Am I gonna have to separate you two?

Today was a rough day. Not in the respect that I was swamped at work or anything, it's just the amount of distraction and sheer stupidity I had to contend with.

Imagine trying to type in three pages of hand-written grammatically-incorrect text, trying to correct yourself as you went along, all the while having two of your co-workers acting like total idiots three feet away from you and your boss having a loud discussion with a client just outside the doorway to your office. The client/boss conversation I can pretty much tune out, but those two co-workers were flicking pennies at my last nerve. And the real distraction for me is trying not to let it show that they were bugging the piss out of me, because getting a reaction out of me is just the icing on the cake for the two of them.

About a year ago, I had the opposite problem with one of those co-workers. She would be so quiet in the office that she would startle me big time when she did make a sound. So, to combat this, she started making little sounds: Whistling, scooting her feet when she walked, etc.

Well, that habit has mutated into a constant loop of meows, whistles, burps, fake fart sounds, and childish singing...kinda like if R2-D2 mated with a eight-year-old that was raised by cats. Seriously, it's like trying to work with a Spike Jones album playing on a perpetual loop.

But now, she's ganged up with the woman I share an office with, and now it's a competition to see who can be more annoying. It also doesn't help that R2-D2 girl brought in a talking Napoleon Dynamite figurine. Now, whenever they sense that I'm getting annoyed, they always say, "You know what I say to that?" and then push the button until they get Napoleon to say "I wish you'd get out of my life and shut up!" And that that damned thing has 18 different phrases, I usually have to listen to the entire collection until they're satisfied. One day, I took the batteries out and she yelled at me for messing with her stuff. It's enough for me that I NEVER want to see that fucking movie ever again. Hell, I can't even bring myself to wear the "Liger" shirt my neices bought me for Christmas because I now hate the movie so much.

Another fatal error on my part was to clue them in that I fucking HATE the smell of popcorn, because they cook several bags of it in the microwave every day. I'm sure they don't do it to annoy me, but it's a bit unnerving for me to walk into my own office and wish I had a couple of cat turds to shove up my nose because it's the only thing strong enough to mask the odor...and is actually better smelling in my opinion.

I mean, what the hell? How sad is it that a cholicky baby with Tourette's would be too MATURE of a comparison for the amount of stupidity that comes from these two every day?

I guess I just have to deal with it. I'm not gonna quit my job because of something like this because I was here first. Besides, a guy with a barrel of monkeys and a Obi-Wan Kenobi Beanie Baby resting on top of his monitor is the last one to tell you you're being immature. But at least none of my toys make noise, I don't funk up the entire office with Orville Redenbacher, and I'm at least somewhat aware when I'm annoying someone and actually take steps to stop it when I do. At least they're making me look so much more professional my contrast.

Now, If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna crank up the Muppet Movie soundtrack, drink my juice box, and play some Nintendo while jumping on the bed in my feety pajamas...and where the hell is my wooby?!? I NEED MY WOOBY!

My sure-fire can't-miss movie pitch

This movie has everything!!!

It's a fish-out-of-water romantic gothic horror coming-of-age docu-dramedy period-piece historical science fiction children's 3-D slapstick action adventure summer blockbuster Oscar-caliber special effects extravaganza pre-sequel.

Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girl overcomes incredible odds to win boy's love, boy gets abducted by a religious zealot alien and taken to small-town America where wackiness ensues. Then, a ruthless killer with supernatural powers holds girl hostage, so boy must search deep within himself to conquer this evil, as well as his debilitating mental condition he develops as a result of the aliens' brainwashing the boy to get him to assassinate the President.

To do so, he goes deep undercover and outside the law to redeem himself in the eyes of a precocious little girl and her talking dog that he meets on his way to the no-holds-barred martial arts tournament held on the ruthless killer's private island, which is, in fact, a computer-simulated world filled with pirates, warlocks and animated bunnies (for comic relief).

His epic struggle through the tournament leads him to doubt his feelings for the girl, so he goes back in time to prevent himself from meeting her in the first place. His plan backfires when he accidentally alters the course of human evolution and turns the whole world upside down. In a stunning twist, the boy then finds himself falling in love with the ruthless killer, and must fight the girl in the final round of the tournament.

With help from the alien, who was locked in a struggle against the girl the whole time, boy defeats girl. With her dying breath, the girl reveals that she is actually the boy's mother, the talking dog is his father, the precocious little girl was just a figment of his imagination, and that the ruthless killer, the love of boy's life (did I mention that the killer is a retarded deaf-mute groundskeeper?) is dying of cancer. The alien grants the boy one wish to save just one of them, in exchange for sexual favors.

So now, he must choose to save the mother he never knew or the ruthless killer he's fallen in love with. The boy chooses to save the killer, except now the killer is upset that the boy had accepted the alien's offer and betrayed their forbidden love. So begins the boy's journey of redemption, but with one more setback: He's now bankrupt.

He has to raise the cash it takes for settle his debts with the mobsters who financed his entry into the tournament. To that end, he steals from the alien, defeats the mob, and rushes home to declare his love for the ruthless killer. He discovers the killer in bed with the dog, and in a fit of blind rage, kills them both. After being sentenced to life in prison, boy hatches a plan to escape and fight the tournament again and reclaim his former glory.

(Insert training montage set to catchy rock music here)

The only problem is, the final round is a tag team match against mutated cyborg super-clones of the killer and the talking dog, and the boy's only choice for a fighting partner is the alien. He convinces the alien to fight with him because he's just an ex-con trying to go straight and win back custody of his kids.

The alien double-crosses the boy and teams up with the killer and the talking dog. The boy's only hope for victory is to use the magic crystals the girl (remember the girl?) had slipped into his pocket before she died. He unleashes the power of the crystals and defeats the killer, the talking dog and the alien.

Victorious, the boy is greeted by the President and granted a full pardon. Suddenly, shots ring out, and the President is killed. Because of his earlier experience of brainwashing the boy becomes the prime suspect (boy's life-long addiction to drugs doesn't help his credibility, and must set out to clear his name. But who could the real assassin be? The precocious little girl (who may or may NOT be real), the pirates, the warlocks, the European ninja terrorists, the Knights Templar, the owner of the haunted amusement park...or could it be someone or something else? Or was this all a dream...in the mind of an autistic kid...living on the moon? The real game of cat and mouse begins.

A title card reads TO BE CONTINUED.

Fade to black. Roll credits.

Newton's third law...of freaking out

Newton's third law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

The morning after my last post, on my way to work, I turned on the radio and the first thing I heard was the NPR news reporter saying, "...and then he turned the gun on himself."

I never respond well to change...especially good change. Where Newton's third law comes into this whole mess is this: Everything in my life works in a delicate balance. My work, finances and social lives are usually on even levels. If one goes bad, then one or both of the others tend to get better to compensate.

This is where my little freak-out this week came from. Things were really great with Libby this past weekend, which in my own fucked up way of thinking, worried me. Partly, because I knew that things were about to get really busy at work, so I was dreading the bad mojo. But then, I got to working this week and things were really good. With my finances finally on the right track, I knew things couldn't go wrong there. So, I was left with this huge uncertainty. Would the whole thing with Libby go straight to hell, or would my work life?

At first glance, I was thinking my love life was the area with the most strikes against me, so I guess I kinda stocked the storm shelter a little prematurely on that one. However, it was definitely a possibility that work could go in the crapper at the drop of the hat. I couldn't think straight with this huge unreasonable sense of dread, so my logical mind conpletely shut down. I didn't know what I was thinking, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that way, and worse yet, I couldn't stop myself from expressing the first thing that came to my mind at any given moment.

Libby, bless her, took a chance and rode it out. I was so sure that I had completely screwed things up, but I think things are gonna be okay...eventually. I have a lot of making up to do, but first, I need to quiet the little demons in my head that got me in this mess in the first place.

I'm thinking a lot clearer now, and I make no promises that this will be the last time this will ever happen. It's just an occasional phase I go through. From a historical perspective, this is nothing. Try and imagine how I reacted to my father's death 18 years ago, or my grandfather's over three years ago, or when my fiancee threw me out five years ago. I've made my peace with all of those things, but I won't deny that each of them took quite a bit of time. If you look at it on a sliding scale, I should be back to normal by the end of this week.

I know I over-think things, I know I get too worked up over the little things and I know I'm being irrational in my behavior. I've realized the problem, now I gotta take the steps towards stopping it from getting that bad. I've gotten tons of advice from my friends on this matter and I really appreciate it. However, telling a guy like me to stop worrying is like trying to convince Stephen Hawking to run a four-minute mile. Easier said than done.

VENTING!!!

Yes, this is another of those unneccessary, unreasonable and at times confusing little rants I occasionally do when I'm so worked up I can't think straight.

I'm tired of thinking, yet too tired to sleep. I've had a rough night having to explain things going on in my heart and my head that I cannot explain to save my life.

In light of recent events, I've had at least three people tell me that my main problem is that I cannot live in the present. Well, I've got news for you all...the present fucking sucks.

I've spent the past few years being mindful of my past while planning for the future. I've had problems for a while that I've been fixing one little bit at a time, and working on those problems every day. I am mindful of my past, and I have learned from my mistakes. I've learned to control my serious impulse control issues. With the way my world is right now, if I were to live for the moment, my bank account would be wiped out and I'd be calling my folks to wire me money because I've just woken up in the middle of a cornfield, severely hung over, naked with a half-spent kilo of pot laying at my feet and some woman I don't know asking me where I'm taking her for our honeymoon.

I freely admit, I fucked things up. Call it pathetic, call it panic, call it paranoid-delusional psychosis, call it any goddamned thing you want, but it happened and I can't take it back. I couldn't go through a single moment with her without some sort of worst-case scenario running through my head.

I at least had one breakthrough in all of this. My instincts at the first of this year were right on: I am not ready for any type of relationship, casual, serious or otherwise.

Sweet Jesus, I am so pissed right now that I'm breaking out in hives and my ears are so hot that my hair is liable to catch fire. I think about the catalysts that helped mold my mindset right now and all of those moments have only one thing in common: me. The problem is me and I have to try to fix it, along with so many other things in my life.

Well, one thing I've found that really works in these situations is to set a deadline. I've managed to do that with my workload at my job, I've done it with my debt, now I need to set one for my relationship issues. But how do I go about determining that? I mean, hell, they say one year is the standard for seriously greiving the loss of a loved one. Is this really that bad? No. Six months? Great, just in time for Oktoberfest...This kind of thing might be the one time I truly have to micro-manage. I need to seriously think about it, make a list of my main issues and deal with them one by one. I would ask you guys for help on this, but all of the comments might crash the server. So, if you must, make it brief.

Maybe I have finally fucking lost my mind, but when I look back...I tend to do that about once ever 5-6 years, so I guess I'm due. So, rather than let this all eat me up like it normally does, I'm just gonna go for the full release and get it out of my system. I'm gonna have my little breakdown, lose control for a while and pick up the pieces when I'm done. Don't worry, I'm not aiming for rock-bottom, I'm just gonna repel down the cliff face until I reach the end of my rope and pull myself up again.

Of course, my perspective might change come tomorrow, but I will be re-reading this later and try to make some sense out of it. In the meantime, i think I can finally get some sleep.

Hello Square Two, my old friend

Once when I was little, I got it in my head to build a house of cards. I think I saw a really big one in a movie or TV show or something and I thought it would be cool to make one of my own. Hard as I tried, I never got higher than one story before the whole thing collapsed. I lacked the patience and the steady hand to build the house properly.

Then I had a brilliant idea: glue. I took a bottle of my trusty school glue and started gluing the cards in their place. I got through the first deck of cards and it looked great. Then, when I started to add on to it with a second deck and quickly built on about an extra foot and a half and left the room. As it turns out, I put on the second deck of cards too quickly, the new cards fell and the glue dried. I was left with a nicely stacked base and a huge pile of cards on top.

The reason I bring this up is that it's a metaphor for my life at this moment. I fucked things up-big time-with Libby.

You know that thing your brain does that filters the truth in such a way that it makes it sound a little better? Tact, I believe it's called. Yeah. I'm fresh out of that. Likewise, there's this thing normal people do where they stop talking before they say something really really stupid? Apparently, I can't do that.

I really like this girl, but whenever I'm around her, three thoughts are always floating around in my mind: 1) She lives at home with her folks. 2) I'm still living with my ex-girlfriend. 3) She will be moving away in a few months. At first, these felt like obstacles, but in being with her the past couple days, it's felt more like three strikes. No matter where I go with this girl, no matter what we're doing, I can't help but think about that day when I'm gonna have to say goodbye to her.

So, what do I do? Like a complete moron, I talk to her about it and suggest that she and I just be friends. It was a lot like locking your keys in the car...realizing you're doing it AS you're doing it, yet you can't stop the door from closing. All you can do is paw at the door and go "NOOOOOOO!"

I don't know what to say to her, or how long I should wait to say it. This girl was like a breath of fresh air, and my tactlessness went and opened up a vat of chlorine gas. And now, I'm left with a sunken feeling in my chest and the lyrics to John Mayer's "My Stupid Mouth" playing over and over again in my mind.

There's a this part of my brain that does this to me all the time. It makes certain things sound very logical and reasonable, but then sends a encrypted message to my mouth and promptly places me waist deep in shit. In this case, I was just pointing out what would be inevitable, and perhaps offer a get-out-of-jail-free card. Instead, I come off like Captain Asshole McPrickerslime.

I think that once I hit the "publish post" button, I'll do a little research about this part of my brain, try and locate it, then puncture it with an ice pick.

I guess you could say this is a return to form on the blog, so to speak. Instead of not posting for fear that I would jinx things, I'm back to whining about what's going wrong in my life. Welcome back, your dreams were your ticket out.

I politely agrued with the law and the law won

The past few days driving home from work, I kept seeing this one truck in my neighborhood that had a bumbersticker that reads, "If it has tits or wheels, it will cause you problems". What a charmer, huh? Gee, can you imagine what this guy's eHarmony.com profile must be like?

The past few days have been nuts to say the least. Tons of work, roommate's been out of town, and most of my free time have been spent with Libby. To tell the truth, I really like this girl, and she really likes me. I would've never expected either of those scenarios before I met her.

She's smart, funny, unbelievably sexy, and loads of fun to be around. For years, I've had it in my head that when I go out with a girl, we always have to be doing something, but with her it's different. Just being in the same room as her is exciting as hell. I have a feeling she feels the same way as me, judging from the fact that she hung out with me for almost two hours while I was working the door at Arnie's Saturday night.

Friday night, she and I went to see Hosty Duo at Arnie's. Man, those guys are good!. Normally, I tend to wimp out on shows before they finish playing, but I stayed because A) Libby was with me, and B) I was having a great time listening to the band.After leaving the bar, Libby was following my car when she got pulled over by a Sherrif's Deputy. So, being the concerned date, I pulled over with her. Big mistake, according to the deputy.

The cop toldme-nay, scolded me-that there's a lot of gang activity in this town, and that gang members are always looking for an excuse to ambush a cop. I was about to ask him if I honestly looked like a gang member to him, but then I remembered he was armed. He nearly drew his weapon when he saw me put my keys in my pockets. He asked me how much I had to drink that night, and I told him four beers since 8:30 (leaving out the two shots I also had), and that I had switched to sodas about an hour and a half earlier. He gave me this chewing out about how the alcohol would still be in my system and that I probably shouldn't be driving. He might have had a point if, say, I was 5'6", 120 lbs., but I'm 6"2", 250 lbs. I know my limits, but again, I wasn't gonna point that out to him. I just accepted my ass-chewing, got back in my car and drove off when he was done with both of us.

He also asked about my out-of-state tags as if I was some sort of car thief. When I explained that it was my stepdad's car that I'm just making the payments on, he dropped the accusatory tone.

I mean, I thought the credo was "to protect and serve". No where in those four words did I read, "and be a paranoid, unreasonable dickwad". At least I got off with a warning. Otherwise, I would've gone to the county lockup...and I'm too pretty to survive in prison.

Remembering Bill Hicks

This weekend I was at Borders and found a newly released comedy album by the late Bill Hicks. Now, if any of you out there hasn't yet heard of Bill Hicks...get off your ass.

Bill Hicks was quite possibly the funniest man who ever lived. He was fearless, crude, self-aware, honest, and fucking hilarious. Even though he died in over twelve years ago, and most of his recorded work is very topical with that time, it's so eerily relevant today. This newest release, recorded at Oxford University in 1992, rants about Bush Sr., trouble in the Middle East, and even Basic Instinct (wherein he rants about what Basic Instinct 2 should be like).

This new release is nothing too new. All of the material he uses you can find on all of his other albums. However, this is like listening to a live album of your favorite band...It's the same music you've heard before, only with a different order, a different spin, a different riff than what you've used to. Having practically memorized his other albums, I found myself starting to mouth along to the setup to each joke, but laughing my ass off hearing this alternate version.

This was recorded toward the end of his career, about a year before he found out he was dying, yet a little after he started to tire of the job. Even though he rants about how sick he was about living life on the road and having to deal with all of the brain-dead people he encountered who didn't understand his deep message and only wanted to hear the dick jokes (which he begrudgenly obliges), he still brought 100% to his performances. If Dane Cook wants to believe he's the comedic equivalent of a rock star, then Bill Hicks was the seasoned, road weary, Turn-the-Page rock legend who was tired of performing the same old hits to please the crowd when he believed his new ideas would change the world.

It's strange to think that he was only 32 when he passed away. On many of his recordings, he'd joke about his own death, not from the actual cancer that took him from this life, but from the non-smokers who beat the shit out of him. He joked about drugs from a level experience few people have ever survived. He spoke of alcohol like an old drunk hooked up to a kidney dialysis machine...he knew what risks he was taking, but had a great time doing it anyways. Even his rants about the dangers of smoking seemed less like a public service announcement and more like a desperate plea for someone to give him a cigarette.

He would talk about love and talk about hate with equal disdain for both. He would condemn racism with the same swagger as those who support it while at the same time paint broad generalizations about other races that left you to wonder which side he was on. There was never a fine line with Bill Hicks...He would jump over the line and back so much that no one cared what the line was anymore.

More than anything, he wasn't a "didjya' ever notice?" kind of comedian. He observed the world, turned in his report, and appropriately ripped it a new asshole. In the twelve years he's been gone, the world has gone to deeper levels of hell than even he could not have possibly imagined, and a great voice of dissent, honesty and BALLS like his is much needed in times like these. The bad news is, it can never be duplicated.

Busy busy busy

It's been a busy week, at work and at home. I offer that as my excuse du jour for the lack of regular postings on the blog. It's not really that I haven't had the time. I realize that it only takes a few minutes to type this shit out, but I've been in a strange head space the past week or so. I haven't felt much like writing about what's bothering me because not much has been bothering me...or at least nothing NEW has been bothering me, so I thought I'd spare you a repeat. On the other hand, everything good in my life at this moment feels much better having it float around in my head than to attempt to put it into words. I can tell you that Fritschie is happy, really happy.

It feels good to be in a position of not sweating the small stuff. A lot of things going on at work right now, frustrating though it may be, is everything that I've come to expect from the people dishing it out. Call it zen, call it not really giving a shit anymore, but I've finally realized that trying to fight it is not only futile, but it's counter-productive. The best part is, I've dealt with this shit so often that I know all of the shortcuts to getting it all done without a mental meltdown. This will prove very handy as we are now going into our busiest time of the year.

On the home front, everything's peachy. I'm having lots of fun; so much so that I'm looking forward to the work week so I can catch up on my sleep.

I worked the door at Arnie's again on Saturday. The band totally kicked ass, even though barely anyone showed up to see it. A lot of new clubs and bars have opened up downtown and the customers are starting to disperse. Combine that with the fact that thes new bars' clientele are starting to take advantage of Arnie's having the only free parking lot within a mile radius, and they're taking up valuable parking space for people wanting to go to Arnie's.

I'm liking this little regular gig working the door. I find myself doing everything I can to help out, from covering up the shuffleboard table so the band can set up their equipment, to making sure the musicians have everything they need, to clearing tables after last call. In dealing with everyone that comes in the door, I've conquered some of my deep-seeded fears of strangers, and having to handle some of the pushy assholes who either think $3 is too much to charge for a cover or get upset about having to show ID has helped me get in touch with my inner jerk (Jesus, that sounds weird).

I guess, overall, I'm learning the finer distinctions between having to take shit as it comes and being able to successfully HANDLE it...that sounds weird, too.

Answers

I've been abnormally secretive in my posts in the past week for various reasons. The speculations I've heard from my friends sometimes bordered on the just plain wrong (as evidenced by Steve's doggie blowjob/Crash Test Dummies guess in the comments last week). However, now that I have had a clear talk with a certain someone, I'm ready to talk about it all...well, not ALL of it, mind you.

I kinda met this girl, you see, and she and I have been hanging out quite a bit over the past week. Given my decision to lay off of the dating thing for a while, this kinda snuck up on me, and I was confused on how to approach it. so, I had to ask myself some very important questions, and scarily enough, I answered them:

1. Am I really in the right mindset to start dating someone seriously? No, not yet.

2. Is she? Chances are on the nil side of not likely.

3. Do I like her? Yes. She is a talented artist (which scores high in my book), she is brilliantly sarcastic (also scores high), and she is very attractive.

4. Does she like me? It's my experience that no one would hang out with me this much in one week if they didn't like me quite a bit.

5. So, what's with all the secrecy? My first rule of this blog is what I write has to be either the heartfelt truth or obvious bullshit, and given that I was unsure what the hell was going on, it would be hard to tell which was which.

6. So, what happens now? Who the hell knows. Situations being as they are in each of our lives, neither one of us is in any postion to get attached. However, that's not gonna stop us from hanging out and having fun. She says play it by ear, and that sounds pretty damned logical to me.

7. What is the Capital of North Dakota? That would be Bismark.

8. Was all of the secrecy really worth it? Given that she found my blog, I didn't want to post anything too revealing about her or what I was thinking about the whole thing for fear that I would offend her or worse yet consider a restraining order. But after talking with her last night and we aired everything out, the suspenseful buildup to this disclosure ended up to be equivalent to a season finale cliffhanger during the later years of Dallas. I'm sure a lot of you were expecting head-over-heels, but instead you got "Bobby's not dead, it was only a dream". Sorry about that, folks. I wish there was bigger news than just hanging out with someone new. I only wish that I had sorted all this out two days ago and played it off like a big April fool's joke.

So, please, go back into your homes...there's nothing to see here.

I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you.

Yet again, I must apologize to both of my loyal fans out there for the increasing infrequency of my posts. I started out the year thinking that I would make it a rule to post something every day, even if there was nothing to talk about.

However, this week has been more than just a bit interesting, and as much as I do want to write about it all, I feel that I can't for various reasons. First of all, the person at the center of this week's attention reads the blog, and there are a lot of things that I feel is best discussed just between us. Secondly, I stongly believe that in this case, I should only report things that are a little more concrete or set in stone (or any other masonry analogy you can think of). Thirdly and perhaps most importantly, there are thoughts going through my head over this whole thing that simply cannot be expressed in words.

I know I'm being cryptic and that this is a massive style break for me, but I wil report on everything once I am sure that what needs to be said CAN be said.

I will give you all this: There is nothing going on that I am not of two minds about. As it lists in my head, the list of pros and cons are running up equal every time. This just doesn't happen to me. Never in my life has there been this kind of a perfect balance of THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME and BUT THERE"S A CATCH.

So, in an effort to fill some space in an effort to make up for lost time, I'll be writing the rest of this post as stream of conscienceness:

It's starting to rain pretty heavily now, and I hope she's giggling about our little in-joke about rain. Gee, that improv performance I saw tonight got off to a rocky start. I really need to clean my room. I need to write som more on my fictional stuff. I should remember to set my clocks forward tonight before I go to bed. That Peter Gabriel CD I just bought was really damned good. I'm tired but I can't seem to want to get in bed right now. Dammit my knees hurt. Last night was a lot of fun, but the night before was unbelievable. I'm gonna go have a smoke and watch the rain and laugh.