Christopher Columbus killed millions of American Indians... And we love him for it.

I'm a huge douchebag, just like columbus, how come noone celebrates me?

What a night. What a week... right? School is done. Exams have came on gone. Another semester flies by. At the end do we look back and say what happened to the time? I did. I'm not sure what happened after christmas, or spring break, but suddenly here we are. People are beginning to say goodbye for the summer. Which is sad. Epsecially if they give you an awkwardly long hug and you know you may never see them again, but others go and you think that they can't stay gone long enough, but deep down you know that you are dying for them to come so you can hear about their summer and you can tell them about all the great things you wasted your time on. It's a beautiful circle.

On Wednesday, I was in the car with a friend when a random comment caused her to stop in mid-sentence, look me square in the eye (while driving, mind you), and say, "Do NOT say that again. That is NOT okay." Whatever the offending phrase was (I think it was the word "sneakles", which really isn't offensive at all when you get right down to it. Completely nonsensical, yes; offensive, not so much), it wasn't half as painful and awkward as the opening paragraph of the latest Bill Simmons column on ESPN. I'm one of those potentially misguided souls who genuinely enjoys Simmons' work and looks forward to his writing, but this scared the hell out of me:

"It's easy to discount the spiritual impact of basketball crowds if you haven't attended a playoff game with special fans before. There's no way to understand it unless it definitely has happened to you. Then you know. As strange as this sounds, it's like a woman being unable to tell whether she's ever had an orgasm. If she thinks it might have happened, or it felt like it kind of happened one time ... it didn't happen. When it happens, they know. Then they feel stupid for all the other times when they thought it had happened."

Bill, do NOT say that again. That is NOT okay. I understood what he was trying to say... but no. Bad Bill.

I feel like my one and only true relationship that actually is worth much comes from my music (excluding friends). I love my songs. This has been a rare night for me. I am in a mood that just can't be understood but by the closest of friends... After letting yourself get played, how do you cope? I'm not really sure. I'm never really scared of anything, I don't really understand the concept of worrying, or freaking out. I'm more just pissed off. There's a high level of frustration. I feel like I'm in a dream that has something to do with control, but I'm not sure.

I found it necessary to drive on to the top floor of a twenty story parking garage and stand and stare for a while. I stared at the skyline, the moon, the sky where the stars should have been, and then I just thought. I thought and contemplated for what seemed like an eternity. Then I screamed. I screamed as loud and as long as I could. I screamed until I had no air left in my lungs and my face turned red. I thought this would make me feel better... and it did. So much in fact that I did it again. And again. And again. I felt like all of the emotions that I had held in for so long, all the times I let something slide, had just been released. For the first time in a long time I felt free(ish). Then I just sat there, exhausted. I sat on the cold, hard concrete, and felt relieved. All the thoughts of what did I do wrong, or should I have done something different, or what am I supposed to be, or feel, or see, or do, or think, or dream, were gone. And honestly, I would have stayed right there until the sun came up, and all the people started showing up for a job that they, more than likely, hated... but I really needed to take a poo (see all that screaming loosened up something inside of me that was already a little loose (poo.)) That's one way to ruin a moment.

I'd say it is definately an extremely rare event to hear a dozens songs in a row that are just perfect for your mood. But tonite was that night for me. I sat in the floor for about 2 hours listening to my Pandora (pandora.com we love you!) and I never once had to move to change the song. Not once in 2 hours. Is that amazing to anyone else but me? So I decided to list them, most of them. I feel like you deserve it. These songs arent downer songs. I am not in a downer mood. I was in a downer mood, but not now. I am relaxed, content, over it. For the most part. These songs made me feel better. Good lyrics. Good rhythm. Good everything.


1. It's Ok, by: Eric James and the New Century
2. The Believer, by: Rhett Miller
3. I Dare You, by: ShineDown
4. Drive Away, by: Keaton Simmons
5. We Used To Vacation, by: Cold War KidsUnique.
6. Digging a Ditch, by: Dave Matthews Band
7. When the Lights Go Up, by: Jon Auer
8. Hey Sister Pretty, by: Hootie and the Blowfish
9. Sherwood is a favorite of mine. I own two CD's and not a bad song on either.
10. Time, by: Hootie and the Blowfish I know what your thinking (no you don't) why the same band practically back to back? well it's worth it.
11. Nobody's Prize, by: Cravin Mellon
12. Can't Break Her, by: Mat Kearney

and the list goes on and on.

After drinking every night for a week, I think I'm going to take a break. You know, I never really got hammered drunk in the last week, just buzzed, and I enjoyed it. But my body is paying for it. I'm already fat, hairy, slightly impotent, balding, and soon will be walking with a limp and have at least one, possibly two, lazy eyes. I don't need to have to deal with all of the alcohol draining from my body. But this is "real summer."

Real summer is lying in the bed of a pick up truck with your closest friends. Going to Maggie Moo's too late and getting free ice cream. Sitting on the kitchen counter and venting for two hours. Surprise visits at midnight. Strawberries. Driving home with your mom. Working. Drinking a beer. Saying goodbye. Missing it. Reading whatever you want to read. Unplanned lunch dates. Unplanned coffee dates. Unplanned plans that fall into place perfectly. Real summer is skirts and tank tops. Lazy evenings with nothing to do but work in the morning. Hours of conversation. Planning all of those plans we never follow through with. Family dinner--because really, no one should ever eat alone. Morning walks. Lunch time walks. Evening walks. Watching The Wonder Years.Real summer is here, but only for two weeks. And after that, surreal summer comes into play.

(thanks My Facebook Wife)

And how could it be said better than that. Summer is fun. Summer is swimming, and playing, and knowing that every single summer that by you get further and further away from your childhood, and your long lost loves and long lost friends. Summers are beautiful. It's a time to feel better about yourself, your world. A time to slow down and listen to the world around you. And that's what I need. Time to listen, to feel, to breathe, and scream. I need Summertime. Sweet summertime. I need to drive with my windows down, and not sweat the traffic jam i'm in. I need to lay in the yard. I need to play with my dog. I need to fish. I need campfires and marshmellows and graham crackers and chocolate bars. I need a couch on miller beach. I need outside movie nights. I need to talk until the sun comes up. I need care packages full of candy and inside jokes, and burnt CD's. I need late night, long distance phone calls about life, and love, and goats that chased me. I need roadtrips. I need music so loud that it hurts my ears. I need to pee on the side of the interstate. I need two flat tires and only one spare. I need a deep mudhole to drive in and play football in. I need friends and family. I need sand in my floorboard. I need homemade songs with bad acoustic guitars. I need to be so drunk that I swear I will never drink again, then do it again the next week. I need to ride my four wheeler. I need a god damned sun burn. I need bugspray. I need the 5 a.m. coffee game at homestead. I need stars to be my nightlights. I need baseball. I need themeparks. I need a pat on the back and hugs in the rain. I need to sleep til 3 in the afternoon and go to be at 3 in the morning. I need no liars, or backstabbers. I need no opinions. I need no criticism. I need no directions. I need no maps. I need to figure this out on my own. I need everything about real summertime...

getting a physical, hoping not to show off my balls

I think I am getting sick...
And ever since I started working as a policeman I have developed some major issues with germs. Mostly I am a borderline hypochondriac, and seeing as the safest possible place for me is the doctor's office, I went today. I like doctors’ offices. I like going to the doctor. I even, to an extent, like getting examined. There are few more satisfying feelings to me than to know that I am healthy. It is especially satisfying because I abuse my body so much and still continue to be healthy - kinda like saying, “Fuck you Death - I eat something with the word ‘cream’ in it twice per meal, and I’m still healthy! Bitch! You ain’t got nothing on me!”


But my hypochondria is selective. Most hypochondriacs will take any abnormality or difference in their bodies as a symptom of some terminal illness. I don’t feel this way that often. Sure, sometimes my heart will start beating very rapidly out of nowhere and I’ll think to myself, “Oh my god - am I having a heart attack?”, but then I’ll realize that an increased heart rate is a natural response to playing with yourself in the shower (the high temperature of the water and steam also increases heart rate) and I’ll just continue plugging away.

The reason why I’m not a very good hypochondriac is that when I have actual, legitimate symptoms, I don’t acknowledge them or do anything about them. For about two months, I had been having heartburn every single day. It would come on in the early afternoon, and affect me in varying degrees throughout the day and evening, giving me problems sleeping (I’ve pretty much given up on the idea of ever sleeping normally again - more on this later).
I thought nothing of this constant heartburn. After dinner, I’d make small pain noises and rub my chest, and my roommate would say, “Um, dude, maybe you should go see a doctor? Also, could you pay me back the $700 you owe for bills? Because I kinda need that.” I’d feel the heartburn when I was out drinking, and still keep pounding those Bud Lights, vodka tonics, Tom Collinses, quarts of gasoline - you know, whatever was put in front of me. Every time I yawn, stretch, sneeze, cough, sigh, or make a sudden movement, I’ve felt as though someone is squeezing the right side of my body from the inside. Not only that, but every time I poop or pee at school, I use the bathroom four floors up and take the stairs (this and this alone is how I managed to keep from being entirely obese, Mildly obese is just fine for me, thank you very much). Four floors is perfect; it leaves me winded, but not so much that I’m either sweating through my clothes or panting at the urinal while someone is peeing next to me and terrified. But lately I’ve noticed that I’ve gotten winded around the second flight of stairs, which is earlier than usual. It’s also been difficult and painful to catch my breath.
So after many months of awkward pain and sleeplessness I went to the doctor. I now have a new doctor, because my old one was super creepy. He happens to be the worst doctor in the world. Well, I can't say that for sure, because there are probably some Shaman doctors in Madagascar or some of those Mexico-type countries that are worse, but he's definitely the worst in the tri-state area. I hated my old doctor, because he was very disinterested. Also, one time during an examination while checking in my ears, I noticed he was playing with himself. I let it slide when the time before he whispered, “$5 sucky sucky?”, but this was the last straw. My new doctor only has one downside, and it is his biggest problem, he has some-what attractive, 20 something year old med students running around doing all his tough work (it like a dentist office, where you never actually see the real dentist until the very end, and then all he does is tell you to floss more because your gums are bleeding).

The thought of having a reasonably attractive med student in her mid-20's give me a physical was, to say the least, discomforting. Bear in mind, I am a man whose only goal during making out is not to please the woman unfortunate enough to be present or even to please himself, but to keep as many clothes on as possible.

In this state I went to the doctor's today, and sure enough, Racquel, a 26 year-old med student, came into the room. I immediately tensed up, but I was able to relax a bit over time, making small talk and stupid jokes. And she seemed pretty cool - as long as she stayed away from "the goods", I knew we wouldn't have a problem. We talked for a few minutes about school and life and then it occured to me "I'm flirting with this girl, and she's seconds away from putting her hands on my balls." At that point, she said, "Can you lay down please?"
Fuck.
This is the point where the doctor usually checks the abdomen and the balls (at least from what I remember from my last physical). So I laid down, and as she prepared to lift my "gown", she said:
Girl med student: "Are you wearing underwear?"
Me: "Wait - what day is it?"
GMS: [confused] "Um, Tuesday?"
Me: "Ok, then yes. Yes I am."
Then we all had a laugh and she gave me a vicious blowjob.

Ok, that didn't happen. That would have been REALLY cool if it did though. What did happen is that she wound up not checking my balls (just checked my stomach), which is fine with me.

One other thing: prior to going into the office: I filled out a form in the waiting room about what problems I've had, allergies, symptoms, etc. One of the questions was, "Do you drink?"
Yes.
The follow-up was, "How much?"
I wasn't sure what to put or how to quantify what I drank, so I put "a goodly amount", mostly because I really like the word "goodly."
Racquel didn't catch this the first time around, and after she left and I was dressing, she came back and knocked on the door and said,
Racquel: "I noticed on the form that you wrote that you drank 'a goodly amount' - can you explain that a little bit?"
Me: "Well, I didn't know how to quantify it - do you want a day? a week?"
Racquel: "Let's say a week - how many drinks do you have a week?"
Me: "That depends on the week really. The weather's been nice and my friends and I have been going out a lot, so that inflates the number a lot..."
Racquel: "Just the average."
Me: "I don't know...if I go out three nights a week, I'd say I'd have fifty drinks." (hugely over estimated)
Racquel: [silence for about three seconds] "Fifty?"
Me: "Yeah - but it takes a lot to get me drunk."
Racquel: "Is this something you want to continue?"
Me: "Drinking? Pretty much, yeah."

Stupid move. I got a lecture for the next five minutes about the hazards of drinking from a girl who's a year older than me, and who obviously doesn't drink. It was at this point that I realized that Racquel and I could never be together. Too bad.
But overall, except for a little bit of high blood pressure, I am in amazingly good health. Keep in mind that this is just physical health though - the jury is still out on the psychological/emotional/mental health status.

So there is officially something wrong with me, but I am physically healthy and the pain I am having continues at this time. according to my doctor, who went to Duke Medical School and is 100% Jewish, "there is something wrong with you, but I'm just not sure what." well shit.

So, let’s recap for all the ladies out there:
Pros:
- No STD’s ( Because of the obesity)
- Semi-rich, or at least willing to spend large sums of money for affection
- Plays guitar (Poorly)
- Speaks a bunch of languages (and by a bunch I mean one)
- No major family history of disease
- Easily manipulated
- Will never be unfaithful (though not for lack of trying)
- Awesome website
- Own bathroom, with matching hand towels
- National Merit Scholar semi-finalist

Cons:
- The opposite of good-looking
- Obese, or “husky”
- Racist, sexist, anti-Semitic
- Insecure, unambitious
- Insignificant sex drive
- Completely insane family
- Prone to fits of jealous rage, depression
- Have betrayed or will betray everyone close to me
- Refuse to let anyone around me be happy since I am not
- If given the chance, would trade you for some vanilla pudding in the blink of an eye

Again, I’m not asking for an answer now - just think about it.

I havent gotten as many emails as i used to on here, but those of you who do, its great - keep them coming (because I have so few friends in real life). I would do things to make this better, but that requires both creativity AND hard work, and, well…
Anyway, thanks for the emails, and I will respond to them all, though my responses may not make much sense or contain only curse words.

WIth good Friday coming up there is another weekend finally upon us, so remember:
1) Don’t drink and drive
2) Try a new drug or cocktail
3) Thank your dad for making you the codeine-addicted, overweight, insecure, gambling mess you are today
[Wait, that last one’s what I should thank my dad for. Sorry.]

My roommate is gone. For at least one week and a few days... more than likely til next monday afternoon, which is heaven to me. See i was going to live by myself this semester. I had a really nice place picked out and it was going to be my interpretation of heaven (except with lower ceilings, and bad parking) but I didnt. I came close though. If i hadn't finally finished a book that i had been trying to read for about two years. Blue Like Jazz. I wasn't so incredibly compelled by the first 15 pages that i fell in love with him and the book (like 95% of the people i know) and therefore i finished the book during break a few weeks ago. But in the end it actually did something for me. Rather it was a good or bad decision that book made me realize that i have become very anti social. I don't go out on the weekends. I dont see my friends during the week. I dont do much of anything. And I honestly thought that i was alright with that. So I am really going to try and make a solid effort to see more people... people that I like anyways. It is getting to be about that time in the year that i can go outside and sit and do nothing without sweating. I like nighttime walks, and laying in the grass in the sun, and watching the stars at night. I want to go on a roadtrip. I want to see a damn boring ass baseball game with my friends just like i used to. The highlight of my day shouldn't be getting a facebook message (only to see its from the administrators warning me about my sexually explicit comments or telling me racism is wrong (Im not really racist... I'm an equal opportunity hater)) or taking 2 or 3 showers a day... in fact the highlight shouldn't come from the bathroom area at all (sadly it has... one time i took a poo that looked exactly like a cartoon cactus, and then another day i used dishwashing soap to clean my toilet... i thought it would make it clean enough to eat off of, as a matter of fact it didnt, it broke the whole damn thing, now it doesnt flush and when i forget and go in there anyways it looks like a bubble bath.) I used to be somewhat normal. I used to be social.

Speaking of being antisocial, I havent done anything today but watch an hour of scrubs (best comedy show ever on tv) and and hour of cops (best thing ever). Other than that i have spent the most part of my day listening and downloading music. And i am happy enough about that. Pandora.com I am still going to recomend that. If you need a good start to your new music experience i will give you my password and you can listen to any one of my stations whenever you so choose.

If you havent heard there is a bill out to make it illegal to own the famous bumpernuts. Never seen a pair of truck nuts? What, have you been living under a rock or a nutsack? Have a look around here. The thing about it is... who cares? I think they are funny. Some of them are rubbery so when you go over a bump the drag the ground! That shit is hilarious. What can pick your day up more than a overgrown nutsack getting scrapped on pavement? Nothing... i dare you to come up with something better. You cant. Dont try. And i know what you are thinking, "what kind of Nutjob (hahaha, it's a play on words) would think these things are wrong?" And i will tell you who. Its the same type of people who sued a town in florida to have the title "vagina monologue" removed from a billboard. You know why this bitch wanted it down? Because she didn't want to have to explaing to her 13 year old daughter what a vagina is. God forgive us if we cant tell the anatomically correct word for a "vajayjay or hooha" or anyother slang word you can think of to a 13 year old. It's a vagina. Vagina, Vagina, Vagina. I;m not saying i understand everything about it (actually nothing about it, except it's basic function and once a month it gets mad and bleeds for a while) but come on. We are in america. Deal with it.

No more anna nicole smith. She is dead. put the bitch in the ground next to james brown. I just dont want to hear another thing about her. ever. i didnt want to hear about you alive, and most certainly not now since your most reason career move.

Thats all i got for now.
Peace and love,
Brad

Also if you are in town tomoro night and want to go out, i will be.

You're right, I am not a doctor... But I'm good at puzzles -- I'm gonna take a crack at it.

And it's true, I am good at puzzles.

You ever goes years without talking to someone you don't like? Or maybe go a long time without eating a certain food, or going to a certain place? After a while, you can't remember what it is you don't like about that person/place/thing. Then you come in contact with the thing you don't like and remember why you stayed away. Well, I hadn't been to a doctor in a real long time.

And now I remember why I don't like them. Besides the fact they prescribe "rest" for everything wrong with you, there's other things. For instance, my doctor told me I needed to come in at 7:30 this morning, when the lab opened, to get my blood test done. Otherwise, I would wind up waiting forever to get it done when I got there later in the day. I don't know if I have made this clear, but there is absolutely nothing I wake up early for. So a blood test where I have to wake up at 7 a.m. just wasn't happening. I got there at 11:30, and was out of there by 11:40. My doctor wanted me to roll out of the rack at 7 for nothing. I get there, fill out some shit, get a needle in my arm, get some blood drained. Peace out, assholes.
But wait, they want my pee, too.
Anyone who knows me is well aware of my ability to do two things on command -- pee and get an erection. Amazingly, a cool breeze can cause either of those things to happen. Whatever. I was only here for some blood work, but I'll squeeze out a few drops of my golden liquid just for you. I pee, give it to her, and I'm ready to leave. But wait! One final test! "OK, when you get home, you need to take these and smear your feces on these boxes and bring it back in three days."
"Ummmm, what?"
"These" were little wooden sticks that look like the chopsticks you get in a restaurant where you have to break them apart to use them. She told me that I needed to stick them in my poop and "smear" them on this card. What the fuck, man? I wish you could have seen me walking home from the doctor with this plastic bag filled with a poop smear card and some chopsticks. It felt like back when I was in middle school and teachers sent me home with notes to my parents telling them what terrible thing I did that day. I wondered why I was even bringing this home. I could just throw it away and no one would know. I don't want to smear my poop!
After I decided that I was just crapping once and smearing it three times and being done with it, I started having other questions. What am I supposed to crap into? A bucket? Some tupperware? A paper plate? And after I smear the card, where do I keep the card with the poop on it? In the fridge? Seriously, where? Wait, I do most of my crapping at school. Am I going to crap on a napkin at school? And shit, where do I keep the shit card at school? In my backpack? Fuck this. I'm crapping once on Monday and smearing it on all three days and going back that day. I went to a doctor's office this morning hoping just to find out what my cholesterol is, or maybe if all the drinking had finally killed my liver. Instead, I'm going to be popping a squat in my living room over a paper plate.

I'll be selling the video for $19.99.

I have officially determined that somewhere deep down inside of me, i have a problem. An actual real, probably not made up, disorder. But the good news is that i can finally admit it. Everyone else around me has known all along, but the truth is now out. I'm retarded... I'll let that sink in for a minute.

See here is the thing, all my life I have wanted something I can't have, and when I finally get it, It turns out to be not that great... I know I am not the only one out there on this one. Maybe I will start some sort of "I am never, ever, satisfied with anything in my life anonymous" group. I would attend for the first few sessions, til it got old anyway. Just to give a real world example of this we will take Girl A. I have no attraction to Girl A whatsoever. She actually asked me out a few times and I got busy. Girl A now is dating someone else. I am in love with said Girl A. This might be normal. I'm not sure since I can barely stand myself for more than a few hours without some sort of medication or sedative. And I know reading about this is about as exciting as watching your grandparents fight over who gets to use the teeth tonite, but it is what is on my mind.

Sports Fans, this is the saddest week of the year. NFL season is all but done with, only if you count the Pro Bowl, which I don't (and sadly Peyton Manning hasnt overdosed on gay porn, or died in a fiery plane crash... yet). College football is done. If you are a college hoops fan you still have rivalry week coming up, but after that what do you have? A few descent college basketball games per month mixed in with hours of monotonous NBA, and MLB. How does one do it? Not to mention arena football is about to kickoff again. This is why more people kill themselves in the winter months. Not because of the lack of sunlight, or the absolute lack of any kind of real seasons in Tennessee, but because the holidays are done and Santa isnt coming back for a long long time. As far as the Super Bowl goes, I didnt really care who won just as long as Manning never played another down in his life. Needless to say, I am still disapointed. And I also bet on the beloved bears because the last time they won I was only able to cry and shit on myself, nothing wrong with wetting the bed at 15 (just joking, It was in 1984, they still counted my age in months at that time. and the answer was less than 5 months old)

During the Super Bowl, other than the shity ads this year, there were a few things that got on my nerves. One being the rain and two being the dumbass signs in the crowd. I understand that some people really want to be on TV. For me personally, I don't think it's worth it to look like a douchebag for 3 hours just so that ESPN will show your "Sportscenter is Next" sign for 4 seconds in the tenth frame of the PBA Omaha Open. Just like I won't sell my cow for magic beans, I won't trade sucking TNT's dick for an entire Spurs game just to get my face on Inside the NBA. But if you are going to accept that trade-off, there have to be SOME rules. The only one I have for now is that you have to spell the network's acronym with the first letters of the words on your sign. For example:

Eagles
Sack
Pennington
Now
= acceptable

lEbron
jameS
Peed
oN me
= unacceptable

The retarded autistic guy that runs out to pick up the stand after kickoffs, which with any luck will be me in 3 to 7 years, can come up with a four word sign with the letters E, S, P, and N sprinkled somewhere throughout the words. Now all he needs is a non-toxic marker, a pair of safety scissors, and your ticket and you two are interchangeable. Stay off of my TV retards.

We need to start showing animals who's the boss. And by showing them who's the boss, I don't mean strapping them down in front of TVs while Tony and Angela have a light-hearted debate about gender roles in 1980's America. Although I don't think anyone would argue the fact that that would also be a very good idea. Anyway, to get back on topic, humane treatment of animals has gotten out of hand. I've even seen restaurants advertise that the animals that they serve were treated ethically. Well guess what, they are still fucking dead and you killed them. I say, fuck that. I'm starting my own chain of restaurants that will openly disregard hygiene, laws, and widely accepted moral standards. It will be delicious and only serve based on my wants and needs. Which will accomadate everyone with the exceptions of minority, and white people. As long as you dont fall into that category you will be covered! Because at Brad's Chicken Shack, you have it the way nature intended, dead and painful. Brad's Chicken Shack: "They Don't Understand They're Being Killed, They Just Know It Hurts."

The hot story over the last several years were about young female teachers having sex with their students. And for the most part, these were really hot teachers, nothing at all like that butch girls' gym teacher that used to molest me when I was in school. But that's old news. Now, I've seen a number of stories about mothers who hook up with their son's friends. Back when I was growing up, guys would talk a good game. We'd rip on each other and claim that we had hooked up with our friends' mothers, sometimes even claiming to have breached the space-time continuum, and that were actually our friends' father. Then we'd tell them to mow the lawn or something so that we could mack on their moms.
But that was just fantasy, ok? It was just healthy male bonding. There's a huge difference between fantasy and reality (its the same reason noone can have a healthy realtionship with Pamela Anderson or Halle Berry, too many fantasies involved). No one actually did it, right?

Not anymore. This mom had a sex and alcohol party in her son's honor where she hooked up with one of his friends. This mom had an ongoing relationship with her son's 15 year-old friend. This woman, hooked up with her son's best friend with one of her kids in the room. So while I'm hoping these stories are merely examples of aberrant behavior, the fact is that some guys are breaching the Holiest of Holy Grails. As a teen, I may have fantasized about breaching the very same vessel which once housed a good friend, but I would never have actually done it (or I never had the opportunity, it was definitely one of the two, more likely the second though). But kids are doing it these days.
It's no wonder Playstation 3's aren't selling that well.
Is this conversation going on in our neighborhoods?

Wanna play Halo?
Nah.
Want to go to the movies?
Nah.
What do you want to do then?
I don't know... I was thinking about hooking up with your mom.
(pause) Again? Well ok, but just remember I'm crashing at your place next weekend.

So kids remember, friends do not let friends have carnal relations with their mothers.

Anyways, I have a first edition Nintendo with trackpad at my apartment right now and my childhood memories are flooding back to me. Its exactly like hurricane Katrina. but no one died or lost their home or irreplacable possessions. But, you know, similar.
(completley unacceptable)

I'm sorry...

it's been a while, just way to long to go without saying hi! For both of us. So I'm sorry.

Holidays have finally come and gone and that makes me feel alright. I dont really get into the holidays anymore. I just dont really like the fakeness of it all. Maybe it's just me. Actually I know its just me. I think i would be perfectly happy during the holidays if i could choose who to be around. When i announced that i was going to work on Christmas so i didnt have to see my family my mom promptly informed me that "that's what christmas is, smiling at people you dont like, now call the department and tell them you are going to see your family on christmas." I really do like the shine and glitter of it all, i just don't like the people i am around... hopefully one day i will get married and spend time with her, it's more likely that my family will all die first though, lets all cross our fingers.

the idea of the holidays are supposed to be relaxing... this is my last christmas that i will ever truly have nothing to do, I am supposedly set up to graduate in december 07, 11 months away bitches. Theoretically, this is a natural, cleansing period of solitude. But for me it ends up being this depressive coma where I sit in my apartment, which i no longer have, eating a variety of cold cereals and mildly warm soups, watching the E! Network, and forgetting that I have a lower half of my body. I love E! because it makes me think that things that are unimportant are really important. I’m like, “I need to know about the sexiest people from the 80s.” E! also answers all the questions that you were never going to ask. Like, “I wonder how Full House was made?”

New year bring new years resolutions... which i made none. Its just another day. Lets not get overdramatic. I actually celebrated January 3-4 more than the first, i had to work on the first. The countdown at midnight of the third isnt quite the same but i still had a dumbass grin on my face. Still I'm glad the holidays are done. I think that i have been so stresssed over the last few weeks because of several things, mostly to do with money, where i am going to live, and other things that if you erally do think about it matter and no matter what anyone else says creditors will ruin your life. No i have enough money due to working my ass off over break but i still have nowhere to live and that is making me miserable. So now people are back to normal from the holidays, now they are only about 73% fake as opposed to the usual high 90's recieved during christmas. Speaking of high ninetys, fuck this weather. It's ridiculous.

In other news, just a quick question: how the F do the Los Angeles Galaxy have $250 million to sign David Beckham? And I don’t mean that like "how do they have the cap room?", but rather, how do they have enough money, period? I’ve never met anyone who watches MLS, let alone has been to a game or has bought its merchandise. And yet ONE TEAM has a quarter of a billion dollars to sign a player? The equivalent would be me, as an eight year old in a house in which food stamps were used, coming down on Christmas morning to find a card with $190,000 in it.

What gives here? Can someone explain this to me? Because if this is the way money works, I’m heading out straight from here to buy a building, because, hey, fuck it.

A few weeks ago I was driving in a car with my mom and she was on her car phone, which is, by the way, what my mom calls every piece of technology since 1987. Pager? Car phone. Blackberry? Car phone. Garage door opener? Toaster.

So my Mom had her actual car phone on speaker and she was leaving a message for her friend and she says, “We can’t come to your dinner party because we promised we’d take Brad out for dinner,” and then she pressed what she believed to be the “end” button. And then she looked over at me and said, “I just made that up.” And then I looked down and pressed the actual “end” button. The lesson of this story is, if you are not good with technology, don't be cocky about it.

I fear we are at a dangerous juncture in civilization where there is a huge amount of technology and only like 8 people who know how to properly use that technology. The other day I went to a movie and during the movie the guy next to me answered his cell phone, and he answered the phone by saying, and I quote, “Who dis’?” So not only was this person willing to talk to someone during the movie, he was willing to talk to anyone during the movie. But perhaps an even more irritating phenomenon is the amount of people with camera phones. Don’t get me wrong. I love cameras and I love phones, the same way I love pizza and ice cream, but for many reasons I don’t eat pizza ice cream, and when I do, it’s in the privacy of my own home in a bathtub crying. And don't get me wrong. i love me some pictures. I am mostly retarded so i forget what is currently happening around me about 83% of the time. Which is bad. Because i often forget that people exist or why i know them and stuff like that. Sometimes people will be like, “What’d you do last week?” and I’m like “Oh….no.” Now when I’m traveling I take photos so I can pull out my camera and say, “Oh, I went to Salt Lake City and then…I signed up to join a bar because Utah has these weird Mormon rules about signing up for bars, and then I threw up on a mormon, and then I got arrested. There’s the picture, right there! But for petes sake please learn how to use the damn camera before you line me up for a picture. I dont enjoy standing in a half hug position on someones mom while you try and solve the rubiks cube that is your phone.

There are many things about me that deserve pitying - the downright unfair amount of body hair I’ve been cursed with, how I’m 100% positive that woman are incapable of having orgasms (it’s a total myth), the whole "penis like a light switch" thing I have going on - but none more so than the fact that I genuinely believe that I have a 50/50 chance of marrying Elisha Cuthbert. Yes, I know this is how Dateline NBC documentaries start (ending of course with me giving a jailhouse interview with tears in my eyes, delirious, screaming, "I loved her! We loved with a love that was more than love! That’s from a poem! Look it up!"), but if you think about it, my life has been nothing but a series of tremendously fortuitous developments over the past few years. Let’s face it: I have no discernable or valuable talent except comparing my penis to tiny everyday objects (I was going to go with "hershey kiss" above but "light switch" felt better) and writing really long sentences, and something I used to procrastinate at work magically turned into a multi-million dollar empire (lie), garnering me thousands of "fans" (bigger lie) and a variety of exotic and capable lovers (sadly, biggest lie of all).

The point is that all of this is building toward something. Of course, the smart money is that it’s building toward something terrible (death in a hotel fire seems to be getting the best odds), but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s building toward something Greatest of All, like, for example, marrying a very attractive Hollywood starlet who probably smells like cinnamon and sunflowers. Or maybe it’s somewhere in the middle (Elisha Cuthbert and I date for awhile and it’s totally awesome but then I lose my arms in a hotel fire and she breaks up with me). Who knows.

Take that Sewage Plant Poop Blender

Apparently I picked up someone's invisible monkey... That being said, this weekend was weird.

1. I was accused of picking up an invisible monkey
2. Given a peep show by the largest naked woman I have ever seen
3. Fell on my face getting out of a car while trying to chase someone
4. I was offered "a way for both of us to enjoy not getting a ticket" (you can figure out what that means)
5. Found out that I am not quite as desperate as I once thought I was.
6. There was more, but I am lazy

It's funny how fast I can go from absolutely despising someone's existence, to laughing with them and shaking their hand. I never really thought that I was like that, but I guess I am. Saturday we went to arrest some guy and he ran into the woods. So we pulled out all the big boy tricks that we know and still couldn't find the guy. Later in the night we return to the same area just on a hunch of getting this guy. Me and another deputy were poking around some thick woods behind a McDonald's restaurant. (Quick backstory... This guy ran from us, might be armed, I hate him, I have never met him, but I hate him with a passion. It is his fault that I am over my head in shit, freezing cold, wet, hungry (that's not really his fault, I'm always hungry, on account of the fatness), and nervous that I might actually die from this guy.) So long, and bad, story short, we catch the guy laying in some bushes not more than a few feet away from us. The following is direct quotes.
-"Blink wrong and I will blow your fucking head into that parking lot over there."
-"Dawgs, I wasnt trying to hide from you... I was just taking a nap."
-"I almost shot you, you don't even know how close you came to dying just then."
-"You police in Hickman County are some bad ass fuckers... I done been caught down here like 5 times, I am moving."
After about fifteen minutes of having this guy you realize that he is a human... He wasn't out to kill us, he just wanted to not go to jail, and maybe spend Christmas with his kids. All the way to the jail we talked and laughed, I have never laughed so hard at some of the things that he said in my life. It was good for me. When it was time for him to go, I shook his hand, told him to take luck. And I meant it.

Moving on...

I remember my first day of school, I remember the cold air in the morning, I remember the floor mats where they expected me to actually "nap." I remember the cookies weren't very great and the little carton of milk felt soggy and a little warm. I also remember that the very first thing I ever thought about the very first teacher I ever had was "this woman is an idiot," she may also have been the first women I ever imagined naked. I don't remember her name, that's how bad she was. She stood up in front of the class and introduced herself: "Good morning everybody, my name is Mrs. Forgettable, and the first thing we are gonna do is play a game. I have a bean bag and when I toss it to you, you catch it, then say your name and tell us all what you want to be when you grow up." Ok, so maybe thinking she was an idiot wasn't the FIRST thing I thought about her, but I arrived at that conclusion before I was officially bean bagged into the turd we call compulsory public education. "What do I WANT to be? Is something going to happen in life where I am gonna haff to change who I already AM?" I thought. She tossed the bean bag to a dozen or so future firemen, cops, princesses, and gynecologists while the chemicals in my head began to pulse and make my heart beat faster, nervous that I might drop the bean bag and look retarded, but mostly because I was getting ready to make a statement, to issue a decree of sorts, you know, I was ready to let it be known that I didn't like the way this whole little "bean bag" deal was going and I was determined set her straight. I wasn't about to be molded. The bean bag finally made it my way and I caught it without even squinting (like a bunch of the other morons) I took a swallow as my face grew hot, I looked my teacher straight in the eye and gave her a very clear "watch this" kind of look and then I turned towards the rest of my classmates to whom I really wanted to direct my dismissives. "I don't WANT to BE anything, I AM an artist." Take that Fireman. Take that Teacher. Take that Sewage Plant Poop Blender. All I wanted to do with my life was draw pictures and have a restauraunt that only sells homemade apple pies. I was that simple. (Forget the fact that I am a policeman, and firefighter... When is the last time things went exactly like you had planned? Never. Right? That's what i thought.)

Growing up, my dad used to occasionally drop into school and come straight to my class and tell the teacher he needed to pull me out of school for the day and then we'd go out for hamburgers and a movie and on one such day, while making the "always remember to take a break" speech that my dad loved to give every five minutes, he said to me; "Son, my good son, most of your teachers are complete idiots, never think for a second that any of them are any smarter than you." "Duh dad, I know."

And I did know.

Maybe some people are just born thinking they are better than everyone. I think I am one of those people... I know I am those people.




My Favorite Music.
I know you don't care, but this is my one chance to force my opinions on you.

1. The Fray... used to be a favorite. I found them after a recomendation from a friend almost two years ago, now all of you bastards know about them and it pisses me off. It was like I had a secret that not many people knew about and some idiot slipped and told someone else while they were sitting in the principal's office, but to my dismay the microphone on his desk was on and the whole fucking school heard it and went out and bought the cd that afternoon. That's how i feel about that.

2. The Format... particularly the song "On Your Porch" because I like porches.

3. The Clarks (not the family band) I can only imagine that my facebook wife introduced me to these guys and they have become a staple of my music diet. The energy and words that seem to go into the music that these guys produce is incredible. Plus their songs really make me feel good. Go get their CD "Still Live" it will change your life (Not really).

4. Butch Walker... I can't think of a bad song by this guy. Mixtape, Suburbia, the Best thing that you never had... they all rock.

5. Jeremy Kay... Have It All. Great song as heard on NBC's great show "Scrubs." This may be the intro song to "The Paying My Dues" movie. It's a story about my life, and how stupid I am.

6. "Busby Berkeley Dreams" and "All My Little Words" The Magnetic Fields. Is it me or is there something incredible about an extremely gay man with an extremely deep voice sitting at a piano and singing a sad song that starts "I should have forgotten you long ago/But you’re in every song I know"? For the latter, if you want to know what hopelessness sounds like, check this song out ("I could make you pay and pay/But I could never make you stay"). Two profoundly depressing songs - and you know that I know my depressing songs. I’d have to think about this a little more, but of the 22 suicide-inducing songs on my "Sad as Fuck" playlist, these may be the two saddest. This is about the strongest endorsement I can give. If you don’t download them, well, you’ll probably be a much happier person. But if you like sad music, you’re doing yourself a disservice by not checking these out.

7."Where Did Our Love Go?" J. Geils Band. When I first learned that my friend Mike was a self-described "huge J. Geils fan," I thought "What the fuck?" But they have some pretty good tunes, my favorite being this cover of The Supremes song, which is, dare I say, rollicking. Much respect to bands or artists who cover songs and infuse them with their own style; this sounds like a J. Geils original. And if after listening to this song you don’t want to hang out with Peter Wolf (lead singer of the band), then you are truly socially awkward.

I love cereal. Big time. It’s fucking incredible. But hear me now when I say this: the good people over at Honey Bunches of Oats will change the world with their newest creation - Honey Bunches of Oats with Cinnamon Clusters. I have never in my life tasted cereal as good as this. Never. I don’t have anything else to say, aside from that if you see this cereal in your local grocery store and you don’t buy it, you will regret it for the rest of your life. No lie. (You’re welcome in advance.)

Anyways if anyone still reads this and wants to do something tomoro (I have no idea how to really spell that, or restauraunt?, How am I in college) night call me. for real, i am so bored. Also I will be going out Thursday night. It should be good for me.

I have Christmas Break coming up so I'm not sure what is going to happen here. But fear not: I will be checking in or otherwise you will have something good to read on here, so check back if you like. I mean, I’m not going to beg you - hell, I’ll be on vacation getting fucked up and sleeping until 2pm - but I’m just saying.

And I promise to take lots of pictures and do lots of stupid things. [Have a good week.]

The moral of the story is just say no to selective serotonin uptake inhibitors.

I guess this is going to be a little weird for both of us...

I have started about 80 percent of my posts on here with some sort of i dont know why i am doing this or other confusing statement about my life, lets just go ahead and make that 82 percent. I realize now that I dedicate an incredible amount of words and time to tell a bunch of people that I don't really know what is going on. That's not normal is it? I hope not.

I accidentally cut myself on a glass tonite. It was a tiny cut, but it bleed like a motherf'er. I don't know why but this made me feel good about myself. I sat there and watched it drip for like 15 minutes before I did anything about it. I also listened to that goo goo dolls song that says "you'd bleed just to know your alive." It made me feel good about myself too. I guess I know that I am alive.

And I'd give up forever to touch you

Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

Cause sooner or later it's over

I just don't want to miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me

Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of truth in your lies

When everything seems like the movies

Yeah you bleed just to know your alive

And I don't want the world to see me

Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

I don't want the world to see me

Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

I just want you to know who I am

I don't really know what is wrong with me... but I hope someone fixes it for me soon enough (maybe the good people at prozac) I read once that about 60% of health care costs for prescription drugs are for anti-depressants. One, that seems awfully low. Two, that means that there is a significant portion of the population that can’t achieve orgasm. Which, in retrospect, explains the last few presidential elections.

Speaking of elections, i didnt vote in the last one. I lied and told people i did just so they thought i was cool, but we all know i'm not. It's not that i don't think this system we have is perfect (right), but i just don't care anymore. (and it's not because everyone knew that democrats were going to take over washington again) its just because i dont care. Republican or Democrat we are all fucked in the end. Both parties are severely flawed. And I dont think it makes sense. When I told my mom that I didn't vote she said "good, well you can complain about what happens then." Well damn. My mom doesnt know me that well because A.) I can and will complain about whatever the hell i want. and B.) well A pretty much covered it all for me. But if i cant complain about something i dont care about then you can't complain about it to me. I dont care if the Democrats stole your cookie or the Republicans took your ice cream. Leave me out of it.

My next post will be about my first day of school, and how i went against the norm and I still didnt have an idea about life, but i knew i didnt want to conform. I also knew that I wasn't going to be a fireman. or police officer. I was going to be an artist, with a bakery that only sold apple pie. God I was an awesome kid.

Until then.