EVERY QUESTION HERE CONTAINS THE WORDS, "Your Boyfriend"

You're Brigitte Bardot!


What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

For all my college peeps.

Fun things to do in a final
(i.e. you are going to fail the class completely no matter what you get on the final exam)
1. Bring a pillow. Fall asleep (or pretend to) until the last 15 minutes. Wake up, say "oh geez, better get cracking" and do some gibberish work. Turn it in a few minutes early.
2. If it is a math/science exam, answer in essay form. If it is long answer/essay form, answer with numbers and symbols. Be creative. Use the integral symbol.
3. Make paper airplanes out of the exam. Aim them at the instructor's left nostril.
4. Talk the entire way through the exam. Read questions aloud, debate your answers with yourself out loud. If asked to stop, yell out, "I'm SOOO sure you can hear me thinking." Then start talking about what a jerk the instructor is.
5. Bring cheerleaders.
6. Walk in, get the exam, sit down. About five minutes into it, loudly say to the instructor, "I don't understand ANY of this. I've been to every lecture all semester long! What's the deal? And who the hell are you? Where's the regular guy?"
7. Bring a Game Boy (or Game Gear, etc...). Play with the volume at max level.
8. On the answer sheet (book, whatever) find a new, interesting way to refuse to answer every question. For example: I refuse to answer this question on the grounds that it conflicts with my religious beliefs. Be creative.
9. Bring pets.
10. Run into the exam room looking about frantically. Breathe a sigh of relief. Go to the instructor, say "They've found me, I have to leave the country" and run off.
11. Fifteen minutes into the exam, stand up, rip up all the papers into very small pieces, throw them into the air and yell out "Merry Christmas." If you're really daring, ask for another copy of the exam. Say you lost the first one. Repeat this process every fifteen minutes.
12. Do the exam with crayons, paint, or fluorescent markers.
13. Come into the exam wearing slippers, a bathrobe, a towel on your head, and nothing else.
14. Come down with a BAD case of Turet's Syndrome during the exam. Be as vulgar as possible.
15. Do the entire exam in another language. If you don't know one, make one up! For math/science exams, try using Roman numerals.
16. Bring things to throw at the instructor when s/he's not looking Blame it on the person nearest to you.
17. As soon as the instructor hands you the exam, eat it.
18. Walk into the exam with an entourage. Claim you are going to be taping your next video during the exam. Try to get the instructor to let them stay, be persuasive. Tell the instructor to expect a percentage of the profits if they are allowed to stay.
19. Every five minutes, stand up, collect all your things, move to another seat, continue with the exam.
21. Turn in the exam approximately 30 minutes into it. As you walk out, start commenting on how easy it was.
23. Bring a black marker. Return the exam with all questions and answers completely blacked out.
24. Get the exam. Twenty minutes into it, throw your papers down violently, scream out "Fuck this!" and walk out triumphantly.
26. Show up completely drunk. (Completely drunk means at some point during the exam, you should start crying for mommy).
28. Comment on how sexy the instructor is looking that day.
32. Bring a water pistol with you. Nuff said.
33. From the moment the exam begins, hum the theme to Jeopardy. Ignore the instructor's requests for you to stop. When they finally get you to leave one way or another, begin whistling the theme to the Bridge on the River Kwai.
34. Start a brawl in the middle of the exam.
35. If the exam is math/science related, make up the longest proofs you could possibly think of. Get pi and imaginary numbers into most equations. If it is a written exam, relate everything to your own life story.
37. Bring a friend to give you a back massage the entire way through the exam. Insist this person is needed, because you have bad circulation.
38. Bring cheat sheets FOR ANOTHER CLASS (make sure this is obvious... like history notes for a calculus exam... otherwise you're not just failing, you're getting kicked out too) and staple them to the exam, with the comment "Please use the attached notes for references as you see fit."
39. When you walk in, complain about the heat. Strip.
40. After you get the exam, call the instructor over, point to any question, ask for the answer. Try to work it out of him/her.
41. One word: Wrestlemania.
42. Bring balloons, blow them up, start throwing them around like they do before concerts start.
43. Try to get people in the room to do the wave.
44. Play frisbee with a friend at the other side of the room.
45. Bring some large, cumbersome, ugly idol. Put it right next to you. Pray to it often. Consider a small sacrifice.
47. During the exam, take apart everything around you. Desks, chairs, anything you can reach.
48. Complete the exam with everything you write being backwards at a 90 degree angle.
49. Bring a musical instrument with you, play various tunes. If you are asked to stop, say "it helps me think." Bring a copy of the Student Handbook with you, challenging the instructor to find the section on musical instruments during finals. Don`t forget to use the phrase "Told you so".

PS: Thanks to Mary, because I comepletely stole this from her blog.

Follow up

Well, after talking with Catpants a bit, I feel a little better. She put it perfectly. I love that I have a reputation for swooping in and saving the day as far as stuff like this goes. But it would be nice to be a first choice rather than a last ditch effort.

Anyhow, I DO understand about R. As I told Catpants, finding a "scapegoat" or "sacrificial lamb" is all part of the Ranting process. I was just doing my Ron Burgundy Impression ("What is this, Amateur hour!?!") I sincerely meant no offense by it.

But I stick by the fact that Betsy sucks, and I dont just mean at stage managing.

After a long absence, Ranting returns to my blog

Ok, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think Im good at what I do in the theatre. Im always on time, I mostly always do what needs to be done, and I generally never forget anything that causes anybody to die. So it pisses me off that I have not ONCE been asked to stage manage a show flat out, with no emergency involved. A good example, and the one that is upsetting me today, is JC Superstar.

Now, this is a strange complaint, sorta, considering I REALLY DONT WANT to do another show right now. But it seems to me very insulting that no one has even asked. Reason being, Ive been PRESENT when everyone who has turned down the position to the director, J, said they couldnt do it. Travis, the stage manager for Cabaret, turned it down REPEATEDLY, the final one culminating in straight telling J he would not do it during one of our smoke breaks. So John says, "well, I guess I gotta find a stage manager." He looks directly at me, then walks away.

Now, as Ive told countless people, Cabaret was the last in a line of shows I have done with MTD, going back two years. I have worked on EVERY SHOW THEY HAVE DONE. So its not like they dont know who I am, or what I can do.

The reason I am upset this morning is that I found out from E3 who IS stage managing. We'll call him R. R is a sweet sweet guy, and very friendly, and I guess I could see where he knows SOMETHING about theatre, but its like being turned down for a great acting role and the director giving it to Larry Storch from F-Troop. I mean, is that the protocol? Wait until we've asked everyone who is really good and proven, then ask the people who arent that great, then Nutcase?

I know how R stage manages, I think, because HE THOUGHT HE WAS STAGE MANAGING GODDAMN CABARET.

*Opening night! We are a few minutes into the opening, and R comes up to me at my post to tell me he can't hear out of the speakers. I immediately tell Adam, the sound man, and he cranks em up a bit. R tells me AGAIN, he can't hear ANYTHING from the SPEAKERS. I talk about it with Travis, and decide to get off and see what I can hear. I immediately take off my headset and am bowled over by the crisp and clear sound of every FUCKING thing thats onstage. I walk throughout the building, and can hear nothing but more of EVERYTHING ONSTAGE. I walk back, get on headset, and tell everyone I can hear fine. R walks up, again, and asks how the speaker problem is coming. "We can't hear anything, back here."

*Picture if you will, the night after opening night, half way through the first act, when one of the side screens next to the orchestra falls over. Now, as soon as I notice this, Im on headset with Travis, and we're working out a plan. I get off, round up my crew people, and tell them what the plan is. I walk up to the screen, which lies just onstage, and hear R tell a few actors that surround him, "Well, there's nothing we can do." I had to just pat him on the shoulder and say, "Thanks, buddy. Tell you what, why don't YOU get ready to go onstage, and I'LL worry about how to run things back here."

Now, as I said, R is a sweet guy, and his wife helped my mom and I find the house we currently live in. But as I said, Im a little upset that they looked at him, glanced at me, and said, "I would much rather have someone mediocre than someone who is under the age of a hundred." I mean, who was NEXT on their list? Betsy? Atilla the Fucking Hun?

As always, remember that I dont mean to sound egotistical, or jealous. But WHEN's GON' BE MY TIME, LAWD?!? WHEN'S GON' BE MY TIME!?!?

Just a few more

It's Not Sex. It's ... : Putting the Devil Into Hell

Get your own Sex Name

Your Porn Star Name is: Charlie Cumalot

Get your own Porn Star Name

Your Penis Name is: Captain Kirk

Get your own Penis Name

Ok, need you guys to agree/disagree on this one

Your Seduction Style: The Natural

You don't really try to seduce people... it just seems to happen. Fun loving and free spirited, you bring out the inner child in people. You are spontaneous, sincere, and unpretentious - a hard combo to find! People drop their guard around you, and find themselves falling fast.

What Is Your Seduction Style?

Woohoo! Still pretty normal!

Your Linguistic Profile:

60% General American English

25% Dixie

10% Yankee

5% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Chrissy at the bat

Well, tonight is T-Dub night at the ballpark in Arlington, so Catpants, E3, and I are heading out to baseball it up! Hooray!

They were also nice enough to give me a ride this morning, even though I live comicly out of their way. Very sweet.

So last night I actually got a chance to sorta relax. Mom made this fried zucchini (which reaffirms my belief no one should fry vegetables), so I ate and then read a short (haha) story by Stephen King. It was cool, this not having anything to do, and Im sure it will stay cool for at least three minutes the next day I have to do it. Very frustrating, it is, the fact that I wish constantly for time, with which I do nothing when it rolls my way. Guh.

Frustration, Elation, and Clumsiness

So, we closed cabaret last night. Went very well, did strike, which went well. Yay.

So this morning, instead of being 10 minutes early, as I WAS going to be, I was an hour late due to my car not starting and having to wait for a coworker to come pick me up. *GRUMBLE*

I had good time this weekend.....most of it spent drunk, high, or euphoric on the coffee I shared with E3. Saturday was strange though. Here is my normal checklist format of things that happened.

*Most of the show is spent running off headset, because issue after issue pops up. The other part of the show is spent running off headset because the stage manager and the stupid ho spotlight op get into a tiff (guess whose side I was on.)

*During the last scene, in a very taut and quiet moment, I drop part of a chair on an actors head, and she shouts "OW!" (She happens to be old, just in case yall thought I was good in any way)

*I go to a cast party at...uh...Consuela's house, where Karaoke is promised. (Whatever, liquor will be there, right?) I promptly step on one of the mics, breaking the top part off.

*A drink later, I walk outside to smoke a cigarette, trip, and drop a really nice margarita glass I was drinking a really nice margarita out of. It shatters, of course. I call Action over (the party's host), and say, "Dude, Im SO SORRY. Ill clean this up. Im SO SORRY." He says not to worry, just dont tell Consuela. (I feel full-on horrible now.)

*As I am putting away the broom , which I had just used to sweep up the broken glass of (no doubt) one of Consuela's favorite glasses, the handle breaks off in my hand.

After a few more drinks, I left. I just was not doing alright. What sucks is that I was absolutely euphoric and in tune with myself when I got to the show that night.

Man. I could use some.....I dont even know anymore. What the fuck is my problem?

What id like to be doing tonight 

My real name 

:)

Ah, if there is a problem I can have that a few hours spent talking to an actual clinical psychologist can't help, I haven't found it. This week was a tough one, with many arguments with God, arguments with myself, and surlyness directed outwards. Many thanks to catpants for listening to me rant on, and to lestat for our girltalk last night.

So, Cabaret finishes its run this weekend. I have to say, although Im looking forward to off time (again), Ill be sorry to see it go. Its a great show, and although I could happily maim some of the cast/crew, for the most part I love em. (I have said this like thirty times haven't I?)

Anyways, in other news. Next week is the ballgame (TWU night! Pioneer Pride! or whatever the hell we're supposed to say).Im both super excited to hang with catpants and e3, and also because Im a huge baseball fan. The feel of the crowd, the smell of the peanuts and beer (both new and used) and the delightful breeze when you sit in just the right spot are things that I only feel rarely, but are a cleansing salve to my introspective, weary soul.

And next weekend is payday! Huzzah! For my splurge this month, Im seriously considering going and getting another acoustic guitar. I left behind my old one (and I do mean OLD) when I moved out of "the church", as my former roommate dubbed our old house. I have my electric guitar (a fender knockoff), which is nice, but for those bluesy times when practice is all I feel like doing, I need the soothing sounds of a heart-warming, echoing acoustic. The song I posted in my last blog is a strumming acoustic song, and I cant wait to learn it. Plus, now that I have this much money (holding up fingers), I can really buy something reasonable, but cool. I dont know. Maybe I should get a hair cut and cut my losses. I dont know.

I love you all, loyal readers. I dont know if its my hangover, or my euphoria about friday, but to each of my loyal fans, I owe a big hug.

Hang

by Matchbox Twenty

She grabs her magazines
She packs her things and she goes
She leaves the pictures hanging on the wall, she burns all
Her notes and she knows, she's been here too few years
To feel this old

He smokes his cigarette, he stays outside 'till it's gone
If anybody ever had a heart, he wouldn't be alone
He knows, she's been here too few years, to be gone

And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang

The trouble understand, is she got reasons he don't
Funny how he couldn't see at all, 'til she grabbed up her coat
And she goes, she's been here too few years to take it all in stride
But still it's much too long, to let hurt go (you let her go)
And we always say, it would be good to go away, someday
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you I'll just hang
The same for you
I'll always hang

Well I always say, it would be good to go away
But if things don't work out like we think
And there's nothing there to ease this ache
But if there's nothing there to make things change
If it's the same for you, I'll just hang


[ www.azlyrics.com ]

Thanks and Goodbye

Thanks to all who showed a bunch of excitement over my dates this week (CatPants, and people who dont read my blog:)). However, I dont think we'll be seeing my girl Suzanne around anymore. Oh well. Most never saw her in the first place.

Bah. So now the first one's over, and I can get back into the swing, right? Right?

Convocation's today, followed by a lovely pic-a-nic with hot dogs and such, so I have a lot to do today. Also, a pick up rehearsal later on. Rock the Cas-beret!

Humbly, I am king of the world

So, my loyal readers, last night, I had a date. She is a beautiful, sweet, and extremely smart girl named Suzanne, a fourth grade teacher I met very recently in my travels. It was lovely, and although we didn't do much, we got to know each other a whole lot better. For instance, I am the most recent in a long line of people she has beaten at scrabble. But she is going down soon.

Anyhow, if I seem tightlipped about this, when otherwise I wouldnt be, its just cause I dont want to jinx it. Im working on getting her up here for a cabaret cast party. Cross your fingers, MLR's.

Oh, by the way, WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Habemus Papem!

http://www.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/europe/04/19/pope.tuesday/index.html

I totally stole the headline from a friend.

We have a new pope! Huzzah!

I heard someone downstairs in my building saying, "Why can't they have an AMERICAN pope?"

Bitch, do you LIVE in this country?

So, the chick who used the term "Afro-american" in my office the other day just came in and said that she "itched" when my boss asked how she was doing. I really wish I had a lockable door to my office (well, I do, but I cant really close it when Im in here).

Well, we opened the show this weekend. It was a great time, and very successful, and a coupe of funny things happened.

*One girl came in, wearing a deliriously short skirt, and a thong, as per usual, and this time had one full cheek hanging out the bottom. After sharing some funny, horrified looks with an actor (this particular girl shouldn't dress like that), I politely asked her to put on her costume and cover herself. This is kinda funny, because her costume, like ALL the girls, is basically underwear.

*I saw the stage manager's girlfriend, after about 3 years of not seeing her, and, because he and I had been talking about it, and I was drunk, opened with "Hey, I hear you fart alot."

*The same stage manager was telling me about a night a couple of weeks ago when his girlfriend was "unhappy with his performance". He said, "Honey, you had the same five minutes I did, I just utilized my time better."

*I got a few thank yous when I called the cast to place, one up yours (Which was funny and ok, because it was Frecklehead's boyfriend), and I myself doled out a Fuck You when told to do one thing. Its a very fun cast and crew, and even though they annoy me as much as anybody, they are ALL good hearted people, and I genuinely like 99% of them. The other 1% is just the people I can stand, but not overly.

Anyhow, my point is, Im having fun. What a concept, huh?

Dollar bills

Your Stripper Info by radioface
first name
age
Stripper Name:	Muffy
Specialty:	the spread-eagle
Customers say:	"Want fries with yer shake?"
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Hello, loyal readers.

First of all, a shout out to all you who didn't make Chorus Line. I love you all, and like I said last night to a couple of you, I would cast you in all my shows. Believe me when I say, seriously, no bullshit, fate has saved you from an anal raping with a barbed, two headed penis. The director is a horrible person to work with (I dont care what anyone says), and I would sooner y'all go out for a good show in a good theatre than have y'all stuck being miserable.

Hmmm.....staff meeting. BRB.

So, as Ive been telling everyone I see, Cabaret is such a good show! Its very deep, but in a way thats easily accessible to the layman, so it ends up making you feel very smart. Come see it, if you already werent planning to.

Top 10 Sexiest Things I Can Think Of

Now, that previous post got me to thinkin'. My first sexy icon was really quite sexy, in my opinion. So, as the male Bridget Jones that I am, I will now list the 5 sexiest things I can think of. (Maybe its also because Im deliriously sexually frustrated). Girls, take note. Guys............take note.

10. The feeling right after a particularly heated make-out session, where both of your hair and clothes are kinda messed up. (And I mean ONLY making out)

9. When she is so tired, she lays her head on your shoulder and quietly goes to sleep.

8. When a jolt wakes her up from the above position, and she puts her arms around your arm to hold that position.

7. When this happens with a girl you aren't officially dating yet.

6. While listening to a voice mail, she says "Hello" and you are immediately horny. (Sorry, I am a dude)

5. Catching her looking at you when you aren't paying attention.

4. After numerous years out of high school, copping a feel in the car, hoping not to caught (by the five-o, or her parents, respectively).

3. Having to actually discuss a game plan for leaving early so you can get to doin' it.

2. Two naked sweaty hips pressing together.

1. Whether feverishly fast, sweetly slow, or normal speed, kissing kicks ass.

Now, I will post again about how great it is to see boobs every night.

(Gunshot)

Now here is the real one

What Icons are for you? by ladyallie
Username
Favourite Colour
Sex	MaleFemaleYES PLEASE!UndecidedBothNeither
Your Love icon is...
Your Sad Icon is...
Your Happy Icon is...
Your Angry Icon is...
Your Food Icon is...
Your Animal Icon is...
Your Random Icon is...
Your Cartoon Icon is...
Your Sexy Icon is...
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Hmmm...sexy

What Icons are for you? by ladyallie
Username
Favourite Colour
Sex	MaleFemaleYES PLEASE!UndecidedBothNeither
Your Love icon is...
Your Sad Icon is...
Your Happy Icon is...
Your Angry Icon is...
Your Food Icon is...
Your Animal Icon is...
Your Random Icon is...
Your Cartoon Icon is...
Your Sexy Icon is...
Quiz created with MemeGen!

CABA-RAPE

Don't get confused, I have just put up a bad title for a good show.

I have to say, after two nights, my experience with Cabaret has been very positive. It was strange at first, as it always is with a show you swoop in and work in the last week. Everyone in the cast has there rhythms with each other down, and everyone but you knows where the problems and good spots are. The designers and techies are usually running around not knowing what's going on, and most everyone has a job for you.

It was nice seeing so many people I know, but it was also very strange because even though you know all these people, only half will treat you like they really know you. You end up having weird moments where you push something too far with someone who feels they dont know you well enough. (Im not talking dirty, I just mean those jokes that tend to unsettle strangers). Then, the people you DO know will make you feel extra special. Its very tiring sometimes.

Another funny thing is that it seems people are so used to me being in a position of authority that no one can buy me not knowing whats goin on. I wear the headset, and thirty people who have been there since day one are asking me how a scene will work.(Their answer? "Shit, I dont know.")

I have to say, the greatest part of the show for me is the EXTREME appreciation I get from the stage manager and director. I've worked with them before, in a little show I like to call "Kill Me Im Irish" (Finian's Rainbow). They seem to very much know what they are doing, classically trained and all, so I always want them to think Im smart and funny and everything. (When someone is great at what they do, its like I get a crush on them. I worry about how I look in front of them, I hope they will like me and respect me, etc) The first thing they both said to me was "Nutcase! We're SO glad you're here!" They immediately put me to work, and have been pretty much ever since. But after a few years of feeling weird about that, I really realize that means people trust you to do that work. Several times the stage manager has turned to me and said "Hey, I know Im putting a lot on you" and I say, "Hey its my job." He smiles real big, and says thanks.

The best ever came last night, after everyone had left. I was standing around with the director and the stage manager. The set designer came over and started talking, and at some point some reference was made to me not knowing how to do something. I stood up, and jokingly said "Im off the project!" The director immediately said "NO! Nobody insult Nutcase! We NEED him!" I felt so very special! Then, as everyone left, the director says to the stage manager, "You want your notes?" Since I know that they have been having a private after show meeting every night, I said "Alright, I'll take off." "The director said, "No no, you should hear some of these. Maybe you can help."

I know this may seem gay or whatever, but I felt like King of the World.

Three Short Stories

1. Of My Brother's Keeper

As Jimmy O'Hara walked in the front door, he knew something was wrong. No bacon cooking on the stove.....no sound of a shower running.....no incessant droning of a tv weather caster saying that today would be partially cloudy with a fine haze of sweat over everyone and everything. He took off his hat, his coat, and his gloves, and hung them on the rack. He silently prayed that what he knew to be true was not. He slowly glided in, as silently as possible. He crept to the bedroom, taking off his shoes so as not to make that spot in the floor creak. He flexed his hands, ready for what he must do...He thrust open the door, and, to his horror, realized he lived alone.

2. The Dame Wore Pants

As she got dressed, Rose Tomkins realized her lover would have to be killed. She had worked it around in her head over and over. The little voice would pop up, Haven't you had good times? Is it really worth doing what you're thinking of? She pushed that voice away, wiped the sweat from her still heaving breasts, and pulled her long silk stockings on. "I knew this day would come," she said, reapplying her smeared lipstick. "This went too far long ago, and now it has to end. What if my husband were to find out? I can't bear to think of little Timmy and Marie living without both parents. Did you think you could OWN me? How DARE you! I will have to do this now so I don't have it come back to haunt me later!" She suddenly stood up, quicker than a bullet from an outlaw's gun, took her lover in her deceptively strong hands, and removed the batteries.

3. Dog In The Cave of Time and Reticence

It was hot on the night that I woke up to realize I was dead. The kind of heat where you feel your armpits getting cool, the sweat dripping down, staining your newly bought izod polo, pink and seafoam green, even though you thought it seemed a bit lavendar, your wife was all over it. It was dark, where I lay, but it felt like the heat of a thousand suns was on me, that I was cooking in a slowly turning rotisserie, seen only by those bored kids who had nothing better to do while there mothers, tired and sick and holding a baby of some kind, bought ham, the kind of ham that's cheap and salty and tastes too gamey to get more than a grunt from your husband, world-weary and drunk, halfways watching a football game and halfways wishing he were a woman named Yvette, too beautiful to be called Myrtle, not beautiful enough to be called Rita, but pretty enough to have a half-full dance card. As I lay there, it occurred to me I must have been killed by those friends who swore to protect me, those bastards who swore to UTILIZE me if they had to, and not any other time. I would get them back somehow. If only I weren't already dead! I would find a way. I would make my play at the best time, when no one saw it coming, when no one could stand up and say, "Hey, he's making his play!" I would get them all back for killing me like they did. I am a Run-on Sentence.

Saturday night is my darkness

I live with my mother. Because my car is crap and I dont have enough money to fix it or get a new one, I drive her car around mostly. Im the friend everyone thinks of at the best of times as the funny one, at the worst of times as the obnoxious idiot. I work in the theatre. My nickname is Softhands. So believe me when I say nobody is afraid of me. I'm very doubtful that I'm very interesting or intriguing. But....

Every saturday night, I go to a local bar, around 10:30 or 11, and sit alone at the dark corner of the bar. I order drink after drink, and smoke cigarette after cigarette, all the while just watching people and the mirror over the bar. In my own world, I am Jung's Shadow. I am The Man With No Name. I am a character from a Frank Miller comic, or an old George Jones song, the heartless drinker with no home to miss. No one knows me here, and I know nobody. I revel in the fact that these people have no idea of who I am or what my story is. I could be all hard cock and bad attitude, the kind who is so intense he will stare into your eyes during hot, sticky sex; a kindergarten teacher with a wife, who is on his way to midnight mass; or just some dude in for a drink (which I guess is what I am). I drink until Im out of money for the night, until the gravelly base of my throat hurts, or until the Jack Daniels gives my throat that horrible cold feeling. I go home.

I wake on sunday with a slight headache and the will to keep up my happy go lucky personality. Its a good life I have, and I wouldnt trade it for anything. But its a nice break to become someone else. I find my heart of darkness every saturday night, take it out and shake the dust from it, look at it for a couple of hours, and then fold it back up, and stuff it away. But at least I know where it is.

Why cant we be friends, why cant we be friends

To begin, let me say that I say all of this without a trace of irony. Im making no jokes in this blog, although I may have a happy attitude while writing it.

Ok, as much as Ive stayed on the sidelines, I cant allow this to go on any longer. Something has been going on lately, amongst people that say they are friends, and it doesnt piss me off (like everything else in the world). It has just reached the point where I feel nothing but amusement, a dark hilarity where I can sit back and watch a bunch of friends get catty and say things they may really mean. Good for you guys. As a child of divorce, I cant stand to stand by with all this stupid tension.

Some of you may have heard me say before that I feel like I can be an open book on my blog. I come here to talk about me, basically, and on occasion to throw out congrats and various kudos to my friends. I have never deleted a post, nor will I delete a comment. This Blog is like the free speech area in a college. You wont see me censoring anything. (The only reason I refer to people in code is because they request, and also because its kinda cool, like we're spys or something.)Now, some people are different. They dont want to have hateful things on their blog, where they will see them everyday to bring up old hurts. I can understand that. Others like to comment on OTHERS blogs, to leave sometimes scathing insults, sometimes funny anecdotes, and sometimes comments about themselves. I suppose I can understand that, too. (Yes, even the scathing insults. I hate lotsa people too, even though my newfound-friend God teaches against it.) These are all things I LOVE about blogs, and accept as the way the world works.

What I dont accept is how some of you guys can have a double standard. YOU can post hateful immature things in your blogs, but get furious when someone else does it. Its upsetting to me, personally, that someone who claims to be "over it" and "moving on" has made comments to the contrary two days ago. Its upsetting to me that I know everyone involved, and I can see where the whole situation became a schoolgirl catfight. Its MOST upsetting to me that I question myself as to whether or not I should stick up for my friends when another one of my "friends" is insulting them to the point where I get angry and depressed.

Well, no more.

From now on, I will do my best to speak out when someone is being an ass. Frecklehead, I dont know what set you off today, but, even though some may tell you it was ill-advised (some parts I agree), I think you are right to let loose with your feelings on your blog. Your blog is your personal diary. Other people can read it and comment, but its still yours. Never forget that.

"Anonymous", or whatever you wish to be called. I repsect your right to comment on someone's blog. Lord knows I do. But its rather petty to call someone immature then make fun of her hair. Also to make comments on someone's character while refusing to let your own name be known.

But hey, whatever you guys wanna do, you do it. I cant/wont stop you. My only admonition is for everyone to pay attention to what they are doing. Who will feel better by this post/comment? Who will be hurt? Who will read this comment and join you in your corner? Who will join the other person? Who will not care? I know it seems like Im in one person's specific corner this time, but hey, dem's the breaks.

I will try to keep the preachyness down to a minimum from now on.

PS: If anyone would like to comment on me personally, I recommend using either my weight, my immaturity and obnoxiousness, or my funny teeth. Everything else Im happy with.

Oh and by the way......"You're boyfriend's gay"? That's like telling someone that the car they drove to work today doesn't run. If it didnt, it wouldn't be the car I drove to work in.

Grow up, assholes.

The Absurdist Comedy That Was My Lunch

So, E3 and I went to lunch today at the Loophole (home of my famous Mushroom Fiasco). We have the same waiter, whatever his name was. Dude with a do-rag on 24-7. So, E3 and I order Dr Peppers and two orders of fish-and-chips. Lunch goes downhill from here.

12:50PM After a good while, the waiter comes over and brings one order of fish-and-chips, places it in front of E3, and walks away. No silverware has been provided at this point. We also notice at this time the chips are actual potato chips.

1:00 E3 asks for silverware, to which the waiter picks up our glasses (still half full of dr pepper) and brings us back tea.

1:05 The waiter comes over and says, "Hey, sorry man, its gonna be about five more minutes, we had to change the tape in the register." And walks away, as if this statement needed no explanation.

1:10 Waiter finally brings my food. E3 asks if we can get some dr peppers. Waiter immediately brings us....Thats right! silverware. IM NOT MAKING THIS UP.

1:25 Eventually, we get dr peppers, and the waiter brings us the check. I pay for the both of us, with cash.

1:27 Waiter comes over and asks if Id like change. I say, "Yeah, thatd be great."

1:30 Waiter walks over, tells us to have a great day, and walks away, crumpling up my receipt and pitching it in the trash.

1:35 (on the way home) I say to E3, "I hate that guy."

My new favorite song

Cowboy Love, by Reverend Horton Heat

I wanna go two steppin',
With a good lookin' big black buck,
I want him to come and pick me up in his chevrolet pick-up truck,
And when we're on the dance floor his hat will rise high above,
It's inter-racial cowboy homo kind of love.

Tall of course dark and handsome,
A gentlemen in every way,
A true cow poke in every sense of the word,
We really go to work in the hay.
A bronc bustin' bull ridin' tiger,
Yet peaceful as a dove,
It's inter-racial cowboy homo kind of love,

Bridge:
I know that us as a couple
will cause talk but I wouldn't mind,
Those cowboys will be pea green with envy
when they see his cute behind.
That's why each night by the campfire,
I thank my lucky stars above,
For inter-racial cowboy homo kind of love.

Proof of God, or, Jesus Ain't Takin' This Lyin' Down

So I got up this morning a bit late, tired from yesterday spent at a conference in Dallas. I called my boss just to let her know I'd be a few minutes tardy. I started out, and got halfway down my alley when the car runs out of gas. (Of course, you couldn't really tell that that's what it was, as when my car runs out of gas, the needle sits on 1/10 of a tank, and every warning light comes on.) So, I decide that it would be better for my car to block MY driveway rather than a neighbors, and I start a pushin'. I get to the back of the house with the chainlink fence and the five (count 'em, FIVE) barking dogs, and can push no more. I notice a retired couple walking (like they do) down my alley, and they ask if I can use some help. I say yep, and they help me push the car at least to the side of the alley. Then they ask if I have a gascan, and I give them my gascan and $10 and showers of thank you's.

So, I sit and wait. While I do this, 30 minutes pass. Of course, Im not angry at my sweet retired couple (Mack and Linda, btw), but I have to admit it ran through my head that they may do this a lot, and have a collection of ten dollar bills and gascans at home. Then, like most reformed baptists in my position do, I prayed.

"God, I know you and me have been having our differences lately, but I could really use an assist, here."

So eventually Mack gets back with my gascan, we pour it in, and she starts right up. I again shower Mack with thanks and blessings, and ask if there is anything I can do to repay him. He says, "Just take a look at this, and my number is in the back if you ever want to talk."

And he handed me a book titled Seeking God.

More to come.

Guys, really

Play nice. You know who I'm talking to.

I just have one rule.

I'll use caps, so try not to be annoyed.

IF YOU BREAK UP WITH ME OVER GOD, DON'T SEND ME RELIGIOUS FORWARDS.

Thank you.

By the way

I agree with Catpants about the sadness over the death of the Pope. While not ever having taken the classes necessary for conversion to Catholisicm, I always consider myself an rish catholic, and I think my favorite times in the church are those I spent at mass. Beyond all that, there is also the fact that John Paul II has been the pope since a long before I was born. So something is changing that has been the same what seems like forever.

I raised my glass Saturday night to the late Pope, not that I think that's what the church had in mind.

SIN CITY! WOO!

So I went to see Sin City this weekend. I have to say, "Wow."

Now, I have all the books in the series, so I was not a stranger to the stories, the dialogue, or any of the characters. It was visually stunning, and the story itself is so hard-boiled and original that it is terrific just seeing movies like this being made. I have to admit, as someone who loves a well-put-together story, it was kinda jumbled at times. But WOOHOO! (And not to sound sexist, but there was tits and ass all OVER that movie. And Clive Owen!

So, despite sticking to my guns for a whole month, Im working backstage on Cabaret. Oh, well. This should solve the problem of not having much to do, not seeing girls in underwear, etc. I haven't seen the show, so I hope I like it. At least I'll see Catpants and Lestat and the Dude Manager. So bring on the Nazis.

I'm FINE, not Alright

Sorry to all of those kinda halfway readers, this blog may seem long. Sorry to everyone, because this blog will use a lot of analogies and metaphors. Oh, and sorry to me, because this may seem losery.

Ok, so this week I had a bit of a breakdown. Both at home and at work. There were a couple of panic attacks, a few unreasonably angry moments, times of pure depression, and to be sure, a few hours of carefree happiness. There was at least one instance this week when I declared I needed my meds (even though I have never been on mind-altering drugs, unless you count St John’s Wort during my horrible, terrible early teenage years). I know that maybe a couple of you have noticed, Catpants in particular, that my tenuous hold on my (for lack of a better word) sanity was kinda slippin’.

I tell you what…..have any of you seen Garden State? I know at least one of you has. It deals with a young actor who decides to stop taking his lithium on the occasion of his mother’s death. I sort of feel like that; I feel like I have been in a mind-numbing state for the past 10 months, and now I have to wake up and get my life back together. Before, it was very much a situation where I could live with doing nothing, because to be awake I would have to talk to that person every few hours at least. Also, having a steady or fiancé or whatever means having a guaranteed date on whatever day you generally wish. Whether that means a fancy dinner at sizzler, or a night home of snuggling and perhaps sleep. My mind and heart would not have to live and grow if I have someone there who is not growing either. And, to be absolutely morbid, I was naïve enough to think that made it great.

Now, I don’t want this to sound like an ex bashing session. The only thing I can really be angry at her for is how (and why) we split. Anything else is my own fault for not paying attention enough. So I’m not blaming her AT ALL for any of this, because I DEFINITELY don’t want to go back there. I just stumbled a bit while running to get back to ME.

I have to give the utmost admiration for a few of you, Babs in particular, who have gotten back to themselves after a marriage, or a longer-than-mine courtship, or ANYTHING, because going through this is tough. I really don’t mean to sound down-on-myself, or that MY problems are larger than anyone else’s. But there it is.

While I’m handing out compliments, Catpants, as always, you are helping me through this more than you know.
And also, thanks and I’m sorry to everyone, for me being kinda desperate sounding and losery. I’ve bought a George Jones cd, and plan to work my way through this as manly as possible.

PS: I went to wal-mart last night and bought a couple of new shirts. I feel very stylish, which can make all the difference.