God bless scooter trash

I came across this article, and I thought I'd share it with you.

There's a gang of bikers, claiming to be over 5,000 in numbers, called the Patriot Guard Riders. They ride along with military funeral processions to shield the greiving familes from protests....Protests from members of the Westboro Baptist Church.

Wait, it gets better.

Why are the members of this church protesting military funerals? Because they believe that American soldiers deserve to die because they are fighting to protect a country that embraces homosexuality. They also believe that improvised explosive devices used in roadside bombs are a gift from the Almighty.

This is not the first time this church has been in the news like this. Apparently, they are also known to protest at AIDS funerals! You know, just like Christ used to do!

Okay, last time I checked, our country is (pardon the pun) pretty fucking far from even tolerating homosexuality, much less EMBRACING it. And these people protest at the funerals of fallen soldiers, who are members of an organization well-known for their don't-ask-don't-tell policy, and immediate discharge if one of their soldiers outs him/herself in any way. Explain to me how the gays are responsible again?

Kinda makes me wonder what kind of cable package these churchgoers got that would make them think our society is embracing homosexuals. I think they got only four channels in their basic package: Bravo, Logo, HGTV, and maybe Lifetime (and all they do is fixate on the slogan "Television for Women" before turning off the TV in a fit of rage).

To qoute Frankie, "Relax!"

But for me, the icing on the cake has to be the bikers. You'd think the only thing more disruptive at your child's funeral than a so-called man of God telling you your son/daughter deserved to die in this war because Will & Grace is now on five times a week, would be the sound of dozens of noisy Harleys forming a barricade around the hearse.

You know, as much as I value free speech and oppose censorship, shouldn't there be a permit process in place for speaking out in public? You wanna protest against a government policy that is keeping millions below the poverty line? Sure, here's your permit. Against the war? Approved, stamped, NEXT! Against those who are against the war, and you have a valid point that doesn't sound like a bunch of bumper sticker slogans strung together? Okay, approved, NEXT! Blaming people you don't want to understand or accept in your lives for problems they had nothing to do with simply because you misinterpreted passages from a book written centuries ago? Denied, NEXT! I said denied....Sir, don't make me call in the bikers.

Weekend at Fritschie's

After leaving work (at my normal time) Friday night, I promised myself that I would have a fun weekend, and I did. When I got home Friday, I cooked a huge dinner, then drove around a little bit and wound up down at Arnies for a few beers with my friends. There was a fight on the patio at one point, the cops came, both bartenders got caught up in it, and the band had to stop playing. Not surprising when you consider that it is an Irish bar, but this is totally uncharacteristic for Arnie's. It's normally a really peaceful bunch there, and very rarely does shit go down that requires any more than aksing that person to leave. The aftermath speaks volumes about the good apples in the bunch. For about thirty minutes, there was no music, no drinks, and everyone kept their cool about it. Several people, myself included, volunteered to help out running bar back duties in an effort to keep things running smooth.

There was this one guy, uninvolved with the fight, who was tweaking his brains out at the bar. He had cleared himself a lot of space because of his...I guess you could call it dancing...I've seen people in the middle of a bee swarm handle themselves with more grace. He kept doing what I figured was an air guitar, either that or a grand mal palsy fit. Anyway, I had one run-in with this guy when I was waiting for my pint. The music was loud and I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I think he said, "buy me a shot or I'll kill you" He was mumbling, but I asked him to repeat himself, telling him I couldn't hear too well. When he said it again, I couldn't hear him because in my attempt to read his lips when he spoke, I got distracted my his teeth, which looked like he just chased oreo cookies with mustard. At this point I got my beer and got the hell away from him. I didn't buy him a shot, and thankfully he didn't kill me.

Saturday began with plans to do laundry, watch some DVDs and veg out until I was gonna meet some friends for the Big Lebowski at the Circle Cinema midnight movie...until I got a call from my buddy Tony. The fiddlers were playing at McNellie's, and I went down there to hang out with my friends, listen to the music and grab a bite to eat. A good time was had by all.

It was Tony's wife jenny that mentioned seeing Poona the Fuck-Dog at the Nightengale Theater. Jesus, I hadn't laughed so hard in my life. I wound up sitting next to my friend George who is the best person to sit next to in an audience because she has the most contagious laugh known to man. It makes me sad that she's moving to L.A. in a couple months. I'm gonna miss her terribly. I told her about ten times over the course of the evening not to go.

After the show, Jenny was getting tired so it was just Tony and I for the midnight movie. great flick, great theater, great crowd. I won a t-shirt for answering a trivia question correctly. I think the only thing that went wrong was a leaky cup sloshed some Mr. Pibb on my suede jacket. I didn't care because I was having a good day.

Today was the laundry, DVDs and vegging out. Perfect end to a near perfect weekend. It all kinda makes me mad that I have to go into work tomorrow, but not quite.

I won!

I'll be able to post more tomorrow on the happenings of the last couple days, but I'm inbetween social gatherings and I'm in a bit of a race here.

I went to see Poona the Fuck-Dog at the Nightengale Theater tonight. I sat down with my friend George and was talking to her for a few minutes before I heard my friend Steve, aka Digital Rebel Without a Clue, sitting right behind me. He joked about which one of us would blog post about this experience first.

So, like I said, I'm in a bit of a race (even though Steve probably forgot all about it). More tomorrow. In the meantime, eat it Steve. I won the pathetic internet loser contset this round.

More overtime

I'm coming on on 36 hours so far this week, all on ONE project. Currently, we're done, and I'm waiting on the files to finish compressing so we can get it on our output bureau's FTP site.

Working so much on just this one project has meant I've had to put everything else on hold until at least tomorrow morning. This has also meant that I've had clients calling me left and right to wonder if their stuff is done. I've given them all the same line: "Sorry, I've had a huge project fall in my lap, and if I'm caught working on anything else, my boss will beat me into a coma, only to revive me and grind me into hamburger.

By the time I left on Monday night, we were 30% done. By Tuesday night's end, we were at 80%. We were at 95% when the client showed up to look at what we've done, but she quickly knocked back down into the 80's again. Two hours went by, with the client waffling so much that I could taste maple syrup. But we got the info we needed and quickly finished it all up.

So, now I'm done with the project, even though we should've been on the press with this shit over eight hours ago. Tomorrow morning, there'll be 36 projects backlogged for us to tackle.

I'm thinking that this weekend I'll call a friend to drive me around and I'll drink myself silly. I haven't done that in a while, and with the week I've had, I'll need the release.

Taking care of business (and working overtime)

It's been a few days since my last post, but with good reason. With the amount of work I've had at the office, the last thing I've wanted was to look at a computer screen, even for fun.

I've had plenty of opportunity to unwind, and I've savored every moment. Arnie's Bar on Thursday night was fun as usual. Friday night was the Great Guinness Toast and I braved the snowstorm to make it down for that. Saturday, I slept in and spent the afternoon at the office catching up on my work.

Half of the work I had to do was on my co-worker's computer, and apparently she hasn't ran any dianostics on it since she started there two years ago. I did what I could and left diagnostics running overnight. Between the snow Friday night, the sleet yesterday and the freezing rain today, coupled with the worn tires on my car, it was a fun ride into work this afternoon.

The crazy season of work is gonna hit us this week, and for the most part, I'm ready. Given the fact that my W-2 for this year says that I made $800.00 less this past year than the year before (even WITH a raise), I'm gonna embrace my bosses advice to slow down in my work. Overtime is my new mantra. Need money BAD.

With the amount of overtime I've pulled this week, I should be able to afford tickets to see the Strokes with my friends in March. The timing couldn't be more perfect. I'm gonna be out of the office at the end of march, and I'll have to pull extra weight to cover the amount of work left in my absence. My friends coming to town for the show will no doubt be a welcome distraction from the stress I'll be under at that time.

Not to mention that two of those friends, Mike and Aliceson will be getting married this spring. I told Mike that with the workload I'll be having, that he shouldn't be surprised if I show up at the wedding looking like a battle-hardened orc.

My thought on Valentine's Day

With the run of bad luck in the love department this past year, I'm sure you'd be expecting a long drawn-out diatribe on how love sucks. Well, prepare to be surprised. My one and only thought this Valentine's Day is this:

I only wish that back in World War II, the allied forces had emerged victorious on February 14th. That way, today, when people wished me a happy V-Day, I wouldn't immediately think "No, silly, that's in May!", then feel really sad and pathetic for having watched too much History Channel.

Nothin' but love for ya',
fritschie

2PSSD2THNKSTR8

I hate vanity plates. No one, in the history of mankind, has ever looked at a vanity license plate and said, "That's really clever!" (and meant it). To me, they fall into four categories:

1. The Ironic - For example, I once saw a mid-eighties civic hatchback with the license plate MUSLCAR. That's kinda like seeing a Hummer with a plate that says THRIFTY.

2. The Need to Explain - i.e. a plate that has some sort of story behind it. When I first met my friend Colleen, for the first two weeks I tought her name was Canessa, because that's what she had on her vanity plate. Turns out, she nicknamed her car after the plane from the book Alive. Take a long moment to think about that. She named her car after a plane that crashed in the Andes mountains and made it's passengers resort to cannibalism. Needless to say, when she and I first went out, I insisted that I drive.

3. the huh? - These are the ones that could go different ways. For instance, I remember seeing one that read BADSCAR, and I kept thinking to myself, "Is it Bad's Car, or Bad Scar?" I couldn't figure out if it was a guy with a really weird nickname who wanted to tell everyone that this was his car, or if it was some guy who's unusually proud of his disfigurement.

4. The Puzzler - This kind is what inspired this little rant, because I sat behind a guy in traffic today for about ten minutes just trying to figure out what his plate meant. I'm horrible with word puzzles, so this one really pissed me off. It read 42ITUS. When I got home, it hit me: Fortuitous! Given the fact that this guy substituted numbers for letter combinations, which if anyone sends me a text message doing that, I fight the urge to block their number forever...and the fact that he was using a fairly obscure adjective, I'm glad I had to turn right at 31st, otherwise I would've followed that guy home, and one of my friends would have to be raising bail money right about now.

I guess what I'm saying is this: Folks, don't buy vanity plates. It's just another way for the State to make you pay more money on your piece-of-shit car, and all it does is make you look stupid in the process. The last time any vanity plate looked even remotely coll was on the OUTATIME plate on the DeLorean in Back to the Future, and that was in 1985, and it was only cool for the three seconds it was shown on screen.

I know, I may talk a good game about being a pacifist sometimes, but that only means that I detest physical voilence. On the other hand, I realize that I have a pretty short-fused temper when it comes to stupid shit. Stupid shit that has no real purpose in the grand scheme of life. It just really pisses me off that the same people won't bother with donating to a worthy charity will turn around and buy a spoiler for their 4-cylinder Honda, as if that little fucker would ever go so fast that wind drag would be a problem.

On a related note, wanna know a great way to keep your car from getting broke into? Keep everything in it factory standard. Do you really think a theif is gonna try and take a stereo with the Ford logo on it? I think not.

Work shit

One thing I forgot to mention about the photo shoot on Friday: On the front door of this building there was a big sign that read "Any offensive weapons are prohibited on the premises". I thought to myself, as opposed to what? Noble weapons? Like some guy would ever walk in with a vintage African spear, or a gold-plated fencing sword? Where to they draw the line here?

I got the photos back today, and they look great considering a) I haven't used my film camera in over a year, and b) I still have no clue what I was doing. The only real problem is that the one shot the client was most vocal about getting right had a small discolored spot on the negative. The good news is that it happened in a sopt that I would have to airbrush out a stepladder anyway, so a little Photoshop work and I'm all set. I think I've finally reached that point in my work where no matter what happens, I've got a way out of a difficult situation.

I talked to my mom tonight and she informed me that my aunt got fired from her job today, just three years short of retirement. The reason she was given for her termination was insubordination, which knowing my aunt, is a word you never expect to hear in the same sentance as her name. It is believed that it's all about bullshit politics with her boss, but from the sounds of it, he'd never cop to it. What an asshole.

That got me thinking about my job...and my boss. Sure, he can be an asshole sometimes, but what sets him apart from a guy like my aunt's boss is that my boss actually admits to being an asshole, which is quite possibly the biggest asshole move ever. What makes me feels safe in my job is that with my boss being a self-proclaimed asshole, I kinda know what to expect from him from day to day. There's nothing sneaky about it. It's kinda like getting cussed out by someone with Tourette's syndrome. If you know it's just an affliction, you really don't mind.as much.

Another good thing about my boss is, that he'd be flattered by that last paragraph.

This I believe...(a partial list)

1. There is not a single bad situation in this world that couldn't be fixed with surf music. Ever tried to be sad or angry while listening to the Beach Boys? I rest my case.
2. Anyone who's political opinion can be swayed solely by a thirty-second ad or a bumper sticker is too stupid to vote.
3. I feel strongly that everyone, at one point in their life, should have a really bad habit and remember it when they are about to chastize someone about thers.
4. Anyone who feels they are uncapable or undeserving of love is probably right, and I am tired of trying to prove them wrong.
5. There is nothing better than waking up on a saturday morning and having that one moment where you argue with yourself about whether or not to go back to sleep.
6. A close second is making a total stranger laugh so hard they almost piss themselves.
7. Anyone who can't wear a baseball cap the proper way should not be trusted.
8. Likewise for anyone who wears a business suit and a mullet at the same time.
9. The moment anyone tries to tell me-not talk to me or discuss with me, but TELL me-about God, I will make any excuse I can to go somewhere else. There is nothing more frustrating than having an open mind and having a conversation with someone who doesn't.
10. Using more than six syllables to order your coffee is a Hell-worthy trespass.

My weekend with Super Mario

I could never be a welder. Firday afternoon, I had a photo shoot at a machine shop. A fucking huge machine shop. There were about fifty welders working at once, and the air was thick with grinded metal particles. Even though I only spent less than an hour photographing that place, I spent most of Friday night coughing up iron loogies.

Saturday was more or less wasted on Gamecube and snack food. I didn't even get out of the house until 4:00, and that was just to grab some coffee and a fresh pack of smokes. A few more hours of Gamecube and I headed down to the Mercury Lounge to catch Three Penny Upright and Electric Rag Band. Both bands were awesome (as usual) and I had a lot of fun hanging out with my friends.

Sunday was almost the same as Saturday, only I took time away from the Gamecube to do laundry and catch my TV shows tonight.

It seems like my hopes an prayers from around five years ago have finally been answered: There are finally some really great shows on TV. I'm now making sure I'm home five nights a week to catch all my favorites. Monday, there's 24 and CSI: Miami. Tuesday is House. Wednesday, Lost and CSI: NY. Thursday, CSI. Tonight, I found myself not really giving a rat's ass about the Simpsons (re-run) and Desperate Housewives (ho-hum), but I may have a new favorite in Grey's Anatomy.

Tonight's episode was part two of their after Super Bowl extravaganza. I've been hooked on this show since it started, but after tonight's episode, I think it's become more of a symbiotic relationship. If it's ever a re-run, I feel groggy all week, and if it's not on, my chi is completely off. Tonight, this show did what no other show has ever done for me: Given me an honest-to-God adrenalin rush. For those of you who didn't watch it, I won't spoil it too much for you, but for those of you that did, it happened right around the time of....BOOM! I swear, I think I stopped breathing for about two minutes there.

Whenever I see shows like that, it makes me want to write like that. Unfortunately, it also discourages me because I know I'll never be that good. What do I do? I write anyway. Granted, most of it is what goes into this blog...and the fictional blog, but I think I've painted myself into a corner on that one...but I'm not hearing any complaints for you folks out there. But that's what's great about blogging. No one really takes the time to write complaint letters, and if they do, it's some of the craziest shit you'll ever read. Truly, it's like the Letters to the Editor section, but without the clear forethought, wit or common sense.

And for those of you that write back glowing kudos for my stuff, nothin' bu love for ya'!

Thursday night drunken rant

Today was a good day...busy, but good. I got into work this morning and my boss had loaded me up with work that really needed to get done right away. Sixteen jobs. At the end of the day I half-jokingly offered my boss an apology for only getting fourteen of them done (seeing as my average is about six to seven jobs a day, I did damn good).

I got home and made dinner, filling the kitchen with smoke in the process, but the food wasn't half bad. After a really kick-ass episode of CSI, I headed down to the bar. Arnie's was dead when I got there...so much so that I played a game of pool by myself (and still sucked), then beat the bartender at a couple games of chess (and I still suck at that too).

My friends Gene and Heather came by ad we talked for a while. Our conversation ranged from our future funerals, to my ex-girlfriends, to birthdays, etc. I love conversations like that, that at any given moment you just sit back and wonder how the hell you got on that subject in the first place. Crazy stuf.

I called my buddy Scott to see how he's doing. He moved to New Orleans a few months ago, and he found a great new apartment in the French Quarter for less than we're paying for a duplex in Tulsa. He doesn't have the apartment yet, because they're still doing a background check, but I hope he gets it. The only real problem, he says is that there isn't a shower OR a tub, but he's got a friend that's gonna help him put something in. Hell, if you manage to find a cheap place in the fucking French Quarter, the bragging rights alone more than overshadow the lack of hygiene. Sure, you might smell like canned tamales, but you live in one of the greatest party destinations on the planet!

This move for him (despite the horrible events of this last year down there) is a positive step in his life, and I'm happy for him. He really wasn't going anywhere in Oklahoma City. He was unemployed, broke and miserable. So, when he heard that even Burger King was offering sign-on bonuses to get workers into New Orleans, he jumped at the chance. Sure, it's not easy trying to rebuild your life somewhere new, but it's comforting to know that the rest of that city is doing exactly the same.

Ballsy move, but it's working out for him so far...Knock on wood.

Rise and panic

I didn't get to post yesterday, because I had to leave the laptop at work so my boss could get the new wireless network up and running. I was getting a little paranoid that my boss was gonna cut off the internet in the art department, but thankfully he didn't...yet.

This morning...Wanna know what'll wake you up better and faster than coffee? Having a boss like mine call me at 8:30 to ask if I'm coming into work. I jumped out of bed and got from my bed to my office in fifteen minutes flat. I combined every task I could. I bruched my teeth in the shower. I tied my shoes at a red light. I put my pants on in the front yard while running to my car. Okay, that last one wasn't because I was in a rush...I just wanted to intrigue the neighbors.

When I got to work, I was out of breath and apologizing profusely to my boss. He told me it really wasn't a big deal. At that moment, I wanted to kill someone, anyone for having put me in such a panic first thin gin the morning. I decided the focus of my rage would be the man who designed my alarm clock. What kind of an asshole makes the snooze button and the alarm reset button the same size and shape and put them right next to one another?

Four quick little stories

I call my friends to see if they wanted to go catch a movie before the Super Bowl. At the time my friends knew they would be up and around, we had very few movies to choose from if we wanted to be outta there in time for kick-off. It basically boiled down to Underworld: Evolution. Another friend of mine, who had seen it a couple weeks ago, said that he has never enjoyed a movie so much and yet had no clue what was going on. I agree with that assessment. I will say this: two hours of watching vampires and werewolves ripping each other to shreds really got me ready for some FOOTBALL!

Today, I went to lunch at my favorite Chinese buffet. The meal had gone flawless until I went up and got dessert (because nothing screams "authentic Chinese cuisine" like a big bowl of tapioca pudding). The pudding itself was really good...it was the lady at the booth next to me that was blowing her nose for fifteen frickin' minutes that ruined my appetite. While she was trying to dislodge her own body weight in mucus (if not the sinuses themselves), the last thing I needed to be eating was something chunky and viscous. Now, I understand that it is flu season, but for crying out loud, why would you come to a restaurant if you're feeling that bad, much less a buffet...with a rather liberal please-use-a-clean-plate-each-trip policy.

Speaking of being disgusted...I didn't hear a single word from my landlord about the broken toilet today. I had to call HIM when I got home to get the number for the plumber. The plumber said he was just fixing to call me (uh-huh) and that he'd be able to come down first thing in the morning. "How's about 8:30?" Gee, I was sitting here thinking to myself, "I wonder if my job is just optional?" So, I told him I'd call my boss and get back with him. I call my boss and it turns out he had a lot lined up for me for first thing in the morning, so I wind up back at work for about an hour taking care of those things so I can have a couple hours off in the morning. Happy happy, joy joy.

I got an email today from New Year's Eve Girl. She finally, and at great length, explained the situation to me. I think she was explaining it so I would understand, because I don't think she was explaining it to me in way that would make a relationship with her sound even remotely appealing. I wrote her back telling her how I saw things, which is that I've adopted a new philosophy when it comes to relationships: If it didn't work out and it has no bearing on how I live, or have lived my life until now, then I really don't have to give a shit about it, do I? I told her that if it hadn't been for my friends egging me on, I wouldn't have made a move, and if I had known about the ongoing relationship with Other Guy (which was at the time in the "off" part of the on agian/off again thing), then I definitely wouldn't have made a move. I told her that I harbor no ill will towards her or Other Guy, and that I hope we can all be friends...let bygones be bygones....just don't be expecting me to get all revved up again up she's single again in the future. Sorry, ladies, Rebound Man has hung up his uniform.

More self-realization

Thursday night at the bar, it hit me that that day, February 2, was the five-year anniversary of me moving to Tulsa. In those five years, here's what's happened (a partial list):

4 relationships (including one engagement, one just-living-together, one on the rebound and one what-the-fuck?!?)
5 failed attempts at dating (i.e. disasterous first dates, getting stood up on the first date, and "Can't we just be friends first?")
3 jobs (two minimum wage gigs and the job I have now)
3 separate addresses
2 different vehicles
6 moments where I considered moving back to Arkansas, only to decide not to because of my friends here, my stable job, or the fact that there aren't any Taco Buenos in Arkansas.
About 2 dozen friends that I can't imagine my life without.
About 10 pounds lost.

On the flip side, I do think about what my life had been like if I hadn't moved here. Odds are:

I would still be working at a job that really wasn't all that great for me.
Despite that, I probably wouldn't be in this much debt right now if I hadn't quit.
I would still be with my great friends back there.
I might not have grown up as much as I have here in Tulsa. Most of the troubles I've had here have hardened me in ways that I could see happening to me back in that environment...mostly because I had friends there who were very protective of me, and were upset over the circumstances that led me to Tulsa. And while I think they took a little perverse pleasure in seeing those reasons blow up in my face, they still welcome me back with open arms every time I come to visit. Classy, classy folks they are.
I would still be single there, too. Not because of burn-out (like now), but because of the fact that I would probably still be the timid little chicken-shit I was before I moved.
I would be making $15K+ more a year than I do now, but be working much longer hours for it, doing work I wasn't proud of at all.
Having the Missouri border just ten minutes away, I would've had access to stronger alcohol, but wouldn't have the strong desire to drink I have now.

I guess what I'm saying is that, in these five years, I've grown a lot. While I may bitch and moan about constantly getting the shit kicked out of me to varying degrees since moving here, I wouldn't change a thing. I don't know if I'm burning off some bad karma from a past life, or building up good karma for this life or the next one. All I know is, it's been a hell of a ride.

Today, when I see my old friends back in Arkansas, it's like no time has passed. I miss them every day, but it's nice that when I speak with them now, I'm actually telling them about my life and vice versa...rather than the same old conversations about Star Wars and me telling the same jokes over and over again. But there's a trust level we all share, that we're all gonna be okay no matter what happens.

As for my friends here, the trust level is different. I've grown to be the one they all depend on, whether it be advice, support, or a face in the crowd when they're on stage. I feel I'm part of a great equilibrium here in Tulsa. If I left now, nothing would completely shut down, but they would have to take a while for the balance to restore.

My belief has always been that wisdom is the resolute knowledge that with each new day you are less of a moron than the day before, and that each one of us is the lump sum of everyone that has crossed our paths since the day we were born. All things considered, the guy I was ten years ago was a total moron. Five years ago, I was naive at best. Today, I think I'm okay. Judging my progress, five years from now, who knows, I could have all this shit figured out. However, I won't be able to do anything if it weren't for my friends, here and elsewhere. Thanks, guys!

Aw, crap!

I got home yesterday to find the carpet in the hallway all wet and squishy. Turns out that toilet tank had cracked somehow and was leaking water all over the damned place. I cut off the water, flushed all the water out of the tank and called the landlord. Just my (and his) luck that this would happen on a weekend. He's been trying to find a plumber to come in and fix it, but I have the feeling he's stalling until Monday so he won't have to pay extra for the repairs. So, Candy and I are left with no choice but to run next door to take a piss.

Other than that, not a whole hell of a lot going on. I got caught up on my sleep last night, and I'm trying to find something to do tonight. I may be going to see Walk the Line with some friends, but even that is up in the air. I should cherish these moments. It's getting to be our busy season at work and any free time will be few and far between.

Thursday night drunken rant

Once I got to the bar tonight, I realized that five years ago today, I moved back to Tulsa. Around the end of this month, it will be four years since I first set foot in Arnie's Bar. So, tonight was some cause for celebration.

The band was great as usual. The crowd was different, though. Many people I didn't recognize, and many people I don't usually see at Arnie's on thursday nights. Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. New year's eve girl was there, as was other guy. It wasn't until I got to the bar tonight that I decided to just let it all go. I can't really hold anything against him, because he saw her first, and I can't hold too much against her because she's still young and obviously in a bit of a self-destructive phase. All in all, I think I may have dodged a bullet here.

With that clarity in mind, I think this whole self imposed ban on dating is working wonders for me. I now have a new perception on people because now I don't have to worry about what they think about me. The need to impress people is gone, and I think I'm being more like myself than I have in years. The strange thing is, I feel that people are responding to me differently...more positively than usual.

I wouldn't go so far as to say this is the elusive "square two" that I've been talking about...maybe just square 1 1/2. Like my mother used to tell me when I asked for a new toy: We'll see. We'll see.

Chili and beer

Sometimes, I get a wild hair to do something that I hadn't done in years. It happens without notice, and the chances for failure are generally fifty percent. Last night, I made chili for the first time in about 7 years.

After work, I went to the grocery store to stock up for the next couple weeks. My first mistake was going when I was hungry, so I ended up with way too much snack food. The double-stuf Oreos barely made it to the car before I started to get my fix. Going through the aisles, I picked up anything I thought I would need. About halfway through the store, in the spice aisle, I saw the chili seasoning and thought, "hmmm...I think I'll make that tonight!"

Then, I was on a quest for the other ingredients. I had to back track to the meat aisle for the ground beef, then to the produce aisle for the onions, garlic and peppers. I was about to check out when I remembered to get chips. Back to the check-out and I remember I need cheese. back to the check-out and I remember that I need beans. Going back for the beans, I saw a whole section of shelves devoted to canned, ready-to-eat chili, each can mocking me with its silence.

Going home, I threw everything in the pot together and let it simmer for about an hour. Turned out pretty damned good if I do say so myself. Not like the last time, when I practically had to crumble TUMS into the chili as a preventative measure. No, this time, no side effects other than a really full stomach and enough chili left over to last me a week and a half.

Today at work was pretty hectic. Sure, I had my work all laid out for me, and it all looked pretty simple, but apparently today was take your rush jobs to the printers day in the city of Tulsa. By the time five o'clock rolled around I was completely wiped out and nursing a tension headache. A co-worker noticed my suffering and showed me a acupressure technique that didn't work at relieving my headache as much as it distacted me from it with the pain of pinching various parts of my own hands. Like Dennis Miller once said, it's the same reason your nose never itches when your ankle is caught in a bear's mouth.

So, tonight I go down to Arnie's bar to see Cairde Na Gael. It should be a good time. And if it isn't there's always enough beer to fix it. Not that I ever need that much beer...I've learned my limits since St. Patrick's Day, 1999, or as my friends back in Arkansas like to refer to it: "The night Fritschie racked up all those dry cleaning bills". Half a pitcher of Killian's, 3-4 Bud Lights, 4-5 stouts, and about 5 margaritas on an empty stomach. Next thing ya' know, ol' Jed's a millionaire!

Since then, I have my rules for a night of drinking:
1) Always eat first.
2) If I'm driving, I cut myself off at least an hour before getting behind the wheel.
3) always make sure there's someone drunker than I am so I have a point of perspective.
4) Take the surface streets home.
5) Always have a friend with me or have one that I can call in a pinch.
6) Don't try to rush the buzz. It's a marathon, not a speed trial.
7) Once the buzz has been reached, maintain it (keeping in mind rule #2)
8) Make sure all my ex's phone numbers are deleted from my cell phone...just in case.
9) Know what kinds of drunks the people surrounding me are. Stay close to the I-love-you-man drunks, and stay clear of the Hey-have-you-ever-seen-a-dead-body drunks.
10) Always drink to remember, it's so much happier of an experience than trying to drink to forget.