As you all know, my favorite time of year, Autumn, is here and Halloween is upon us. Tonight, the Great Pumpkin will rise out of the pumpkin patch to deliver presents and candy to all the good little boys and girls all over the world!

In years past, the Great Pumpkin has not visited me

I can only conclude that it is because my pumpkin patch has not been sincere enough in relation to others'. There I would sit, alone in my pumkin patch on Halloween night...waiting...while other foolish boys and girls went out to parties and trick-or-treating...only to wake up in the cold the next morning with no candy, no presents...just a broken heart. There are far more sincere pumpkin patches in the world, than can easily be imagined by a boy and his trusty blankie...

But I've scoped out the competition, and this year, mine is the most sincerest pumpkin patch of them all!

If the Great Pumpkin comes out of my pumpkin patch I…oops..."if"…did I say "if"?!  I meant "when"…"when" he comes!

Oh no, one little slip like that could cause the Great Pumpkin to pass you by!  I'm doomed.

Oh Great Pumpkin, where are you?!

In response to all of the sex-bots spamming my email on Myspace lately, I have built a robot to answer all of my messages on this site. I did the same thing earlier this year with my telephone, as no-one would ever call that except other robots trying to sell me things I didn't need (like sex). That robot, named Norris 8.5 (due to the fact that he looks like a small, one-legged Chuck Norris with an eye-patch), seemed to work out pretty well, so I've built another one for my computer, named The Hoff 5.0 (named thusly due to that fact that he looks like a really small David Hasselhoff cutout). He is less likely to dole out karate chops to spammers than The Norris 8.5 would, but he is a better singer over-all, and slightly less temperamental.

Well, to be honest, there have been problems with the whole robot answering machine thing, mostly because I really don't understand this whole robots calling robots thing. Since I built my robots with the perfectly understandable human-like emotions close to that of myself at 3-years old, they are having problems dealing with other robots on an emotional level.

When robots call robots, no-one ever says "hello" and means it. And there certainly is never a "goodbye". Sometimes they just say "hello" to each other back and forth for hours. Other times, there are long, uncomfortable silences, those found amongst strangers at fancy dinner parties or truck-stop bathrooms. Sometimes I think that the silence is from my robots' lovers…and that they know I am listening...intently.

Years ago we had some yahoo in this town try to force a law on the townsfolk, forcing them to say "heaven-o" instead of "hello" as a greeting, considering "hello" to be unfriendly, and somewhat blasphemous, because it had the word "hell" in it. Later they realized that "heaven-o" sounded too much like "heaven, no!" and decided the new town greeting should be "heaven-yes!"

In one of the rare moments of sanity in this town, the idea was mostly refuted by the majority townsfolk. But you have to give a person props for trying to make their idea come to life.

I just think about all the robots who might have been programmed to say "heaven-yes!" when answering the phone, and maybe not understanding what "hello" means because it was alien or blasphemous, and therefore they would be unable to understand other robots, or even like them, which I guess is more common since Apple made the infamous I-pod (which for those that don't know is actually a spy-robot which reports your miss-deeds to Apple).

These kinds of misunderstandings, difference of religious contexts, and espionage could lead to war among the robots of the world, eventually leading I-pod's to wipe out all of the human population by eating all music, ending up in a bastardized Bradbury story where the last two remaining robots just keep calling each other back and forth, unable to move because their legs are trapped under unopened QVC boxes, and just saying "hello" and "heaven-yes!" and neither one knowing what the hell is going on...

When robots cry they rust, sometimes on the inside first so they still look shiny and new on the outside - like career cheerleaders and prostitutes - but they are really dead on the inside.

Please stop using robots to dial and email me. I don't want their sex or war.

Apparently, I have been "tagged", and must now share some not-so-well-known things about my life that are "weird", or suffer the consequences. I am not sure what kind of mystical forces have been loosed on me as the result of this "tagging". Therefore, I have no choice but to comply every single time I am "tagged"...

Some Not-so-well-known things about me:

6: I once stole a York pepperment patty from the check-out isle of a grocery store, when I was like six or something. Instead of putting in in my pocket, I unwrapped it and shoved it in my mouth. My mother and the check-out girl asked me something, and there I was, cheeks bulging with peppermint goodness. I guess my mom payed for the candy bar. Don't steal candy bars, kids...especially if the getaway plan involves your mouth. You're just not fast enough...just not fast enough. Sigh.

5: I own 1/3^rd of the expanding universe. This requires a long story. For those of you that dislike long stories...you're on the wrong page. For those of you who like long stories and have a sense of humor, check out "3 Kings Omninational" on my friends list. :P

I am one of these "Three Kings". Yeah, I was surprised too. I mean, you're born and already you have majority stock in some all-powerful company whose powers are near-limitless. And then android security guards from the future dressed as football mascots try to kill your friends, and you have no choice but to use your influence to genetically engineer giant lobster cyborgs to defeat them in a vicious battle royal, and then go into hiding in some small town. But life isn't always fair...

4: I have always had a fertile imagination. I actually feel a great deal of pity for those that don't share in, appreciate, or even lack that. I don't take myself very seriously, unless it comes to my work, so I use my imagination for fun times and profit. For some reason, many of my best friends are so-called "scientists", not creative types, and think of imagination and its abilities as inferior. I think Einstein, Tesla, and Edison are crying in their graves right now, emo about all the people who understand science and scoff at the imagination it takes to use it. :(

3: I have a penchant for silly names. Some of my friends share this penchant, but may rarely admit to it as they think they are too "cool" for such silliness, especially when they are trying to impress women. Well screw them! I would much rather have fun with a lady than try to impress her anyway!

Sometimes, if I'm meeting a group of new people, I'll use different aliases when indroducing myself. I may give a different name to every person I meet. I just like to see how long I can go with it. It may sound weird, but usually when people catch on and you explain the nickname thing to them, they want cool nick-names too, and from then on you have to refer to them as Sugarshack, Sweet-tart, Mustang Sally, Spanish Tony, Trippy Rangoon, Ricky Mambo or the like.

2: Some social anxiety when I was a child has led me to be particularly self-conscious on the subject of clothing. I have a closet full of the same kinds of clothes, so it looks like I'm always wearing the same thing. I read somewhere that Einstein did the same thing; always wore the same kinds of clothes. I'm no Einstein, but I don't think jeans and a plain black T has gone out of style much in the past 60 years. Besides, I think I'm a bit rockabilly deep down.

I like to make my own T-shirt logos, and I often tag my jeans with literature and artwork. I did not invent this, nor did the people I got the idea from...its just rock and roll. Some "average" people try to make fun of thid around the ladies. I could give a fuck. I just make sure to point out the band, sports, or surf company T-shirt or hat they're wearing (or even their tatoos), and why anyone wears labels on their clothes as it is - is to represent or show support of something. Well, I guess my pants represent me, my thoughts, my ideals. I imagine more people will be doing that in the future...except they'll buy them that way, as we are a pre-customized culture these days.

I would prefer we all go back to togas or 30-ish style 3-piece suits, fedoras, and tuxedos, as I am a fan. In this climate and culture that is considered very odd, and a little warm, so I can't look as respectable as I would often like. Togas anyone?

1: I have a strong attraction to women with short hair. I would call this a fetish, except that fetish as I understand it is a condition which becomes a need that you must fulfill in order to truly enjoy being intimate with someone. Since this is not a need for me, I dont think it is a fetish, simply a preference. I'm not sure why. Anyway, the odds of me liking a woman increase if she has short hair.

Once again, I am organizing and hosting a charity art show / auction for the V-Day organization's annual fundraiser at 6:00 PM on March 1st in Jones Auditorium. Last year I was able to showcase 25 works of art from both local and national submissions in a gorgeous hanging show, and earn over $350 for the local Women's Center. So this year, I'm hoping to out-do that. Here's some updated info about the project:

The TAMUK Student Government Association, in co-operation with the TAMUK Student Activities department, will be sponsoring an art show / auction, featuring works from local and national artists, dedicated to women,  as a part of the international V-Day celebration and Women's History Month.

What is V-Day?

V-Day is a global movement to stop violence against women and girls, founded by V-Day founder and artistic director Eve Ensler, author of the award–winning play "The Vagina Monologues." Through its fundraising benefits and awareness programs, V-day has raised over $30 million and educated millions about the issue of violence against women and the efforts to end it; crafted international educational, media and PSA campaigns; re-opened women's shelters; funded safe-houses in Kenya, South Dakota, Egypt, and Iraq, and over 5000 community-based anti-violence programs. Each year, V-Day promotes a series of innovative productions, events, and initiatives that are identified collectively as V-Day. The 'V' in V-Day stands for Victory, Valentine, and Vagina. For more information, visit www.vday.org.

The art show / auction will begin at 6:00 PM in the Jones Auditorium lobby on the TAMUK campus, next to the Little Theater, on March 1st, and be followed by a performance of the Middle-Eastern Dance Club at 7:15 PM, and the opening performance of Eve Ensler's award-winning play "The Vagina Monologues" in Jones Auditorium at 7:30 PM.

Artists and performers will be on-hand to discuss their work during the silent pen auction over refreshments. All proceeds from the auction will go to the Women's Enrichment Program, and the world V-Day trust.

Donation Guidelines:

I am currently seeking artists who are interested in donating work(s) to the auction.

Subject matter should be limited to women, women-related issues, and women's roles in history, modern, and future society. The message of V-day is predominantly positive. Therefore, (while censorship is not an issue with this show, due to its explicit, and often erotic nature) works that display an overly pornographic or demeaning attitude towards women will most likely not be accepted.

Donations can be original paintings, prints, drawings, photographs, or sculpture in any medium. Artists may donate up to a maximum of 3 pieces each. Starting bids will be based on the work's size and medium.

Minimum / maximum size: 8"x10" – 24"x36"

Maximum size / weight (sculpture): 3'x6' / 30 lbs.

All donations must be framed or matted for display.

Neat-edge stretch canvases do not require frames for display.

All donations must be dry and ready for transport.

"Anonymous" art donations will not be accepted.

All donations must have the title, original medium, and size displayed on the back of each work. Non-purchased works will be returned to the artist. Works must be recieved no later than 3:00 PM on Wednesday, February 28th.

All artists should include (not mandatory, but recommended): a one-page (maximum) artist's statement, discussing their work and how it relates to the subject matter of the show, and a photograph headshot of the artist to be displayed near the work.

Artists are not required to, but encouraged to attend the show.

Someone brought up the subject of epitaphs recently, which got me thinking about my own funeral, and what kind of arrangements I want to make and, most importantly, what my headstone and epitaph will be like.

With my luck, I figure I'll live to be pretty old before I die (considering that's exactly what I don't want to happen), so technology may be somewhat more advanced by then. But, just in case I won't have the opportunity to have my brain cyberneticly merged with a sports car, an interstellar rocket-ship, or an android sex-bot, I've given some thought about my final resting place...or at least the headstone. Unlike modern headstones, I will take advantage of futuristic technology to make mine something truly representative of my standing as one of the awesomest humans in the universe.

To start: the funeral. I will be cremated in full plate armor on a pyre, built by the hands of my many friends, lovers, and enemies. The ashes will be divided into numerous small stainless steel boxes, and then distributed by sightless monks as travel-bugs in local geo-caches. These mini-tombs will travel the world, until finally making their way back to my monument, and placed inside my crypt...which is a classy underground pub with nightly specials...on the wall near the dartboards. Those brave enough to insert my ashes there will recieve a free round on the house!

As for the monument itself (which is the entrance to the pub): I will accept nothing less after my glorious death than a life-size platinum sculpture of a dying angel with a shield, held gently in the arms of a giant, roaring, winged grizzly bear, with a six-string strapped to its back, raising a sword to the sky (the bear, not the angel). The sword will be on fire, with an eternal flame system. The bear may or may not also be a beer fountain, which randomly serves up ice-cold Spaten Optimator, fed to it by an elaborate chilled keg system.

An MP3 player and all-weather speakers will be housed inside the bear's mouth, powered by solar energy collectors in the bear's wings, which will be activated by sonic detectors housed in the bear's ears, to play various songs of my choosing...like Motley Crue's "Home Sweet Home" or Journeys "Dont Stop Believin". The bear will also roar every hour on the hour, utilizing an internal atomic clock for accuracy.

A state of the art display screen will be housed on the surface of the angel's shield, and will be used in concert with the holographic emitters housed in the angel's eyes to display various pre-recorded holographic messages or videos of my choosing. Often, these messages will be activated by an advanced distance retinal scanner (also housed in the angel's eyes) as people enter the pub, and will be personalized. Such messages may include:

"Mike, I'm actually fearing for my life right now."

"1. 2. 3. GO!!!"

"My wallet? Oh no no no...you give me your wallet. I'm mugging YOU!"

or

"So you've come at last to piss on my grave Emo Kids...I expected as much. Here's a Dashboard song for you to circle-jerk each other off to."

The emitters will also be inside the pub, and built into the dartboards, so that I can actually interact with people in the pub on a nightly basis, playing darts and telling jokes, and maybe even starting a fight or two...a high tech ghost of sorts. I may have to start hollographicaly recording my bar-life for re-play.

Two miles below the pub, a three-mile particle accelerator research facility will be on standby, ready to feed a light-speed particle-beam out of the bear's eyes at anyone who attempts to defile my monument, vaporizing their sexual organs instantly.

When the earth finally explodes...the two mile underground rocket-ship section of the headstone will activate, powered by back-up fusion technology, and separate itself from the particle accelerator, launching the monument and the pub into space via an ion-drive system; setting a course for distant stars, where the HD screen on the shield will display my probable epitaph (whatever it may be) for the universe to see.

Its either that, or a bottle of Jackie D set in concrete with a dry-erase board attached to the front. It depends on how much money I've spent on sex-bot R&D over the years.

Ive decided to chronicle the odd, insane, and often hilarious things my kids (at work) do. Hope you enjoy:

1: I find a piece of paper in my attendance clip-board. Its a standard letter-sized piece of printer paper, where one sentence exists at the top of the page, typed out in odd spacing:

I will invent a game helmet that lets you go in the game it will be lots of fun and the only way to get out is to win or die

:o

2: I overhear a little girl (pre-K 4) trying to initiate a game of Babysitter. She says aloud to the other children:

Im the babysitter! Ok, now, who wants to go fishing?

:|

Do babysitters normally take kids fishing?

3: One of my co-workers tells me to ask one of my kids, a boy, age 5, where he learned his songs. I walk over to him and ask him to sing. He sings a song about God I've never heard before (not that I know that many songs about God, unfortunately). I ask him where he learned the song, and he says: "The Bathroom". It didn't strike me as too odd...maybe his parents sing to him in the bath...

The same kid keeps disappearing for long periods of time whenever he has to use the restroom throught the semester. One day, after he's been gone for ten minutes, I walk over to the bathroom to see what he's up to.

I hear singing as I approach. He can't see me...but through the large mirror on the wall, I can see him dancing around buck-naked, singing out loud, his clothes in a pile on the floor.

:O

Apparently God teaches him songs in the bathroom as he worships in a naked dance. In a low voice, out of site, I say: "(Kids name here), put your pants back on and get back to the playground!" He freezes, says "Ok!" and starts putting his clothes back on.

4: Since it's been brought up...one of my fifth graders wanted to practice her pitching for softball. I said "sure" like a dumbass and grabbed a mit and went to be catcher by a fence. I figured she would step back because we were way too close to one another. I blinked...and in that instance WHAM, a softball hits me straight in the face without warning, half on my nose and half on my eye!

I manage to hold my ground and not yell out something like: "FUCK"...though I'm not sure how, as that shit hurt! I was stunned a bit and it stung for like half an hour! This is primarily why I didn't join the intramural softball team when I was asked. But at least I know I can take one in the face full force and handle it. Kids got a good arm though :P

5: One of my kids (a boy, age 5) come up to me and hands me a small round, brown ball, of some irregular shape. He says to me: "Here, hold my nut", and walks off.

I drop it instictively...

By the time he comes back I've realized it's some kind of nut from a tree that I cannot recognize. I hand it back to him, then tell him to go show Miss Michele his "nut". :P

6: Kids fists are crotch-height. This is called "on the job hazard". One of my girls (age 5) is holding a bracelet while trying to play kick-ball. I tell her to put it in her pocket, but she keeps setting it on one of the swings. I know it's going to get lost so I pick it up and tell her she needs to put it in her pocket. She grabs it and sets it back on the swing. Again, I pick it up and tell her she needs to put it in her pocket. She grabs it again and sets it on the swing.

I pick it up...but it's three strikes and I'm out! She whirls and punches me full force in home plate!

A time out was, of course, in order.

I keep reminding myself to wear a cup to work.

More to come soon.

I'm exhausted. It's 7:30 in the AM, and I've just had a very horrible and confusing night. To sum it up in one juicy sentence: I was just kicked out of the Austin Motel by an insane woman from New York City named Meridith, whom I met on Myspace over a year ago. I can't sleep and feel the need to record all of this for future generations...as a warning, a warning of how not to let things go down when meeting someone from a website like Myspace.

A year or so ago I randomly met a woman named Meredith on Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/strawbgirl). We had some things in common, and had interestingly different points of view on many topics, me being from small town Texas, her being from big city New York, so we corresponded often, becoming friends. She eventually gave me her number and we started talking over the phone for the better part of the last year. Meridith and I had discussed travel to each others' states eventually, myself always wanting to see New York, her always being curious about Texas. We both saw the advantages of having a friend in the places we would like to someday travel to.

Mer was recently laid off from her job at MTV, and was given a decent severance package that allowed her the opportunity to take some time off so she decided to travel to Austin via a new low-rate airline offer. The news was a bit of a shock to me, being rather sudden (and of course, if I lived in NY and got laid off, I'd prolly be out looking for a new job instead of jet-setting), but I was excited about finally getting the chance to hang out with her, so I told her I would take time off from work and show her around.

Now, let me stop you rumor-mongers over at People Magazine and the Inquirer right here...Mer and I were always just platonic friends. At least I thought we were. This is not a story about sexual shenanigans or some Myspace hookup. Never at any time, other than our initial hug at the airport, did I make any physical contact with her. Its not that she wasn't an attractive woman, it's just that I knew fairly early on that she and I were not compatible as anything more than friends, and therefore did not entertain those kinds of feelings about her. Plus, she has cooties I don't want. So sorry folks, not that kind of story...but it's so sad and juicy you'll want to keep reading!

Two days ago, I came up to Austin to finally meet my friend Meridith.

Mer's original plan was to spend an entire week in Austin (7 days), and to have me stay with her and play tourist. I was concerned about taking an entire week off from work, and from past experience, I knew that spending an entire week with someone day in and day out, can lead to arguments when people get on each other's nerves, even friends. Before she finalized the trip I expressed my concern to her about this happening (a valid concern I think), and that we might want to shorten the trip by a few days.

At this, she became furious, threatening to cancel the trip all together and proclaiming: "I can't believe you would think so negatively, how could you even think that?".

It's true, I am considered by some a pessimist although I am truly a realist, and reality is a harsh mistress sometimes...not the cute and fuzzy bunny that fantasy is. Mer's reaction, ironically enough, was proof as to why I could think we might get on each other's nerves.

While there are many likeable things about Mer, the fact is she is overly stubborn, and always has a need to be "right". We had had disagreements over the phone before, and although I apologized to her many a time, even when I was not wrong, I never once received an apology from her in any aspect. Basically, when it came to arguments, I knew I didn't stand a chance, and rather accepted it, but didn't like it.

Our age differences, me at 28, her at 36, were also a concern, realizing how poorly she regarded people younger than herself.  So in our phone conversations, I always held back on my thoughts and feelings regarding certain matters, including when she would (either intentionally or unintentionally) hurt my feelings and belittle my opinions based on either my age or my geographical location. This was odd to me, considering that her advice had always been to stand up for myself to others and to stand behind my opinions.

Wednesday night, she mentioned she was suffering from PMS. I was more than worried, remembering how Mer explained to me on multiple occasions that she goes through wild mood swings during that pre-menstrual phase, but joked about our previous disagreements and how this might (in a comedic way) elevate them. I think I remember actually stopping in my tracks at that point...for just a moment. While I don't attribute PMS to most women's daily emotional states, I do believe that the incident(s) I am about to describe were brought on or at least elevated in part by this.

I traveled by bus to Austin (my vehicle being unreliable for the trip at the time), which was about an 8 hour trip and not enjoyable. I arranged my arrival time so that I could greet her at the airport. So I ended up spending about two hours sitting around the terminal waiting for her to arrive, and of course the problems started right off. Mostly, I was treated like an afterthought from the moment she steped off the plane, and continued to be treated that way the whole time I was with her. She was in tourist mode, and really didn't seem to care that I was there, except when she would tell me to do something. I felt like I was around just to be a tour guide or someone to carry her luggage. She never asked me anything about my life or my feelings...in fact, we didn't seem to have any deep conversations at all, which is odd for me. This bothered me.

Whenever I go to Austin (which is fairly often), I usually stay with my friends up there, who live in a house with comfortable sleeping arrangements. So when Mer asked me to meet her in Austin, I made arrangements to stay at my friends' place. However, Mer suggested that I stay with her at the Austin Motel, so for the convenience of daily travel, I accepted, and brought along an inflatable matress for the floor. But I discovered that staying in a room she was paying for, at her request, just ended up to be (in her mind) me not pulling my weight, and that somehow she was doing me a favor.

We ended up having diner at a nearby restaurant and just walking around the area, and things went ok for awhile.

The first night staying at the motel (Thursday), was a little awkward. Nice motel, but the room was quite small.  I normally take my showers in the morning, but I knew she wanted to get going around town early, so I decided to assist that plan by showering at night.

The motel had a bathroom divided, with a sink and mirror outside, in the room, and a toilet and bathtub/shower in another room, separated by a door. Knowing full well what it's like to share a bathroom with someone, I offered the toilet and shower to the lady first. She told me she took very short showers in the morning, and that I could go ahead and shower. I did so, remaining in the bathroom for about 15-20 minutes, during which time (after starting the water right after entering to warm up) I used the restroom, disrobed, bathed, prayed (by pray I more so mean meditate...I am a water person and feel most at peace in the shower, as it is the one place I have in my life that is usually private. I'm not an overly religious person, but I am a spiritual person, and like to take time to reflect on my day. Besides, it could be worse and I could have been one of those people that masturbates in the shower instead), dried off, then put on my pajamas.

When I exited the shower, Mer started coming down on me. She told me I was "wasteful and frivolous", taking such a long shower, and that "a shower should only take 5 minutes". Mer may not yell as in the sense of being loud, but she does attack you outright, hiding behind her "tell it like it is" facade to hide what I suspect is her true control freak nature. It was clear she was agitated, and claimed that she couldnt sleep because of the noise of the running water. However, she had not even made herself ready for bed yet, and entered the bathroom for 5 minutes after I exited, changed, and then took another 7 minutes to prepare for bed in the main room, then watched Iron Chef for another 10 minutes (she claimed she timed me, so I started timing her too for reference).

She claimed that by taking more than five minutes in the shower, I was "being selfish", and that while I was a guest in the room that she was paying for, she had the right to tell me what to do. I thought to myself: why didn't she just go into the bathroom first, then she would have been able to do all these other things while I was in the shower, and I would have turned off the "noisy" water before her head even hit the pillow. It seemed as if she let me go first to test me and time me, just to belittle me if I didn't match up with her ideal of a bathroom schedule. Telling me what to do as if you're my boss, then belittling a common 15 minutes shower practice that many people all over the world share, is a sure fire way to make me not get along with you. I swallowed my own tongue, knowing I was a guest and should be polite, and went to sleep, basically ready to see how things went the next day.

I knew I was going to be sleeping on the floor in the motel, I had bought an inflatable bed for the occasion. One thing I didn't know about Mer though: she cannot fall asleep with any, and I mean any, kind of noise. I find this very odd for a New Yorker. Furthermore, the temperature in Austin has been 45 degrees at night lately, and the room did not have central heating or cooling, just a wall unit. I was not allowed to turn on the heat because it "made too much noise". So here I am sleeping on a tile floor at 45 degrees trying not to complain, trying not to make noise and feeling pretty damn lousy about taking so long in the shower when my plastic-bottomed mattress starts to make clicking noises on the overly-mopped tile floor every time I move!

She had started to dose as I lay on my back, reading a book. But I sleep on my stomach, so when I tried to roll over and get comfortable, the bed made noise that I was aware was upsetting her. So it took me over half an hour to try and quietly roll into a comfortable sleeping position. When she got up to get a pair of earplugs, I apologized and took my sheet, and placed it around the bed to prevent it from making any more noise. I was left only with a small fleece I had brought, on the floor, in a room without the heater on, in 45 degree weather. I did not sleep much that night.

The next morning she was surprisingly cordial, and we had a decent day together (or so I thought), exploring Austin's downtown shops and cuisine. A number of things about her attitude got on my nerves, like the fact that she would complain about tourists in NY, yet act like one here; that anything I wanted to do or suggested was more or less shot down, even though I knew the city; and that she seemed to belittle every opinion I had if it didn't coincide with her beliefs. I focused on just having fun and made it through the day.

That night (Friday), we went downtown with one of my friends, and had some drinks. She and my friend seemed to hit it off well, which made me more relaxed. However, they had started excluding me from the conversation, which made me feel awkward, so I started mingling with other people, introducing myself to a young woman [Cam] who had sat next to me at our table. She was also from another state, and I engaged her in a conversation on the topic of the generic differences between people from different regions of the country, which she [Cam] responded very positively to.

But as soon as Cam left the pub, Mer started yelling at me again. She claimed I said that "All New Yorker's are rude, loud people." I apologized, as the statement I made was more like "I think about the impression a lot of Texans have about New Yorkers, that they are rude, loud people...and now that I know Mer here [pointing to her], I realize that is not true."

But of course Mer heard what she wanted to hear, and I imagine was looking for some reason to fight with me. It seemed like she just wanted to be angry with me, and that's the way it was going to be. I was tired from playing tourist all day, I was tired of being bullied and belittled, so I decided that if I [in her mind] couldn't say anything nice, I wouldn't say anything at all, and shut my mouth for the rest of the night out.

When my friend dropped us off at the motel, he took me aside and asked me if I wanted to stay at his place, since he realized I wasn't conversing with Meridith much. Mer supposedly told him she felt "awkward", because I was quiet and somewhat sullen. Mer didn't seem to want me to sleep elsewhere but the motel, and didn't make any suggestions otherwise. Besides, I know from experience that if you have a fight with a friend, and then ignore that friend, things never seem to repair themselves. So I decided it was best to stay the night and see if things would be better in the morning.

Mer and I got ready for bed...I took a five minute shower this time so she wouldn't complain, then ditched my inflate-a-bed and made a new one out of two large chair cushions which didn't make noise, so I could use my sheet to keep warm. It was comfortable enough. Exhausted, I feel asleep quickly.

I awoke about 6:30 in the AM, suddenly (having gone to bed at around 3:30), to Mer hovering above me, pushing on my back with her hands, startling the hell out of me. After the breakfast and the shower and all the water I drank, any alcohol in my system was gone, but I was still groggy from sleep and jerked my head up in surprise, disoriented. She said she couldn't take it anymore, I had been snoring and she couldn't sleep.

Maybe I was exhausted from little sleep the previous night, and getting up at 9:30 that day and spending the entire day walking around the city, and i tend to snore if I'm really exhausted, but that's not uncommon for most men. I sat up wearily and apologized (letting my normal passive and polite mode take over), but Mer walked over to my inflate-a-bed propped up by the door, threw it on the ground next to me, and, streaming profanities, started freaking out about how she was ready to make me sleep in the street. She said, "Oh my gawd, you are pissing me off soooo much right now, and I don't know what to do." She said she had been trying to get to sleep for hours, utilizing headphones, earplugs, TV. All this was so sudden and confusing to me, and she was scaring the crap out of me. I was asleep, minding my own business, and next thing I know some crazy bitch is hitting me on the back and yelling at me.

I gave in, passive as I always am, letting this basically rude person boss me around and tell me how to sleep. Some final straw broke, and I realized guest or no guest, I deserve to be treated with more respect...so in my sleepy haze I took my sheet and put it under my inflate-a-bed to muffle the noise of it on the tile and told her, not quite in a yell but not quite calmly, and definitely in a pissed-off way, "I think this no noise bullshit is really fucking prissy...and I'm sick of it." "A human being can get to sleep in all kinds of difficult conditions if they have to." Somehow the phrase "Are you lying to me?" crossed my lips [regarding my snoring as for some reason I didn't believe her in my sleepy delirium], out of lack of something better to say, because I was half-asleep.

She said something at that point about how it was "her" room, and I would do as she said. I told her she didn't have the right to treat me like that, that I was a guest and she apparently didn't know how to treat a guest. Then I shut up, realizing what I had done by snapping at her, and knew that was not the behavior I wanted to have. I lied down under my little fleece, on my side, and tried to decide if I was going to risk sleeping again, with the possibility of snoring and pissing her off.

I was rather scared because a) I know Mer doesn't like people standing up to her; b) she was in such an erratic state that I really didn't know what she was going to do to me if I didn't keep quiet. Simple matter of it is: I don't know her from Eve, and she constantly displays a very volatile nature (something my friend also picked up on and commented to me about when he met her), so who knows what she is capable of. And in all honesty, I'm taking just as much of a risk sharing a room with a strange woman, as a woman is with a strange man. She could be a complete psycho nut job with a knife for all I know. I lay there on my side, not knowing what to do, exhausted but trying not to sleep, afraid of snoring again. My existence for the next few minutes was fear.

I wanted to sleep, and knew in order to do it I needed to be somewhere else. I was worried that sleeping outside in the 40 degree weather would make me a hobo, and that I would possibly be picked up as a vagrant. I didn't have enough money in my wallet for a cab elsewhere. I didn't want to call my friend to pick me up at 6:30 AM. But something had to be done.

I got up, quietly grabbed the two chair pillows I was sleeping on earlier, got a towel, wiped the tub in the bathroom dry, and made a bed in it, hoping that the door and the walls would shield Mer from any noise I might make to disturb her, and shield me from whatever she might do to me in my sleep. It was actually far more comfortable than my inflate-a-bed, and probably would have been asleep within a matter of minutes.

Soon a shrill voice came through the door, "What are you doing in there?" I told her to open the door so we could actually hear each other talk. When she did, she freaked out. She said "You're crazy, why are you in here, you're an absolute lunatic...I can't even get back to sleep because I'm actually fearing for my life right now...I'm thinking about calling security."

Now I'm thinking: What?! I'm not even in the same room with you! I'm trying to get to sleep! You're the one scaring the hell out of me, lady!

But there it was: "Fearing for my life", a recognizable defensive tactic that crazy women sometimes use...I knew I was in trouble.

Now, I don't buy into the whole "woman is a victim" thing. Women can be just as mean and crazy and violent as men. This is the 21st century, we're equal now, but women (especially crazy women) still remember that in domestic disputes, police still usually take the side of the woman. But I do know this: a person who as actually fearing for their life, doesn't sit there and talk about it, especially not with the person they are "scared" of. It was a bullshit excuse to get me to react and handle the situation for her. I was not about to give her the satisfaction of being the good guy.

Under the circumstances, moving to sleep in the shower was actually the sanest, most logical, and convenient answer to our common problem...I'm thinking to myself. I tried to stay calm and not raise my voice, knowing that I do NOT want to elevate the situation. Especially with a woman who is starting to cry wolf. There was an argument and I removed myself from it in the most logical and convenient way available to us.

The facts: we were both tired, we were both angry about whatever different things rubbed us the wrong way, and she was suffering from wild PMS mood swings, she has a major case of miss priss, and I was no longer going to stand for being treated like an uninvited guest and country bumpkin in a city that I knew well! I was tired of taking her shit, and made the mistake of showing her what it felt like. Now, did I snap at her? You bet your sweet ass I did, and from the sounds of it someone should have done it long ago. All her way, all the time, no compromise, this is why she is single at 36.

Insinuating that I am some crazy aggressive killer just because I'm a male and showed a streak of anger is insulting to the extreme. I may be a lot of things, a pessimist, a social drinker, slightly emo, a flirt, and I may not exclude women as people worth bitching at if they deserve it, but I'm not a woman-beater or rapist! And insinuating that I am just because I stand up to the irate demands of a woman or get pissed off after being treated like a peasant is beyond any adjective that I can imagine.

I had NEVER displayed any aggressive or physically threatening behavior in Mer's direction. In fact, Mer had suggested on several occasions that I was not aggressive enough in my day to day life. Yet there Meridith was, actually TRYING to elevate the situation, trying to pursue and argument. I started to recognize this as a trap, she was angry at me and looking for an excuse to have me removed where it would not be construed as her being rude or mean, but her being justified. She wanted a fight.

I have zero control over snoring; I may even have sleep apnea and not know it. Either way it's a medical condition, one that I warned her of. And for her to give me only 2 choices: don't sleep, or sleep in the street is extremely stupid and selfish. Applying her own logic back at her, it is not my problem that she cannot sleep with snoring. She made the "choice" not to deal with it. Too bad, not my problem.

She started raising her voice about how I was "crazy" and how me calling her liar (about the snoring) hurt her to the point that she just couldn't believe I thought that way about her. "I have never seen this side of you" she said, which is a dumb-ass statement because: a) I have had arguments on the phone with her before in which I've probably said much worse things; and b) she hasn't seen ANY side of me before! I pointed out to her that she was the one that started yelling and threatening me in a very over-dramatic manner, waking me up in the middle of the night.

She started waving her hands around wildly and pulling her hair a bit, yelling something about the chair pillows, saying they were going to get damaged and she was going to get charged for them. At what point does a woman "fearing for her life" give a fuck about chair pillows?! I know drama queen bullshit when I hear it. I decided to put the ball, and all the power, in her court, which was where she wanted it.

"What do you want me to do?" I said. Now, she would have to come out and say what she wants, and would be forced to follow through with being responsible for the next move in our friendship. If this ship was sinking, it wasn't my fault.

(a moment of hesitation) "I think you should leave."

"Fine" I said. THANK GAWD! I got out of the tub, got dressed, returned the pillows to the chair, and started packing my bag and deflating my bed. Mer sat on the bed, going on about how hurt she was. As I was deflating the bed (a process which manually took about 4-7 minutes), I confronted her. Figuring it would be my last chance to stand up to her abuse I (making a great effort to contrast my calmer speech to her raving) informed her I did not appreciate her lack of respect and her overall attitude. I told her I was tired of being bullied emotionally, and that I would have had a right to have her arrested for assault had she called the police (for touching me without my permission). But I'm the guy and she's the girl, so of course I'm always the villain. That's just the nature of the universe...especially to a cop on the night shift.

But I'll reiterate my lessons here for all to understand and judge:

1: Just because you invite someone to share your room with you, doesn't give you power over them. Yes, the room was hers. At any time if she asked me to leave I would have done so (and did). I kept my belongings out of sight and foot, and kept a clean room. I paid zero for the room, and got what I paid for. I slept on a cold tile floor, had no say in temperature control, had no say in how long my own showers were, had no key to a room that housed all my belongings. Paying for a room gives you no right to belittle me, or dictate what position I sleep in on the floor. She was not doing me a favor by asking me to stay with her, when I could have had much better accommodations at my friend's house.

2: If you can't sleep with slightest prospect that someone may make noise during your sleep, don't invite people to stay with you. I had warned Mer that I might snore from time to time. She made the choice to invite me to stay here. As she would say: "it was her choice". My friends and I are still trying to figure out how in the hell a New Yorker, who one minute is bragging about how constant noise is a part of her life, can't deal with any kind of background noise when she sleeps?!

3: The inability to cope with other's habits, quirks, or opinions is probably in direct relation to one's being single at 36, and no doubt has a lot to do with one's dating and friendship practices. (At this point she spouts out, like a person with Tourettes syndrome, something about "well at least I'm not in an unloving relationship!", wherein I knew she was being defensive and illogical seeing as how she has never met my girlfriend, nor has even asked me much about how I feel about my relationship. In that moment, when she violently blurted that out, I knew I was the sane one).

4: Getting upset about being called a "liar" pales in comparison to being called "frivolous, wasteful, selfish, crazy, a lunatic, and threatening". Don't like being called a liar? How do you think it feels to be treated like an assaulter out of the blue? Cause and effect is the first thing you should master an understanding of in this life. You hurt me, I hurt you back. If you don't like people making snap judgments about you, in the future, get your head out of your ass and stop doing it to other people. I was the one who was woken up to yelling, not her. My reaction was just that, a reaction, not an action.

5: One should only dish out what they can take. I reminded her that I thought she was a decent person and that I enjoyed my time with her, which is the truth. Ask around, I put a lot of time and energy into my friends, and she was no exception. She kept saying "Oh, but I'm such a terrible person", sarcastically to me, but these words never crossed my lips. I simply pointed out things I dislike about her, as she did to me constantly.

6: We live in a society that should respect good deeds. Never once had I gotten a "thank you" for anything considerate during our entire friendship. Mer informed me that meeting her at the airport was "my choice" and that showing her around was "my choice" and that I didn't deserve thanks since it was my choice. If I save a burning baby from a building, its my choice...if I bake cookies for the neighbors, its my choice...if I hold the door open for a lady, it's my choice...but in civilized cultures, civilized people say "thank you", and people are still deserving of it.

7: Just because a person is younger, doesn't mean they are a child who doesn't know anything or have any valid life experience. Mer's apparent age prejudice was part of the reason she always belittled my opinions and decisions. Don't believe me? read her online journal, you'll see it there again and again.

8: Never be frivolous with money when you don't have a job. After watching Mer spend over $350 on a single pair of boots, I am no longer impressed that she paid $200 for a round-trip plane ticket and $280 on a 4-night hotel stay on the main strip as a "sacrifice" in meeting me. Currently, I make about 1/5 what she does, and had to spend a pretty penny myself getting up here. But going through all that trouble  was "my choice" I suppose.

As I finally left the room, she over-dramatically locked the door as I closed it, no doubt to "protect herself"...mostly from the truth.

I had to call my friend to come pick me up and went to the lobby. I asked the clerk if I could wait there for my ride. I gave her my name and room number, and asked her to remove me from the guest list as I would not be coming back. I sat down on the couch and waited. Meridith walked in soon after, and with typical pissed-off New Yorker authority, demanded my name be removed from the list as she had "kicked me out" and that I "was to no longer be allowed on the premises", and if I was found on the premises, I should be arrested. This was also textbook insanity, to establish a complaint with the front desk, just in case I did call the police on her. Too bad for Mer, I stole her thunder and took my name off that list myself first. When my friend arrived I thanked the clerk for the stay and apologized for the drama.

Now here I am at my friends' house, sleepless and thinking about how all this makes me question whether or not I am a difficult person to get along with...whether I am accommodating or not.

Working with children often points out to me that people [adults and children alike] can get their feelings hurt over all kinds of things, from losing at tag or even being yelled at by a control freak like Meridith.

But working with children means I had to go through extensive background checks, checks which I passed with flying colors! Where are Meridith's background checks? Not only that, but I'm an official voluntary participant of the V-Day: Stop Violence Against Women campaign. Granted, I've been known to snap at women who've pissed me off, I won't deny that...but everyone gets angry...that doesn't mean I should be made to feel like a rapist or assaulter.

True, I was wrong to call Mer a "lair", and I apologize, although in a technical sense I didn't, I simply asked if she was lying, and then took her answer at face value, showing that I didn't really think she was a liar after all. It was a stupid comment said in the middle of sleepiness and frustration, and it wasn't even that harsh, but she decided to fixate on it and blow it up...definitely not worth the amount of psycho freaking out that she did, but it did hurt her feelings, and I shouldn't have done that. But me saying something she doesn't like to hear, doesn't make me a woman-beater or violent criminal.

She didn't like me being cross with her, but she expects me to allow her to be cross to me. She may be from New York, but if she thinks sleeping in the street is better than sleeping in a padded bathtub, she doesn't know jack about the streets. Through this I have come to my own theories as to what some of the problems were here:

1: Mer hates water. Her father was a scuba instructor, yet Mer cannot swim, and spends as little time as possible in the water. Any time I mentioned any activity with water, like the beach, the pool, the hot-tub, or the shower, Mer reacted negatively. This may contribute to why she thought that me sleeping in the tub was something only an insane person would do. She should investigate this phobia with her therapist.

2: Mer was not judging me as a friend, but as a possible romantic relationship. I find this unfair, as I was not judging her in that regard. I went to Austin to hang out with a friend, not evaluate a possible romance. She may say that her trip to Austin was about getting out for a vacation, but the truth is, when you have a fear of flying, you don't fly from NY to Texas on a whim. It's more like a desperate ploy to see if one of the only guys that pays any attention to her is datable. Well thanks but no thanks; I'm not desperate, if I was interested, I would have offered. I can't see anyone getting as worked up over my small flaws as she did if they were just viewing me as a friend.

I'm sure she's calling everyone she knows back home right now, convincing them that she just barely survived some horrible ordeal. Its more like I barely survived!

In just 2 days, Meridith continually belittled my hobbies, my interests, my work, my opinions on various social issues, and she proved my original concern about us not meshing for the duration of an entire week correct! If there is a lesson she needs to learn, it's that her opinion is just that, an opinion; one of millions. And opinions need more to back them up other than "I say so" or "I'm from NY and you're not". I'm not some country bumpkin and I don't need to snap to with everything in my life for her benefit. Mer gets ticked at the drop of a hat, and I don't have to put up with that miss priss bullshit. Why? Because I'm awesome!

I doubt she'll ever apologize, or even think she was at all to blame. I'm sure her imagination and need to lie to herself about her own failings has blown up all of this in her mind even more so since. Am I still interested in being her friend? I don't think so, not without some major apologies.

Meridith told me Wednesday, "Sometimes, friends fight, it's just what happens." But I don't know if I want to continue to work so hard at being friends with a drama queen / control freak / and hypocrite. I think she's an interesting and fun person sure, cares about animals, has a lot of interesting things to say, but in the end I have to take her advice, and not waste time on people in my life that don't care about my feelings or opinions, that never apologize or say thank you. Plus, I don't know if I ever want to be alone in a room with her again, as her episode creeped me the fuck out.

I would like to say that this incident should be a warning to all Myspacers about just how true it is that you shouldn't meet people online...because that stigma about them being psycho just might be true! But that's not fair to some of the other people on my list who I someday hope to meet. But I do know it's not limited to just one side of the sexual equation and that we need to take care. Maybe friendships over the wire break down in person because there's so much expectation on how well you're going to get along, so much fantasy built up around the reality of a person. Who knows, but I hope we've all learned some lessons here.

This person tried to add me as a friend today:

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=46937459

I'm disgusted and sad about this profile; not just because it's a testament to the ignorant racism that runs rampant amidst the populous of this region, not just because of the uppity attitude of the person who created it, and not just for the poor ignorant bastards who think they are cool by having this "person" on their friends lists, but also because it reminds me of how the popular and often active stereotypes all races, sometimes intentionaly portrayed, still resonate the prejudices many of us have for other races, including myself...

Growing up in the Valley of South Texas, racial conflict has always been in the background of my life. It often finds its way into local politics (we have two chamber of commerce, divided by race, supposedly in order to equally represent the two census "dominating" races of the region), as white and hispanic families bring personal disputes into the political arena, and battle against each other in a torrent of voting, each side struggling to take control.

Here, "Caucasians" started becomming the minorty around the time I was born. So I always heard I was a majority, and history classes taught me that it was my "race" who repeatedly oppressed others, so I thought I deserved the looks I got from other families for being white. But it wasn't true, I wasn't responsible for any of that. I was just a kid.

I wasn't alive to see segregated neighborhoods, or segregated schools and churches, or even workplaces. I do remember there being tensions between the races (Hispanic, White, Black, and a smattering of Vietnamese and Chinese families in my area) as there always have been; whispered words and color-coded groups on the playgrounds. Maybe I was just too young and too innocent to see the problems. All I knew is that I wasn't rich and I wasn't wanting. Whatever I was, I was in the middle, I was neutral. Indeed such times did exist, indeed such lines did exist, and probably always will to some extent.

But I look around now and I see schools with integrated children and adults. I see workplaces that try not to discriminate (whether the law forces them to or not, discrimination being the point of view of the race of the person in charge). I see water fountains and restaurants that aren't color-coded (even though I still get funny looks when I walk into certain Mexican diners). We are making progress. Somehow, I swear we are...

Like many of you, I don't know what it's like to go to another country and try to survive in another culture, keeping my own culture intact, and try to earn a better education on a minimalist budget, as others look apon me with ignorance and hate, anymore than I know what it's like to live in that white picket fence house up north, surrounded by snow in the winter and dandelions in summer, eating meatloaf and mashed potatoes every night before telling mom and dad how swell life is. I simply try not to assume that all the people of a race are indicative of their racial stereotypes. And I still vastly dislike the jocular reaction the "race card" incites in modern society.

"Caucasians" have a bad rap of being the most racist people on the planet. I'm not sure if this is true, or if there even can be a "most racist" group out there. "Caucasians" are actually any combination of a multitude of very different cultures including English, Scottish, Spanish, Australian, Irish, Jewish, German, and Norwegian just to name a few, all which have equally oppressed each other throughout history. Yet we are clumped together as "Caucasian"...whatever that means. My experience has taught me, many races believe that they cannot be racist, becasue they aren't "Caucasian". This is, of course, ridiculous and ignorant. Everyone has the capacity to be racist or prejudice, no matter the color of their skin...and I find that an interesting irony.

I grew up with role models of popular fiction who fought against the tyranny of ignorance and racism, and tried to change the world for the better. I'm not like them, I'm just a guy, and I try to stay out of things and keep my mouth shut. But I shouldn't...it should be my responsibilty to change things, not only dealing with the rest of the world, but starting with my own thoughts. I've had friends and neighbors from almost every race on the planet, and have learned something valuable about their lives and how they live from each of them. I've learned that every race, every culture, has something equally beautiful and terrible to it. In that respect, I've been lucky.

It's not easy to admit to myself that I have prejudices against certain stereotypes, and certain people. Prejudices that have been forged by observation of stereotypes and others' prejudices of my own race. But I have to let go of them. If not for my generation, then for the children I work with, and maybe someday my own. But me doing it alone means nothing if no one else does it with me.

Bottom line: If you get angry when people stereotype you, your culture, and practices based on your race, ethnicity, skin color, or what have you, then I suggest not doing the same...as what goes around, comes around.

Dear girl who drove me home last Thursday night (I think your name was Kelly),

It was awfully kind of you to offer me, a total stranger, a ride home last Thursday night from the Luau. At first, I thought you might have been trying to pick me up…and I must admit I was ready to take a defensive stance when your fiancé showed up, but was surprisingly ok with you offering…but I was pleasantly surprised when you dropped me off at my place without a hitch…like trying to talk me into an awkward threesome with you and said fiancé, or injecting me with some kind of drug, then selling my alcohol-drenched organs on the black market for extravagant profit that I would get none of.

It was refreshing to meet a lovely young lady who has the generous heart to invite an inebriated male stranger, no matter how incredibly sexy, well mannered, dashing, intelligent, witty, sophisticated etc. etc. he may have been, into her automobile alone…and not try to take his organs for money.

Normally, I don’t get into cars with total strangers, but since that cop was already hassling me for just standing outside looking at my watch, I figured I’d go with the more attractive offer of not walking home and getting pulled over by said cop because somebody needs to fill their quota for the night. Plus, you were cute. And if there’s anything I’ve learned about alcohol, it’s that the difficulty of saying “no thanks” to almost anything an attractive woman offers increases in accordance to a complex algebraic equation dealing with blood / alcohol content, time, motion, metabolism, and the perceived threat percentage of having your organs stolen.

And I’ve never been good at math.

What bothers me though…did I do anything that made me seem that drunk? I mean, I’m just standing there minding my own business and both a cop and a pretty girl offer me rides because (I’m assuming) I somehow seemed helplessly drunk and lost! I hadn’t even had that much to drink!

Anyway, thanks for the ride. Congratulations on the engagement. Hope to see you again. You’ve got my digits, if you ever need a favor, I owe you one. :P