The Interview Threesome

There is the MeMe going around, the "interview me" MeMe. And you don't actually tag anyone for it, but you volunteer. Now that you know the basics, here is what happened.

Lovely IslandGirl did it. And supersweet ImPerceptibility did it. And I thought I should do it too. With both of them. So here is the blog equivalent of a menage a tous. I'll alternate like any good threesome participant should, but I won't tell you who wrote which question. It almost adds a nice bondage/s&m aspect to it.

1. You, either by chance or fate, land on the blog page of the woman you will spend the rest of your life. What are the titles of her first five posts?

One of the best questions I have seen, ever. In no particular order.

• On the receiving of my new grand piano.
• Sorry I'm late, I was out spoiling my liver.
• On Holiday From The Holidays.
• When my feet hit the road. Or how I learned to hold on by letting everything go.
• What I actually felt last night in the basement.

2. Would you give up the drink for the love of a good woman? Or would you give up a good woman for the love of drink? Which is better? Which is wetter? Which has made you the man you are today? Make of this question what you may, and answer at will.

I've known both good women and good drink. They have both been there to comfort me and have both been there to break my heart. I have stood on rooftops with both. I have ridden bicycles with both. I have made bad decisions with both. I would like to think that a good woman would love me, drunk or no (her or me). If at any point a drink seems more appetizing then a good woman then I have become my father, and I am fucked. I have been greater affected by both the love and hatred of good and not-so-good women more than drink. So would I give up drinking for a good woman? Yes. Would I give up a good woman for drinking? Yes.

3. Who pops out of your birthday cake and what do they say?

John Cusack. He says "Here's to you, Booth". We toast. It starts to rain.

4. Are you an accurate example of your own zodiac sign?

I am a Scorpio. My birthday is November 16th. I believe that makes me a Scorpio III. I use to hold a lot of stock in the zodiac and read all about it. So much so that when I meet someone I almost always check are sign compatibility. Everything I have ever read about Scorpios are true about me. I am complex, loyal, sexual, secretive, jealous, aggressive, inquisitive and prone to extremity. Pretty much anyone who knows me can vouch for this.

5. What do you think is the most important thing I should teach my children?

DIY. Do It Yourself. Not that shitty television network about putting new concrete steps in front of your house. Teach them the value of their own ability to make anything happen that they want to happen. For me it is mostly associated with punk rock and creativity, but it is something that the whole world would benefit from. They want to write a book? Write it and publish it themselves. They want to make the roads in their town safer for people who aren't in cars (you know, pedestrians and bicyclists)? Don't wait around for the politicians to do something about it, make it happen. That and punk rock is dead, so they create their own version of it.

6. If you do decide to leave the Antelope Valley, which city is your number one destination choice right now, and why?

Chicago. The reasons, in order. I won't need a car. I can go to Bears games at Solider Field. The music scene. And I have wanted to live there for about 5 years.

7. What is your favorite Booth! song?

The next one that is going to be written. I love all of the ones that already exist. Some are shitty, some are not. But the unknown is exciting. What's next fills me with joy!

8. Are there really antelopes in your valley?

Just the students of the worst high school in the valley.

9. Are you wearing pants?

When I started this, yes. When I got home from work, after drinking tall cans of beer and a bottle of champagne, no. Just me and my glasses and my boxers. I don't like wearing clothes that much. And I enjoy the activities that require a little bit of clothing very much. (Swimming, bodybuilding, sex, hostile takeovers.)

10. Poetry. Do you read it? Do you write it, outside of your rather poetic and elliptical blog? If you feel this question compromises your masculinity (although it does not!), I will accept a Hard Man's Answer such as "only in rock songs."

My poetry reading/writing is much like everything in my life. I do a lot of it, then I don't. I have a very addictive personality. It is pretty much all or nothing. I fancied myself a poet when I was in high school, but didn't anyone who wasn't getting laid and received some sort of shitty look from someone else about what they thought was cool? I used to write poems for girls/women. I don't do that much anymore. It could be because I haven't had those strong of feelings lately, or it could be because it just ends up getting you in trouble, but it probably has to do with a conspiracy I have entered into with all of my ex's to make money off of my poetry once I die a tragic death.

11. Please describe your favourite tattoo - when and where did you get it, what is it, what does it stand for, etc.

Better yet, How about a couple of pictures.

This is my molotov cocktail. It is on my left arm. Nate Hopewell did it, he did all of these. I got it right before my 22nd birthday. It is a molotov cocktail. It stands for that.


This is my dead lady and upside down crown. It is at the top of my left arm. The crown is for my distaste of government, the lady for my love of women.


Yes, this is the Morton Salt Girl. It is on my leg. The script says "When it pains, it roars". It is a tribute to one of the best bands ever, Jawbreaker.


This is my second most recent tattoo. It is on my right arm. It is a Kurt Vonnegut tribute. It is also a tribute to my nomadic lifestyle.

Most of my tattoos are music related. They are band logos, or representation of song lyrics, or just a mark of some point in my life. And all of those points in my life have a band attached to them too.

12. Please describe your favourite meal. All courses, dessert, drinks, everything. Then your lovely lady fans can make it for you if you are ever in town. Your lovely man fans as well, not to be sexist!

To be completely honest, food doesn't interest me that much. I don't crave things very often, and those craving have slimmed down especially since I became a vegetarian 6 months ago. I like food. And I like dessert. And I like drinks. But I like the people who consume those things with me more. I love the conversations, the strange revealings of the first few meals with someone, the learning of likes and dislikes, the stories that are shared and the stories that are created. Some food that is always awesome: asparagus, pizza, grilled cheese sandwiches, popcorn, and edible panties. (the last part I am not a first hand taster, but, really, they have to be great!) Give me any of these things, or anything tasty for that matter, and someone who wants to talk as opposed to watch tv or be shallow, and I will be a happy man.


There are a bunch of rules for this thing, but they are bullshit. So if you want me to interview you, I will. If you want to steal these questions and answer them yourself, do it. And if you want to be a travel partner buy a greyhound bus ticket from Bend, OR to Chicago, IL on December 26th. 14 days in advance and it will be 81 bucks. Show up to oregon early and you can have christmas with my folks and snow.

the loosing of ties that bind

You remember people moving away. There were kids who would move in the middle of the school year. One day you are teasing some poor kid with them, the next they are telling you about Kansas City. The ones who moved in the middle of the year always moved to a "City" of some kind. Then it was the kids who you had shared a couple of years of school with, and this would be the last June you saw them. They would say goodbye to third grade, the Antelope Valley, and you. Then the family would move. Grandparents, retiring from work and constant showering of you with affection, would hit the road. Aunts and Uncles would soon follow. The cousins of course would have to go, even if their parents hit them with belts, even if they promised to come back. Neighbors would come and go, a better job, a better house, a better neighborhood. Teachers you had hoped to have the next year would be gone before Independence Day. Soccer teammates would leave just as soon as you started to remember their older sister's name.

And that was life. Person after person, family after family, crush after crush, best friend after best friend would leave the Antelope Valley. And you? You stayed.

You got the keys to your house so you could come and go as you pleased while your parents did anything BUT parent. You would sneak drinks, or pills, or porn. You made plans to join the masses, to get out! You were never coming back once your feet or tires hit the asphalt. You categorized the things that made you happy, the things that made you sad, and the things that did nothing at all. You knew what was going in you backpack/trunk/cardboard box that would help you keep living. And you planned. You put maps on your walls. You put push pins in possible destinations for your wandering heart. You ranked all of your friends in order of likelihood to join you in a cross country bus trip to a strange town. Every girl you met, you would picture them standing with you next to some lake you had only heard about on television or read about in books, hoping the picture looked right. It would consume your every thought. And one day you did it. You got out.

You left at the end of one season, and were home before the next season was finished. You walked out of your front door for the last time and the leaves on the trees were still a magnificent green, and you were back before they left the branches.

Some of your friends had moved on. Some had stuck around. You would tell stories of the things you saw and the things you did, and no one knew if you were lying, but you didn't have to. You had been ALIVE for 3 months, and these poor suckers didn't change at all. The reasons you came back? Not important. You would tell anyone what they wanted to hear. It was a girl. It wasn't what you were looking for. Your roommate was a bastard. Your band was more important than whatever you were doing there. You didn't fit in.

But really you were scared. It wasn't as easy as all of these people had made it out to be. But, really, you weren't in their heads. You didn't know anything of the sleepless nights, the empty kisses, the warm drinks. You just knew they were gone and you would never see them again.

So you tried again. Or you tried to make plans to try again, but you didn't go anywhere. You told your girlfriend you were moving, and broke up with her, only to have to admit a month later that you weren't going anywhere and you still loved her. And that was life.

Till you tried to make plans again. And they fell through. And again. And again. And again.

You still lived here, but your address changed faster than you could, or wanted to, forward the mail. You made new friends, and you lost old ones. And then one day you made it happen. You left again, but this time not for good, just for a while. And you missed everyone you left behind, until it was time to come back. And you don't know if you wanted to. Not because this new place was anything special, but because where you were heading was nowhere special either.

But you showed up that afternoon. And nothing had changed. Hair was longer, or shorter. Friends missed you, or didn't. Your bed was warm, or it wasn't. But you lied in it. Your old routines became new routines. Your old fights became new fights. Your old life became your new life.

Until it wasn't your life anymore.

So you jump from a couch to a guest bed to a borrowed bed to your own bed. And you make new friends. And you meet new women. And every morning you wake up alone. And sometimes there is coffee. Sometimes there is breakfast. Sometimes there is nothing.

And here you are. Your almost 25. And your friends are hearing the same rumblings they have heard a thousand times before. Some new city. Some new plan. Some new life. And you understand if they don't believe you. And you understand if they think you are crazy. And you understand if they think you will fail. Because you have all those same thoughts every time you tell anyone what you want to do. You look into eyes of lovers and friends and strangers and hope to see some sort of encouragement, some sort of support. But it's not there, and you don't blame them. You won't hold it against them, because you'll probably need their couch in a few months anyways.

wordless wednesday - ...if you’re really finally mine

More Wordless Wednesdays at wordlesswednesdays.com

maybe just a minute - mix

This mix is for my friend Bobb. It has bands we talked about last night, and it has songs that hit my melancholy of late. I'm not finding the words right now, so I'll just let the mix speak for itself.

Maybe Just a Minute - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=XLH3GK9M
Mystery Achievement - The Pretenders
Your Little Hoodrat Friend - The Hold Steady
Every Man Has A Molly - Say Anything
When The Heart Breaks Deep - David Dondero
Christmas Lights - Paul Baribeau
Soft Pyramids - Q And Not U
Consequence Of Sounds - Regina Spektor
All Your Faithless Loyalties - Two Gallants
Sell My Old Clothes, I'm Off To Heaven - Saves the Day
Martyr Me - The Get-Up Kids
Wont Be The First Time - As Friends Rust
Happy Birthday To Me (Feb. 15) - Bright Eyes
Excerpts From Various Notes Strewn Around The Bedroom Of April Connolly, Feb. 24 - Cursive
The City - The Dismemberment Plan
Reptilia - The Strokes

somewhere there is a wagon

I own a large package. It is not my dick. It is a box of self-destruction. It manifests itself in areas of addiction: booze, women, writing, music, using people for my own happiness. I make horrible decisions. I say horrible things. I look out for only myself. And that is me. There is no hidden aspect of my life. Ask me, and I will tell you. I don't worry about coming off as a sinner or a saint, because I am usually both. I just worry about living. It gets me into trouble. It makes me feel alive.

I have spent the last week thinking about the same thing. How to approach it. How to handle it. How to respond to it without being crazy. But I am crazy. And it is wearing me down. And I think they know it. And I think I am playing into their hands.

I owe bobb a mix, it will show up tomorrow.

seven things i "dig" about whit

so, about this "digging" thing. to be completely honest, I am not a big fan. When someone says they "dig" something I think they are just trying to relate to me to convince me to not do drugs. But for the sake of the MeMe, I will continue to refer to it has the seven things I dig about Whit.

1. He invites me to dinner/cocktail parties. As you could probably guess, I am not much of a dinner/cocktail party guy, I tape bottles of malt liquor to my hands for shit sakes. But Whit still invites me over, and to show my appreciation I wait until the third round of drinks to suggest shots. And I keep my pants on.
2. He is ALWAYS listening to music. When I lived there and when I didn't if he was awake there was music playing. All sorts of styles, all sorts of awesome.
3. He yells. He yells at co-workers. He yells at patrons. He yells at the Steelers.
4. The story of the popsicle-corndog. Ask him to tell you about it. It is a gem.
5. He is the type of dad I would want to be if I ever became a father.
6. He never lets an opportunity to make a joke pass. Especially if it is about girls from the local high school.
7. He is a great friend. He has already help me when I was in one self-imposed jam, and I know when I get into another, self-imposed or not, he will be there to help, or laugh at me, or buy me a beer. It all works for me.

I tag people with these things, and they don't do them. But then again it took me forever to get around to this. So I'm giving this one to ImPerceptible, she'll do a kick ass job.

movie rain is just water in a pipe

My understanding of how rain is obtained in movies is this: person pulls up a truck filled with water, hose attached, turned on, "it rains".

My understanding of how decisions are made in my life are this: person pulls up a truck filled with ideas, I become attached, turned on, "it rains". (it's not as sexual as it sounds, I promise.)

I've touched on this before, but I am going to try to expand the thought process this time.

When looking back on the things I did when I encountered the fork in the road I see a pattern, a way of thinking. I never pulled over. I never asked for directions. I just put on a blinker and went. Deciding on which colleges to apply to? Yup. Deciding to move? Yup. Falling in love? Yup. Falling out of love? That one too.

This has led to many days in unfamiliar places. Sometimes I wished to go back, and I tried, and I just ended up leaving again. Somethings I don't miss at all. I can fill a column of accounting homework paper with homes and jobs and friends and lovers that I have not and will have no problem never seeing again. (double negative? probably.) Then I also have a column that I miss tremendously, some weeks more than ever. I want to go back to those things. Some I have tried. And some of the time it didn't work out. And other times it did. And other times I haven't even been back, because the opportunity presented itself and I couldn't take it, or it never showed up.

I exchange other people's happiness for my own. I am a selfish person who requires a lot of attention and a constant update on what the people around me are feeling and thinking. Something may work for a while in keeping me happy/together/in one place, but once it stops I am done. I don't try to fix things. I don't try to figure out why that thing no longer works for me. And I don't try to figure out if I am the cause of the problem.

This all comes from my dealing with some feelings the last few days I have woke up. I feel I have been pushed into dissatisfaction with life, but really I have just been waiting for an excuse to drive that car into a lake like I'm a Kennedy.

Tomorrow: WHIT!

the new late night phone call

3:15 in the morning. My eyes are about to go on strike. We are in last minute negotiations, they want rest, I want more work. I am prepared to hire scabs. I know some people, their families are hungry, they wouldn't mind reading blogs and myspace pages all night long. In fact, they would love to. I hope if my eyeballs do strike the other unions don't try to show any solidarity. The brain seems into not letting things affect him, at least lately. And the liver, he's on a leave of absence. Sort of like Joe from Joe versus the Volcano, just no sunkist or whatever. (I just realized I don't know why Joe stops working in that movie, oh well.) It's those pesky fingers that I worry about. They are always trying to rally all the other unions together. They are some real motherfuckers, could be why I like them so much.

BREAKING NEWS: EYES AGREE TO KEEP WORKING. WORKDAYS 23 MINUTES SHORTER!


Now that all of that is settled, the post. My life is nothing but late night phone calls. At least now it is. It's either calls from friends to warn of cops, or calls from cops to warn about friends, or guys who don't like my taste in things, like blog titles or figures or sports teams, or girls wondering where I am, or people looking for money, or my dad looking for money. My life is all of those things. And for good measure there are also the late night calls I wish would be made. But my phone doesn't ring with those numbers or names. And I don't use those numbers either, even though it is all I think about. (side note: good to see being sober doesn't hinder my poor decision making abilities or curb my tendencies of crazy.) I don't wake up thirsty for water, just someone's voice. Someone who wants me to be with them, wants me dead, or wants me to die with them. It's not a horrible thing to wish for. Besides, I have free nights and weekends.

blogs=1, drinks=0, shit=tons

ok, ok, ok. I haven't put anything up on e-bay. And I haven't updated this. But come on, I've been busy not drinking.

It's a lot of work. Not because I crave it, but because it is such a common part of my life. But I have been doing it. I have been tempted, that's for sure. I've stayed strong though.

Just wanted to let it be known that the not-drinking hasn't killed me. I am going to bed. I have an idea for a post. It makes me smile.

on your last night in town

So tonight is your last night in town. You'll spend it in a house with ugly blue carpet with friends and drinks and your dog. You'll probably be doing some last minute packing. There will be some tears. Part of me wants to be there, but most of me knows it is better if I am not.

We spent some horrible times together these last few years. And we have spent just as many wonderful ones. There's been nights I wish I could never forget, but I will, and nights I want to throw away, but I will never be able to.

I've known of your existence for probably 15 years. We were friends for close to 10. We were more for 5. And now I don't know what we are. It is sad, but it is reality. For every mean thing I ever said I thought two sweet things. And for every time I broke your heart I broke my own too.

I've heard that you have said I am no longer the person you fell in love with. I agree. I haven't been that person in a couple of years. You are no longer the girl I feel in love with either. But you can't be nineteen forever, right? If there is anything I have realized in these recent months is that we constantly reinvent little parts of ourselves, and if you are too close to the fire you don't notice it getting stronger or dying out. Piece after piece, thought after thought, love after love, they all add up and before we know it we are different.

In 24 hours you'll be on the road with your now ex-roommates, in another state, on your way to another one, and more after that. You'll see things you have never seen before, and things that are familiar. Days will pass. Then weeks, then months, and years. And we will forget the things we said that we meant, and the things we didn't. We'll forget the sunsets and the trips and the fights and the songs. And one day you'll wake up to realize you haven't thought of me in a long time, and you will smile, and you will be happy.

Or you won't.

I don't want to tell you to be safe, I want to tell you to be strong. I don't want to tell you to be careful, I want to tell you to be consistent. I don't want to tell you to forget me, but you should. I don't want to tell you good bye, but I will.

Goodbye.

announcements

I am taking the month of August off. From booze, from women, from a good portion of my life. I will also be trying to get rid of all this useless shit that is crowding my life, a thing a day on ebay for 31 days.

I'll be keeping this updated more often, especially since I won't be spending all that time drinking.

monday, sunday, whatever.

I understand what it is to be an adult. I mean, I know how to postpone things. No new insight into life or anything exciting like that. Sorry.

I am also sorry I never got around to recapping my trip. It was a really good time, and it was exactly what i needed.

I've had a bunch of crazy nights. The trip to the lake started it off. It has been just short of completely ridiculous every night since. I think I've been to bed before 4 once since Tuesday, and that was 3:30. Tonight should be no exception. Yesterday was a going away party. Tonight is the going away after party (her last night at her favorite bar). Isn't it comforting to know I am not waist deep in alcohol alone, but I have friends to wade through it with me?

My body feels like I did any sort of strenuous activity for a week straight. I am old man sore. My body hates me.

I am hoping to put up something tomorrow. I started on it today and it will probably be pretty emotional. It should turn out good, or at least the way I want it to.

And I have something pretty exciting planned, and I will announce it tomorrow.

This video is of a song on the mix Tony made for my trip. See you tomorrow.

there are such a thing as man hands

I am sitting on a flight from Seattle to San Francisco. My row has myself and a couple sharing an I-pod. We are all drinking bloody marys. He has man hands, I do not.

My hands are small (not like Jewel's hands though). They have very little hair and the hair that is there is very light. There are a couple of callouses, nothing exciting. My fingertips and parts of my palms look like I slice them up with razor blades. They are smooth and soft. They are not man hands.

Which is fine. I like my hands.

late nights at lakes and loose ends

This is no proper summery of my vacation. It is something.

About 30 minutes ago I got home from a lake. I sat on a log with a girl and participated in the sort of conversation/flirting/self-deprecating humor that would have Anthony-circa-1998 proud. I had been at this lake before, and I was the same person. It had been years.

I would like to think I know what I am doing. I don't. I react with the same sort of rush to judgement that has put me into many a pickle before. I don't think, I feel, and I act. Most of the people I know are used to it by now, the ones who don't call to make sure I am not dead.

I see cycles repeating themselves as I look around my room. To part of me it is ok, comforting, to part of me it is scary.

I saw a lot of stars tonight. I am going to try to remember that feeling, along with the feeling of disappointment with the unreturned small advances and the one-arm-hugs that end an evening, far too long after it should be over, but just before it should begin.

Now, the loose ends.

• Daniel, I received your mix in "the post". (Am I right?) I listened to it while some friends and I got in on some slip-and-slide action. Also, a little during a fantasy football draft. Whit was there, he can tell you. (p.s. Ash - one of my favorite bands in high school. That cd, 1977, soundtrack to the unintentional rapid growing and dismembering of my heart. I love that song.) Thank you very much.
  
• Speaking of Whit, the however many things I love about him will be coming soon.
• My gangster name is silly. It confuses me.
• I un-quit my job. My vacation realigned my mind. Too bad it popped other parts out. More to come.
• It was nice to stay up to date with all of the blogs on my vacation. I am sorry you didn't know I was there, but I was.

I have all sorts of interesting things lined up. I actually made notes of things to blog about while on my vacation. Surprise, surprise.

The video is The Mountain Goats. They will make your life better.

p.s. - I will fix the banner, promise.

sometimes a mix is just a mix

I used to make mix tapes. I made them for everyone. I made them for girls I loved and ones I hated too. I made them for my friends. I made them for my parents. I made them for myself. I was great. Sometimes they were just songs I liked hearing, especially if it was for me, and others every single song meant something.

I didn't like the transition from mix tapes to mix cds. Its too quick making a cd. You don't have to sit and stare at your collection for 45 minutes, trying to decide what will flow good into eachother. You don't have to set apart the time to listen to every song as it is being committed to tape. You don't get to change your mind halfway though a song because you remembered something will go better with the song playing than what you had lined up.

I want to get back to making tapes. But that's not the point.

I am in Oregon. A couple of days before I left I solicited mixes on myspace. I got two. I listened to them both waiting for my two planes and on them. I listened to both three times through. Why?

To figure out which songs mean something, and which are just for the sake of a good song.

I put myself in the "I" role of a song, then in the "you". Sometimes I am a part of "them", other times the "them" is against me. And sometimes the songs are about people I know, shared situations with the mix creators. And sometimes the songs are ones that I would put on a mix for them. It is a fun little game, but it can drive you a little crazy.

Oregon seems to be doing good things for my body and my mind. It hasn't been a full scale detox in either area, but I am getting little bits and pieces of clarity.

Here's to exciting days ahead (a weekend in San Francisco!).

(don't) go chasing waterfalls

I am in Oregon. I went to this waterfall yesterday with my parents and their new puppy. There is a trail that takes you about 60% of the way down. We walked down it, then I hop over the railing and hiked closer. I got to where the dirt patch on the right narrows into the skinny darker path. I sat on a rock, took some pictures, and let the mist of the waterfall spray me in the face.

The vacation is nice. Life is slow up here. That's ok.

Just wanted people to know I was alive.

the more things stop the more they must go on

That is Tim Barry, he is good.

It's 3:15ish on a saturday night. I am alone in my bed for the first time in probably about a week. The days seem to be bleeding together. That happens when you do the same sort of things everyday. I wake up about 11. I eat some lunch. Some music gets played, either live or on speakers. I go to work. I almost break down. I drink. I spend my nights with a lady. Everyday. That is what I do. No ties, but it might as well be a nine to five. No wife, but it might as well be a nine to five. Sometimes it feels like no life, but it is still better than a nine to five.

I am in life reimagination mode right now. I put in my notice at work. I shaved off my beard, which I've had pretty non-stop for about 4 years. I am putting mental price tags on all of my possessions, in case of a fire sale. I am assessing my personal value, in terms of how much my time is worth, and if I can turn my time into a place to live and food and time with friends. I am making decisions with little to no thought. I am wondering if this is it, or if there is someother path, or door, or window, for me to take.

Dan said the other night that women were prone to trying to fix their lives by running away, by moving to a new town, finding new friends, new thoughts, new loves, but not doing anything different.

My X-chromosome must be acting up.

wine and propagandhi

I drank some wine last night. Bill's parents came over, Crystal cooked, I sat around and drank beer. I should really develop some sort of usefullness. The wine was served with dinner, it made me sleepy. So Bobb came over and we did some sake bombs. I love sake bombs. LOVE THEM. Then we did some Van Halen inspired acrobatics in the backyard. Video's to come.

After dinner and before sake bombs the house watched a Propagandhi DVD. It was glorious. Now, Propagandhi wasn't the first "political" punk band I listened to, that would be Bad Religion, but did it so good! Most of my exposure to radical politics, thinking and lifestyles came from the hours of sitting in my room, door locked, pouring over the lyric sheet with the cd screaming, trying to figure out what was going on. I owe alot to them for influencing the person I am today. So I'll give you a video of those wonderful fellows at the end of this.

I can feel my body starting to wear out. I've been doing a bunch of living, and by living I mean mixing alcohols and beer and vomiting and sweating and playing music and yelling and sulking and crying. This Oregon vacation is going to be nice.

karma police

Last night at the wonderful hellhole that is Peppers a family brought in their 16 year old son to celebrate his birthday. There were parents, a grandparent, a sister, and some friends. I was their waiter.

This party of 10 was filled with a good cross-section of typical restaurant patrons.

• The fatty who wanted ranch on everything. EXTRA RANCH at that. And an appetizer. And an extra side.
• The kid who drinks water and doesn't eat.
• The lady who asks where the salads are on the menu while looking at them.
• The lady who doesn't speak english.
• The drunk.
• The toothless gentleman.
• The guy who wants his check split off, then changes his mind.
• The guy who asks for a refill after you announce to the table that you will be right back with their refills.

Basically, I hated them. But I kept my hatred hidden while doing my job. And I did a very good job too, even getting a very spirited birthday song out of my co-workers for the birthday boy. They had three checks, all paid with credit cards. As the father was paying for his, which was the bulk of the bill, he told me "Don't worry, your tip is on the table". So they all left, and sitting amongst the dirty dishes on the table was six dollars.

There bill was 185 bucks.

So when the drunk mom and toothless gentleman came in 5 minutes later to look for her glasses that she had lost, and they weren't on the table or the ground, I couldn't help but go to the back of the restaurant and air high-fiving the thing in charge of karma.

Thank you good sir, thank you.

I hope your glasses aren't prescription...

p.s. I totally put in my notice at Peppers yesterday too! I will be joining Whit in the ex-pepper employee box checking.

5 Things I Dig About Jesus

I was all prepared to do a 5 things I dig about Jessie Spano from Saved by the Bell, but it was stupid.

5 Things I Dig about Jesus

1. His reporting on DRUDGE REPORT. In addition to being a carpenter, Jesus minored in inflammatory right-wing journalism at university. Amazing what someone can accomplish when they put their mind to it. I wonder what else he did those years no one wrote about him.
2. He was in that band, with Mary Chain.
3. His dry-erase marker art in junior high school. He could make stuff look 3-D, with the special glasses he carried around in his pocket, of course.
4. Catholic Girls. They exist because of him, and I exist because of them.
5. He deleted his myspace account. To much baby-momma-drama dragging him down. He's an example to us all.

I tag Bert at The Sounds I Make. He is lazy, now he has something to blog about.

I

I love flying...

...and my favorite thing about flying is turbulence.

Turbulence makes me feel alive! The knot in my stomach, the racing of my heart, my mind thinking of what people will say at my funeral if the plane goes down. I love turbulence alone, I love it sitting with family, I love it holding the hand of someone I wouldn't mind dying with. I want to get a job that has me travel by plane for business. I want to feel the jumping/hoping/shaking of the plane once a week, every week, for the rest of my life.

I get to fly from Burbank to Seattle to Redmond, OR a week from monday. I can't wait for the shaking to start.

An update to yesterday: I actually had a really good time with all the craziness. I think taking the second nap really made things turn around. That and the shot of whiskey that made me throw up. Those two things made my night end well.

I guess tomorrow I will do the 5 things I dig about Jessie MeMe Island Girl tagged me with. She keeps this up and I'll have to tag her.

I got an email last night about the one that got away, or, more accurately, the one that if I had ever had the chance to, she would be the one that got away. That's a bit confusing.

Have a good rest of the day.

07/07/07 = the luckiest day created by an asshole in a coat

It is one o clock in the morning. Or close enough for the people on espn.com to say that nothing good happens after midnight. I used to disagree. Tonight, I don't.

We (myself and Bill, as BOOTH!) played a show today. It went really well. My dad showed up. He lives in Texas, but he was in town. He has never seen us before. He seemed to enjoy it.

Now here is where the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan.

Super easy version (for the people who have the same skill in math as I do). Me + Beer + Sun + Daddy Issues + Ex + New Girl I am Dating + Small Anarcho-Collective Bullshit + Music + No Interest = 07/07/07

Super long crazy version. Show up at my house with a 12 pack, we'll talk.

So I leave the bar, drive drunk, come home, sleep. See Crystal my roommate, talk about things, sleep again. I wake up to walk into my backyard to see Adam, a friend who does piercing who I really like, his crazy girlfriend, a girl from Riverside, and my ex sitting in my backyard. Everyone else is MIA.

My roommates just showed up, with Robert. The girl I am dating is on her way. The guy my ex went on a date with at Maxdon's is here. So are some rad folks from Riverside. I just put on my Kevlar vest.

Here's to 07/08/07 being more filled with shit than 07/07/07.

Oh luckiest day in history, I hardly knew thee.

where have I been? not so sure

Yesterday I did a little slip and sliding. Yup, i's awesome.

About every 3 months get this urge to move. Sometimes its to another part of the glorious Antelope Valley (Rattling the Kettle - They call it Antelope Valley because the first high school here was Antelope Valley, not because of dead animals!) Rarely it's to another country. Most of the time it is to one of a couple cities. It used to be Boulder, CO. Then it was Chicago, IL. Now it's Seattle, WA. (For a hot second it was Minneapolis, MN) I think I still would love to live in Chicago, but someone stole it from me right under my nose. Boulder, or rather Denver, is the same distance from both sets of my parents and from Lancaster, my eternal home. Which makes it very appealing. But I am gonna stick around for a while.

The nice thing about these urges is they always happen when I feel my life is getting super shitty. And at that same point a series of things happen that remind me life is actually ok and I have a great group of friends here.

It will happen someday, and it will be fun, and then I'll be back.

persona non grata

That's a great little phrase if you ask me.

Apparently today is the annual celebration of The United States Independence. Awesome. I will be celebrating by making drinks for the second loneliest people on earth (the first being drinkers on christmas.) Thinking it won't be very busy tonight, not entirely sure. But at least there is a three hour O'Reily Factor marathon to keep me company and upbeat.

Sarcasm:off

Actually this day got me thinking about some people I have met. The type of people who you meet, they terrorize your life for a day or two, or a week, or a month, and you never see them again. Or you do, and it's 5 years later. And they do the exact same things again. You sit around with friends and say "remember so and so, they were fucked up" and someone else will say "yeah, i saw them a month ago, you won't believe what they did" and some ridiculous story follows. I really like those people. I wish I was one of them. Sometimes.

So here's to you, wherever you may be. I hope to see you soon, if only for a day.

today is a day for midday cocktails

I don't know what you have on your agenda today, but for me, it's midday cocktails. Today is my roommate Crystal's birthday. If my placement of the trip to Vegas for her birthday is correct, she is 23. I am pretty good about not living in one place for too long so that all I need to do to remember when something happened is to remember what key I was using at the time.

I haven't gotten her anything yet, I should probably do that before I get drunk and give her something completely ridiculous. Actually, that's probably a better idea.

I am going to go open a beer and take a shower. I'll also put on some clothes.

This is my first naked post, in that I am naked while it is being "composed".

where do my sundays go...

I spent the evening working. I spent the later evening with bill and gabe talking about the things that brought us to where we are: parents, women, alcohol, hatred, love, and bands we will never see again. Some things got brought up that almost had me at the verge of tears. It was nice to see that I am not the only one. It was nice to see that things are different for all of us.

Sorry it's not sunday, but monday. If you were here, you would understand.

cops?

We did edward fortyhands last night. Everyone made it through, though some of us threw up in the process (like me!). At most we had maybe 10 people here. The cops showed up at 12:30. Very strange. We had 120 plus people here at the beginning of the month, no cops. There is no way 10 people can be more crazy, out of control, and loud than 120. No way. The dudes in blue (actually it was probably brown/khaki, but that doesn't work as well) said they had complaints about us being loud. With the layout of the neighborhood it could only feasibly be two neighbors. The ones who were shooting (illegal) fireworks off earlier in the evening or the ones who came to our house warming with their 15 year old daughter and stayed till 3:30 in the morning. Whatever, cops were probably just making it up. Nothing happened anyways, they didn't even get out of the cars. Yup, there were 2 cars. Anyways, here are a couple pictures, I'm going to put the rest up on flickr in a day or two.

On my preperation for my descent into hell.

I have to be at the DMV in one hour. I woke up a hour ago. I have almost got my mind ready. I should have scheduled my appointment closer to the start of a happy hour. You, DMV, are not my friend.

I haven't spent enough time in hotel bars. I haven't spent enough time in hotels.

Tonight there is supposed to be an exciting game of edward 40hands. What is edward 40hands? From wikipedia.

Edward Fortyhands (also known as 80 Ounces to Freedom or The 40 Challenge) is a drinking game in which each player duct tapes a 40 oz. bottle of alcohol (usually malt liquor) to each of his or her hands and is not allowed to remove them until they've been consumed. Typically, before the alcohol has been completely ingested, the drinking party will need to urinate, smoke a cigarette, answer a phone call, or something similar, giving each participant an incentive to finish their alcohol as quickly as possible. This often leads to humorous scenes of similarly-handicapped players attempting to unzip others' pants or light cigarettes using teeth, feet, or elbows. It can also be used as a "goal" for the game: to see who can abstain from these activities until they are finished with their drinks.

Yup, it's friday. Here's a video, just for fun.

I hear that sometimes you fall into old habits, I am just one old habit after another

I spent approximately two hours fighting for something I should not fight for at all.

Two weeks ago this saturday I met a girl. I'm not being vague. She is a girl.

We have spent some evenings together. We have spent some mornings together. We have spent some afternoons.

I like her. I enjoy her company, I enjoy her personality, I enjoy the time we spend together.

We have had two fights. Actually, I was found out about spending time with another girl while things were still being figured out between the two of us, and tonight we fought.

I fought. She said the same thing over and over again.

Honestly, we hung out and I wasn't sure if we were ever going to see eachother again, so I hung out with another girl. Once we hung out again and I thought we would hang out more I stopped hanging out with the other girl.

Apparently people who barely know me are telling this girl to look out. Granted, I have done shit things in the past, and I will do them again. But I don't know what is being said about me, and I don't know who is saying it.

The point of this is I fought for 2 hours. For a relationship that doesn't even exist. It's a "hey, I like you enough to not try to fuck other girls right now" sort of thing. Is that a relationship? Maybe, probably not though. Is it worth going through you most recent relationship/love/sex information and hitting levels of honesty not expected from a man at most times? I doubt it.

I argued like my life depended on it. (That's a Booth trait, if your keeping track.) I argued like a marriage was ending. I argued like I haven't in a long time. I argued like I cared. And I did. But if your going to believe things said about me said by acquaintances and not give me the opportunity to say those things are true or false by not telling me what is said, well, I'm just going to put another Booth trait into action and drink Jack Daniels. That will solve as much as me making my point 15 times and you not getting it.

I fucking said it, I fucking mean it, I fucking meant it. (that's for you gabe)

I am going to bed. I am pissed.

Tomorrow is friday. It can only get better, unless it gets worse. I won't stand in front of any buses.

I hate you for making me fight so hard. I hope you see it.

Kelly Clarkson is more punk rock than me.

Fuckin A! I bought the new Kelly Clarkson album My December yesterday. Why would I support a dinosaur on it's last leg (the record industry)? Because Kelly Clarkson is punk rock. Old bastard Clive Davis tried to give her 10 million bucks to take 5 songs off of the album because he didn't hear any hits. She said no. See, she wrote or co-wrote every song on there. Who would have thought an AMERICAN IDOL would have any sort of artistic credibility?

It needs a couple more listens before I can say a diffinitive thing on it, but listening to it last night in my backyard with all of my friends felt pretty good.

Here's to you Kelly!

TMI - Video Sunday

The wonderful IslandGirl tagged me for this a few days ago. I have been thinking about it all week. So here we go, too much information about me.

1. In junior high I had a suicide pact. It was myself and this girl Jessica Andre. We wrote it out and both signed it. We made two so we could each have one. I don't remember ever coming close to having to follow through, but there was talk of pills one especially horrible thursday. She became a stripper who then got married and had a couple kids. I became a drunk. She is divorced, we don't see eachother.
2. My dad had a stash of porno in this locked cabinet. I figured out how to get into it with out unlocking it. I broke the lock one day and tried to fix it. He figured it out and fought with my mom because she though she did it. Turns out he had pictures of his mistresses and letters from them in there. I never told either of them. But I liked porno, what are you going to do?
3. I don't need to watch porno. I just have to hear it. I get off more easily and with better quality just by hearing a woman moan and talk during sex. When I lived with my ex and we could hear our roommates making business I would be instantly in the mood. Her, not so much.
   
4. I was in a relationship for 5 years. It was the result of a bet.
5. I was two shifts away from being engaged. I went to the mall after a training meeting at work, picked out the ring, filled out the credit application, and waited. I needed to put down 500 bucks, then I could finance the rest. I had 375 on me. I told the salesperson I would work my next two shifts and have the money to come in. She put the ring on hold. I didn't go back.
6. I will get vivid sensations in my mouth of the barrel of a gun. I have never had a gun in my mouth, but I can taste it.
7. I threw away all the pictures I had ever taken before I had a digital camera. I don't want to remember how my life used to be, the good parts and the bad parts.
8. When ever someone says "where do you see yourself in xxx years?" or "what do you see for your future?" I see myself driving a car and a little girl is sitting in the passenger seat. She is my daughter, she's about 10, and my wife is dead.

Well, there you go. I nominate Frowning of A Lifetime, Rattling the Kettle and Honea Express. Make it happen.

Enjoy your sunday.

I need a jinx-removing candle

I have this thing, a jinx if you will. If there is something I am hoping will happen, or if the opportunity for something might present itself, I have this tendency to talk about it. Or write about it. And sometimes I can get away with it once, a passing reference to a friend or stranger, but usually not. If I have a plan for my life, a desire to move, a girl I want to take out, and I talk about it, it is gone.

Everytime. Well, almost everytime. Sometimes it still happens, but it is super rare.

It happened again.

Things we going pretty well with the girl here on referred to as second chance. A couple of email exchanges had taken place. There was interest in setting up a date. There were a couple complications (we live about 100 miles about, my shitty car can go about 25 before near explosion). But it all looked good. As it flew out the window.

I called her to firm up the details. She said she would call back. A few days later I said hi, wondering how her move went. She said she'd call after work. A few days after that called her to just get her to come hang out with a bunch of friends.

We never talked.

So that one is done. I was hoping for something more exciting, but I got nothing.

Tomorrow is video day and a nice little meme.

a lonely liver suspended in liquid

Why, Hello. How have you been? I've been all right. Feels like I haven't seen you in a while. Oh, I've just been doing shit, nothing exciting at all.

I've been jonesing for some blog action, but I haven't really been able to get around to it. But this morning, I have some time, so we'll do a sort of fly by bombing, like the ones that were on cnn in the early 90's, while Whitney Houston sang the Star Spangled Banner, and we made sure all those evil hospitals, medicine factories and playgrounds were out of our way. I'll be back later to do some thorough insurgent killing, but only the women and children, gotta keep t real.

I wrote that and it said "Star Bangled Banner". It sounded way right, but not completely. I had to google the national anthem. I am either dumb, drunk, or my politics finally seeped into my subconscious enough that I think the US national anthem is about Susanna Hoffs.

Yeah, the war metaphor is a little crazy, but, why not?

I went to Santa Barbara with Gabe, tried to pick up one of our waitresses who had been single for like 8 hours, and threw up on myself.

We had an impromptu girly drink night, Daiquiri's, but because their girlyness has been debated we didn't call it Girly Drink Night. Those fuckers were strong too.

I think I have an update on the Second Chance blog. I think I jinxed it by talking about it.

I got tagged by IslandGirl for a Meme. It's gonna be ridiculous.

More coming soon, I promise.

p.s. - can you believe I didn't already have a tag for vomit, I am so disappointed in myself.

on holidays, at best

Last night some of my favorite people with dicks (see: dudes) sat around a table in my backyard. We talked about our girlfriends, our conquests, our livers, our jobs, our music, our lives. We drank Old Fashioneds and PBR. We smoked cigarettes. (Even me, just one, for the first time in a couple of years.) It was a perfect ending to the holiday that was father's day. None of us are fathers, yet. But when it happens I hope we still have evenings like this.

I have a fairly large fear of ending up like my parents, socially. They had a large group of friends, did all sorts of fun things together, had parties, all of it. Most them had kids too. But as the years went on everyone went away. There were no more parties at our house, no more nights staying up with the adults, and, eventually, no more marriage. I hope we don't end up like them.

so it is sunday...

This is the first Sunday to have a video. It will continue on. This wonderful song is "Laid" by James. I think it helps express what I was thinking yesterday, but it might not. It feels right though, and that's what important.

The thing that sticks out the most about yesterday was being at Maxdon's. I had a great time at Wing and a Prayer, and a great time at the party, I even had a good time at Maxdon's, if I was only there for maybe 15 minutes. But it felt strange.

Last night I couldn't figure it out. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the confusion, or maybe the jealously, or maybe the joy, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

It was the role reversal.

I have spent MANY nights at that bar. Tons, shitloads, ooddles, whatever. Probably an average of about 2 nights a week since I was 20.5.

Yeah, I'm a drunk, that's not what this is about.

Quite a few of those nights I sat at a table or in a booth (HA! I'm inside myself!) with my ex and Bill and Crystal. And a lot of those nights someone we knew would stumble in, or stumble over, have a drink and leave. We would still be there bullshitting about music or sports or our drug addict friends or dogs, and this friend would leave to go back to their business.

And last night I was the stop-by.

I like to think that we were always cool with the person, including them in conversations and trying to make them comfortable. Because it would be shitty if we didn't. And I would like to think that they didn't stay long because they had exciting things to get into. And I understand that position now.

It was a bad idea to go there last night. I hope I didn't make anyone uncomfortable, but I'm sure I did. I hope I didn't seem like an asshole, but I'm sure I did.

I had put a bunch of shit about dealings with my ex here, but, really, it's not important.

Oh yeah, it's Father's Day. Just like how it was in my family, I'll just gloss over it.

I'm going to go celebrate not being a father with an enchilada or two and a margarita, in honor of my father, who likes to drink.

Enjoy your day.

p.s. an update on "second chance" is on it's way.

number 100: there's a lot of cock blocking.

this is my 100th post. It will contain the same quality as the rest.

none.

previously: this picture is from a Dodger game on monday. Pepper's paid for it.
currently: I AM SHITHOUSED.
expectantly: more cock blocking.

Prologue: So, this is the 100th post. I am sure some meant more than others. I have loved them all the same. Patterns have developed. Theres booze. That's the one that is almost always there. From there we have making out, ladies, and pussy bullshit (thoughts and feelings, it happens to all of us.) And that is it. I am filled with booze, ladies and tears. I haven't changed much in a long time.

Today turned into the perfect cliff notes version of my life. Honest. I didn't even plan it. I'm gonna slang some bullets, because it's fun, and then I'll hit it all up with a life summary/ knowing is half the battle sort of thing.

• Although it technically counts as yesterday, I was drunk and tried to fall into some play. It didn't happen.
• I woke up at 6:45 for a Responsible Alcohol Service class.
• I played a show at a mostly empty bar.
• I met a girl before that. She was nice, she became crazy. But not like all the others.
• I ate a bag of popcorn and took a nap.
• I got picked up for a party.
• The girl I was with kissed me, then a lady, and then a whole lot of back and forth.
• Black Mike is FREE!
• I went to Maxdon's.
• My ex was on a date with a very cool guy from further southern california. I am happy for her, but something is strange.
• Robert drove me home.

I am going to need a night to process the evening. I have a lot of thoughts running through my mind. I am emotionless, but I am feeling something. I am confused.

Drunk sleep for all.

what are YOU doing...

sorry, no picture.

I find myself standing in my doorway at night. Usually music is playing, a drink is in my hand, and sometimes I am sending messages on my cell phone. And I am standing there, or leaning, depending on how far advanced into the evening I am. And I am waiting.

I LOVE unexpected visits.

Every night I think this will be the time when someone decides to show up unannounced and hang out. We'll drink beers, or do shots, or talk about politics, or dance, or make out, or fall in love, or yell at each other, or just plain live.

But I end up standing there, and no one shows. And no one calls. And no one sends text messages. And no one sends emails.

I love my friends, and they are always there and always show up. It's the others I would like to see more often.

More drinks for me, have a good weekend.

10 years ago, oh fuck...

I was inspired by a post Island Girl did about herself 10 years ago. Big ups to her for this one.

10 years ago, this exact week, I had just finished my freshman year of high school. Tomorrow, I would be going to the KROQ Weenie Roast (look at that lineup! WOW!) Summer had just started, I discovered making out, and I loved the shit out of Nirvana. Thinking that the best way to get into my head, or rather, the me of 10 years ago, I pulled out my yearbook. Here's some quotes about me.

• "You are truly someone to take sides with." - Liz Blanchard
  
• "I have really, really enjoyed our time over the past year. You are such a sweetheart, your great hugs (even though you crushed my boobs sometimes), and loving words have been so nice to hear over the past year" - Jessica Pickle I had a HUGE crush on this junior. She moved to Colorado and wrote me a letter once. I had that letter for a long time.
• "I hope you come here all 4 years, so I can watch you grow" - Joy-Carin Rufener

And then a whole bunch of people saying "You're Cool" or "KIT" or "Have a great Summer!". I would like to think that as I got older and more developed as a person the messages in my yearbook would get better, but they are probably mostly the same.

It is pretty strange to look at something like a yearbook 10 years later. I was trying to remember things from then, and I remember some, but it made me remember a lot more. Enough of this reminiscing, I'm going to go for a walk.

celibate girl walks into a bar

(no one pictured is celibate girl)

I used to have "a bar". The one I went to all the time, the one where I knew the bartenders and owner and cooks and all of it. I still know most of those people, and I still go there, but it's not the same. As I enjoy saying, "I lost it in the divorce". That is not 100% accurate, but that is ok.

I ended up there tonight. I was trying to make headway with a lady who is not the second chance, but interests me none the less. She never showed up. But celibate girl did. And that is fine. Most of me has moved passed my fascination. But part of me is still getting kicked in the balls about it. And her are the sordid details.

Celibate girl showed up, probably invited by Robert, because with one comes the other, most of the time. She shows up with a gentleman, whose name is Kevin. (I just decided to get rid of all sort of fake names/pseudonyms/whatever. Celibate girls' name is Hannah. All parties are happy. Or at least me.) Hannah and Kevin aren't old enough for cheap car insurance, let alone able to buy drinks. After being asked to buy a Jager-Bomb for Kevin I devise a plan and make it happen. (It was asked for by Hannah on Kevin's behalf) I use a plan because I used to love this bar, and even if my feelings have changed lately, I still respect it. It comes out later that someone already bought him his Jager-bomb, and mine was a "gift".

Fuck That!

I drank at this bar underage, and the tips reflected that. I have drank and drank and drank at this bar, and my tips reflected that. But I just got screwed.

There have been conversations between myself and Hannah about getting to know each other better. We might have tried a little bit, but not that hard. So I sat in this style of chair I have sat in some many times before, and it hit me. I am being used.

Hannah might not be into this Kevin, but she might as well be. Don't use me to get other dudes drunk.

She tries to tell me there was a misunderstanding, and tries to give me money. I won't take it. I tell her that it was a lesson. And I learned it. So I get rid of her. DELETE! I don't have her number anymore, I hope it lasts.

The point to this whole thing is that I don't need this shit, I am drunk, and I hope someone will learn a lesson.

goodbye...

This is Big Dog. I met him 7 years ago. He was my step-dad's dog, but he soon became mine. I wasn't a dog person growing up. We had cats. Big Dog helped me to see how awesome dogs can be. I have great memories from living with him in both Lancaster and Sacramento. Big Dog passed away yesterday. They think he ate some wild mushrooms (which happen to be poisonous) that had popped up around Oregon. I will miss you Big Dog. I already do.

...or don't - mix

I haven't put up a mix in a while. I was going to figure out the way CYSTSFTS? does it, but I am little lazy, so this weekend I will.

There is going to be a housewarming party Saturday night at my house if anyone is interested. I am going to go out on a limb and say that there will be a lot of drinking, nudity and a hopefully some making out. (I try and come up with ways to use making out as a tag every chance I get now, just for Marleigh.)

This mix has nothing to do with the house warming party. It's a representation of this feeling that shows up for 15-20 random minutes a couple of times a day. I enjoy it, the feeling and the mix.

Enjoy your weekend.

...or don't - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=1NYUXHSD
Personal Slump - The Weight
Black - Okkervil River
Melatonin - Silversun Pickups
The Lonely Vampires Club - The Wunder Years
10 Years Later - Mates of State
Memorial Day - Paint It Black
Jackie Lee - Off With Their Heads
Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod? - The Mountain Goats
Luca - Brand New

almost a second chance

I spent 20 minutes trying to find the right music to play while I wrote this. It ended up being Hey Mercedes.

I am not one to have a large backpack full of regrets, more like a wallet, a little kid wallet. I remember when I got my first wallet, it was a shitty red nylon one, and it had some change, a dollar or two, a picture of my parents and something with my address on it. Stupid little thing. Anyways, my "regret wallet" is mostly empty. I put events/people/places into it occasionally, and after a few years/months/days/minutes I take them out, realizing I am happy where I am now, and I wouldn't be here with/without that thing.

I do regret not buying the last Jawbreaker album when I found out about them in junior high and they were still together, but I probably would have sold it back at some point to buy a korn record, so I am actually ok with it. Besides, who would have wanted to be that cool in junior high? (HA!)

The main regret tormentor has always been my involvement with the fairer sex. Not the ones I actually stumbled into some sort of relationship but the ones I didn't. And not the ones I didn't because they saw behind the curtain or I wasn't boxing my weight, but the ones who because of circumstances it was impossible.

I had a girlfriend. They had a boyfriend. They lived in another state/country. They were married. I didn't know there name. I was moving away. They were moving home.

It's not even really a regret, actually. It's a what-if? What if any of those mitigating factors were gone and something could have happened, even for a night?

Most of these girls are very long gone and forgotten, thrown out with the boxes of pictures/address books/childhood memorabilia I have left at the dump during one of my many moves. Names and faces blur together. Did I meet them in a store, or under a tree, or at a friends apartment, or never at all?

Those chances never present themselves again.

Except this time.

I might have a second chance at a first shot.

lost in the supermarket

I was going to do a Wordless Wednesday with this picture, but I owe this to Whit, so it's gonna be Whit's Wednesday.

It has been a fun couple of weeks at the ol' Peppers. Word got around of my sexual ability Whit's leaving. The first reaction from everyone, naive 19 yearolds and road worn 40 somethings, was the same. "What are you going to do? Do have another job?" "No."

It was great.

People's minds were almost blown from his "lack of planning" or "ill preparedness" . Not mine, I would smile. I remember a time of single income homes, rather, I remember seeing it on television.

It is funny to me how people react when you do something financially risky/exciting/unexpected, especially in terms of employment. We are constantly bombarded with the buying-in of the american dream, the cars/houses/boats/breasts/shoes/shit, and when someone says "no thank you", even if they mean to or not, it throws them for a loop.

So the drink I am about to go make myself is for Whit, congratulations!

i don't like cops and i don't like park rangers

That's a tame one for Hilly. I here there's some full frontal's lying around, I haven't seen them myself yet though.

On with the show...

I woke up naked with a hangover from the LA Blogger party. Oh Yeah! We drove the hour and half or so to Carpenteria and started drinking. We swam and drank and ate and drank and danced and drank and drank and drank. Beer, tequila, red headed bitsy's, vodka fruit punch. We set the party guns for full annihilation and unloaded the rounds. We played this funny south korean drinking game that involves a lot of clapping. I felt bad for half a second for our fellow campers. You can't be excited to see a baker's dozen 20-somethings shirtless in party hats.

So most of us end up in the ocean naked. This, along with everything else, gets the park rangers called on us. That's fine. As much as it is my right to have a good time it is yours to complain. But complaining about noise when it isn't even the posted quiet time hour of 10 pm, please! Being naked in public, ok. Being drunk, sure. But what pisses me off is being in the water.

I can't go into ocean whenever I please? So what if I drown, I'm responsible for myself. There are enough fucking fences around, enough places I can't walk through, or explore. There's enough mountains I can't hike without paying 5 bucks a day to. We reserved and paid for two spots. Then spots got moved to super shitty spots with half the space because they had to pave the other ones. It's summer! What are you doing the 3-4 months in winter when there is no one there?

I got sidetracked. We are paying for the privilege to sleep in the vicinity of the beach and to use the ocean, but only part of the time? Fuck that. Let me swim whenever I want. It's not like there's maintenance on fucking water. ARGH!

Despite the being in trouble for swimming, it was a great time. Two great nights in a row.

Happy birthday to Bill!

my first party in the hills without that pesky freon addiction

Here's what I remember happening at the LA Blogger Party, a few days later...
(as close to chronological as possible)

On our way to the house, and by we I mean Bill, Whit, Tricia (thanks again DD) and I, Whit tells us LA Daddy (it's super funny to me to refer to people by their blog name) needs some plastic forks and ice. 4 20lbs bags. We find a CVS. They only have 7lbs bags and no forks. So we walk through it and out the other side (?) to a Vons. There's a VW bug in the parking lot and the sex jokes start. I exclaim loudly to my friends (and an unsuspecting woman) that I am wet. The party just started.

Oh yeah, we still had to buy 7lbs bags of ice. The count goes to eleven. (That's a Whit joke)

We find the house, we meet LA Daddy, we open beers, we tear paper to make business cards. We open more beer and the bloggers start showing up.

Red Stapler shows up, with the red stapler. If I had been on top of my game I would have made the UHF "red stapler, mmmmm, very tasty" joke. I'm kicking myself. She was way fun and way nice. Bill stapled my face.

Then we get to meet Write Write Baby. All three of them. The baby was a good baby, in that it wasn't giving out insider trading secrets and it didn't cause any physical harm to me. Two things I look for in a child. We played a little golf ball catch. I realized I am great with kids. For 30 seconds.

Then more and more and more and more bloggers show up. Super hot mom Baby on Bored showed up and I started to hit on her. And by hitting on her I said "I read your blog, the post about 10things to do instead of taking a bath with rose petals. It was funny." Smooth until the day I die. My ringman wasn't with me, but I saw it and abandoned ship. (A ringman is like a wingman, except they just check fingers for promise/engagement/wedding rings. They are useful helping continue eye contact and also not getting you yelled at for accidentally looking at a chest.) I decided not to try to hit on anyone else that night. She showed up with House of Prince, whose blog I had also read. As was revealed very early, she is breastfeeding. I made a joke that we could now make white russians, because the milk was here. Oh yeah. It gets better.

September 10th sat at a table with a bunch of people. We didn't say much to each other, but Donald and I talked about making money with a blog. It was a good base for another participant in shots later on in the evening. At the table I met Childsplayx2 who traveled up from San Diego and recommended living in New York. And I also met Andy, Kitchen-Fire's husband. We bonded over punk rock. I was excited, VERY excited. More people showed up.

I was anticipating meeting Rattling the Kettle. On his blog his sense of humor seemed like one I would enjoy, and I did. I wish we would have talked more, but at this point I had 3 drinks in my hand (beer, red bull and vodka, champagne with strawberries) and it was time to get things going.

Side note: being vegetarian at potlucks is sorta shitty, but you just have to improvise, like using a knife to scrape off all the fun stuff from the bagel bites so you just have mini bagels. Those do a good job, those and carrots.

At this point in the evening I spend most of it inside, jumping from conversation to ice chest to carrot plate to conversation. There were a bunch of people I didn't meet at this point, it happens. I did met Down With Pants (shot taker numero dos) and his wife. I wish I could remember her name, but I wasn't retaining much at this point. I had to start writing down blogs to check out on a piece of paper. DWP is huge! Like crazy linebacker huge, and just as awesome. I enjoyed the time with him and the Peruvian beer. Pretty much any beer with foil around the neck is tasty, and this one was too! DWP isn't a parent blogger, so I think we made some sort of super-hero-non-parent-blogging-world-power consisting of him Bill and I. You tremble. It is possible we formed no such group. But I do remember making fun of parent blogs. The funny thing is a parent blog is just like my blog, just change the baby name with my name and beer bottle with any drink reference. Keep the all the crazy baby antics though, I do those too.

I met 8cmdeluded and her friend whose business card is in my wallet. Things get pretty hazy at this point, but I know that party is winding down, and I think that we get into a friendly match of making fun of each other. There's the thing about letting someone come inside of you, then some stuff about owning a skateboard, then some "who the fuck is david sedaris" and something about Henry Rollins. It was good times for all, and by all I mean myself for sure, her probably, her friend maybe, and everyone else no.

I meet justinspace around the food table and we drank maker's on the rocks together, but separately. I never drink the booze on the rocks, my head explained to me why in the morning.

The shots happen sometime between the anti-mommy blogging jokes and the how to make babies conversation. It was me, Bill, DWP, Donald and When Tara Met Blog. Jim Beam, WOO! The party was great, but not so much a shot taking party. It was good to get the shots flowing, thanks again to those 3 for joining in on the fun.

Oh yeah, before the night is over, I take off most of my clothes and get in the hot tube. I almost drowned, the fucker had a crazy deep spot, like 7 feet.

I know I met some more people, but these are the things that stick out. Big Ups to LA Daddy once again for the great party.

Now I have to go read the 30 new blogs I'm checking out.

I am excited.

how to humiliate your husband!

At the LA Blogger Party I heard someone talk about how this phrase got people to go to there blog on accident, so I stole it for my title.

This is just a quick update on the events of last night. That's some ice we bought. It was just like the party, cool. (I am hilarious!)

It was great to meet new people, I have some new blogs to read, and I probably only put my foot in my mouth 6 or 7 times, which is a little low for a Saturday night.

I'll get more into this in a day or two, now I have to go to the beach for Bill's birthday camping and try set up some naked photo's for Hilly.

trees get chopped down

I went to a sake bomb party one time. It was at this apartment in Northridge. There was a keg gong, and chopsticks, and pot stickers, and Sapporo and sake. It was a wonderful evening. I bring this up because I was at that apartment a couple of days ago.

Congratulations to my good friends Adam Buus and Justin Hickman for graduating from CSUN.

I spent the day with these gents on Wednesday and it was good times like always. I just wanted to give them a hello.

Let the preparation for the blogger party begin.

Ready, Set, Go!

in preperation for the party tomorrow

In order to properly be prepared for Saturday, we had Girly Drink Night 3! It was mudslides with chocolate shavings. Then a couple whipits, then some beer, then a Cosmo, then more beer. And nudity. There is picture somewhere of myself and Danny naked on top of a VW bug. There were ass slaps and wrestling and a fire pit. If I ever enter into politics, this will be one of the many many evenings that will give my staffers headaches.

I would like to go on record saying that I am extremely excited about tomorrow. It is going to be fun meeting new people and putting faces to blogs.

I've been messing around with a mix to mark the occasion, I will put it up tomorrow morning. I am going to rest my liver tonight. It has a big day ahead of it.

*****UPDATE*****
Thanks to Robert at The Sounds I Make for uploading this picture. Check his site for a much higher resolution version.