A little down

Most areas in my life stayed at a neutral level this week, but emotionally, it's been a bit of a downer. It's not any one or any thing's fault that I've felt this way. I get in these funks every now and again. Looking back on my life, this depression is fairly mild. It's not one of my sit-in-a-dark-room-listening-to-Peter-Gabriel-nonstop kind of funks, but it's not something I've been able to shake off very easily, either. I've been able to function at work at my normal capacity and I've managed to get everything done that I've needed to, but I've had no desire to do much of what I normally want to do.

However, I've kinda forced myself to do most of those things I usually want to do, simply by virtue of the fact that they've been limited-time offers. For instance, tonight I'm going to the Circle Cinema to see Raising Arizona at the midnight movie. It's only there this weekend, and I don't want to pass up this opportunity to see it on the big screen. Also, it's been season premiere week, and I've made myself watch my shows because I was looking forward to watching them all summer.

Today was better than most days this week. I got to get away from the office and run a lot of deliveries for my boss. It felt good to break my normal routine and get to go outside for a few hours. And the best part is, it was in the company truck, with the company paying for the gas. I would've volunteered to take my truck, but it's been acting up a bit lately and actually broke down temporarily last night. It wound up being a small blockage in the fuel line, but in fixing that, a small leak in the transmission was discovered. I'll be able to get the truck into the shop next week, so in the meantime I'm just monitoring the fluid level and filling it when needed.

I had a huge laugh this afternoon when I stabbed my boss with a letter opener. He handed me a big box to carry for him, but I wasn't fully prepared for the handing over part, otherwise I'd have put down the letter opener first. He walked right into the tip of it, but he wasn't hurt (that letter opener couldn't even cut warm butter). The moment I realized what had happened, my first thought was, "Oh my God! Did I just inadvertently live out my greatest fantasy?" Fortunately, my boss laughed it off.

So now I'm home and surveying the filth that has accumulated in my apartment over the past few days. It's amazing how much this crap piles up when you're in no mood to do anything about it. Oh, well...weekend project, I suppose.

Caption Contest, we hardly knew ye

I got done with watching my TV shows last night and sat down to update the caption contest, when it dawned on me that I really don't have much of an interest in it anymore. Who knows, maybe the spark will return and the caption contest will come back sometime in the future. In the meantime, it's toast.

Here are the final two winners:

September 17th: CleverName with the caption: Lucy Van Pelt introduces her new "Block Head" line.

September 10th: Kimmy with the caption: "Special" Slip -n- Slide

Wednesday through Sunday

Wednesday was a pretty rough day at work. Not because of the workload, but because my boss and I had a huge argument first thing in the morning, which pretty much set my mood for the rest of the day. Strangely enough, being severely pissed off really increases my productivity, so all the work went by pretty fast. Any aggression left over at the end of the work day was burned up helping a friend move a piano to a bar downtown.

Thursday was fairly uneventful. Went to work, went home, went to Arnie's Bar. The rest I think I covered in the last post.

Friday was date night. Dinner at the Japanese steakhouse and drinks at a bar across the street. I caved on the no smoking thing. Big time. I smoked half a pack of Camels (regulars, not my usual lights). I wound up having only one beer over the course of the night, but I had the worst smoker's hangover I've ever had.

Most of the day Saturday was spent on the sofa, where I finished up the other half of that pack of smokes from Friday. The only time I got up was to go get groceries and attempt to find a new lazy Susan plate for my microwave. The last one got broken the other day, leaving me with a freezer full of microwave only food that now won't cook thoroughly.

Saturday night was the Assorted Jellies and Jams show at the Blank Slate, a burlesque revue that my friends Mary and Amy were playing in (playing music, that is, not the burlesque part). It was a great time. I even got to finally meet one of my Myspace friends for the first time in person. Gee, that only took a year.

I also got to enjoy hearing the piano I helped move earlier in the week. Good to know my driving didn't knock the sucker out of tune.

At the show, I heard two things I never thought I'd hear. The first came from a guy behind me during the first striptease. The lovely lady on stage, a professional in the art of burlesque, had just artfully removed her bustier, and had done her final tease to the crowd and lifted her arms in a TADAA! fashion. That's when the jackass behind me said, "Aw, man! They're wearing pasties!"

The other weird thing I heard was from my friend Mary. We were talking during the show, and she interrupted me to say "Hold that thought. You gotta watch this girl strip." How often does a man get to hear that sentence coming from a woman.

Which brings us to Sunday. Laundry, couch time, visiting friends and helping move the piano back.

Thursday night drunken rant

Tonight was the closest Ive come to wanting to swear off going to the bar. Ever since I quit smoking, its been increasingly difficult for me to be in a smoke filled room and not feel the need to contribute to the pollution. That's not really what sparked my lack of interest in going to the bar, though.

I've found that my fuse has gotten much shorter as a result of quitting smoking. It's not because I'm going through withdrawals so much as I'm not distracted from all the idiotic things going on around me by having a controlled flame in my hands practically every moment I'm in there.

Last Saturday I divided my time between Arnie's and McNellie's. Arnie's wasn't a problem for me because the bands were playing outside in the parking lot. The smoke would disperse in the night air to the point that it wasn't noticeable. McNellie's wasn't too bad because they have good ventilation, more room and fewer smokers.

However, I had to leave Arnie's earlier than usual tonight. My sense of smell coming back has been simultaneously a blessing and a curse because I smell what how disgusting that shit is and what the habit centers of my brain has been missing these past couple of weeks. I find myself not ever wanting to be one of them again at the same time I want to be their leader.

So, instead, I find myself quietly seething at the other things. The little things I was able to laugh off as part of what goes on at the bar but now really bug the shit out of me. For example...

Whenever I would work the door, I'd have people ask why we cover up the shuffleboard table when there's a band on the weekends. I used to tell them it was because the band needed the space on top to place their amps and guitar cases. The truth of the matter is we kept it covered so the band wouldn't be interrupted by the sounds of jerk-offs screaming their heads off when they make a good shuffleboard move. Jesus Christ on a cracker, calm the fuck down, will ya? When a grown man shrieks like a giddy schoolgirl after scoring three fucking points on a warped table, making it seem like this is the be all end all of all existence, it obviously means he needs to get laid, and his behavior is only hindering that prospect.

Also, any asshole who tried to carry three pitchers of beer across a crowed bar room has forfeited the right to complain when he spills half of it when people bump into him or vice versa. Tonight, I was sitting at my table, on my barstool, not moving at all. All of a sudden, Skippy McShops-At-American-Eagle bumps his Miller Lite carrying arm into my shoulder, spilling a good portion of it on the floor. He shot me a dirty look, as if it was my fault. Gee, I've barely moved for a half an hour, doing nothing other than quietly drink my beer and occupy the same space for that time. I guess I was overdue to obstruct someone from their task. I guess next time, I'll try to use the smell of Axe body spray coming closer and closer as an early warning system and try to get out of the way.

Lastly, I've come to accept the fact that if you're downtown, you're gonna get harassed by a bum at some point. Tonight happened to be a bad night for them, apparently. Usually, they are waiting when you're leaving the bar. The general rule is that if you reach your car before they can say anything, they would leave you alone. Kinda like a schoolyard game of tag and your car is base. Every once and a while, you get the aggressive ones, the ones who won't let you go until you've heard their entire life story. Tonight, I got one of the more annoying passive aggressive ones. The way my truck was parked, I could only go forward to get out of the parking lot. So this lady bum stood in front of my truck to ask me for money so she could get some food. Forgiving the fact that she was three miles from the nearest open restaurant, I told her my usual line about paying with a credit card in the bar. Ever determined, she asked if I had any food. No, I didn't. Could I give her a ride to the bus station? No. Still, she won't move from the front of my truck. She gets two words into her next question before I rev my engine a few times, flick on the headlights and reach for the gear shift. That seemed to get my message across.

I guess I'm hoping that this whole short fused temper and not give a shit about anyone attitude will pass with time. I used to be so much more tolerant.

Monday Night Caption Contest

Post your captions in the comment section below.

Here are mine for the week:

1. Be there or be square...well, why not both?

2. Apparently the Matrix's programming got corrupted by Q-Bert.


The winner of last week's contest will be announced next Monday.


September 3rd's winner is Anonymous with the caption "I was born in the year of the Snake...See? I had a Guinea Pig for lunch."

My brief time with the Scots

I made a small mistake this afternoon when I went down to the river parks for the Scottish Games. I forgot to stop by an ATM before I went there. I had just enough cash to pay for parking and admission, but only a couple bucks for anything else. I wasn't too concerned, because any festival in this area has the foresight to have one of the local banks set up a portable ATM on the grounds, right? Wrong.

I take a quick stroll around the festival, looking for the elusive ATM, and I found nothing. I decided to check with the information booth just to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Here's the gist of the conversation between me and the man and woman at the booth.

ME: Excuse me, is there an ATM around here?

MAN: I think the closest one is at the convenience store down the street.

ME: But, nothing on the festival grounds? All I got is my check card, which works for merchandise, but I wouldn't mind having a beer or two.

WOMAN: Sorry. Food and drink booths are cash only.

ME: Kinda my point. If they're cash only, wouldn't it make sense to have a cash distribution system in place at the festival? (big smile)

WOMAN: Maybe if we we a bigger festival, we would have one, but we don't. Sorry.

I was about to point out that elementary school carnivals even manage to have the Bank of Oklahoma ATM van parked outside, but it wasn't gonna change the fact that I was gonna have to leave, get cash and come back.

So I do just that, and come back to enjoy the rest of the festival. And considering they took a big hit financially due to poor attendance last year, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot to do at the festival this year.

I had a couple beers while I looked through all of the merchandise. I got me a minced meat pie (Scottish games after all), a Polish sausage (I'm German after all) and a large lemonade (and I'm addicted to sugar). After two hours there, I was ready to leave and take myself a nap.

Another small mistake: forgetting sunscreen. I really didn't feel it until I woke up from my nap on the couch and peeled the corduroy throw pillow from my face. Oh well, a shitload of aloe, and I should be in less pain by the morning.

The Bush Drinking Game

I just watched Bush's address on TV, and I did what I normally do during one of his speeches: I make a checklist of certain words and counted how many times he utters those words during the speech. I like to imagine it as an imaginary drinking game.

If you were a man of average body weight (approx 180 lbs), and you took a shot of whiskey every time he said either "Iraq" or "Iraqi", then you would have a blood alcohol level of 1.474 after the 17 minutes and 20 seconds of his speech had ended. Most breathalyzers max out at .4, which is a lethal blood alcohol level. 1.474 BAL not only means that you would be dead more than three times over, but your entire blood supply has been replaced with alcohol, and about half of your body weight in alcohol had been added on to that. Embalmed corpses are more sober than you would be in this situation.

However, if you drank for either Freedom/Free/Freely, Terror/Terrorism/Terrorist(s) or al Qaeda , you'd have a .261 BAL...Still blotto, but at least you'd be alive. If you had gone with 9/11, you wouldn't even
be buzzed, as he only mentioned it once. "Iran" would have barely passed a DUI test at .074 BAL.

Of course, just for fun, I estimated that if you drank every time he said the word "the", you would have a BAL of 4.414, which is enough alcohol to get 73 people fairly buzzed.


And now for something equally silly: Here is the first two paragraphs of Bush's speech brought into Google Translate, translated into Japanese and back to English:

It is dense, it is, it is. With life of all free nations, the time direction of the country is decided there, quality of the people is made clear, it comes. We now are that kind of time. In Iraq, as for American ally it fights for continuing. The extreme house and the terrorist who in the world is our wars make the Iraqi government be shaken with home, control area, in order to attack us here, endeavor. If the democracy whose Iraq is young can turn these enemies, a more promising Middle East and a safer America is meant. This ally made reliance the United States. And tonight, us being moral, strategic order is one: We Iraq threaten future and must help the fact that it is defeated those which in addition threaten our ones. 8 months ago, we are new the Armed Forces of the United States who reaches to the complete strength of June adopted the maneuvers in order to serve to the purpose which includes the surge. The maneuvers how concerning whether it is progressive, this week of Ambassador Crocker also General Petraeus, the leader and the ambassador proved before the national assembly. With their proof, as for these people our challenge of Iraq being stiff it made clearly. However, they put out the conclusion to which the Iraqi condition where the surge of thing, and the troop where we have grasped the pioneer from the enemy works is revised gently. Prerequisite of our maneuvers is the foundation for the other all progress which that you have stopped the Iraqi population securely is. Connecting the believer for the Iraqi person divides, as for those it is necessary to be moved by safely at the house and neighborhood. The Iraqi person not needing the factional one group for guaranteeing is convinced must feel for the constant reconciliation which takes the root. It is to help preparation in order purpose of the surge offers the guarantee, to maintain that of the Iraqi troop. Because I explain tonight, it makes that our successes of the thing which serves to these purposes have and begin now us some person of the house our troop possible.

Political cures that may be worse than the disease Vol.9: 9/11

There are days where it's just painful to read the news. I want to be up-to-date on current events. I want to have as many facts as possible so that I can form reasonable opinions on the state of our country and, in turn, our world. I want to have a better understanding of who we are as a culture, and what I can do to make it a better place.

But sometimes it's just too painful to process.

I was flipping through channels last night, and I was amazed how so many channels offered nothing to commemorate the anniversary of September 11th. In fact, most channels actually went so far as to show the most banal, insipid shows in their lineup instead of remembering the events of six years ago.

I understand their decision to some extent. There's a lot of reporting about it over the course of the day, and it's always on our minds from the moment we look at the calendar. And anyone who was affected directly by 9/11 isn't gonna be at home watching VH1, so you might as dig deep into the chum bucket and show whatever you want.

However, I was sorta outraged when I stopped on MSNBC and saw a promo for their rebroadcast of the Today show from September 11, 2001. I was skeptical when they touted it as "watching history unfold". For some strange reason, I put down the remote and watched it.

It turned out to be quite fascinating. Watching the events unfold the same way I saw it six years ago, with the undercurrent of panic in the reporter's voices, the speculation to what the hell was going on, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next...I saw those events with a level of clarity that has been lost in a six-year fog of political rhetoric, a sea of pointed fingers and a haze of bumper sticker slogans.

Here's my proposal for remembering September 11th from here on out: Manditory rememberance, in the context of honoring the people who perished that day. We talk openly about the fear and anguish we felt that day, recalling and reliving that unity of grief we experienced. The catch is, the moment anyone tries to politicize it, or spin it into a back-handed attack to either side of the political spectrum, that person will be gagged, bound and placed in solitary confinement overnight, with no food or water for exactly 24 hours. All they will have with them in their cell is a list of the victims, which they must copy by hand.

Sure, this sounds an awful lot like the creation of the thought police, but wouldn't it also be great to have one day out of the year without hearing "liberal" or "conservative" in a snide tone? To have one day of unity as Americans, where we put aside our differences like we did that day, only we do it out of respect for the victims of that day instead of that collective feeling of being scared shitless? As it stands, I'm just getting sick of people finishing off a moment of silence with "and another thing..."

Fox News would certainly have to switch to pre-taped programs and give their reporters the day off in lieu of having them detained on live television. The downside to this would be that all of the news channels would almost have to force themselves to only show fluff pieces to fill out their schedule that day. Then, we'll be flooded with updates about Leona Helmsley's dog, or that one kid whining for people to leave Britney alone.

Theres never a perfect plan, is there?

Monday Night Caption Contest

Post your captions in the comment section below.

Here are mine for the week:

1. "Scent and a sound, I'm lost and I'm found, and I'm hungry like the wolf!"

2. Lenny is thus far undefeated in his weekly Spaz-Off Challenge.


The winner of last week's contest will be announced next Monday.


August 27th's Contest winner is Seth, with the caption: ""It's all in the wrist," my ass! You gotta put your shoulder in it to really leave a strawberry!"

My latest project

Personality of Cult. An exhibit of Tulsa area artists with works devoted to cult classic cinema.

Each artist will produce an original artwork based on his/her favorite cult movie. We will be gathering the artists together through the end of October. Then we will present the gallery owner with prep sketches and samples of past work for approval for the gallery space. Once approved, we will schedule the space for a couple months later in order to give the artists ample time to create the best artwork they can.

Those interested in signing up may contact me through the comment section below, or email me here. Myspacers can join the group and find more details at http://groups.myspace.com/personalityofcult

Smoking bad

I gotta say, my friends suck. I've been trying to cave in and have a cigarette, and they're blocking me at every juncture. Damn them and their "support".

Naturally, tensions are a bit high because I'm fast-tracking the nicotine lozenge plan. It's supposed to be a 12-week plan. One lozenge every 1-2 hours for the first six weeks, one every 2-4 hours for the next four weeks, and one ever 4-8 hours for the final two weeks. Fuck that, and I'll tell you why:

First of all, one of the main reasons I decided to quit was because I wanted to actually taste things again. That's a little hard when you have a nasty-tasting lozenge in your mouth every waking moment for the first six weeks. Second, I'd like to be able to drink a carbonated beverage without the lozenge, or remnants thereof, causing a chemical reaction that I can only describe as being like a fire extinguisher exploding in my mouth.

Lastly, the main lesson in overcoming any addiction is the withdrawal. The goal is to make it to that first day without the shakes. And cigarettes are the only drug that I can think of whose best process for quitting is to deal yourself smaller and smaller doses over time. Alcoholics Anonymous doesn't ration beer out to its new members. You don't cure a heroin addict by cutting his smack thinner every time. Compulsive gamblers don't switch to playing solitaire.

I figure I got it easy. All I gotta do is learn to relieve a little bit of tension every once and a while. I'll take the lozenges when I absolutely need to, but I'm not gonna follow a plan that would make me dependent on those things.

Besides, I can say with 99% certainty that I wont be going back. I went ahead and smoked that last cigarette I had stored in the freezer, and it tasted like shit. I'm far enough over the hump now to know that if I ever again smoke a cigarette, I'll be reminded by taste and smell why I shouldn't take it up again. I can't promise that I won't have one every now and again when I'm drunk, but not on a regular basis.

Seven fun ways to vent your frustrations when you're quitting smoking

1. Blankly stare straight ahead and hiss like an alligator.

2. Shoot off a starter pistol in the middle of a meeting.

3. Push everyone you come across, making sure you call them a "stupid freshman".

4. That cool knife trick where you stab between your fingers really, really fast.

5. Mainlining heroin.

6. Prank calling a funeral home.

7. Jazzercise

Monday Night Caption Contest

Post your captions in the comment section below.

Here are mine for the week:

1. The Pumping Iron remake, starring Emo Phillips.

2. I don't know what kind of weight training program this guy's on, but he sculpts his body like Van Gogh paints.


The winner of last week's contest will be announced next Monday.


August 20th's contest winner is Seth, with the caption: "Krishna Krishna Hare Double-Dong Hare Rama Rama Double-Dong Krishna Krishna Double-Dong Rama...everybody now!"

On quitting

My plan was to smoke my last cigarette on Friday night. However, when midnight rolled around, I had two left in the pack and I was dead tired, so I went to sleep. When I woke up, I had my breakfast, and smoked one of the two. My last official cigarette. And I gotta tell you, it kicked my ass.

Most anyone who smokes knows the feeling. Every once and a while you get that one cigarette that goes straight to your head and makes you feel like you're gonna pass out. I always called it the "magic smoke". The last time I tried to quit, my last smoke didn't give me that feeling. That's probably why I was back to a pack a day within three weeks. This time, I know it's different. My last smoke was memorable enough that I feel confident that I won't cave in and start smoking again.

However, I was left with one cigarette in that pack. It's currently in my freezer. I'm taking a cue from Danny DeVito in the War of the Roses. If I ever smoke again, it'll be that cigarette. The beauty of this plan is that the longer I go without smoking, the less appealing a stale, frozen Camel Light is gonna be.

How am I quitting this time? I have a small cache of nicotine gum and lozenges given to me by my parents from their failed attempts to quit. I've been using the lozenges, and they've been curbing the cravings successfully. Even though they're like sucking on a chunk of soapstone, only with less flavor.

The thing I've noticed is that I'm not really craving cigarettes. I'm just getting to these heavy moments of tension, then I have a lozenge and I'm fine. But at no point has my brain said "Smoke, NOW!" I'm taking this as a good sign.

The hardest part is trying to fill those voids of time I usually spent smoking. Yesterday, I found myself cleaning my apartment just to distract myself for those moments of boredom I spent chain-smoking and surfing the internet. I may have gone overboard a little bit. My living room, dining room and kitchen are not only clean, but sterile. The floors are mopped, the shelves are dusted and the rugs are vacuumed. You could build silicon chips on my coffee table right now.

By the time I got to this party last night, I was tired from all of the cleaning and pretty damned cranky. I didn't want to smoke, but by this point, I was getting kinda sick of the lozenges. There's a reason they make those things taste so nasty. It's so you won't want to get addicted to them. My mind is made up, I'm gonna ween myself off of those things far quicker than the instructions tell me to.

This morning, I went to do laundry. Ordinarily, I spent half my time outside smoking and talking on the phone. With my phone at home on the charger, I found myself a little desperate for something to do, so I played Ms. Pac-Man while my clothes were finishing. Next time, I'll just bring a book. It'll save me three bucks in quarters.

Now, I'm gonna tackle the remaining rooms of my apartment: the bedroom and the storage closet.