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 |   My fourth blog. Amazing yet disconcerting. Don't worry; this'll go away in a year or so. |
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First there was "I'm Studying You"  ...then there was "Who Do I Think I Am??" . Finally, we reached "Who do I still think I am??" .Until now. Welcome to the Buffalo in your soul...       A THREE-TIME CHAMPION OF THE "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" !   |
  "Blog prompt for February 13, 2015" 'Sup y'all? Can I just tell you how unmotivated I am feeling right now? This is why I don't like doing anything after I eat dinner...nothing feels good. It's not even like I overate- well, maybe according to some nutritional standards, I did- but even as soon as a few minutes ago, I was debating on getting up and reaching for the M&M's because fatty over here can't stop putting things in his be-bearded mouth. I need a chocolate intervention, and I'm not saying that as a cry for help one day before Valentine's Day. Anyway, so we've got these prompts today, and I don't know what to make of them...which would probably still be the case even if I hadn't eaten myself stupid (I'm not kidding...that's an actual thing in my body. When I feel too full, I can't concentrate on anything else and I honestly feel like the dumbest kid penetrating your zip code). [Pro tip: If you're unsure that you've properly spelled "penetrating" and are unable to trust your tablet's spell-check, don't Google it just to be sure. And if you do Google it, don't scroll down to the images.] Here's the rundown of Brother Nature  's prompt for today: "Write about your job, or your hobby, or another favorite pastime, BUT make up new words to describe what it is you're doing. Challenge your readers to guess what you're talking about in your comments section. If you'd rather- try this little exercise which is sure to be funny. Rewrite this well known verse using nonsensical words <hum "Mary Had A Little Lamb" to yourself>. The more outrageous the funnier."Well, not to be a party pooper, but I'm having none of that right now. I'm absolutely not into the whole "guessing game" bit tonight, nor am I really up to shredding Mother Goose rhymes like I'm some kind of mad satirical genius. I'm trying to convince myself to change my own mind, but some of y'all know what it's like dealing with toddlers...  .Maybe though, I can dispense with a limerick just to kill some time before I take out the other prompts. There aren't many rules in limericking, are there? (Considering "limericking" isn't a word, we're off to a fine start.) There once was a brother named Joel, who was worth his own weight in gold. The folks in his town tried melting him down, but gave up because people don't melt, they burn...and that's not a very nice thing to do, especially to someone who has a very unique kind of soul. And stuff. Well, whaddya know? I can write a fancy-fangled type of poem!   "Friday the 13th, also known as Black Friday in some countries, is considered an unlucky day in Western superstition. What's your take? Inspire me with your creativity or take the non-prompt option."Welp, in my jurisdiction of Western civilization, there is only one "Black Friday", and that's the day after Thanksgiving. For those who've spent time in retail hell, let's not go there...it's still February, for chrissakes. And I won't go as far as saying I'm superstitious, but... ok, maybe I am a little. More like a cross between OCD and creature of habit. Like a double-cross. A filthy, evil double-cross. Only, one that also triple-checks his alarm because he's paranoid of oversleeping, yet he'll hit the snooze button at least four times before getting out of bed.Isn't that what OCD is in a nutshell, anyway? Creatures of habit to the extreme and excessive paranoia? I don't think I'm that bad...I'm not clinical about it or anything. Quirky, yeah...but we've all got our somethings. Maybe others who've been around me more can tell you differently, because how do I know I'm not OCD about certain things when there's no one else around to point this shit out to me? Wow...it just hit me that I could be fucked if and when I choose to start socializing again. Being a hermit tends to disguise one's bad habits...I may need a finishing school for grown men or something, just to relearn common courtesies and gentlemanly behavior that is also socially acceptable. And none of that has anything to do with Friday the 13th. Personally, I'm not a fan of this particular day because yeah, some people buy into the whole "unlucky number 13" business and I'm not sayin' I do, but there's a reason enough people get sufficiently hacked off at the idea of being spooked by anything 13-ish so much that it's become quite the actual thing in our society that it has. Like, I'm really surprised Hallmark hasn't jumped all over this and started pushin' special "Friday The 13th" greeting cards. "Honey, don't forget to go to the store and pick up the cake for today! It's Friday the 13th, remember?" It's probably just a matter of time. I think if anything I'm more skeptical than superstitious...and I'm definitely more cynical. Like, I don't believe in anything anymore, and I'm not the least bit concerned about it nor afraid to not do anything about it. Whatever. If lightning's gonna strike me because a black cat walked in front of me while I was under a ladder holding a broken mirror, so be it...bad things can happen to anyone just about anywhere, and within split seconds and millimeters of fortune, fame, and glory. To be able to find the balance between good and bad might really be the true definition of "being lucky".   "Let's talk~ What do you think you do well that others cannot master? What motivated you to be so awesome at this? (I don't know about you but it makes me think of when I got older my mother got wiser.)"Oh boy...I was chattin' up Lyn's a sly fox  when this prompt came through last night, and I told her I'm not good with these kinds of questions. I never know how to answer them, mainly because I don't think there's anything that I think I'm specifically better at than anyone else. It's not bein' humble if you can't back it up, or somethin' like that  .No, really. Ain't a damn thing I can think of that I know I can say with 100% certainty I'm a master of. Or even 95% sure. 90% is kinda pushin' it, because 9 out of 10 at anything in my opinion doesn't make you a master, but I guess that's subjective. I guess this is where I get on my tired soapbox every time I'm asked a question like this and I rehash the same ol' "really, I'm no better than anyone else" diatribes I feel most comfortable stickin' with. After all, as long as you're telling the truth, no one can prove you wrong. One band I've always kinda been disappointed about their breakup is Soul Coughing. They were really unique sounding...a heavy, plucky bassline, almost hip-hoppish drums, and the abstractly poetic lyrics of Mike Doughty. "4 Out Of 5" comes across as fairly simple (as do most Soul Coughing songs), but as is often the case there is more under the surface. It's easy to dismiss this song as being about sex, when others believe it leans more toward rejection. I think it's hard to say, but I'm more inclined to believe it's the latter and not the former. You know what I said in the BCOF portion of this entry, about 9/10ths not being enough to be a master? Sometimes, however, 4/5ths is all you need. Sometimes, it's enough. Sometimes, it has to be enough. It can be enough to change your course in anything throughout your lifetime. It can also be just what you need to get by. It's not always about winning the race...it's about making sure who (or what) you're running against knows you're there. I may not always be a champion, but dammit when all is said and done, you'll know I made my mark. "I come recommended by four out of five; I'm a factor in the whole plan." Lyrics and interpretations.   As some of you know, I use Twitter once in awhile (@fivesixer if you think someday I might have the potential to use Twitter for something more reasonable than bitching about football games), but I always miss the cool stuff you see mentioned on the news and spread around in a gossip-like wildfire (otherwise known colloquially now as "trending")...and by "cool stuff" I mean "someone talkin' smack, and someone else bringin' the strong comeback game to shut down the haters", or somethin' like that. Luckily, there are ways to see who has the best smack repellant on the internet these days. Ok, I don't care what you guys say, but this bit about city kids goin' on nature hikes for the first time was the funniest thing I've seen on the internet in a long time (especially #8 and #9). It reminded me of when I was a kid in Boy Scouts, and sometimes we would take hikes...only they weren't always in parks or in nature. I remember a couple of them being walks around one of our neighborhoods and getting credit for that being "a hike". Never let anyone tell you the kids of today are "spoiled" and "have it so easy"...we had it easy first.  Finally, a precursor to what I'm sure will be a rollickingly fabulous entry tomorrow...all of these things make me very happy I'm not faced with the pressures of trying to impress anyone for Valentine's Day this year. Just the fact that I have to ask "What the hell is a McDonald's Chicken Burger?" should tell you all you need to know if you're wondering if you're doing enough for your special someone. [Pro tip: Guys, it's never enough. Ladies, if you're at least in a semi-state of nakedness and there's plenty of beer, you're doing something right.]Ok, well, like you I too have other things to do, so if you don't mind (and you know I don't mind one way or the other if you mind) I'm gonna go right ahead and do those things. Peace, quantify my luck, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Yup...nailed it. |
 "I wonder where I could get a white drowf?" (Courtesy of Taz_Koby )Huh?  "What do you do to decompress when you're overwhelmed with anger or other negative emotions?"Good afternoon friends! Sorry about the technical hiccup up there  ...must be the internet is broken or something. Ever feel like you can't wait to say something, until you finally get your chance and you have no idea what to say? That's how I feel right now...I saw this prompt last night and I thought, "Wow, that's pretty good...that could help a lot of people, myself included." And here I am now, drawing blanks like an impotent gunslinger. I guess chocolate helps. And so does laughter...but sometimes I can get so overwhelmed that even the funniest things that draw the most emotion from me in a positive sense aren't enough, because my head's so far wrapped up inside itself that I swear if I were to try to put any more information up in there my brain would unravel out of my nostrils like intestines. Please, don't try to picture that. Y'all been warned. Punching, throwing, and breaking shit is by far the most satisfying short-term solution there is, if your idea of "short-term" is about three seconds, or the length of time it takes you to either feel pain or recognize you just launched your cell phone through a television and you're gonna be out big dough because you're still under contract for the cell service and your tv's outta warranty. And I know some of you might be expecting me to say music, but sometimes music conspires against me. When I'm in a bad place, "happy songs" tend to make things worse, and music that's more on the aggressive side can, well, see the previous paragraph. On top of that, if I don't really know what it is exactly I'll want to listen to, I'll set iTunes to shuffle and see what Steve Jobs would do if he took over the click-wheel of my destiny...which more often than not, I'm convinced, is a conspiracy to further me down the road to permanent aggravation, because wouldn't it be my luck that as soon as I start to come out of a funk, the right combination of lyrics and instruments will compel me to abstain from skipping a selection, setting my mood back in whatever increments are used to measure moods. Therefore, I'm left with one option (and no, it's not masturbation , ICYMI): opposite therapy. And no bullshit, sometimes it actually works! I learned about it in a book I once read, called Man's Search For Meaning by Viktor Frankl, and in theory it's pretty simple. You have to psyche yourself out by thinking the opposite of your desired outcome. Now, this isn't recommended for most situations or circumstances, but it can help with decompressing from negative energies surrounding your aura (whoa, that sounds almost too "New Age-y" for my tastes).I've used it (ok, along with prescribed controlled substances) to help with sleep on occasion. If I keep telling myself I'm gonna pull an all-nighter, I find myself mentally wearing out a little faster, thus decreasing the time between taking the Ambien and actually falling asleep. And if I'm surrounded by negative vibes and malicious feelings, I have to force myself to think through them to get to the other side. I'm not talkin' "Winnie The Pooh, stuck for honey" forcing...I have to confront the absolute worst-case scenario all the way live in my head before I start to calm down. Is it healthy? I dunno, but it doesn't sound like it. All I know is that it's worked for me, plenty o' times. Still haven't caught a case of manslaughter yet, and I've been in this bein' alive business for almost 40 years. I've been pushed as much as anybody- some would say maybe even more- and some have killed for less. I say that if I haven't by now, it's very unlikely I ever will. But let's not fuck around and find out, ok?  "When was the last time someone told you that they were proud of you?Gosh...I don't know. Seriously. And I'm not just sayin' that because I'm fishin' for praise or need the attention because I'm being humble. I...don't know. I move on quickly from these moments, I guess. Maybe too quickly, or not fast enough from the times that are the opposite of making people proud of me, because those feelings tend to stick around a lot longer. And don't get me wrong...I've made people legitimately proud in the past. I just don't socialize enough now to merit the consideration, so I don't think about it. I don't expect the grocery store clerk to say "Nice job filling up your basket!" as a single tear rolls down her cheek in deep admiration while I bow my head and shuffle my feet in shyness like "Awww, shucks ma'am  ." I don't think that's how this "proud" thing is supposed to work.All I can do is just be me, yo...do right with my opportunities to be a good person, kill clowns with kindness, and make the purdy ladies blush. Unless you're a dick to me...then I'll proudly put you in your rightful place. ** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable ** I might be the only person who once had this song as his ringtone. In fact, if I dug up my old BlackBerry, it probably is still set to Texas Is The Reason. Damn shame this band only released one full album and one three-song EP, because it's a sound I can simultaneously dance emo-riffically to and get completely lost inside of. Like I've said hundreds of times I'm sure, I'm constantly in my own head way too much. I worry for no reason, I fret (often without reason) wondering if I've done or said the wrong thing, and no one will ever be harder on me about my faults or shortcomings than me. There's nothing you can say to me most of the time that will change how I feel about certain things, short of an honest-to-goodness miracle. I know...I must be an absolute joy to be around .But it's also a pretty solid defense mechanism and preparatory skill, because there aren't a whole lot of things people can do to bother me that I haven't seen or been through before. In that light, they're scars I'm not ashamed of. I haven't seen it all, but I've seen enough to know that maybe I've seen too much. Ok, I'll stop now. For Day 12 in "The Soundtrack of Your Life" , here's "A Jack With One Eye" by Texas Is The Reason."You'll have to try harder than that. You'll have to dig deeper than that. Reminds me of myself." Lyrics.  As per Brother Nature 's note this afternoon ("Note: *Thought**People**Thought**^*Person*^..."), there's a party goin' on this Saturday over at "Invalid Item" , and I don't know if I'm allowed to do this, but I'm inviting everyone, provided they don't bring she who shall not be named, Sister Mary Muggingsworth. I don't know what all's gonna go down at this shindig, but it'll be Valentine's Day, and we're not Valentines, so don't get any crazy ideas about gettin' me saucy just so's you can take advantage of li'l ol' me. Ya heard? And while I'm out pumpin' tires, have you seen the note Elle - on hiatus  dropped off for everyone this morning ("Note: Merit badge challenge
The [Link To It...")? Please check it out...proceeds go to a friggin' sweet cause (the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ), and if you're nice enough there might be a li'l sum-sum in it for you too.   I know you're not all Sabres fans, or hockey fans, or know what it's like to finish dead last at your chosen profession...but the Sabres are an abysmal hockey team this year and are in the midst of rebuilding the roster quickly so that they're at least competitive sooner rather than later and for a substantial period of time. While I'm not totally a fan of the idea that "losing is winning", this article makes a lot of sense to me as far as how we should feel when the team we root for (unless you're in Edmonton) sucks more than everyone else for an extended period of time. And speaking somewhat of sports, Saturday Night Live is celebrating its 40th anniversary this season, so FOX Sports put together this list of memorable appearances by star athletes.Alright, well, it certainly feels like I've expended enough energy doing this for one day. Maybe I'll see you guys again soon. Peace, raise it up so I can see, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Blog prompt for February 11, 2015" What's the good word tonight? Very kind of the homie Brother Nature to use me as a reference point for one of his prompts tonight...and if you're feeling lazy and don't wanna sit through his introduction (which I recommend you do anyway), here is the gist of it: "Talk about the different types of prompts. Tell us how the prompt helps or hinders your blog entry writing. Which types of prompts are your favorite or least favorite to write on? Blog group leaders can write on this from the 'prompt writer's point of view on prompts'."Well, I consider myself one of those "group leaders", even if I technically have the shortest tenure of anyone else in charge of their respective organization...but I'll tackle this from my own perspective, ok Joel? Thanks. The truth is that I've never really thought of "types of prompts". First, for me, there are "prompts" and "no prompt". Then it became "prompts I really like" and "prompts I don't like". And asking me to describe them in detail is hard, because it's one of those things you just know. Oh sure, I'll bet if I were given a list of all the prompts I've ever seen, and had a month to break them down into three or four different categories, I probably could. Anyone who writes like this could. But it's not something I think about when I open an email with a subject of "Today's prompt...". I don't judge them and say "this is a valedictorian prompt style" or "this is from the second class of third-citizenry set of prompts". Naw man...I'm just worried about whether or not my fingertips have the game to keep up with whatever my brain wants to spit out. I don't wanna know if there's a certain guideline I should be following because "this is to be written in goat cheese staccato"; I wanna know if it contains a theme that I can find relatable enough to make it relatable to you. I'm just the translator...the go-between. I fill in the spaces- lots of spaces- with words and anecdotes and stories. That's all. I'm not in the business of overthinking the one thing I'm actually supposed to be overthinking. Just gimme my hard hat and lunch pail and let me get to work. I'll take out my aggression (metaphorically) where it matters most...where people wanna know how I feel about something, and not my opinion on the statement itself. That makes sense, right? It does in my head. Now, with that said, sure there are some prompts I'm not into...and depending on my mood you'll hear about it, because I'm an equal-opportunity prompt offender. But if I'm particularly fond of your prompt, I'll be sure to mention that as well. For example, I've made it clear several times that I'm not crazy about prompts that drag me too far away from reality. If I were meant to write fiction and short stories, I would've started down that road a long time ago. But ask me anything that I can attach to a funny and/or self-deprecating story from my life, and you won't get me to shut up. That's just how I work. And I guess I will cater to the "prompt writer's point of view", since I do that too now, a lot more than I used to. You've all probably heard me piss and moan about having to write prompts, because in my opinion I feel like the ones I contribute are generally pretty terrible. And it's true...if I had to write for a month's worth of my own prompts, I'd just as soon rather learn Mandarin or how to fold a fitted bed sheet properly in less than thirty seconds (because you know when you put me in charge of that shit, you're getting one giant ball of sheet). I try to be fair, but it's not easy coming up with something that 8 or 20 people are gonna all be comfortable with...and writing on my own ideas now almost feels like liking my own Facebook posts. It's uncomfortable and self-serving and kinda awkward, like watching a dad kiss his daughter on the mouth for more than .000001 seconds. Not sure I could say anything more about this; I'm actually surprised I even said this much...which is kinda funny since I'll be sending this out to two other blogging groups with the NP ("no prompt") designation. ** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable ** I did a quick Google search today using the keywords "songs about writing", because I wanted my music to tie in with the 30DBC portion of today's entry...and it returned one of my favorite sites, Consequence Of Sound. Here's a list of 10 songs that are about writing . Lotta good songs there.And I'm glad Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds shows up twice on this list, because he's a fantastic writer. Dark, twisted, thoughtful...his albums are as incredible as his voice is deep and distinctive. "There She Goes, My Beautiful World" isn't my favorite Nick Cave song, but it deserves a spot in this year's playlist. I don't struggle much with writers' block, but maybe that's because besides blogging I don't write nearly as much as I used to. There has been so much said over time about the subject, but this comparison is one I think is the most widely used: to that of a lover left behind. I think plenty of us have felt that pain at some point in time, and Cave's lyrics touch on it in a way few have in the past. My opinion of course, but something to consider.  You pretty much shouldn't eat anything anymore. Sucks too that I love most of this crap . So ya know what I did today? Something I swear I probably haven't done in like 15 years...I bought a big-ass bag of Skittles. I don't eat a lot of sugary garbage that often, but awhile back I had something- don't remember what- that tasted like Skittles, so I decided I needed more Skittles in my life. And ya know what I learned from the experience? Life is too short to waste it on people who eat their Skittles one at a time. In fact, if you don't just shove an entire handful of assorted flavors in your mouth at one time, I don't think I can even trust you. I'm pretty sure that it's unspoken-yet-common-knowledge that you're supposed to eat them in mouthful-sized servings. Isn't that what "Taste the rainbow!" means? It's a marketing campaign designed to incite a child (or me, a child in a tiny man's body) to ingest large quantities of rainbow-flavored sugar pellets, so follow the directions. Don't waste your time or my time being all definitive and shit..."Oooh! Save me the orange ones!" "You know what they say about the green ones! ". No, and GTFOH with that. People who don't know the difference between Skittles and M&M's don't need to be a part of your life. Finally, some sad news...as you may have heard yesterday, Jon Stewart announced this will be his last season anchoring The Daily Show. I have to admit...I've only started watching regularly in the last year or so (I know...what was wrong with me?), but Comedy Central's gonna be hard-pressed to replace someone of his caliber. Let's take a moment and reminisce over some of his best quotes .And that's where I'm gonna leave you kind people at tonight. Peace, buggered off man, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "You are being driven around by the worst driver ever.Wow...I don't know about this. What up y'all? Lemme preface this entry by saying I just tried to take a nap, but my eyes are buggin' hard after everything that's gone on in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" forum since noon today. Madness. Chaos. People paying to have other people eliminated from an event. Other people paying to stay in the event. It's complete mayhem. I'm glad I'm not runni-  ...Damn. Never mind. My name's on the header of the forum...so each time gift points change hands, I get an email. I'll likely be over 200 new emails received about this before tonight is over, and there's about 48 hours left total before this whole round of chicanery for fundraising is over. I feel like I just ran a damn marathon with my eyeballs. But I'm not complaining. Publicly. Yet. Anyway, on top of that, how about a blog entry as well? Sure, coming right up. I've cheated death three times in car accidents. No lie. I very easily could not be here today were I seated differently in the back seat when my buddy's car got clipped by a pick-up truck's plow in a snowstorm, or were I not wearing my seat belt when some jackass decided to make a left in front of me on a busy road, or had I not flinched when my girlfriend at the time lost control of her car on an icy road, sending us right into the path of a tree until my knee knocked the shifter into neutral while bracing for impact and we safely slid to a halt with inches to spare. And now I'm realizing that none of these situations has anything to do with bad driving on mine or my friends' behalfs. While I'm sure it's happened that I've ridden shotgun with someone who was utterly incompetent behind the wheel, I'm having a hard time picturing a specific moment. I can imagine how a short trip to, like, a supermarket or the mall would go (and by "short" I mean 20 minutes tops, because when you're in Buffalo you can go just about anywhere locally within 20 minutes...that's kinda how we measure things) though. Join me for a bit of imagining. I'd get picked up, and immediately you'd hit a curb or a trash can or some shit while angling into a tight space. No harm, no foul, especially since it looks like the degree of difficulty is sorta high in an awkward parking lot. It happens. We'd hit the main drag and start talkin'; catchin' up on little shit and whatnot, and then I start to notice that the more you talk, the more you look at me. And the more you look at me, the more you start driftin' between two lanes. I jokingly tell you to knock that shit off, because I don't wanna ride with someone who might get me killed. But it's cool...we still got mad love for each other. [Side note: Never say to a girl you're just friends with that you "got mad love" for her too, even if she says flippantly, "Awww, I love you!"...that's a bad look homie, and that will definitely earn you some kind of awkward lecture about how she doesn't "love you like that", even when you already know this, bruh. Trust me...it's a trap to make you look and feel like an ass.] So after you get your shit corrected and make the obligatory "look, my hands are at 10 and 2!" joke that I find to be not funny, I start to settle in until I realize that you've just realized that we've missed the exit/driveway/stop sign, and all hell's about to break loose. Everything gets kinda grey until we've come to a screeching halt on the lawn of a Taco Bell, when I can feel the vein pulsating in my forehead against my hat and I'm trying to pry my knees out from the glove box. I look over at you, and as I'm about to only mouth the words "What the fuck just happened?" because my vox are frozen out of fear of them being sliced by the windshield, you're motionless. Your hands are gripped at 10 and 2 like that's all that's keeping you on this earth from floating into the ether, but your eyes are already looking ahead as if you made it there for the first time. It's almost magical. This is what it's like to walk to heaven in a dream. Until I punch you on the shoulder so fucking hard that you recoil into sadness and dead goldfish despair while I start screaming about multiple ways we could've just died in a split second as I'm using all the swear words. And five minutes later, when we're at our actual destination, all is forgotten when we start people-watching and making fun of those who aren't like us to ourselves, because you're my friend, and I got mad love for you. I'm still tryna make sense of what all I saw go down in the 30DBC forum this afternoon. Lotta WDC currency changed hands. Brother Nature 's gonna hafta keep Andre's consulting firm, T.R.O.O.P., on retainer to figure out this accounting logistical nightmare. And when I tried to take a nap to clear my head from it all, this song kept playing over and over between my ears. I couldn't shut it off. The refrain is simple- "cash rules everything around me"- but the verses are intricate and deep. Meaningful. I would bump this cassette maxi-single from my old Plymouth Horizon, the first car I ever owned. When you're strugglin', sometimes you've gotta do whatever you can just to survive. You make the tough decisions, because if you don't someone else might, and chances are you'll like that a hell of a lot less. For a lot of people, cash is king. It's what makes the world move, as much as we might hate to admit it...try puttin' it on your spouse or your deities or your faith to pay your bills each month, and see how far that gets you with your creditors. I'm not mocking religion; I'm just sayin' doin' nothin' but hittin' your knees for thirty straight days prolly ain't gonna pay your rent. It's not easy when you're low-income...which makes people feel all the more rewarded when they start payin' bills with a little bit left over each month. That's when you know things are lookin' up for you. I love the Wu-Tang Clan. Nine dope mc's with sick, spooky beats mixed with snippets of kung-fu references. Yes, when someone mentions kung-fu, I get all Jennifer Aniston in Office Space on them. Can't help it...would you like to try my Wu-Tang sword style? Let's begin! Did you know there's a Wu-Tang name generator ? Mine's Drunken Swami. Try it and post yours in the comment box below. I don't think gangsta rap made them do it . We had a saying for these people back in the day...Thug Lite. There's undoubtedly going to be a lot of run-up this week about the movie adaptation of Fifty Shades Of Grey, which comes out on Valentine's Day. Maybe you've even read the series, and can't wait for this, because you live in a world without access to porn. I'm guessing, however, once Hollywood gets the rights to the Fifty Shades Of Buscemi franchise, minds will be blown and box office records will crumble like cheap lingerie bought at Target for a random one-nighter with an almost-important member of society.And that's all I have to say today, friends. Mad love. Peace, same damn 'Lo sweater, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| "GAMES - Video Games, Board Games, Parlour Games...what's your pleasure?" What's up you guys? I'm having one of those "me against the world" kind of days, and it feels like the world's winning. Everything's kinda pissing me off today, from news articles and opinions to, well, everything in between. Makes me wish I just had the herd mentality of going along with whatever enough not to care. I could probably write thirty separate blog entries on all sortsa stuff today, and the three prompts I have aren't doing a damn thing for me. Go figure. But I'll try to work something out somehow...I almost always do. I know I'm not in the mood for games today...if you start giving me some bullshit I'll be quick to sling it right back, and twice as hard. So head games are already out of the question. Facebook games? I got into a few when I was laid up with my busted ankle, but I could pretty much care less about most of 'em. Parlour (or as we say in the US, "parlor") games I assume are gambling, casino-style games, and I'm not really into those either...I always used to think parlor games were just whatever games you played in the living room, because when we were little that's what we called the living room: the parlor. So I guess that leaves me with board games, and that's alright by me. I think board games are meant to be played when you're bored (I know...real big stretch there), but not compulsively like marathon Xbox binge sessions. They're more for social interaction than, say, Candy Crush. Some can encourage basic educational skills, which I guess can also go for video games, but all I ever really picked up from Grand Theft Auto was that it's ok to beat up hookers, shoot cops, and set cars on fire (wait, were we talkin' 'bout gangsta rap or the NFL?). Oh yeah...board games. They're probably the least of all the evils, which means for most they're also the least fun if you've got better options on the table. That also means you've got to know how to switch things up and make simple board games more exciting. Inventing a drinking version of a board or card game has worked for me in the past. And for the really dangerous edge-living gamers, a strip version is almost always more fun than playing straight by the rules. Don't hate on me because I once came up with a strip version of Uno that I used to play with the batshit-crazy ex. And also don't hate on me that sometimes I "didn't remember " the exact rules from the last time her and I would play, which would then lead to me keeping more of my clothes on until it was time to, well, no longer keep anymore clothes on. Life's all about perspective I guess, and making the best out of the situations you're put in. If that means...well, who cares what it means. You play the game to win, whatever game you're in, right?  "'Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel.' –Oliver Wendell Holmes. Do you agree with this? Do you have a specific memory that is associated with an aroma?"I guess smelling certain foods being cooked can remind me of different times in my life, in mostly a good way. The trouble is, after you've moved enough times and changed residences, maybe that dish you've made hundreds of times before doesn't have that same exact smell with the same elements of the environment around it that helped to coax good times in association with the meal. Know what I'm sayin'? I do, and that's what matters. But really, besides food I'm having a hard time coming up with something positive and consistent. Maybe that's because more often than not we associate the phrase "What's that smell?" with something negative. Have you ever wanted to thunder-punch someone in the throat with a 2x4 because they shoved an unknown object under your nose and said "OMG smell this!", only to find out it smelled like a bunch of the hookers you killed in Grand Theft Auto came to life and then died under your front porch? If you want to ensure that you lose me as a friend, recreate that smell and then lure me toward the partaking of smelling that particular smell. Fuck you, and good day sir. I think we've all at some point (if you've been at this blogging thing long enough) touched on memories associated with aromas. Holidays are popular, as well as childhood things. But senses under normal circumstances are mostly involuntary. I'd say the majority of us have the five senses in at least somewhat functioning order. Maybe not as well as they used to, but they're there. Smelling stuff is a byproduct of breathing that we have to actually try to not do, so maybe that's why it's not as easy as it sounds, associating aromas with memories. That's like seeing billions of things and being able to declare with absolute certainty which photograph over the last x-amount of years has been the most brilliant. Maybe one day it's one thing, and the next it's something completely different. I guess that's why I don't mind so much occasionally being asked the same questions repeatedly over time anymore.  "Anais Nin said: 'Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.' Do you think emotional excess is necessary for creativity and writing?"Here's the gist of what I think about this: you need at least some access emotionally in your creativity, but emotional excess isn't quite as necessary. Is it helpful? Depends I guess on what you're going for. But it's not a requirement. I'm sure in the grand scheme of things there's a fair balance between the amount of creative types who've lived happy, mostly emotionally-sane existences as there have been tortured artists...I'm not willing to say that to be drawn toward forms of expression is to admit your wagon's missing a wheel or two. But maybe there's more than a smidgen of truth to the whole "writing what you know" thing. And I'm not comfortable speaking for others about this, but I've always felt better writing from a perspective I'm familiar with as opposed to having to research and/or manufacture details. It's important to me that my narrative comes across as relatable but personal...even if you don't know it from me in general, integrity-wise I'll know, and I'll have to live with what I put out there if/when it ever comes into question. I don't know if this actually fulfills the prompt here, but it satisfies my curiosity, so I'm gonna move on.  I'm from the near-end of that fabled generation in history...the cassette era. When it required actual effort to listen to music, and even more effort if you wanted to share it with others. I got my very first cd player maybe 20 or 21 years ago, and had I not moved I'd probably still have my dual-deck cassette stereo. Gone too is the mixtape, having been replaced by the mix-cd and later the playlist (though neither sounds as romantic as "mixtape"). I'm gonna probably incorporate some of the Blog City prompt response into this story for "The Soundtrack of Your Life" , because the album that I'm speaking of is one of the more emotional- nay, emo- ones I'm familiar with.And of course, it has to do with the crazy ex, because all the good emo stories involve crazy exes. Not that I was a boy scout in the relationship by any stretch of the imagination, for the sake of argument, but...wait, never mind. Arguing was like the second most popular thing we did together. Anyway, this album was probably the last time I burned a cd onto cassette, because she had a tape deck in her car...mommy and daddy bought it for her so she could have something reliable to cart her kids around in, but they got the model with the most minimal of features. I guess there were enough songs on this disc that related to the entire relationship that I wanted her to hear, and since she wouldn't always have me and my iPod around, this was easier than loaning her the cd (which I likely never would've seen again anyway, given all the sweatshirts and pajama pants of mine she kept after we broke up...why do I always go for the girls who wanna keep all my shit after breaking my heart? ). Mind you, this is the same girl who once tried to steal my iPod after calling the cops on me over god knows what was being argued about that night, and the only thing that convinced the cop it was actually my iPod was that my name was engraved on the back, although he made me show him my license to prove that I was who it said I was...but that's probably another story for another time.Anyway, that's really the deal here today...this being the last album I put on tape. And I've always thought of these two songs as one big long one anyway because of how the end of the first is banded so smoothly with the beginning of the second, so naturally I was kinda excited that I found a YouTube clip that had both of them. And it works well with the "games" and "emotions" prompts. And being frustrated at people, places and things beyond the grasp of my control has made hearing these songs much easier to deal with today. So off the great Brand New disc Deja Entendu, here's "I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light" and "Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't". "And we're silent but sure we invented the cure that will wash out the memories of her." Lyrics. "Oh, my tongue's the only muscle on my body that works harder than my heart." Lyrics.  This appeals to the conspiracy theorist in me, because it's full of ideas that maybe Stevie Wonder isn't blind . And not like you need me to tell you this, but you're probably brain dead if you think interacting with most major brands on social media is gonna get you anything.Ok, well, I'm gonna go do other things now, like avoid drama and negativity in confined spaces. Peace, what all the other boys all promised, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "This is what I would blog about if there was nothing to blog about."Good afternoon everyone! Today is an exciting day...team names and logos have been revealed in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 's fundraising brouhaha, and I will be a member of the prevailing squad, The Blogging Bunch. ** Image ID #2029524 Unavailable ** I also got a fantastic night of sleep last night- maybe the best I've had in awhile- even though I woke up around 4:30am sweating profusely with an intense desire to, ummmm, take care of some personal behavior-related issues involving a body part that was overwhelmingly awake. I resisted though, because my need of falling back asleep outweighed the desire to procure any materials that would've aided in the relief assistance...it was a feeling that couldn't be beat, you might say. Moving on...today we're not given much to work with, and you know that makes me feel some kinda way. But I'm not gonna let it get to me. I've found some interesting materials to build off of via the vast knowledge possessed by the interwebs, and I'm gonna use them. Yesterday we learned in Julie D - PUBLISHED! 's entry "Invalid Entry" that she recently went on a first date with a perhaps new romantic interest, and that she had quite the enjoyable time. This man was afforded the opportunity to then meet some of Julie's friends, who are very protective of her. In honor of that occasion, I'd like to present a list of 30 questions that should absolutely be discussed on any first date , in hopes that Julie's pals asked the proper information of her new man if she hasn't already.In addition, I'll provide my answers, as someday I may want to start dating again, and with this entry I'll be able to get the preliminaries outta the way. I toyed with the idea of posting these first and then the questions, but some of you might read this part first, initially skipping the link because that's just a click that takes you away from this page, and some people don't like that. Whatever. Knock yourselves out...this is what happens to me when I don't have the proper motivation and supervision. 1) Absolutely, without a doubt, I feel very passionately about this. We need to do what's best not only for our children, but for the animals as well. I wrote about this once in "This one's about 12 staples and no sauce." (you'll have to scroll to about halfway through to see my topical response).2) It's a complex formula that consists of how much time I can make up along the way, presuming the dog also doesn't bite me (which is the likelier of outcomes). 3) Two, three tops; this depends on if I'm actually wearing pants. 4) That weren't on TV? Zero. I think. 5) Reclined. Or straight layin' down with my head well-propped. 6) None of 'em. People feeding and housing and dressing dogs over humans? Let's not have that talk. 7) Assuming they're straight-up real bakery donuts, let's stop at one. If they're cheap little Hostess powdered Donettes, how many packs ya got? 8) Depends. I can go months and months without, and then spend 2-3 days feeling absolutely terrible about otherwise inconsequential things. 9) All of it, please. Please!! 10) No one. No time for that. 11) I probably wouldn't even let you leave the room without you watching me disobey you. 12) No. I'm unflappable like that. 13) Probably, yes, but maybe with some kind of improvised plastic undergarments on. Like saran-wrapped loins would probably do. 14) None, but that's not to say I never drained more than a few out of sheer loneliness and/or boredom. 15) Wouldn't need to think about it...couch me. But six days...that would take a lot of work. Good thing I'm not a quitter. 16) Oprah can go slap herself. 17) Cutthroat. 18) No. The journey is often more fun than the destination. 19) Five days, not counting bathroom breaks. 20) Answer carefully. If you object, you may never love or understand me. 21) I don't think that's ever happened, but I did eat an entire bag of Sour Cream And Onion potato chips once and then power-puked the rest of the evening. 22) Never. Showers render tears indistinguishable. 23) The limit is when it's too painful to breathe. 24) Probably just to a grocery store. It's not something I've ever had to specifically journey for. 25) Ew. Corn dogs are gross. 26) Ew. The Olsen twins are the corn dogs of shitty nineties/early 2000's movies. 27) Not ashamed to admit I've done this before. I think my max was 16. 28) Around $14. On myself. That was a fun late breakfast/early lunch. 29) What do I do with the other 79.5 pages? 30) Original. I'm a traditionalist. I hope that this has helped you in some way...if not today or this week, then down the road where it can be fully appreciated. And we're all pullin' for ya, Julie...good luck! Day eight of "The Soundtrack of Your Life" should cover some familiar territory for most of us: the first date. For many, it's often the best part of the relationship because like the internet and social media, we're usually striving to put our best aspects on display. The goal isn't just to fall in love, but to get to the second date...and then the third one, and so on. Until there's no longer anything more you can do that the other person finds likeable. And then it's all downhill from there, unless you're lucky enough to maintain some kind of status quo of happiness that never quite feels on par with the excitement you felt immediately after the first date. I'd say that while I have plenty of optimistic bones in my body, the amount of relationships that end up like this or worse is a lot higher than we'd all like to believe.I love first dates. I love falling in love with someone. The smiles are smilier, the hearts are heartier, and the loathing is practically non-existent. It's one of the most beautiful things in the world. If there were a professional league of first-daters, I'd be an all-star. I'd make millions off that post-first date feeling, and people would pay top dollar to watch me woo as ladies swoon. There'd be incentive clauses in my contract for batted eyelashes and "I know we shouldn't but I really want to"'s. But that doesn't exist, and in its place this does. And it's glorious and hilarious and only semi-biographically cringe-worthy. From the album Take Off Your Pants And Jacket, it's Blink 182's "First Date". More info about Harper Lee's sequel to To Kill A Mockingbird...maybe she does want this book to come out, and has been screwing with everyone for years by saying it never existed and that she only ever wanted to publish one book. Maybe something stronger is in play as well...perhaps, and I know this kind of speculation is unbecoming, there's more to Harper Lee than what were seeing of this entire story right now. Could this be the last act of a fragile woman clinging to life, before everything fades to black? Hard to say...but like the married couple that's been together their entire long lives, and then one passes and the otherwise healthy widow/widower passes immediately after, maybe this is her way of truly saying goodbye. I know it's a morbid thought and all, but in this age of overanalysis by anyone with access to any form of media, I fear we may never really know of a truth about anything that isn't open to all sorts of random speculation, rumor mongering, and conspiracy theorist rampaging. And apparently now I have sunk to that level and am no better. Recently we were introduced by Gwyneth Paltrow to the virtues of vaginal steaming , which I never knew was a thing and I'll bet most of you didn't until then either. But it is, for better or for worse, and now there comes along a bona-fide reason (or 10) why you might want to consider getting your meat curtains ironed. I know many a strong woman, but like steaming, this too is something I'm not familiar with at all. I'm down with keeping systems clean and healthy and well-maintained, but this is an all-new level of feminine power to me. My newest hope is to now someday not get beaten up by a vagina. And that's it for today, friends. These are the things I think about when I'm told I don't have to think about anything. Peace, forever and ever, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Did you ever get really drunk and do somethink stoopid? Tell the truth or lie. (As translated by Cubby~Cheering House Florent!  .)"'Sup people? So, Brother Nature Andre The Blog Monkey sent out a long-winded picture prompt for us yesterday to use for today, and it's somehow gone missing since then. And Joel doesn't know better by now than to leave Andre in charge when he's not gonna be around? At least Cubby~Cheering House Florent! was nice enough to have the frame of mind to send out what the gist of Andre's note said, because for the life of me when I discovered it was nowhere to be found, I couldn't remember a thing it said. Which is sorta the point of today's entry...all the boozin' I did in my twenties through my mid-thirties has probably affected my short-term memory much more than I'd like to admit. It's true...I can remember a lot of random, useless information, but I can forget why I walked into a room. If I'm like this now before I hit 40, what am I gonna be like when I'm 80? I'mma be sittin' in a nursing home wondering every five minutes where the hot nurse is with my next spongebath, and will probably need to be reminded daily that I'm still able enough to care for myself because the nurses refuse to deal with the dirty old man. Like many of you I'm sure, I've probably got a laundry list full of stupid shit I've said or done while intoxicated. I'm not proud of most of it...and of the stories I've been gifted with the torturous ability to recall throughout the day, none really stick out as "legendary" or unique enough to stand apart from anything else we've all done. Pretty typical stuff...saying things you definitely wouldn't say sober to girls you'd otherwise have no business talking to, sucking at darts until your crew is on their fourth or fifth pitcher of the night, ending up at a diner for the second time in an evening because instead of going home when your buddy's heavin' outside of a bar you went and got into a ridiculous argument with a girl who might or might not have been your girlfriend (but acted enough like one at times that she may as well have been). Probably the most damaging thing I've done, thankfully- and I say that because I've never gotten a DWI, or had my ass handed to me in a brawl- was breaking my ankle back in 2012. Was it stupid of me to jump over a bonfire? Apparently not enough the first six or seven times I did it. The last time though I landed in what must have been a rut in the frozen grass...and some of you remember how that turned out. A metal plate, seven screws and three surgeries later it's still not right, but I've gotta live with it. Besides some cool scars, there's also "Ankle Pics" (which isn't for those with weak stomachs)...all reminders that sometimes I make really, really shitty decisions.I'm sure there are lots of other dumb things I've done...but like I said I'm lucky I've never killed anyone or woke up nine months later as someone's babydaddy. Maybe that's life's little way of reminding me the ledger likes to remain balanced.  "It wasn't going to be easy but someone has to tell her/him...make it your own."I'm actually not sure what to make of this, because for some reason it's always seemed like I'm the one no one wants to break bad news to...like I'm the last to know because people are afraid of my feelings being hurt. It's not that I'm oblivious in some respects...everyone's got moments where the glasses are too rose-colored to see the situation for what it really is rather than what you believe or are hoping for. It's not delusional; that's just how life is sometimes. For me, it tends to happen in relationships. You're too caught up in the status quo of trying to continue them instead of getting out. I don't know when to just walk away, because I guess as long as there's something there, I'll value the notion that it's salvageable. Maybe to a fault. Call it optimism; call it stupidity...feelings do funny things to people. No one likes endings, especially if they're bad and a lot of work has gone into keeping people whole and together. I don't even like it when I know my friends are going through breakups, because as close as you are, you might not know the entirety of each sides' stories or thought processes. That's not to say I wouldn't intervene if I knew someone was being a douche, but there are times when the only way someone's gonna see how bad their mess is is to let them fall into it and roll around there for awhile. No matter where you stand in the big picture, it's not easy. And that's all I'm really gonna say about it. I don't even like thinking about it, even if it's a scenario we all end up dealing with at some point in our lives. "What double standards have you noticed in life?"Good question...I think I've seen plenty, but maybe the one that drives me the most nuts is the disparity between the rich and the poor, and how the haves tend to flaunt that more than the have-nots. How does it not irk you that large corporations consistently ask for handouts, tax breaks, and other loopholes that take advantage of the very people that made them all their money in the first place? Why do shareholders pay less in taxes than the average consumer? The difference in economies favor the richer over the poor, unfairly. It baffles me how some executives will cry poor from their ivory towers, and how corporate criminals get off with golden parachutes after bilking the public out of millions of dollars. And the people we trust, elect, and compensate well to figure this stuff out never have an answer...because the mighty are always rubbing each others' backs and looking the other way. Yet if I go to a gas station, put $20 in my tank and drive off without paying, I'll get thrown in jail. It's obvious that certain elements of the tax code need to be rewritten to make it fairer on the middle and lower classes. Just because you make six figures or more doesn't make you special, and it doesn't mean you're using less services than single-parent households struggling to keep it down on a minimun-wage salary. And laws need to be applied the same across the board, consistently...stealing is stealing, whether it's candy bars or stock profits. Why should I be given a hard time at work by my boss for taking a vacation I earned, when he can take off pretty much anytime he wants because he's not in the shop doing the actual work to make the business run? All I'm saying is let's keep fair fair. I hate double standards, because there's almost always nothing you can do about them. Nobody likes being compromised, but the only people who seem to really suffer the most are the ones who can least afford to. And I'll get off my soapbox now. Let's switch gears now and talk about something more fun. We're a week into "The Soundtrack of Your Life" , and you know I can't go through one of these without mentioning one of the greatest Canadian singer/songwriters ever, Hawksley Workman.I love to sing, even though I'm really terrible at it. I have no fear of it whatsoever, nor do I care that I probably sound like a drowning cat. It's the expression. The way music sounds in your head and makes you feel something other than whatever it is you might be dealing with that you don't want to be dealing with. I first saw Hawksley at a free show in downtown Buffalo maybe ten years ago. I'd never heard of him and he was opening for Gord Downie of The Tragically Hip (another great Canadian band that will be appearing on my playlist this month). Barely a few songs in, I was enraptured...his stage presence had an almost-Vaudeville quality to it, his music was unique, and he exuded a confidence and aura that never existed for me on stage before. I was instantly a fan. And that's what "Paper Shoes" is all about...confidence. If you have it, it can take you places you'd otherwise fail to gain entrance into. It's a currency that in turn can inspire others to have confidence in you as well. You're no longer ordinary...if you believe in what you're doing, it almost doesn't matter how much talent you possess. The quality of this particular performance isn't great, but it's adequate. The fact that he busts mid-song into a Supertramp verse is even better. "'Cuz singing is about sexual confidence... So sing out your stuff if you feel good enough to let the moment just hit you, if the music befits you." Lyrics.  I hope that YouTube link works...WDC seems to be the only website I can access right now. Facebook and YouTube aren't working in Chrome for some reason; so I had to use the stupid app instead, and I have a feeling I won't know until I post the entry that it's working (or isn't).  Speaking of Facebook, I saw this afternoon that Central NY is under a winter storm warning again...from now until Tuesday morning!! I'm used to winter storm warnings, but not ones that last that long. That's ridiculous, winter...I give up. You win. Please dump another foot and a half of snow on us. Ugh.And that's where I'm gonna end this for now, because I'm running outta patience with this tablet and the Internet connection around here. Peace, my moves are amazing, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Copy and paste the following letter in an email, then send it to a Writing.com aquaintence, who is NOT in this competition. Wait for a reply to your email, then share your reply and your blog entry with us."Peace y'all...I know I threw some fanatics under my bus last night, proclaiming missives like "you hurt me" and "I'm not gonna blog on Maggie's farm no more!". The truth is...don't speak out of blind anger, and even though prompts might suck and aren't fitting, that doesn't men you have to be a dick about it. Lessons learned. So Brother Nature basically gave us a form letter to send out to people who aren't in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , and his voyeuristic ass wants to see the responses. So like a good little complyer, I sent this to Gaby ~ Keeper Of The Realm  , pinkbarbie, and the man-missile himself, Joel:Hello Friend I'm participating in a unique blogging contest in the 30 Day Blogging Challenge Group on Writing.com. It's an elimination style, fundraising blog competition, and I need your help. During the competition we are provided with daily prompts which we then write our blog entries in response to. Today we are required to solicit a writing prompt from one our acquaintances, who is not a part of this competition, and I selected you. Would you be so kind as to provide me with today's writing prompt? It can be anything you would like to write; a question; a challenge; you can ask me to write a poem or a short story; whatever you want, as long as it is family friendly. If you can do this as soon as possible it would be appreciated. I have to submit my blog entry on February 6, 2015, but before February 7, 2015. The sooner I get your reply, the more time I'll have to write my blog entry. It would be great if you can visit my blog and read my response to your prompt. I may even get extra credit if you leave a comment on my blog entry. Thank you very much. I'm excitedly awaiting your reply I haven't gotten a response yet and I don't care. I'll write this on my terms, not anyone else's. You can take that to your church and pray upon me being a better human being, but your desired outcome is as unlikely as me giving a good goddamn one way or the other. I'm not gonna sit idly waiting for a response...life doesn't move on my whims. If anything, maybe someday I'll be more patient, but that's also highly unlikely. I want now and more and faster...but I'm holding the wheel, so bang your keys at me when you can, I guess. You'll miss it when it's gone.  "I'm going easy on ya this time. Make a list of 15 things/elements of your favorite television program and place them in italics in your blog as part of your conversation with us. Don't tell us the name of the show but you can include locations, common phrases used in the show. Let's see how many of us can guess correctly. Kind of like playing charades but blog style."I straight up told Lyn's a sly fox that I thought 15 was too much. And it is. Y'all know I don't watch a shit-ton of tv, but the shows I care about are desperately funny. They should be watched over and over, just in case you missed an awkward reference.Arrested Development is my show. I can't sum it up in fifteen clues...like the Beastie Boys "Paul's Boutique" album, the references make no sense unless you actually start paying attention. No touching! Where is Mitchopolis to back me up on this?But anyway, I don't have the patience or wherewithal to make you play guessing games. It's not in my nature. I'll tell you what, and tell you why or why not, and that's how it goes when I write the blog that makes my world go 'round. (Barry Manilow not included.)  "Let's have some simple fun...pretend an alien or maybe Brother Nature (Joel) visited your home. What would you want the alien or Joel to see in your world that might impress him? Let's hear what you have in mind."Joel wouldn't be too far from home here in Cortland...we have mountains of snow and plenty of people who don't give a good goddamn about anything other than themselves. I don't care to think about whether or not aliens exist. You're asking me to believe in some weird fallacy, or maybe Brother Nature dropping his Canadian self at my door. I'll take my chances on the Spearmissile, thank you, because fuck aliens and their weirdness and their false propaganda. Crop circles my ass...Joel is 168x more believable than some shady government report asking us to believe them over randomly disputed pictures. Aliens.  ** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable ** Time for me to change things up in my 2015 "The Soundtrack of Your Life" playlist.Y'all might know The Roots from their ongoing stint as the house band on Jimmy Fallon's Tonight Show . But before that they were a critically acclaimed hip hop act that featured live musicianship. They had, and still have, the chops to blow your mind back to whatever day it was when you think about or say "Back in the day...". "Rock You" is a hard-ass cut, born from the idea that we can all be supreme in doing what we belive in the most. I miss my Roots cds...for some reason my ex kept a bunch of my music, even the stuff she didn't listen to or like. I totally forgot to mention this yesterday, but happy 81st birthday to the legendary Don Cherry . He's a friggin' icon...as righteous as they come. Lest you forget where my heart will truly forever stay, I present to you more reasons to love Buffalo that I shouldn't need to keep explaining. They're wings, dammit...not "buffalo wings" or "chicken wings". They're wings. If that's not suitable for you, I suggest you please STFU and keep my wings out of your whore mouth. I did actually receive a response today from Joel's form letter. From pinkbarbie : "Hi Norb, You shouldn't hate to do this. I appreciate and would love to give my prompt. Here it is: People usually find it funny when I (Aisha) tell them I'd rather watch cartoons and sci-fi movies and superhero movies that lie a lot to me. But I say that I watch to be entertained and laugh, so I don't see why I'd watch an emotional movie instead of my fake movies and silly cartoons. What are your thoughts about this? Feel free to share what you watch and why."Very thoughtful take, Aisha. I wish I could expound on this, because I too care more about cartoons than most people (superheroes or not). But I'm running low on patience and the will to keep typing. I also received a response from Joel, but only because I wanted to spite him for prompting us without a real prompt. In true BN fashion, he got back to me with a prompt...that I won't use, because I've already started this entry and once I get going, I don't stop. So there it is y'all...another entry in the book of me. Please be gentle. Peace, in a real strange way, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| "Knowing what you now know about 'Deep Thoughts' and 'Fun Facts' write a few of your own. Write as many as you want, but try to write at least two of each." What's up you guys? Believe it or not, this prompt is harder than it looks for me...primarily because I rely more on instinct than actual thinking. You can put that on my gravestone. When I first started watching Saturday Night Live in my teens, one of the parts I looked forward to was "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey". I have no idea why...maybe 'cuz he had a cool name, or that they were wildly funny at the time, I don't know. That could be around the same time I realized that being funny would actually take some work, and maybe I wasn't quite cut out for a full-time career making people laugh. But I'm game for this challenge, because what am I if not competitive? Even though I feel like in every entry I've written this month I've said "...and there's a fun fact about me."  I once won an award, I think in middle school, for science...and I found it odd, because I've never enjoyed science classes. It may have been because I scored really high on some kind of standardized test, but I can assure you I didn't study for it. In elementary school, I was part of a group audition for the PBS show Reading Rainbow. I thought I'd get to meet LeVar Burton, but that wasn't part of the deal. I just got stuck in a room full of kids my age and was asked a lot of questions. I think I was too nervous to nail the role of "kid in the crowd being read to by a strange grown-up". Despite being super nerdy-lookin' in high school, I twice won the "Presidential Physical Fitness Award"...which basically was a patch and a certificate for doing enough sit ups, push ups, and chin ups in a minute, plus running a mile under a certain period of time, and some bizarre event called "the shuttle run". Like most of you have never had to use math in your life, I've failed to see the importance of running 20 feet to a line, picking up a block, running back to where I started, setting the block down, running another 20 feet to pick up a second block, and coming back. But I was good enough to get a piece of paper that had a stamp of the president's autograph on it. Always a groomsman, never a groom. I've broken a lot of bones...both on my body, and on other people's bodies (not maliciously though). I'm using bullet points, Suge Knight killed somebody last week, Missy Elliott was on TV during the Super Bowl, and both Julie D - PUBLISHED! and Gaby ~ Keeper Of The Realm are blogging this month...it feels like 2008 all over again.There...that satisfies Brother Nature 's prompt, and maybe some of your curiosity. Now for more words... "'If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there.' -George Harrison. Do you agree or disagree?"You know I love me some Beatle logic. And of course I agree with this statement, because of its inverse...when you know the road you're on, it will take you to where you want to go. Thanks, Captain Obvious! Now, I may not be the smartest man, and I don't know what the future holds. Does that mean I don't know where I'm going? Not necessarily. But I know where I've been, and that's led me to here and to knowing where I don't want to be. I could probably talk about this for hours without saying anything, so I'll spare us both the trouble and move on to something else.  "What was your first pet? If you've never had a pet, what is your dream pet?"Personally, I've never had a pet. My dad and stepmother had cats and at one time a dog, and the ex I lived with had cats, but no, I've never actually had a pet of my own to take care of. I'm kinda allergic to certain cats, actually...and let's be real. Some cats can definitely be douches with their pompous attitudes and behaviors. Fuck that...I know people who don't get treated the way some people treat their cats. There's reasons why you can't rent apartments in some places if you have a cat, and it goes beyond the principle that cats like to think they own shit. But dogs though...dogs are cool. They don't give a shit as long as they're fed and aren't bred to kill anything that isn't the person who cares for them. Like I mentioned, my dad and stepmom had a dog...a boxer/husky mix that was probably pitbull as well, and Butch had a temper. He eventually had to be put down because he randomly attacked a little kid, if I remember correctly...but he was an animal (no pun intended) to begin with. I'll go out on a limb and say he wasn't trained or brought up right, which looking back doesn't surprise me because some dogs need certain environments to thrive and I don't think Butch had that...but what do I know? All I know is that I could barely bring DMFM to the p's crib without him getting attacked by Butch, who was tethered to a chain in the backyard but wanted desperately to eat Dave and his six foot ass alive. Now y'all know I'm a fairly easygoing person...don't fuck with me and I probably won't fuck with you ("probably" being used here is subjective). But please don't expect me to sleep with your animal. I'm a slightly grown man. I'm somewhat domesticated. I value uninterrupted nappy time ('cuz I'm an adult! ). I don't need my sleeping space compromised by needy pets who think it's their right to sleep on top or amongside me...I've got enough trouble sleeping as it is without being hemmed in on either side by someone who can't say thank you. But my optimal pet? Dammit. A person I can lovingly consider "my pet" as a term of endearment (not that I would ever call someone that, because that's just awkward and weird). Someone who can be shifty and cunning like a cat, but loyal and loving like a dog. Smart but simple. Puts up with me because I give them something to eat that isn't feces or random weirdness. Loves me simply because I'm me and not because I know where the warmest spots are in the house so they can shove their ass right up in it. Maybe I need a goldfish. I'm so ready for today's installment of "The Soundtrack of Your Life" . Why? Because I woke up this morning and it was snowing like a champ outside, so fuck that because reasons. I'm craving me some summer, some beach, some not-giving-a-fuck. And here's where this song comes in.I never got into Dinosaur Jr. so I don't have a frame of reference with J. Mascis. But when I heard this on MTV2 one day in the legendary Ruckushouse apartment I shared with DMFM, it was like spring had suddenly sprung. Next-level guitar telling me to roll down the window, crank the knob as far as it'd go, and embrace warmer weather. There are a few songs on my playlist of springtime "yeah it's here, and I need this" jams, and this is the funnest of the ones that aren't Public Enemy (who I'm sure will make my 2015 list at some point). "Where'd you go? I got time, please take me instead. Gotta know; the urgency shot right over my head." Lyrics .  And this happened....J. Mascis covering Mazzy Star's great "Fade Into You" .  And then this happened, because I frickin' loved this show and would watch it on a tiny black-and-white tv in my bedroom after school...a goddamn Saved By The Bell reunion . Don't hate. You know you watched it too.Alright, I know I've caused enough problems in your life for today, so I'm gettin' outta here. Peace, it's not wrong, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Kelly was my girl, yo. |
 "Scientists discover a new material that can... If this prompt doesn't float your boat, write about what does. OR...spend your time smack talking your opposing team. OR...all of the above."What's up y'all? First, before I get into these prompts, I'd like to offer you a little historical perspective. Many of you may have already read Julie D - PUBLISHED! 's entry today, "Invalid Entry" . And some of you may have picked up on the fact that Julie and I sometimes refer to each other as twins. I encourage you to check out "Invalid Entry" and "This one's about what we should've had years ago." ...you'll notice that we both wrote about The Jetsons and their flying cars. That's not uncommon in a 30DBC, where we're all writing on similar topics. But if you look closely, you'll note not only the similarity of specificness in the topic, but that they were posted at the same exact time. As in, we were somehow mentally communicating this same idea simultaneously. If that's not the sign of two people separated at birth, I don't know what is (other than having halves of a mystical locket, which I know I don't possess, but I swear I saw something like that in a movie once). And I'm not gonna lie...the thought of bringing The Jetsons back up in today's entry did cross my mind, probably around the same time I got a message from J-dubs wondering if we were gonna repeat that same feat today ('cuz that's how us twinners roll). But I'd already decided that since I covered that idea once before, it was time for something different. So in this fantasy, scientists have discovered a new material that allows you to read minds. And I know...there's already some shitty Mel Gibson rom-com from the nineties that addresses the pros and cons of this very scenario which makes him look like a douchebag without him having to get all anti-Semetic on cops for pulling him over or whatever. And Google pretty much made this happen (albeit in much smaller doses) with the now-discontinued Google Glass, where you could be checkin' out a fine lookin' lady while she's updating her Facebook status to read "Sum creeper @ the mall is checkin' me out...ewww" using just bats of eyelashes and systematic brain waves. No. Not in this little break from reality. Because I'm in the mood to believe that science wants to use its powers for good and not stupidity, I'm taking the optimistic route here because no bullshit; I can't tell you how many times having the ability to read someone's mind would've saved me from an embarrassing situation, or how often I've wished I knew how people would respond before I opened my big dumb yap. There's your fun fact about me for the day. See, I'm pretty good at two things: saying inappropriate things at awkward moments, and overthinking situations before they actually play out (and usually they do in the opposite fashion). Why wouldn't my happy ass be first in line for an affordable, discreetly wearable device that could save both you and I from myself? I'd love to know that someone was genuinely laughing at my banter with the counterhelp at Kinney Drugs and not because there's six inches of toilet paper hanging out the leg of my jeans. That alone could be some kind of miracle godsend. The possibilities are endless. Imagine the debates you could have with people who don't share your opinions, because while they're bangin' the gears of their mind together on a rebuttal you're already well into the point/counterpoint without having to hear their fool mouth blather. Put this in the right hands and wars would cease! Law enforcement could just be buddy cops catchin' real crooks instead of just being dicks to everyone in hoodies wearin' headphones. Teachers could look at you sideways for a reason other than knowin' you don't know what you're supposed to know. The world would be a better place, because we'd know who the idiots are before they get the chance to prove it to us in other manners. Sadly, I don't see this ever catching on. Science has bigger problems right now than what I want or what will be useful in my lifetime. But a boy can dream, and if you can dream it, it can be...still a dream.  "'When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.' -Bella. Do you agree or disagree?"I'm gonna assume two things here: 1) the Bella in question is from the Twilight series; and 2) Princess Megan Rose GOT Fox  meant to say "it's not unreasonable...". Call me crazy, but that's how I'm looking at this.And I promise I won't go on an anti-Twilight rant either.  Ok, now I'm done. Here's what I know: most normal humans have hopes and dreams. Some get lucky enough to see them fulfilled, and it's often glorious. But there comes a time when they have to end...and that too is normal. More often than not, there's some sadness involved...and nobody has the right to tell you that it's not ok to grieve because the dream is over. There's no expiration date or grace period. It's different for everyone, just as we're all different. And as much as it pains me to say it (because some people abuse the right to be sad about frivolous things), let 'em be if you can't say anything nice or supportive (even though I've been guilty of mocking people overly butthurt by television shows not ending the way they wanted them to or sports teams getting their asses rightfully handed to them). Some people take shit more seriously than others, and that's ok. It takes all types to make this world go 'round, and those garbage magazines at supermarket checkout stands won't sell themselves. Many people put a shit-ton of effort into making their dreams a reality, so understand that it's their right to be hurt or disappointed for awhile when things no longer work out. We're all guilty of getting sucked into passions; believe that. From the kid who wants to be a quarterback to the girl living out her fairytale wedding, and everyone in between. Don't hate on 'em because things didn't come out as they mentally scripted it. They don't need your bullshit...chances are, you're still trying to work out your own problems and are just projecting your angst onto an easier target than where it needs to be- going forward in your own life. Eventually they'll grow out of their grieving and become better from it...just like I'll grow out of being pissed that I'm doomed genetically by only being 5'6". Wait...that's a terrible analogy. But you see what I'm sayin'. To sum it up, like I always say...live and let live. Nobody's got time to deal with the added burden of your disapproval of the grieving process. "February is Creative Romance Month and An Affair to Remember Month. Write a poem, story, rant, or ad about one or both of these February themes. Have fun and be creative."Whoa! Who says either of these silly ideas were for me? Ok, I'm not against either of them, but let's get something straight...I'm not exactly into them right now either. February is associated with Valentine's Day, rightfully so for better or for worse, and I'm certainly no stranger to the idea of going all-out for the lady that has captured my heart. But I've also gotten piss drunk by myself listening to metal on 2/14 because fuck being single when the whole damn world is shoving their love for someone else up your ass. It's doubly worse when you work in retail, seeing and especially hearing people squawk about their freaking happiness. May as well stab me in the heart through my back with your giant cardboard heart filled with shitty drugstore chocolates. But naw man, I'm not gonna hate this year on your happiness. If you wanna be in love, good for you. And if you don't, good for you as well. I ain't sad and lonely; I've got other shit to worry about than stressin' over whether or not I'm doin' enough to make someone else happy on one damn day of the fuckin' year...love's a 24/7/365 thing when I'm in it, if I've learned anything about me at all throughout my life. I'll grit my teeth and sit through all the love stories that come with February, and hope for the best for all y'all. ** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable ** And that brings us to today's installment of "The Soundtrack of Your Life" ...and you know I couldn't do this without bringing up The Get Up Kids.I've mentioned at times a "crazy ex" (and we all have one)...this one was special. Ridiculously cute. Addictive personality. She lit up a room with her looks and charm. And we were so, so, so friggin' toxic together. She knew how to push my buttons and piss me right the fuck off. But we loved each other. We were together for about two and a half years, but were probably happy maybe a total of six months somewhere in there. And we were both idiots...the whole relationship came together because of going out one night for drinks. She was new in town and we were working together. She'd just left her husband- major plot in the story- and moved out near me (I'd just recently been in another failed relationship), so showing her a nice evening led her back to my place at 542, more drinks, making out, weirdness, and after awhile, the idea that maybe we should be boyfriend/girlfriend instead of just getting shitfaced and having sex when she didn't have her kids. Young kids, by the way, ages 2 and 4 at the onset, which I was so not ready for. And neither of us was perfect in the relationship. Far from it. There were lots of good times, but there were lots of not-so-good moments as well. I don't think either of us were capable of the relationships we'd envisioned. But she was beautiful, and the sex was...incredible. Hands down (no pun intended). But yeah, she was crazy, and in turn, that pushed me over my boundaries of sanity. To say we fought would be a disservice to us both. We fuckin' brawled over stupid shit. I'm not proud of it and it's the biggest anomaly of my life. There was zero trust; my previous girlfriend had cheated on me, and this one had no inclination of getting divorced because it was "too expensive" at the time...so when we fought, I took advantage of that and did my own thang. I shouldn't have been so surprised that she'd do the same thing too eventually, but it crushed me when it was finally over and she tried to come back. Her new boytoy had given her an STD, and she felt like she had to tell me as well as plea for a shoulder to cry on. That's when it finally hit me that we were over. It should've been over long before that, but love does a lot of fucked up things to people. I've never been comfortable discussing the relationship. But it's a part of me, and it's shaped me in a way that, like I said, I'm not proud of, but dammit I can't run from it either. And one of her cute things, when she would do something dumb and agitate me, was to say "Love me!" like that was her way of absolving herself from guilt. She had me where she wanted me...fucking the hottest girl in the bar at the end of the night. Yet she still couldn't bring herself to divorce her husband, who she claimed, among other things, was abusive and deviant well beyond my imagination or willing capabilities. Moral of the story? Don't start screwin' married chicks. With kids. Crazy kids. Because crazy kids come from crazy mothers. I'm sure she's doing very well for herself now, and I'm, well, me, still, but a much muted person perspective-wise. That was ten years ago...amazing what hindsight and experience does to a soul. "I don't want you to love me anymore than enough. I can't be held accountable if you can't make up your mind." Lyrics.  So I know I said some stuff about the future, and there's a lot in the past I can't take back. But please enjoy these retro images of modern-day problems caricatured in a style we're not altogether up with, for the most part. I'm a day late to the party, because I get all my television from Hulu, but y'all know I'm a big fan of late-night tv talk shows...and Jimmy Fallon stone-crunched a nerve last night on me with his take on the "Fresh Prince Of Bel Air" opening for his shows in Los Angeles this week. I was totally a DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince fan...I had them tapes way back in the day. I even remember my grandmother taking me Christmas shopping and picking out one. Cassettes! Yes! I had more to add, but I think I've said enough for tonight. Peace, I gave everything, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
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