Sometimes I’m Just Irrationally Bitter And It’s Not Your Fault

I'm back bitches. But not for long...

Highlights of My Semester...
1. Considered the affects taking up speed walking would have on my sex life.
2. Took a crap that looked exactly like a cartoon cactus
3. Passed a marquee that should have read "Our Award Winning Staff will Blow You Out of the Water!"....but somebody took the liberty of removing "Out of the Water"
4. Created a new breakfast cereal that consists of Jolly Ranchers and Vodka, sprinkled with Meth.
5. Had a dream that Raggedy Ann and Andy were in a heated political race...
6. Reggedy Ann used negative TV campaigns discussing Andy's former addictions to teen chat rooms, however Andy just stuck to the real issues, and said that everyone makes mistakes... I voted independent.
7. Smoked peyote, stumbled across a Choose Your Own Adventure book, woke up 14 hours later in the backseat of a taxi with a bucket of fried chicken
8. Discovered taking a shit in an empty coke (aka soda, pop, etc...) can is not as hard as it may seem
9. Let out a silent fart near the desk of the guy who always wistles "Don't Worry, Be Happy" in the elevator
10. Discovered that I may be the only 22 year old non-professional who farts on, or around the area of strangers and friends
11. Saw an old man adjust his nut sack... twice.
12. Followed around this kid wearing a F.B.I (Female Body Inspector) shirt and kept asking him to please kill himself.

I have some advice. A free idea one might call it (I wrote this six or seven weeks ago and now hate myself for saving it). Here's what i got for ya -For us Southerners, at least, it's still a BIT warm, but as Emily says "Summer's beginning to give up her fight" which means the last few days of warmth and short wearing are almost gone. (and by almost i mean they are)(remember this was weeks ago, i am watching the news right now and it might flurry tonite... on a totally unrelated issue I would kill for a vanilla frosty right now). So, as fall and winter put their best efforts together to kill the Summer i have an idea for ya. As you wear those shorts for the last time, don't clean them out. Yeah. That's what i'm saying. Leave em. Why?Because in about 6 months (that's a long time without warmth) you'll put them back on and forget what's in the pockets. You'll reach your eager-to-get-sunburnt hand in there and realize that the pockets aren't empty. A smile will slowly grace your face as you pull them out... a movie ticket stub, a reciept from a night on the town with friends, the reciept from Maggi Moo's (it was warm enough for a waffle cone still - half white chocolate mousse and half peanut butter), and the reciept for those oh so dope new shoes you just picked up that already look like shit because you had to walk to class in the rain everyday of the "Spring" Semester because it never stops raining here. Then you realize how quickly life flies by. You sigh, smile, and call the sharers of the experience. And to think that experience was free. Except for the 9 dollar movie, 40 dollar night on the town, 4 dollar waffle cone, and 50 bucks for the kicks. So 100 bucks. But still, that's pretty cheap. See? Awesome idea right... you can thank me later, when it is warm again.

Once a month my friend Nicole and I go to a nice dinner, one month i pick and she pays, the next she picks and i pay, it's a good thing. But these dinners are about more than just food. And no, I’m not talking about the booze, although there was plenty of that.

(In the interests of journalistic integrity and full disclosure, yes, Nicole and I have made out before. But it was a long time ago and only happened two or three times over the course of two years and there was no funny stuff. Plus, I pretty much believe in making out with every single one of my female friends at least once, so there’s no weirdness in that for me. They might have weirdness about it, as well as a great deal of shame, anger, and self-loathing, but that’s really not my concern. But I think it’s important to make out with your friends, not only because making out is fun and totally awesome, but also because you need to find out if there’s anything more there than just being friends. Thankfully, since I have about as much sex appeal/boyfriend potential as most modern day pirates, it hasn't happened much... yet. Which is definately for the best.)

You see, Nicole sees me as sort of a charity case and is trying to class me up (or maybe "gay me up"). I think that Nicole realizes that God didn’t bless me with a loaded deck, and so she’s trying to smooth out some of my rough edges. I’ve repeatedly told her that what I lack in social graces I more than make up for in my paranoia, but she’ll have none of it. So during these dinners, she and I typically spend a lovely evening talking about our relationship problems; hers going something like, "So what does it mean when a guy [does/says/emails/texts/looks a certain way]?", while mine usually start, "So I’m getting really sick of normal porn - what do you think about people dressed as cowboys and Indians having sex? Would you still be friends with it if I liked that stuff? Oh, and the cowboys and Indians are in wheelchairs. That’s important." Specifically, one of last night’s lessons was about giving and taking compliments. Nicole says that I don’t take compliments very well, and she is correct. I don’t know why this is, but it makes me uncomfortable and sometimes defensive and even angry:
Mike: "Hey, cool shirt."
Me: "Geez - just remember to zip me up and you’re done blowing me, Fagbert. Christ. Have you told your parents yet or are you going to wait until you bring Bruce home for the holidays?"
or
Mindy: "You look nice today."
Me: "Show of hands - how many people here gave Mike herpes? Raise it higher, Mindy, raise it higher!"
Maybe this is a self-esteem issue, but I’m not a psychologist. But what I’m apparently supposed to do is say "Thank you" and move on, so I’ll work on that.However, I think that I give compliments very well. Well, that’s not exactly true - I think I give compliments very well because I give them like a person with mental disabilities. For example, I very rarely say "You look beautiful" to a woman. Instead, I will say something like, "Your hair smells like raspberries." I will mean this sincerely and as a compliment, but often times this makes me look a little weird and possibly dangerous. Nicole knows of my struggles firsthand, since once in high school while very drunk and in the presence of a bunch of guy friends, I told her that she has "nice colors" (her hair is dark, her skin is light and she has green eyes). I meant this completely seriously and innocuously, but to this day I’ll be around buddies and one of them might say, "Dude - check out the colors on that girl!" But what’s better: for a guy to deliver some cheesedick line and probably not mean it or for a guy to blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind and completely mean it, even if that first thing is "Your perfume reminds me of carrot cake" or "When you touch my hand, it makes me want to plant a flower" or "I feel warm because you look so nice"? Yeah, I thought so. Finally, Nicole and I ended the meal with cheesecake. But not just any cheesecake, but the biggest fucking slice of cheesecake the world has ever seen. An article framed on the wall of the restaurant from Forbes said, "The cheesecake may just be the most monumental, unforgettable serving of anything anyplace" and that’s a pretty accurate description. Gigantic and creamy, it tasted like having sex with a beautiful Scandinavian women who has a very pretty face but is morbidly obese. But she’s also very nice. A little needy, but very nice. Then we went out, had a couple of drinks, I got drunk, begged Nicole to stay out drinking, she said she couldn’t, I walked home listening to my iPod and almost threw up on the way. So pretty much it ended like three or four nights of every week end. But another successful dinner is in the books. I laughed, I learned, and I had a good meal - a terrific night by any standards. Next month, Nicole picks the place, so I’m sure it’ll be somewhere where I have never heard of 60% of the things on the menu. But I’ve already picked out a discussion topic: "So, long story short, I was dating this girl and one night after we hooked up very drunk, she passed out and woke up to find me drawing a map of Europe on her back. She was so freaked out, she never talked to me again. She’s gay, right? Also, I was wearing her bra when she woke up. But I don’t see how that’s relevant."

So that dinner got me thinking about things. And then I went out this weekend and both nights came back home with different thoughts. Friday resulted in a good conversation with old friends whom i miss. Saturday was different. The jury is still out on how i feel about the night. I wanted to have a good time. And through the whole night i was having a good time, for the most part. But to make another long story shortish, when I finally got back to my place I slammed my truck door (which is a no no) slammed the house door, slammed my room door... then realized i left my lights on in the truck and repeated the process. And i don't know why. Maybe one day it will make since to me, probably not you though, as you will find out in the next few paragraphs.



I have been living a lie. Much like a child trying to secretly grow an elephant in his backyard, I can't hide it anymore. And much like that child trying to secretly grow that elephant in his backyard, I am also a fucking retard. The truth must be released. Just like Willy. I really dont know why. It just feels right. Life has been weird lately and I feel like I am looking for something that I can't find. This is how I live my life, constantly looking for signs, but never sure when it’s fate trying to tell me something and when it’s just life throwing road-blocks in my path to be overcome... but what if I’d made the wrong decision? Maybe it's just puberty (God i hope so, i've waited so long). But i doubt it, since i'm already 22 and balding. I don't really know what i hope to get out of this life, but I am going to try and find something. This has been happening for a while. I have learned to be happy when I am alone. Like tonite I have been alone since 12ish, and I'm ok with it. I've downloaded alot of new music. (I just thought you wanted to know that, it has nothing to do with anything else... it's actually a really bad sentence once i reread this, but i have a policy of not erasing things on this blog so unfortunately for you it stays, and since it stayed you have to read this extremely long explanation of a sentence that shouldn't have been there in the first place)(God i'm stupid/exhausting) So I'm off to find myself... or whatever it is I am looking for.

I don't know why, but I’ve got about fifteen entries saved up, everything from The Milk Challenge and Central Park Slip N’ Slide to The Strangest Fundraiser (I was supposed to grow a mustache, long story) and a bizarre bet I’m calling Airport Leapfrog, and yet, for some reason I haven’t felt compelled to put them up. So I’ve decided to take a little time off—45 days to be exact. Minimum. Unless I get bored again soon. Why? Because I can. In that time I’ll keep doing what I’ve always done; stupid stuff that makes me smile. I just won’t be putting it on the Internet. Not right now anyway.

I know what you are thinking. Hasn't your whole life been one big break? and yes is the answer. Also you are thinking, Haven't you been on a break for the last two or three months. And the answer to that is no. Not officially. I've just been lazy. But this break is official. And it counts.

In the last few weeks of not writing on here I have discovered that I actually have a few readers. Not many. I'm not famous... yet. But i have gotten 37 emails from people that i don't know asking me to post again... and 18 of them said that i should not be so depressing and at least try and be funny again. I like that. One girl sent me an email entitled "Pity Boobies." They were exactly what they sound like. Awesome. And for anyone else who wants to take pity on me feel free. (mbgarland77@cumberland.edu or garlandmb@lipscomb.edu)

So where does that leave you? I don't know. Let a dog lick something off your face. Free a fish. Make a list of you own highlights for a change. Whatever makes you happy. See you in a bit. I hope you stick around, but if not, that’s cool too. It’s been fun. For me anyway. Send me some messages, call me (only if you know me, new people scare me, and i'm definately not cool enough for a stalker) If i don't know you email me. Enjoy the extra three minutes a day you won’t waste reading my opinions and misadventures. Try to do something productive with them, like not cry.