Whacky phone messages part 7.

Actual text I received...5 times.
It was sent 5 times, the same text. My inbox eventually became full, but I think attempts were made to send it even more.

"will u do me a favor and delete my # No offense i think ur super cool but we r on different pages & im not a fan Good luck with everything it was fun"

I'm not proud of this, but its the most interesting thing thats happened to me in the last 12 hours.

I am a real bastard, apparently...

The odd thing is that I only hung out with this person a few times, and it was definitely casual. We just drank and went to shows and hooked up, the fact that I wasn't available all the time and never really made plans i guess is the straw snapped the camel's spine. Don't know why it has to be so drastic but hey, it was her move and I am cool with it.

I ain't going out like that.

"I'm a little upset about a bad sexual episode I had last night your honor..."
-Fletcher Reed

Ok, it wasn't last night but it wasn't good. It involved a large flap of skin that remained hidden to me until the zero hour, a lot of hair, some thanksgiving leftovers, and a stoned roommate who couldn't properly decipher my 2:30 am text message.

TEXT TO ROOMMATE: Dude call me and say that you are locked out.
RETURN PHONE CALL FROM ROOMMATE: Hey man, I'm inside, I don't know what you are talking about.
ME (in close proximity to bad sexual episode in question): Aww man that sucks, and you don't have a spare??
ROOMMATE: What? Dude I am here right now, I don't need a key, I am inside.
ME: Shit and [Polish Neighbor!] isn't home? Did you call the landlord?
ROOMMATE: Dude, man, I am INSIDE!! I'M IN THE KITCHEN OF OUR HOUSE!!!
ME: So you are telling me I need to come home and let you in?
ROOMMATE: Uhhh, oh my God, what is going on?
ME: Sit tight, I will be home in a little while.
*After we hang up, roommate sends me a camera phone picture of our door to let me know he was inside....good god.

She didn't let me leave though. I had to fight my way out, with my penis.
I finally made it home at about 4. It was, like I said, not good.

"Well you're still young, it will happen more and more"
-Judge Stevens



yeah...
I don't know if you need to know any more. I tell this in the hopes that you can get some enjoyment from my pain.

And now for something...

Conflict. It’s dark, cold, rainy, and windy, it’s like Scotland. They call it “dreich”. You will know “dreich” when you see it. There is two things that this weather does to me, one of which I know it does to the whole of Scotland. These two things are drinking whiskey and contemplation. I am doing both tonight, Scotland is definitely doing one of the two.

Ten minutes ago, I was dong something so self consciously “cool” it made me laugh. I was standing on my roof with a glass of whiskey, sipping it, looking down the wet streets, the lights of population miles in the distance, thinking about the ins and outs of whatever the hell decided to go in and out of my head. This stopped when I realized I was drinking whiskey on the rocks, foolishly just making my hand and body cold.

What exactly am I supposed to be doing here? I asked myself. Oh yeah, its one of those nights. Tomorrow will be the first thanksgiving I spend away from home. Playing football in the leaves, watching football in the family, and falling asleep spread eagle in the floor. Is this worth it? I asked another question. I suppose it is, because I am proud of myself, proud of what I have achieved out here. Proud that a weirdo like me could somehow parlay his strange disconnection with the world into some quantifiable “real world” success. But I miss my friends, the ones back home, and there is nothing wrong with missing where you came from. Did I leave too soon? I mean, I literally had two weeks between graduation and diving into my career. Perhaps it was too soon, but I am not usually in the business of passing up opportunities. And that’s what happened, an opportunity whipped by me with one finger stretched out screaming “grab the fuck on”, so I did, and I made all my calls from the road. With the size of the sacrifice made, a considerable feeling of loss is normal for me. I am aware of what I have given up to do what I feel passionate about, and that is comforting, that awareness.

What am I talking about? Nothing really. I am talking about seeing the inner workings of those things you really love. Sometimes though, you find out how hot dogs are made and you don’t want to touch them ever again. Gummy Bears are made up of animal toenails and eyeball skin. I am a music fan, and now I get to see how it gets to my ears, like watching those “meet your meat” videos by PETA that turned me vegan for a full 8 hours last year. Sometimes I am bothered by this, and other people are too. I’ve spoken to A&R people who don’t even like going to shows anymore. That is devastating to me. I am not there yet, but here, only 6 months in, I am already dreading the possibility.

I will give up this business before I give up music though. You can bet on that.

I’m learning, at the fastest pace I can imagine, about the places I can fit in to the world, which is what we all do I suppose. We figure out where it hurts to stand, and where it doesn’t hurt to stand, and we usually choose the latter. Unless we are in love, then we spend time standing in incredibly stupid places.

I guess all I need is a little time with my friends and my family. Damn I know some fantastic people, and I can’t wait to have them around me, doing nothing but being fantastic. I suppose it is all about balance. I needed a boozy, Scottish, contemplative night alone, and I got it. Now, I need a day surrounded by beautiful people who I know and who know me, and I hope I do get it in the near enough future. I think the chances of this are pretty good, if balance has anything to say about it.

Don’t get used to the honesty and sensitivity; it’s the scotch and the weather. Also in the name of balance, I will soon be back to beating my chest and saying “fuck” a lot.

Have a great night.

Lazy, thanksgiving.

George Hower (2:44:09 PM): lazy fuck.. get on the bottom
George Hower (2:46:22 PM): you should just post a fucking link to youtube and call it a day.
George Hower (2:46:40 PM): just say "explore as you'd please, there's plenty of good stuff"

Ha, he's right, but he's also a fuckhead.

Have a good thanksgiving. I will be running with the bolivians.

And now, Lindsey.



It's both shitty and awesome that she is playing for the other team. Shitty, because she chooses to share a bed with Ellen Degeneres, as opposed to sharing one with me, your Mom, and every woman I've ever slept with...awesome because well.....she's hot and she is lesbian.

See, this is why I am not writing anything, this is the best I can come up with.

The Berzerker Loves You

I'm getting fucking lazy.
This guy is the fastest drummer in the world, verified by the Guiness book of world records. Sorry about the shaky video, but its worth it just to see what he does to the snare drum.



See, I could write something, but theres really no point right now in the face of all this brutality.
This one might have been banned for causing seizures or some shit...or because it is just ridiculously brutal.



There's more, don't worry.



Yup.



Most brutal...

This...

...is basically all that needs to be said right now.

Guest Post #3

3rd guest post comes from my good friend Drew.

Drew is 85% of the reason I started this thing. His Livejournal (circa 2002-2005) is something that transcended typical puffy-eyed bloggery to become something quite heroic. He inspired me. He still writes, but it is more like stand-up comedy now. He now makes more money than he deserves to, selling insurance in one of the Carolinas. He also used to have the most entertaining temper problem in history. I once saw him flip out and beat his hands into scappy lumps against a brick wall because an ATM wouldn't give him money to buy obscure Scandinavian pagan black metal CD's.

Enjoy.



I remember a few years back I was walking around with my friend Scott Bibus on some railroad tracks. As we walked, we went by this sheltered kind of area where there were these two bums hanging out. Being that Scott's biggest fear was getting raped in the ass by a homosexual bum while light rock hits of the 80's were playing, we were already sort of on edge about the situation, but it was made worse when one of the dudes saw us and started yelling, "HEY! HEY! HEY GUYS, C'MERE!" Which went from really scary to really awkward because we had to just sort of smile and wave like two fucking morons that didn't know they were about to get a case of anal AIDS. Nothing happened, but one thing I did notice was that while the one bum was yelling at us, the other one was kind of covering his face and looking away, like he was embarassed. So I learned that people who cook shit in soda cans and literally shit where they eat (in dumpsters) actually do have shame. Which is fucked up. Even this dude who was crouching in a bus station all by himself was screaming apocalyptic shit at the moths surrounding him. It also made me sort of think on a deeper level how when you're in a shit situation where you feel totally isolated, you're forced to make due with what you have. To further elaborate, you have to make a fucking friend that you don't want to make - shit happened to me in the 5th grade with a kid named Andrew Lorge. Now, don't get me wrong, Andrew Lorge was a nice kid but there was a reason he didn't have any friends. The kid fucking smelled like shit. Those years where the onset of body odor occurs and if you're not careful, you're suddenly an outcast for reasons you might not understand. Of course, it didn't help that he was so pale that you could see the veins through his skin, either. He was obsessed with this role-playing game that I never understood but pretended to; called Mechwarrior. He would bring these fucking books to class, talk about them in the locker room; just fucking everywhere. The worst part was how he'd bring it up. He'd run up to you and yell, "YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT MECHS?" Being ten years old and already feeling like an ass because I had this group of girls who relentlessly teased me (the worst of which is now a fucking stripper), I did what anyone else would do: I beat the fucking shit out of him at recess until he stopped talking to me. Kind of an aimless story, but I guess I just wanted to say that on a very petty level, I understand what it's like to be forced to partner up with someone for survival.