As I sit here at my keyboard, it is 12:30 A.M.  I'm bored and I can't sleep.  I guess I'll regale you with my thoughts on this and that going on in the world.

Paul Newman's death sucks but I can't bring myself to get too broken up over it.  I mean no disrespect to the man and wish the best to his family, but by anyone's count he had a good run.  Everyone dies.  We all have an expiration date, and few of us are fortunate enough to have enjoyed the success that he had or be able to spend their life doing what they truly love.  I read one person's comment that they were sad that there would be no more new Paul Newman movies.  No offense, but really...get the fuck over yourself.  I think the issue that gets priority here is that there are kids that have just lost their grandpa.  Screw new movies...you could spend two nights a week watching a different Newman classic and not repeat yourself until next summer.  I never met the man, but I have to believe that he didn't go to meet his maker with many regrets.  I think I'll enjoy a salad tomorrow with Newman's Own Sesame & Ginger Dressing as a tribute.  Good night Cool Hand Luke, and thanks for the good flicks.

My "Obama as Superman" t-shirt continues to garner comments everywhere I go.  Most of them are positive (many even asking where they can buy one...Ultimate Comics with four convenient locations in Durham and Chapel Hill to serve YOU) with a couple of people looking to pick fights.  One such incident was this morning at my daughter's ballet lesson.  Some guy talking to his wife about the debate (which my boy, Obama, OWNED) looked over at me and raised his voice to make sure I could hear, saying, "...but, you know, I don't wear my politics on my shirt."  His wife responded in a loud whisper, "Shhhh!  He heard you!"  This is where being a former pro wrestler comes in really handy and is pretty fun.  I subtly adjusted my posture, swelled up a little bit, put on my "heel" face and waited for him to speak again.  As he started to say "I don't care", I turned and gave him THE GLARE.  If you don't know what THE GLARE is, it is the heel's (a "bad guy" in wrestling) bread and butter.  It's the thing that sells to the audience that you are a legitimate psycho and not just a guy putting on an act.  It is subtle...not over the top.  It is hard to master, and many pros never accomplish this.  It says, "Turn around and walk away.  You're about to have a bad day."  I gave him THE GLARE and calmly said, "Do you mind?  I'm watching my daughter."  His wife responded, "Sorry.  It's a cool shirt."  Funny stuff.

I love AC/DC.  I've loved them since I was 10 years old, listening to them through a pair of shared headphones with my best friend, Fred Long.  We had to listen through the headphones so that his dad, a Methodist minister, wouldn't know that we were listening to "devil music".  They are, in my opinion, the greatest rock band to ever pick up guitars.  Having said that, where the fuck do they get off charging $97.50 a ticket at their age?  Seriously.

Looking back over what I've just written, I've dropped two f-bombs, and haven't bothered to go back and edit them out.  I get cranky when I'm tired.

I'll be the first one to admit that I don't know shit about finance.  One look at my checkbook will tell you that.  I'm not even going to try to give intelligent commentary on our latest apocalypse (being the collapse of Wall Street and subsequent bail-out talks) except to say you know all of us that work paycheck to paycheck and worry about how we're going to pay next month's rent and pray that the kids don't get sick causing us to miss work and have extra doctor's bills and prescriptions?  Welcome to OUR world, bitches.

So, come Thanksgiving I'll either be homeless or solely responsible for an $840 a month apartment.  Knowing my roommate, I won't likely know which until I'm sitting at the table carving the turkey.  Fun.

Soccer season is going well, with our boys off to a 2-0 start.  The other day I worked with the team on speed drills while Coach Kivette worked on skills.  I really appreciate his generosity in giving me time to try my own things during practice, but my aching back and knees are wishing he had said "No."

Well, if you've made it this far, I feel like I should apologize that there's no big finish.  I'm just sort of done and now I'm going to bed.  No, that's not a metaphor for anything else.  Perverts.

My son is at that age where he is starting to worry about what other people think.  He asked me recently, "How do you be 'cool'?"  After mocking his bad grammar until he cried, I pointed out that he basically just asked the captain of the Titanic how to avoid icebergs.  I've never been cool a day in my life...not in the way that he means.  I've never had a "cool" car.  My clothes are always out of style and never hang quite right on me.  I've made an art out of being the most out of fashion guy you can imagine, and at 38 it really doesn't bother me.  Not.  In. The. Least.

But, I remember being a kid looking at my middle and high school years ahead of me and remembering that all the advice that my Mom gave me about being myself and not worrying about being cool, or whether or not girls liked me just sounded like...well...BS.

Here is what I told him...I don't know if he'll listen, but I wish that I had someone sit me down and tell me this when I was ten:

"Relax.  Middle School and High School are going to suck.  You can't do anything about that.  They are going to suck for everyone, not just you.  They are also going to be completely awesome.  Does that sound like a contradiction?  It is, but later on in life, you will look back at this conversation and know exactly what I meant.  You are going to be awkward, but so is everyone else.  You have to stop worrying about being cool.  Worrying about being cool is the surest way to NOT be cool.  You won't have the newest clothes.  You won't have the brand new video game systems, or cell phones, or iPods as soon as they come out.  Your mother and I are never going to be in that income bracket.  You aren't going to be starting quarterback of the football team (that's going to be the son of the coach or one of his buddies), but don't let that stop you from trying out IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT TO DO!  If you want to play guitar (which he does), then do that.  If you want to be on the yearbook staff, or on the chess club, or wash cars for the band to buy new uniforms, do it if that's what makes you happy!  As for friends, the best way to have friends is to be one.  Don't be a sycophant (I had to teach him this word) to the "cool" kids and don't try to impress them.  Hang around with people that make you laugh, help you when you need it, and make you a better person.  The same goes for girls.  Don't live your life around trying to get a girlfriend.  Just be comfortable in your own skin and have fun.  They'll come to you when you're ready.  It'll just happen, and it will be awesome, and then you will break up two weeks later because that is just what teenagers do.  Just have fun and ENJOY these years!"

I basically taught him how to be a nerd.

Which is fine...I've been one my whole life, and it's worked out okay for me.  Don't believe me?  I teach science.  I carry a copy of the periodic table in my wallet.  I read comic books and watch horror movies and Dr. Who.  I get excited when NASA announces they have discovered a new planet that may be capable of sustaining life.  I OWN my nerdom and wear it like a badge of honor, and I dig other nerds (as long as they bathe.)  I LIKE being a nerd.

So, imagine my frustration when two hipsters came into the comic shop on 9th Street and were browsing through the t-shirts, talking about "Nerd Chic".  One girl (a cute, college-age blonde) was talking about how a particular Supergirl shirt would be cute if it were "a little more faded, and she could wear it with, like, a denim jacket".  Being a good customer service rep, I told them if they like Supergirl, they should start picking up the monthly series because a really good new writer was taking over next month.  They looked back at me like I just accused them of voting for McCain.  "Umm, I don't read comic books."  Gee, what a strange assumption for me to make considering they were standing in, you know, a COMIC BOOK SHOP.

By coincidence, a couple of days later, there was a blurb on MSN.com about "Nerd Chic"  (I firmly believe that if Fox News and E! had a baby, it would be MSN.com.)  It basically said that with comic book movies being big business and tech jobs being among the highest paying at entry level, it was suddenly cool to be a nerd.

NO, NO, NO!  You BASTARDS!  You UNBELIEVABLE BASTARDS!  You can't take this away from us!  We nerds have spent our entire lives learning to live without your approval, and now you want to BE us?  Don't be fooled, my geeky friends!  This is not a victory!  We haven't suddenly become accepted, only the trappings of our lifestyle!  Trust me, all that is happening is that the fashionistas are trying to superimpose their social hierarchy onto a system that has reveled for years in not having one.  They haven't suddenly decided that Joss Whedon is god, or that comic books are an effective method of story-telling.  They just think that a Supergirl t-shirt would be "cute if it were a little more faded and you could wear it with, like, a denim jacket".

If anyone needs me, I'm building a barricade in my apartment.  I have high-speed internet, three cases of Diet Mountain Dew, and a DVD box set of "Firefly".  I'm not coming out until its all over.  You're welcome to join me if you can pass the entry test.  Complete the following phrase: "Scruffy-looking __________".

Why are you reading this?  Why should you read this?  These are both valid questions.

Twice before in my life, I have tried my hand at this here blogging thang.  The first time, I wrote a daily blog that served as a writing exercise and a sort of public therapy session.  I commented on anything and everything, and often exposed my readers to the horribly black pit that is my soul.  It was hilarious, but it didn't end well.  I used my blog to air dirty laundry and ended up hurting a friend.  The friendship has since been repaired, but it left a bad taste in my mouth.  I realized that it is not always appropriate or responsible to publish one's thoughts completely unedited.

The second time I tried blogging, I edited myself too much.  I found that if I couldn't say something at least a little bit controversial, I didn't have much to say.  I reviewed a few movies, talked about some bands I liked, and gave up on blogging after a week.  It was just too sanitized.

So, why am I at it again?  I don't know...maybe I'm just egocentric enough to think that somewhere in the jumbled mess that is my brain I feel like I have something to SAY.  Maybe I'm looking at all of those unfinished writing projects and trying to get the creative juices flowing.  Maybe I'm just bored.

What can you expect out of my blog?  Number one, truth!  Anyone that knows me knows that I have a pathological hatred of lying, embellishing, twisting words, etc.  Thats not to say I'm always RIGHT, but if I'm wrong about something I'll always own up to it.  I also have no personal boundaries, so I hide NOTHING!

Second, you will laugh.  Life is absurd, and I can't help but point that out.  Sometimes my humor can be a little mean-spirited, so wear a cup and take everything I say with a grain of salt.  I'm trying to get better about my language, especially now that my kids are of the age that they can read what Daddy writes, but sometimes a well-placed F-Bomb is exactly the thought you want to express.

Third, I can't promise that I'll do this every day, but I'll try to have something meaningful to say when I do.  No more lame-ass movie reviews (maybe a big summer wrap-up or something) or talking about what cereal I'm currently eating.  I also solemnly swear never to cut and paste some inspirational essay, joke, or list of 10 ways to know you're a southerner that someone else wrote and present it as my own.  If I suck, I'm going to do it with originality!

So, that's it.  I should have my first real blog up in a couple of days.  I haven't decided what I want to talk about yet.  You'll know when I know.  Welcome to my inner world.  It's a little spooky here, but help yourself to some nachos and Diet Mountain Dew.  You will be entertained.