I'm back, campers!

Well, I couldn't let March slip by without posting at least once. And here I am on a rare and appreciated rain-out day from work. I've got my coffee, I've got my shoes off, and a long, fruitful day of internet, music, video games, and other wastes of time ahead of me. Maybe I'll even put in a half hour of scanning monster.com for a new job -- which really means I'll grow depressed as I sift through countless ads for accountants, engineers, insurance sales trainees, financial planning trainees, Wendy's manager trainees, welders, deckhands, nurses, janitors, outside sales executives, and more nurses. Basically all things I'm either not qualified for or simply could not do (or get by on the pay). Why aren't there any ads for "creative, friendly, intelligent people with writing skills who prefer to use their brains rather than their brawn, who can be diplomatic without being smarmy or phoney and who do not want their income potential to be limited by a career niche, who truly want to enjoy what they do everyday, who crave opportunity to shine and grow whether through artisitic means, performance, or their own natural skills, who secretly dream of creating empires but without the cutthroat, callousness of modern entrepenuers and go-getters, a person who someday wants their name in lights, who wants to control his or her own destiny, who wants to be all that he was naturally born to be." At least something for the time being that isn't cold-calling dead-end sales, manual labor, fast-food, or Wal-Mart where I can make at least 30k or so a year....I might be able to get by on 30k...but it would still be tough. No, I don't live some extravagant lifestyle -- I just have lots of students loans and bills. How is it that colleges can get away with charging you life-altering amounts of money for degrees which simply do not provide the means to pay back that money without being destitute your whole life?

"This is what happens, Larry..."

I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die. I keep saying that a lot. Why won't this thing let me start a new paragraph? The screen just shifts and the typing icon disappears...what a bunch of crap. Watched Wedding Crashers again tonight...love that movie. But the last half hour or so kinda brings me down. (from the point when they get outed on the island and are leaving in their wrinkled tuxedoes) Maybe I'm down because I'm home on a Saturday night. Ah, well, whatever, life goes on. There it goes again...I tried starting a new paragraph and it just gives me the middle finger instead. So what happened today? Not much, folks. It got cold, a few flurries to taunt me, I went to Wal-Mart --- the 7th level of hell. A couple years ago when I lived elsewhere and had options for where to buy my groceries, my weekly trip to the store was a pleasure. I would hop in my truck and happily drive but a mile or two down a quiet little road in between neighborhoods to the Kroger. The aisles were wide, it was never crowded with an outlandish amount of annoying morons, I didn't have to dodge in between slow moving yokels and old people -- it was a GOOD experience! But going to Wal-Mart here is enough to make someone turn downright intolerant and hateful. It could make someone into an Anti-Idiite (or Anti-Idiot?). Here's another interesting point --- at Kroger, where I had the pleasant experience, didn't have to fight my way through teeming, sweaty, slack-jawed masses -- I usually ended up buying more than I had on my list. On the other hand, at Wal-Mart, I'm so determined to remove myself from the building as quickly as possible that I always end up getting merely the necessities. So, any good business mind can see -- the good shopping experience results in more money being spent by the customer, whereas the torturous shopping experience results in loathing, avoidance, and less money being spent. And I still can't start a new paragraph!!!!! That's it, where's the beer, I'm outta here.

Thanks, Al Pacino...thanks a lot

So, I had a weird dream the other night...

Apparently I knew Al Pacino and old Al had done something to piss off either the mafia or a terrorist group (it seemed to change back and forth throughout). From what I gathered, he went and killed some important figure and in so doing, sealed his own death. It was one of those things where he felt he HAD to kill this person even though the mafia/terrorists would know he was the one who did it and would 100% come and kill him. There was no escape, no chance of hiding or running.

So, I'm in this little apartment with Al and he had just returned from doing the deed. He sort of explains the situation and lets me know that the bad guys are literally in the building on their way up to murder him --- and because I happen to be there, they will undoubtedly be murdering me as well. Al is very resigned over the whole thing, while I am panicking and considering leaping out of a window (as I hear commotion and tromping footsteps somewhere below us). Al doesn't even WANT to escape - it's like he's a martyr or something. Or perhaps he feels remorse for his own actions. Or maybe he just thinks he has to die in some sort of cosmic completing-the-circle kind of way. As I'm frantically trying to find a way out of this nightmare, Al casually mentions that there is a secret exit out of his apartment. Gee, that's great, Al, that might have been more useful 5 minutes ago as I can hear women screaming and the sounds of cold-hearted men with guns just outside the door! But for some reason they hesitate before kicking down the door. Al removes a panel from the wall in his walk-in closet and there's this metal laundry chute, that perhaps moreso resembles the large steam pipe Indiana Jones hid inside in "Raiders of the Lost Ark" when the Nazi's seized Katanga's freighter (right before Indy dives over the side and swims across the choppy seas to the Nazi submarine and somehow sneaks down the hatch unnoticed). As I'm climbing into the chute I thank Al and make some sort of touching, tributary goodbye that belonged in an Academy Award winning film. Then I hear the door slam open and I drop down the chute before I have to witness Al Pacino being gunned down. After that the dream drifted off into strange sequences of climbing the outside of buildings or on scaffolding with a group of people. Too bad about poor Al, though.

Handling the Truth

Here are some random lies and truths, take your pick...but choose wisely...for not only may the Grail grant eternal life...but take it away as well.

1. I milked a cow today and then rode a bullet train to Moscow.
2. I discovered I am allergic to cedar and/or sawdust in general.
3. 14 members of the Denver Broncos showed up at my house and asked if I wanted to go skeet-shooting with them. I almost said yes, but I had a potroast in the oven.
4. Sweet potatoes landed on the moon 450 years ago today.
5. I made some snowballs at work this morning, left them on a railing, and later watched as they melted like the bad guys in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
6. Marlboro cigarettes have a smell so wretched I cannot even quantify it (is quantify the correct usage there?), the closest thing I can come up with is - "slow death." That or something to do with truck stop bathrooms.
7. My motto is the same as Hitler's: "If there's no food in my belly, then there's gonna be trouble."
8. Teachers should be allowed to use tasers on their students.
9. Students should be allowed to "boo" when their teachers are inept.
10. I once went to the beach and while wading in the ocean, a hammerhead shark told me the secret location to a massive treasure trove. Unfortunately I forgot the location after I went back on shore and was distracted by several young ladies wearing a few inches of cloth that legally passed as bathing suits. (That's a metaphor for how much better off men would be if they didn't have that darn desire for women constantly distracting and preempting their motivation. And how us men would all be wealthy and happy if we didn't have our desire for women and instead spent our minds pursuing other things.)
11. Matt Damon has conflicting emotions of vindictive satisfaction and sorrowful sympathy regarding Ben Affleck's ruin of a career. I don't. Affleck can eat it.
12. The Taco Bell chihuahua was last seen entering a house of prostitution in Cambodia. He appeared disheveled and possibly high on narcotics. .....oh wait, my mistake, I got the last two mixed up -- it was Affleck in Cambodia. (hahaha)
13. My pal Angler doesn't know who Angela Landsbury is.
14. Babies come in three flavors - vanilla, tropical, and amaretto.
15. This planet is screwed, folks. Between China, Iran, North Korea, terrorists everywhere, muslim fundamentalists wanting the bomb, the possibility of global warming, the natural spread of technology which means that eventually all the whackos out there who want the bomb will not only have it but will also have ICMBs with which to send the bomb anywhere in the world, Cancer, the bird flu and other future pandemics, psychotic tyrants in South America who think Castro is cool, a shady Russia which is probably secretly still Communist and this whole democracy thing has been a massive, but briliant act to allow the US to deal with the world all by itself while it waits for the opportune time to strike and seize complete control of the world, not to mention the continuing reproduction of idiots all over the place.............it's game over, man....and there's no escape -- no land on this planet is going to be safe -- and we don't have a moon base or colony on Mars yet -- if we did, I'm about two international incidents away from booking the next flight there! Pray for aliens to pick you up and put you in a zoo. That or try to get into NASA and beg them to let you be the first person to go to Mars and set up a permanent habitat.
16. The French are good for very little.....but one of those things is Melissa Therieu (spelling?) - the world's hottest news-anchor.
17. Eating 8 pounds of raw hamburger meat in 20 minutes is NOT a good way to make yourself immune to Mad Cow Disease.
18. I like hotties, music, movies, books, nature, animals, sports, beer, food, clothes that fit, writing, traveling, email, breathing clean air, and barbeque grills --- and that's the truth.


(see if you can discern which of the above are truths and which are lies and which are a little of both and which are open to interpretation.)

High Octane Drinks

3 espresso drinks and I'm fightin' off a headache. It's Sunday afternoon and another work week is almost upon us -- another week of cutting stuff, hauling stuff, dispensing screws and nails, praying for rain, not getting rain until the evening, praying for snow, having the snow gods laugh at me, getting frustrated about not getting any snow and ranting about how "crappy" it is when your winter weather consists of 45 degrees and rain, then vowing to one day live in Montana or Colorado where they get plenty of snow and have plenty of scenic countryside to live in and enjoy the snow. Naturally around the time I finally moved there the climate would shift and both those places would have an average snowfall of negative 3 inches. That's right. Negative 3 inches.

A friend suggested I think about marketing as a potential career. He thought I would hate the idea...but actually it's not too bad. It's perhaps something I'd be willing to try. I'm creative and smart and certainly think outside of the box, so.....maybe monster.com will have something interesting in that area for me.

What is up with Saturday Night Live? How come they haven't cancelled it yet? It's unbearable. It hasn't been truly funny since the early/mid nineties when Farley, Sandler, Spade, Hartman, Myers, Carvey, etc were in their prime. The replacements for those guys (the late nineties) were decent, but clearly not of the same breed. Will Ferrell had his moments...but he was no Phil Hartman. And for the last 4 or 5 years (coincidentally since that abhorrent but yet strangely attractive Tina Fey showed up) the show has been literally unwatchable. Completely unfunny and lame. The talent is not there at ANY level - acting, writing - it's ALL lousy! One random internet user stated that a central problem is that they do not write the show towards their core audience -- instead they gear it for "chicks, metrosexuals, and artsy NY types - basically, themselves."

An example of the wretchedness comes from last night's show: A large fellow (Keenan somebody -- these cast members are nobodies! None of them have that "it" factor. None. None will ever be stars in their own right.) was playing an effeminate host of a dance music show on MTV 4. The last time I had watched the show I had also happened to catch this particular character and both times he displayed the same shamefully poor acting/stage presence skills. Throughout the entire sketch he had a smile upon his face -- not because it was part of his character, but because he could not or would not commit to the role. It was similar to how Jimmy Fallon used to laugh at his own "jokes" on Weekend Update. This Keenan guy's smile said "this sketch is so funny, I don't even need to totally play the part and keep a straight face, I can just smile all the way through." Apparently the show has no directors because even a half-wit director coked-out and distracted by his pregnant, cross-dressing, hooker girlfriend would have the sense to tell this guy to quit freakin' smiling!!! When Chris Farley played Matt Foley - Motivational Speaker, did he knowingly smirk through the whole thing? Hell no. That's because he had talent, class, and good comedic sense.

Saturday Night Live is an abortion. (or if you're Pro-Choice --- SNL should BE aborted. How's that?)

Espresso Mania!

"We're back! And we have the combination to the air shield!"
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5? That's amazing! I've got the same combination on my luggage!"

It's a new year and the "Writing Dude" has a new fuel --- the cappuchino/latte machine he got for Christmas. Yes, Christmas, not Winter Holiday or Hitler Worshipping Day, but Christmas. (you know, it's probably MORE politically correct to have a Hitler Worshipping Day than Christmas. The PC types would just love a world where no one dares to say "Merry Christmas" for fear of offending someone, but people could throw around "Happy Hitler Worship Day.")

So what's been going on with me? Well, I am still a crappy apprentice carpenter, my English degree is still laughing at me from a pile in my room/storage closet, I'm beginning to spend more and more time on the job pondering acts of violence against my coworkers, I feel trapped, I feel like a failure, I feel lost, I would rather be racking up more debt taking undergraduate classes at the local university towards a teaching certificate than continuing with the daily misery that is my job, but it may be too late to apply/register, and I don't know how I would pay for it as I don't have several thousand in cash laying around nor are my parents willing or able to help me out. My friend in Prague is still urging me to move there and live with him and party and eat horse and steak tartar and partake in the madness that he thrives in daily. Another friend simply wants to see me move away from here and do something, anything.

....if I can't find a job here in my hometown, where I actually have contacts - how am I supposed to find one elsewhere? It's not like there's a line of work I'm highly interested in or even good at. But what am I doing day to day? I struggle through each day of work mentally collapsing a little more - praying and wishing for something to fall out of the sky and change everything. Hoping that somehow, someway, a friend or family member will point me in the right direction for a real job...or for divine intervention. But not the bad kind where your family gets wiped out and you have leprosy and sit by the side of the road in old robes with a 2 foot long gray beard.

And in the 10 seconds since I wrote the last line I realized my tuna sandwich had been in the oven for an HOUR. My friggin' lunch looks like it just passed through the earth's atmosphere. (wailing and gnashing of teeth)

I need more latte....or a machine gun....nah, that won't do it. If I wasn't such a nice guy I would become one of those James Bond villains. I've got enough bitterness stored up for it.

I'm gonna go find a blowtorch and a fork and salvage my lunch now.

A Poem for December

So far behind the march, that when you arrive the war is over
OR
Still in the womb, this is all a dream


We seem to scurry down the rabbit hole
with underarm ponderings and mudslide tendencies
And then we stop and rejuvenate, for a moment, or nine
Something flickers beyond the trees, just to the left of that wintry setting sun
A chord or a roar, depending on your state
or perhaps the color of your soul
You recognize Time, in its Valentine red Ferrari
but just barely, as it exceeds all known speed limits and safety parameters
As it blazes out of sight, you think you hear it laughing
And you're back from a free-fall trip into the past and present and future of yourself
standing in some leaves but it was summer when you left
That was moments ago? How did I get here?
You are still you, but the world has rallied onward
Seems you're always lagging behind, lost in daydreams and,
getting caught up in those flickers of something special
just to the left of the wintry setting sun
The trees know what you feel
They've seen you through all these journeys
You may not believe it, but they feel badly that they cannot help you,
empathize and ease your troubled being.
And now you shake your head, to clear the glaze from your sight
and find the snow is easing downward, a shredded pillow in the sky
collecting and rejuvenating, reconvening at your feet
soon all the world is soothed in this white comfort
and you're still wearing shorts.
You'd better head back now,
We only have but a short while here,
Somewhere Time is laughing
and speeding.