a pile of goo. Well, maybe tossing another man's salad in prison is worse. Just barely though.

Craig Ferguson speaks from the heart

Sun, 25 Feb 2007 05:35:59 GMT

For those who haven't already seen this, please watch it. It's amazing to watch a man be so honest about his own demons on national television without sensationalizing it. Brilliant.

Craig Ferguson speaks from the heart

Top Five Fridays - February 23, 2007

Sat, 24 Feb 2007 03:59:55 GMT

Top Five Fridays - February 23, 2007:
Top five things to do when you're bored at work.

5) Hold a World Championship Thumb-Twiddling contest.
Nothing rouses the spirits like a good, old fashioned thumb-twiddling contest. Rock, paper, scissors is archaic. Thumb-widling is the new black, just ask the cool kids. Plus you can make charts to show the progress of each participate. I'm hoping, at the very least, to be a #3 seed.

4) Multiple trips to the restroom.
Just make sure to always act as if you were just finishing up whenever someone else enters the bathroom. Heck, if need be, take a book with you. Just tell everyone you ate some out-of-date Thousand Island, and enjoy the day buried in some Steinbeck. That's not a euphemism, you pervs.

3) Surf for porn.
Ain't nothin' more American than surfing for some high-quiality, or low-quality if you're into that sort of thing, porn on the internet. Though this may not work if you're in a cubicle farm. If necessary, bring in your tent, and pitch it in your cubicle. That will guarantee that no one will come near you. Except maybe that creepy guy in accounting. *shudders*

2) Construct the world's largest rubber band ball.
C'mon, you've got access to the office supply closet. Put those fingers a-workin'! Start purloining ever rubber band in sight, nabbing them from other's desks. Once it gets to gargantuan size, resort to #4 by concealing it in the restroom. Remove a tile, put it in the utility closet, whatever's necessary. Something that would make it even better is if you hummed "Rubberband Man" by the Spinners the entire time. Trust me, it'll make it pass faster.

1) Through headphones, listen to horribly obscene music whilst smiling at coworkers.
There's no real way to describe the warm feeling you get inside listening to "'They' Schools" while smiling down the white honky devil in front of you. Bouncing away to some Cannibal Corpse, at the same time giving a Mister-Rogers-like wave to Sue from Marketing. What they don't know is they foul obscenities blast from your ear buds directly to your brain. That's what'll keep a grin a mile wide on your face.

Where is my mind?

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 02:36:02 GMT

I need to get out of my head.

Today I asked one of my coworkers out to lunch tomorrow. She said that she already has plans for tomorrow, but that we can go to lunch one day next week. That's all fine and well, but I'm not really happy that this is coming to me as I'm staring down the barrel of a weekend. This is probably going to be dominating my mind if I don't figure out a way to get the hell away, and get some sort of stimuli. Reading, watching a movie, listening to music, hiking are all not viable options. Because in each scenario my mind will still be dominated on the thoughts of whether or not this lunch will come to fruition.

Over the years I seem to have spent a lot of time over-thinking situations. Not only when it comes to women, but in other aspects of life. It's not always a problem. Hell, sometimes it's saved my ass. But when it comes to situations such as these, it's never usually a good thing. Sometimes it just makes the situation even more weighed down.

Tomorrow night I'm probably going to see a Bon Jovi cover band. Sarah's a big fan of B to the J, and Tom asked me to tag along. I told him he'll have to buy my beers for the entire night, and he readily agreed.

As for the rest of the weekend, well I'm not really sure what I'll do to distract myself.

In no way, shape, or form am I bitching about how bad I have it. I just wanted to get my thoughts out there, instead of keeping it bottled up.

The league of just an ordinary gentleman

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 02:49:18 GMT

This is about women, and dating. So if you're sick of hearing me babble on, please skip. Dammit. :)

Most of you will disagree with me, but I've come to the conclusion that there are leagues when it comes to the opposite sex. Just like there are games being played. To you all, my friends, there are no women out of my league. Spare the fiery hotness that is named Salma Hayek, and her Hollywood ilk. You all like me enough to think all things are possible. That I shouldn't concede the fact that there are different levels, and I am not on the topmost one. Call me a bastard, call me what you will. But you're wrong.

Cut back to last year. I headed out of the Pilot Light having just seen Jucifer. The Pilot Light is a hole-in-the-wall music venue/bar. While walking along Jackson Avenue, a bunch of what I dubbed "hoochies" walked in front of me heading towards Fiction (which is a dance club). I guess they were going to get their proverbial groove-on. As I watched them pass it struck me that I would not, nor would I ever, have a shot in hell with any of them. I wasn't the Abercrombie & Fitch, Fast and the Furious car driving, wearing my hat cocked to the side like someone just pimp slapped me type. Which is exactly what was standing in line all along the building. I kind of laughed it off then, but it festered around in my head for the following week.

But to the moment at hand. There's a girl at work [actually a few, but I'll jump to that later] that is out of my league. You say "bullshit," to which I retort the ever-mature "yuh-huh!" She's the daughter of a very prominent restauranteur and business man. She's beautiful, smart, and from money.

Greg's probably heard this story half a dozen times, and Shara's heard it a time or two I'm sure. At the tender age of thirteen, my dad took me to West Knoxville to buy a pair of cleats for football. For those not from this area, West Knoxville could almost be considered a completely different city. It's nothing but wealthy families, and most of them flaunt it obscenely. I'm talking 16 year-olds driving their own brand new, $40-50,000 cars. So dad and I are cruising along the front of West Town, looking for a parking spot, when a gaggle of particularly hot girls about my age walk in front of us. Dad sees me drooling and says, "son, never date a girl from West Knoxville. They've always had money, will have money, and expect you to always have money." That phrase was immediately burnt into my consciousness, and has remained with me over the last 15 odd years. It's as true a statement then as it is now.

I'm from a blue collar family. Son of a truck driver and a telephone operator. Grandson of a railroad man. Nephew of a bus station employee, public school teacher, and postman. I've always lived my life with that "working man" mentality, even though I am in a white collar field. That's what endeared me to the people I worked with. I wasn't like the designers they met before. I wasn't, and still am not, afraid to roll up my sleeves, and do real work.

All that said, I think that mantra my dad instilled in me all those years ago is finally opening my eyes to the fact that there are women I just do not have a chance with. No matter how much y'all like me, it doesn't matter. All that matters is what's going through her head. Also, I'm sure that some of the people that surround me at work do not think I am good enough for her. My guess is mainly her crowd, the sales people. Be it that I don't dress right, speak right, roll right. It is what it is. There's really nothing I can do, other than going further in debt to make myself appear to be more than what I am. That's not who I am, or how I was raised.

I'm not ashamed in the least of how I was raised, much to the contrary. I'm damn proud of who raised me, and how they did it. I may have had some tough years with my dad, but he just pushed me to go farther and do better. I wouldn't trade those formative years for all the gold in the world.

But all this boils down to the fact that there are a few women at work that I'd like to find out if they're seeing anyone. At the top of that list is the woman that is out of my league. I'm just not really sure how to go about finding out information on any of the few that seem interesting to me. I'm becoming friendly with the woman in the cubicle next to me. I could see if she knows anything about them, if they are even a possibility. I'm just not sure that I can trust her enough not to say anything. The office is way too open for me to really talk to her without someone else hearing, or it getting passed along the grapevine. At this point I'm not really sure how I'm going to handle the situation.

This complete post is just me getting shit out of my head. I swear to all that's holy it's not a pity post. I've got it a helluva lot better than most people on this Earth, and feel damn lucky for what I have. I guess it's coming out partly due to the fact that Tom has a solid woman now, so my mind has had more time to wander more. Apparently he and Breena [a married lady we both know] are cooking something up. I'm not really sure what it is, and it worries me a bit. But Tom is not that dependable, so I really have nothing to fret about. I hope.

Hide the women and children...

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 02:18:08 GMT

...cause I'm back. :)

This update was started, and has been added to for about the last month. So it may seem sketchy in places, but when do my posts not appear sketchy. :)

Well, I've been really busy here lately. Lots of stuff came and went, leaving me in the wake.

Work had only gotten worse. Every day I walk in that place it's like I have to defend why I have a job, whereas the two other 'managers' get to fuck up all the time with the big bad boss lady just saying "I don't blame them." No shit. I had it out with dragon lady the other day, showed her how the other two were fucking up, and guess what, she put it back on me. I just started laughing in her face. She actually told me that from now on I need to be "buddy-buddy" with the other two. I cannot be "buddy-buddy" with people I cannot trust. I refuse to do as they do, be nice to my face then stab the shit out of me behind my back.

But in fucking phenomenally great news, I have a new job. Not only that I have a thriving freelance career, and a fall back job.

As of January 29th I will be an employee of the Knoxville News Sentinel. i'll be in the art department, on the real estate team. It's not a perfect position, nor is it a dream job. It's a start. Also, it gets me the hell out of Burns. In an odd cowinky-dink, my assistant is leaving Burns on the 26th too.

When mentioning to some customers that I'm leaving Burns, they decided to jump ship along with me. Plus, one of the interviews I went on turned out to just be part-time work. But that part-time work has kept me busy every night so far this week. It looks to be a minimum of 60 billable hours every other month. Which is quite a chunk of change. Factor that in with the freelance stuff coming from Burns, and I am well on my way to working for myself. I also am sending off my info to a printer in Atlanta that may want to use me for even more freelance work. My long-term goal is to save up enough money from this work to cover my bills for a year, then leave wherever I'm at. One of my main goals in life, and has been since I was about 14, was to work for myself. So we'll see how that goes.

The magazine is kicking along. Tom has become my consigliere. This will scare the shit outta Greg and Shara, but I have to hand it to the boy, when it comes to business he knows his shit. The pre-planning he's made me do has opened my eyes, and made me feel more confident. The biggest hurdle now is the purchasing of a high-end digital camera. It looks like I'm going to have to get a bank loan to afford it, but it's worth it. Even if the magazine fails, the camera is something I was planning on buying in the near future anyways.

The home improvements are taking back seat right now. I want to focus more on getting some projects in the works completed first [Mr. May's website, Community website, and the first few issues of the magazine]. I was gung ho on the home improvements, but now that I have other things to keep me busy, I'm not as concerned about it.

Candace. Holy hell. I don't think bi-polar is a strong enough description of what she has. She's now back to acting like she did when she was with Brian, but even more frank. She's been looking into getting breast reduction surgery. Then about a week ago decided that she's losing some of her sweater meat girth though her Weight Watchers program. So she's putting going under the knife on hold. This doesn't stop her from constantly commenting on her breasts to me. Unwarranted, trust me. But she's weird. If I make a comment right back to her, I'm outta line. But she can comment in grotesque detail about the most insane stuff, and it's OK. She's a strange bird. Plus she's trying to do stuff with me, and get me to go along with her and Eric places. I need her to understand that the friendship boat has sailed as far as I'm concerned. But if I mention it, she makes me out to be the enemy. Crazy damn woman. :) :)

I'm losing more weight. Though the most recent shedding could be due to the fact that I was sicker than hell. I had a stomach bug flat knocked the shit outta me over the past few days. Now I battling a serious cold. At the same time I had another filling pop out. A few weeks ago were a bad week health wise, but fuck it. It got better. All I needed was a little time to heal, and healthy doses of medicine.

Women wise my confidence has been bouncing back and forth. The place Tom and I frequent [it's a restaurant with a bar] is a fucking meat market. I don't really enjoy going there, but do for Tom. [More on him later] Though at some of the other places we frequent, we've met some nice women. I was a chicken shit the other night, and should have gone after this one girl. She and a friend were playing pool at the next table over from Tom and I. Tom and I were cutting up, as usual. The girl asked if we had been friends for long, and I said "yeah about 9 years now." She mentioned something about her and the other girl had been friends for about a year. There was my chance, my opportunity. But I chickened out. I must have left my sack here at the house. What's screwy is less than an hour later I was hitting on and being hit upon by a completely different woman. She's cool, but I think I'm going to step aside and let Tom go for it. Funny fact about the girl that I'm letting Tom go after, she's a huge comic book geek. Her sister and she even go to Wizard World Chicago every year. Tom seems to be unhealthily focusing on the fact that she like comics. But I keep sweeping him past that, telling him to pursue a date with her further. The daffy bastard.

Tom was not doing well. He kept finding out stuff about his ex-wife that drove him deeper down in a black hole. Every time we go out all he does is points to a girl, and says is "damn, she'd never go out with me." I just keep verbally smacking the shit outta him, and tell him that he is good enough for any damn woman. They should be so damn lucky. Sure he makes obscene comments about what he'd do to minors, but it's all a joke. When he and I get together it's like we're trying to top one another to see how low on the depravity meter we can go. I've won a time or two, but Tom's still the king. He was a bit toasty the other night, and mentioned that he was happy that we had remained friends so long. He and Greg are probably two of my oldest and dearest friends. I have friends from high school that came and went, but Greg and Tom have stayed constant throughout the time since our college days. Tom was a little harder to keep tight because he was held back by a tyrannical wife. Now we hang out at least a couple nights a week, and try to hook up on the weekends. Which is nice for the both of us. It's a chance to get the hell out of the house for a bit, and meet some interesting people. Boy have there been some doosies!

But Tom now has a woman, so I don't get to roll as much as we were earlier. Which is fine. I'm really glad he's found someone that makes him happy.

My grandmother was in the hospital a for a little bit. She's doing better now that she's moved to the nursing home / rehabilitation center. I know one thing for damn sure, Alzheimer's is an atrocious piece of shit disease. It hurts me to be around her because she's not as sharp as she once was. I don't want to forever remember her that way, but need to see her because I'm not sure how much time she has left.

For anyone that reads my Top Five Fridays, I hope to have them back on track shortly.

Anyone that has gotten this far feel free to pat yourself on the back, and take a shot of some strong whiskey.

The Fountain

Thu, 23 Nov 2006 21:11:38 GMT

The Fountain

The Fountain is the third film from the immensely talented writer/director Darren Aronofsky. The bulk of the film centers on the story of Tommy [Hugh Jackman] and Izzi [Rachel Weisz], which is set in the year 2000. Tommy is a doctor who's wife, Izzi, is dying of a brian tumor. He is frantically searching for a cure for his wife's death sentence, become more frazzled and frayed as the film plays out. Tommy is navigating the razor's edge, trying to hold on to his mind whilst falling apart at the thought of Izzi's deterioration. The other two story lines follow both a protector of the Spanish crown in the 1500s, and a man drifting through space in the very distant future of 2500. Both male roles in those time periods are portrayed by Jackman, with the Queen played by Weisz.

Jackman was an excellent choice for the lead role[s]. His ability to navigate the choppy waters of all three time periods is an amazing feet, and he should be an early contender for a gold statue. His emotional range floored me, and moved me. Which is a sign of a great actor. There was one scene between he and Dr. Guzetti [played by the brilliant Ellen Burstyn] where I even got little choked up. Mostly it was Jackman's performance, but credit also should go to Aronofsky for making the audience completely invested in the aforementioned characters.

One of the most striking elements of The Fountain is the score. Clint Mansell brought in post-rock gods Mogwai, and also enlisted, yet again, the Kronos Quartet. The three musical forces came together to form a perfect backbone to the film. The music evoked emotion, without being too intrusive. With his score to Aronofsky's Requiem For A Dream, Mansell amped up the volume to further emphasize what was happening visually. This time 'round, he placed the lightest touches to bring home the power of the feelings at the base of the film.

The Fountain is a grand achievement in film. It melds the grand mindset of existentialism while still maintaining thoughts of a higher power. A grander scheme. All three men search for the key to ever lasting life. In that sojourn we, as the audience, are forced to think of life and all it's entailments. What is important to us? What do we make of the short amount of time we have on Earth? What is everlasting love? Some will label this film as pretentious. Others will call it heavy handed. Don't listen to those people, they're dolts. This is an important film that will most likely fly right over the heads of the mainstream. I hope I'm wrong. I hope this film makes a ton of money, but I do not have that kind of faith the wider, American audience. My hope is that I'm wrong, because people need to see this film.

Top Five Fridays - November 17, 2006

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 04:12:47 GMT

Top Five Fridays - November 17, 2006:
Top five ways Kevin can win Britney back.

5) Go on Oprah, apologize.
Nothing says that you love your woman more than announcing it on Winfrey's show. Be sure to win Oprah over with that charisma of yours. You know, that chutzpah with which got you Britney in the first place. Pledge your ever loving devotion, and say that you're sorry. Just please for the love of all that's holy don't jump up and down on the couch, and try to play a rousing game of Mercy with Oprah. You're but a peon, and Oprah can have you disappear from all of our collective conciousnesses. She has that power deep within her core.

4) No more baby momma drama.
Stop planting seeds in women across this great land of ours. Britney needs to be the final in your grand scheme of trying to populate the world with little ones constantly sportin' sideways hats, and droopy pants. Plus Britney seems to tolerate producing more little ones with you. Hell, maybe you can get enough to put together a football team. But with Britney, and Britney alone. Forget the other women. There'll never be a greater cash cow for you than Britney.*

3) Offer to bring her a baby from Africa.
We all know you're potent enough to plant another tax deduction in Britney, but for right now this is more of what she wants even more. Britney seems to follow anything that Madonna does, so adopt a little one from Africa. Bring it to her stoop, and explain how you want to spend the rest of your life helping to raise the lil' tyke. But you gotta make her believe you. Cull those acting chops you so brilliantly displayed on CSI, Monday Night RAW, and You Got Served. Channel your inner Keanu Reeves, maybe even shed a little tear.

2) Tell her what a phenomenal "artist" she is on a daily basis.
Even though she shoved out more babies than hit records in the past few years, she needs to be constantly reassured that she does in fact have talent. This could be because she doesn't have any at all. There are choreographers to teach her to dance, engineers to layer the hell out of her vocals, and stylists to make sure all her wobbly bits are in the upright position. She especially needs that daily affirmation after the whoopin' she's taken from Jessica Simpson. Simpson seems to have out imbeciled her. Since Jessica's star is fading a bit, now would be the prime time for Britney to shine once again. You ned to stand firm behind her. That way she can make oodles more money, and you can buy that new platinum-encrusted grill. That'll beef up your street cred.

1) Stop rapping.
You're white, deal with it. We can't seem to convince Eminem that's he's a honky, but maybe you'll wise up. The dismal sales of your CD need to serve as a reminder that you're a cracker, and have no flow. Once you come to that realization, maybe you'll be man enough to ask Britney to take you back. She's the best thing to happen to you. Maybe if she takes you back you can buy some decent clothes. You can buy a fiver of cotton wife beaters at Wally World for about ten bucks. But if you win her back you can get some of them silk, Gucci wife beaters for about three hun' an' fifty, playa. Um...I mean cracker ass crackah.

*...and no, I am not cracking on Britney's weight. She was on Letterman the other night looking fine. Except for that hair. Good lord woman, you've got the money to hire a decent stylist. Hell, Supercuts could have done a better job than that.