Half drunk, middle of the night, sitting in the only empty area of an otherwise fully loaded trailer.  The metal railing jamming into the middle of my back obviously not having been designed for comfort.  Stand up, relocate.  Lie down on top of some of the furniture.  Prop my feet up.  Much better.

There had been some argument when I decided to get out of the truck and ride with the cargo.  Too uncomfortable, they worried.  Too cold.  Too dangerous.  But I'm a man of action.  A real professional.  I knew in my gut that the open air would be glorious.  Lying there, one hand loosely gripping a cargo strap, the other under the pillow under my head, watching the scenery whip by, it was more than glorious.  It was transcendent. 

Things had been a bit rough up in the cab.  I was sweaty and overly salty.  Talking too loud and taking things the wrong way.  There were four of us squeezed together on the bench seat.  No leg room.  No elbow room.  The heat was turned up for the driver, who was cold.  But the heat was being soaked up by my legs, which were jammed firmly in front of the vents.  She stayed cold and I stayed uncomfortably hot.  Not an ideal situation for a two hour drive.  Especially when it's late and everyone's tired and at least one of us is being goiterous. 

And how did we end up here anyway, on the edge of Appalachia, with a trailer full of furniture?   Why had I been drinking?  Why didn't anyone want to listen to my Poison cassette I had so thoughtfully brought along?  Who were all those people earlier, and what were we saying to each other?  Stories of car crashes and crossbow mishaps and God knows what else.  Is this normal?  If the supervisors hadn't vetoed the idea at the last moment, me, Lunchbox, and the K-man could totally have caught that solid wood computer desk that the dudes upstairs were about to drop down to us from the balcony.  I'm, like, 80% sure of that.

The sun was up when I got home, and I couldn't get to sleep.  Blood pressure is all cranked up to dangerously high levels again for no particular reason.  Well, there are reasons.  Just not particularly interesting ones.  Decided to just stay awake, as I had an appointment with my doctor in the early afternoon anyway.  Had a minor freakout in the waiting room.  So very tired, jittery, heart racing, probably looking every bit a meth-addict.  I'd been cool...been feeling fine, right up until I went into the waiting room.

Dude behind me talking loudly about puking blood, and kids roaming around putting me on edge, and fucking soap operas playing on the TV, turned up loud enough that I can't not hear them.  I look for a magazine to occupy me, but they've apparently gotten rid of everything but Parenting and Arthritis Digest.  Eventually I found a tattered NewsWeek, so I skimmed that and tried to will my hands to stop shaking.  Then, out of nowhere, I have to piss.  Not just piss, but piss NOW.  Fuck, where did that come from.  Try to stand up casually and find a restroom, but I jerk out of my chair abruptly and realize that I am, in fact, freaking out.  Half a second later I realize that Kingsley is standing a few feet in front of me at the reception window, signing in.

Try and make small talk.  Jerky and muttering and awkward.  I excuse myself to the restroom.

Doctor stuff was fairly standard.  I asked about Chantix.  After hearing everyone's opinion, I decided to give it a shot.  Maybe it will work for me.  But, in addition to that, it apparently causes very vivid, disturbing dreams.  And if my dreams can get somehow more vivid and disturbing than they already are, I'd kind of like to see that.  Turns out Chantix is really god damned expensive without insurance, so I won't be having any.  Just as well.  I probably don't need any more chemicals fucking with my head.

Sleepy now.  What was the point?  Ah, yes, the point was that it's been a long day, and a weird day, and ultimately a good day.  Good day.

I know a lot of you have struggled to quit smoking.  Have any of you tried Chantix?  If so, tell me all you can about it please.  Did it help?  Did it make you sick?  What was your experience with it?

Once again, I'm trying to quit smoking.  This is becoming almost as much a habit as the tobacco.  My willpower seems to work just fine, so long as I'm unconscious.  Once I wake up, however, I'm soon consumed by a single-minded, desperate need for a fucking cigarette.  So far I've been handling this by simply going back to bed, but that's only going to work so many times before I end up with bed-sores. 

I've made a deal with myself.  There is some Fallout 3 DLC that I want (if you don't know what that means, ladies, let me assure you that it is very sexy, suave, and non-geeky).  If I can go a full day without a cigarette, I will buy it for myself.  I thought it sounded like a fair deal, but my insatiable id needs something more.

Trust me, I know how my mind works.  I know my chances of success increase exponentially if there is some reward for succeeding.  And, yeah, I know there's that whole "being healthy" and "living longer" aspect, but, really, I'm not so into that.  So, what else you got?  Come on, people, bribe me into living healthy.  And, hey, if it works, you won't have to hear me bitching about trying to quit smoking anymore.  Win-win.

I woke up at 6:30 this morning, which should probably be illegal if it isn't already.  Six thirty is too hard for the recently sleeping to handle.  If it's to be experienced, it should only be done by those who have been up all night, in which case there is at least some warning and it isn't just sprung on you.

Anyway, after a couple hours spent filling my body with caffeine and ephedrine and nicotine, I finally felt awake enough to leave the house.  I called up Kyle, who you may remember from my last blog.  He's maybe the only person I know who is as bored and restless as I am, so it was fairly easy to convince him to ride around with me.

First order of business was to sell my gun.  I've been trying to sell it for a while now, but no one would pay me anything close to what it's worth.  So I decided to essentially give it away, because I'm desperate for cash.  Stopped at a pawn shop to hear their offer, and swiftly moved on.  Next was the gun store.  I told the guy he had offered me $300 for it last week, and that if the offer was still good, I'd take it.  He seemed very suspicious, as though I were lying to him about something, but he gave me my money.  Not cash, but a check, which necessitated a trip to the bank on the far side of town.  Because everything has to be as difficult as it possibly can be.  That's the rule.

Stopped at Walmart and bought some hair product.  I've been told they've made some advances beyond gel, so I'm exploring my options.  As I told Kyle, the best product for my hair would likely be my clippers, but since I'm growing it out (for reasons I no longer remember), I need to do something with it. 

Oh yeah, best line of the day.  We're driving down the street, and pass an attractive girl on the sidewalk.  A second after we drive past her, Kyle says very dryly "I'd do her".  Then a 2 second pause, followed by an equally dry, "And she'd be damned happy about it."  Brilliant.

Kind of decided on the spur of the moment to go to Half-Price Books in Centerville.  I asked you guys for suggestions a few blogs back, but sadly I didn't have a printout of the comments section on me.  I looked around for the names I could remember, but there wasn't much to be found.  I bought a few things that I think I'll probably like.  A Sarah Vowell book, an Upton Sinclair book I've wanted to read for a long time now, a Tom Robbins book, and a book by David Sedaris, who I've always irrationally hated, though I'm told I shouldn't.  So I'll give him a chance. 

It's disgustingly hot outside today.  Fucking horrible.  Between the heat and the waking up early, I'm pretty worn out.  I'd nap, but I hate naps.  They're not nearly as great as people say they are.  I've got several options tonight, so I'm not sure what's up next.  Maybe just stay home and do some reading.  Or maybe go drink a couple Four Lokos and fuck shit up.  I could go either way.

I got invited to hang out with some people at a bar in Dayton last night, and since I was restless and half stir-crazy, I was glad to take them up on it.  It was a long(ish) drive, so I enlisted Kyle to come along and keep me company.  I was thinking I probably had a bench warrant out on me, as I never paid that ticket I got a while back and it was overdue, so I kind of thought I might get arrested.  Which would have kind of sucked, but also would have given me something halfway interesting to talk about.  Somehow we made it to Dayton and back without being pulled over, so I still have no jail-cred.  Just as well.

I met some really cool people, and some kinda cool people, and some people who weren't very cool at all.  As soon as we pulled in the parking lot, Kyle and I sat on the tailgate of the truck so I could sip the Joose I brought with me.  Kyle said it was a bad idea, but I figured no one would care.  It took about 30 seconds of sitting there before some squat little fascist of a woman came out and started giving us shit.  Apparently drinking in the parking lot is "illegal" and we "aren't allowed" to do it.  Whatever, lady. 

I was accused of being a stalker at one point, but that's nothing unusual.  If nothing else, I'm far too lazy to stalk anyone, but that doesn't matter.  I just have one of those faces, I think.  A stalker face.  The bartender was giving me a lot of fucking sass about it.  Apparently someone had told her I was stalking my friend Crystal (the one who invited me there and told me how to find the place...).  In the end, we got it sorted out, and she apologized, and also claimed that litigious isn't a word.  She was wrong about that as well.  Anyway, I never did find out who was telling the lies about me stalking Crystal...my guess is it was someone who was way jealous of the way I can tie a cherry-stem into a knot with my tongue. 

Kyle and I were the last to leave the bar, and neither of us feeling quite up to driving quite yet, we went for a walk, and ended up in the playground area back behind some school.  We took turns talking to D on the phone, and for the most part we all had a good time, with a few exceptions.  One, I started running low on smokes, which was bad news as I spent all my money buying drinks for the K-man.  Also, I decided to climb up on this chain which was suspended between two posts...I think I was going to walk it like a tightrope.  Once I got myself up there, I remembered I don't have what it takes to walk across a loosely hanging length of damp chain in the darkness while mildly intoxicated.  I further realized that I was unable to get myself back off the chain without injuring myself.  My buddy eventually came along and helped me down, although he took his sweet god damn time about it. 

The drive back was pretty uneventful, except for when Kyle decided to whip around a slow moving garbage truck at high speed at the precise moment that truck was beginning to make a left-hand turn.  I screamed a little bit, and we missed the collision by a couple of inches.  But, that shit happens, and there's no need to dwell on it, so we didn't.

When I got back home, I decided to drop my mom's truck off to her, and then walk back home.  The road I live on is a nice road to stroll down.  It's all peaceful and tranquil and shit.  The sun was coming up, and there was fog hanging low in the distance.  It was nice.  I took some pictures, which I will stick here at the bottom for you to look at.  They were taken with a cell phone, so the quality kind of sucks, and a lot of them didn't turn out at all.  But, you know.























I only passed a few cars on my walk, since it was so early, and it's not a busy road at any time.  The people I passed looked like they might be uneasy about a strung-out looking guy trudging down the road taking pictures of things with his pink cell phone.  I think it's good for them though.  Give them something to think about, maybe.

I had to go to court this morning.  I wasn't in any trouble; I was only there as a witness over that whole thing a while back where my friends and I got shot at.  So, I went to bed early tonight.  And woke up early today.  Even took a combination of drugs to make sure I'd be prepared for some public speaking (12.5mgs of ephedrine to make me alert, and .5mgs of Klonopin to keep me from freaking out). 

Turned out to be a total waste of time.  It was only a pre-trial, so none of us really knew why we'd been subpoenaed to begin with.  Turns out the prosecutors didn't know why we were there either.  After sitting around the waiting area for a few hours, we were told we could leave.  We'd had a bit of fun for a while, talking to some cute 18 year old girl with braces.  She was up on shoplifting charges for the second time this year, and was convinced she was going to jail.  Tried easing her mind with a little gallows humor and friendly conversation, but she eventually walked off after insinuating we were a bunch of weirdos.  Soon after that the boredom began to settle in, so we were all relieved at being sent home.

A little bit later I went to the gun store to try and sell my rifle.  It's a really nice gun, easily worth six or seven hundred dollars.  But the clerks said hunting rifles weren't selling anymore.  The people around here only want handguns and assault rifles.  They offered me $300 for it, but I turned that down.  If I can't find anyone else to buy it soon, I may go back and take the money.  I have places to go, and I need some traveling money (more on that in a later blog). 

Tonight I may drive to Columbus for some laser tag.  I've been invited and I've never played.  It sounds like fun.  I'll have to be sure to read their policies on pistol-whipping the enemy, so that there are no misunderstandings later. 

I finally got around to checking out the new library in town.  I'm glad we have a library now, so don't take my criticisms of it as complaints.  It's very tiny.  One room, with the space poorly utilized.  The selection of books is depressing.  Almost all garbage, with very little of literary value to be found.  As I browsed to few shelves, somewhat haphazardly organized, I saw books by Dr. Phil and Montel Williams, but couldn't find any Hunter Thompson or Sarah Vowell.  There was plenty of Tom Clancy and Stephen King and Nora Roberts, but no Bukowski or Eggers or even Paluhniuk.  There was a small biography section...I searched it for The Missionary Position by Chris Hitchens - which I really want to read - but, unsurprisingly, it was not to be found.  Given the limited amount of space, the selection on hand is probably just about perfect for my hometown. 

There were a few things of interest that I came across.  A few Mark Twain hardcovers that I'll probably check out in the near future.  A two volume set called Nazism that looks like it might be interesting.  Some assorted things I've never heard of that have the potential to not be terrible.  I ended up leaving with a copy of Appaloosa.  I enjoyed the film, so I'm taking a chance on the book, on the off chance that it's brilliant.  If it's not, well, I've lost nothing.

Anyway, here's what I want from you.  A list of your favorite authors, and your favorite books by them.  The reason I want this is that when I make my list, I expect it will be almost identical to what I would have said, say, five years ago.  I've read plenty of good books in the meantime, but my favorites haven't changed.  I haven't discovered any new authors that have grabbed me and made me want to devour every word they've ever written.  So, give me, say, your five favorite authors, and your two or three favorite books by them.  And maybe you'll turn me onto someone new.  I'll go first.  I can't recommend these authors and these books by them highly enough.

* George Orwell - 1984, Down and Out in Paris and London, Burmese Days

* Dave Eggers - How We Are Hungry, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, You Shall Know Our Velocity!

* Hunter Thompson - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hell's Angels, The Rum Diary

* Neil Gaiman - American Gods, Neverwhere, Good Omens (with Terry Pratchet)

* Kurt Vonnegut - Cat's Cradle, Slaughterhouse Five, Bluebeard

Okay, your turn.  Go!

I spent the afternoon at a friend's house, being active.  Getting really hot and sweaty and sticky.  One of my friends who was there invited me out to open mic night at a bar in Wilmington.  Even though I looked a mess and probably smelled bad, I figured I'd go check it out since I hadn't been in a while.  So, I go, and it's a good time. 

I was hanging out with my friend Leah for a while - listening to music that's probably a lot better than you'd expect - but not long after I got there, Leah went home.  About half an hour later she calls me and tells me she had been pulled over on the way home and had to take a breathalyzer.  Which she passed.  But she said to be careful driving home.  I knew right then that I was going to be pulled over when I left.  I could feel it.  I'm both intuitive and paranoid, and sometimes those two things get a bit muddled up in my mind.  But I can usually tell the difference.  And my intuition was telling me that I wasn't getting out of Wilmington without a run-in with the police.

I leave the bar at around 1:45 and go out to my mom's truck (which I had borrowed).  I was getting ready to leave when a cop turned onto the street and drove past me.  I sat and waited until he was gone.  And I waited some more, until, sure enough, here he comes around the block again.  And again I wait until he turns off.  After a couple more minutes of making sure the coast was clear, I start driving, taking some side-streets, trying to keep a low profile.

At the second stop sign that I come to, I make a left, and a cop coming from the other direction turns and follows me.  Brilliant.  So I drive thirty miles an hour (on cruise-control), and put all my effort into staying perfectly between the lines (which is always so much easier when you're not being tailed by a cop).  I was driving perfectly.  I was driving as if I was the man who invented driving.  I drove without making the slightest error.  I wasn't going to give him any justification for pulling me over.  I was getting near the edge of town.  I was going to make it.  Then the lights came on.  *sigh*

I pull over.  The cop gets to the window fast.  Normally they make you wait a few minutes, but this guy must have sprinted to my window.  Trying to catch me doing something illegal, maybe.  So, he comes up to the window and shines his light in my eyes and asks me how I'm doing this evening.  He tells me my license plate light is out.  Of course it is.  Of fucking course. 

"Had anything to drink tonight?"
"Yes, one drink, about two hours ago." (Which was true.)
"I ask because your eyes are really bloodshot.  Are you tired or something?  Been up a long time?"  (My eyes are always bloodshot.)
"Yeah, kind of.  I didn't get much sleep last night"  (Also true.)
"I'm going to need you to step out of the car, sir.  And extinguish your cigarette."

I look around the truck for a second, trying to find the ashtray.  There doesn't seem to be one.  Then I realize it looks bad that I'm sitting there not getting out, so I tell him I'm looking for the ashtray. 

"I don't usually smoke in here."  (Total fucking lie.  But I'm not looking to get busted for littering.)

I get out of the truck and twist the cigarette between my thumb and finger until the cherry falls off.  Stomp that out with my foot, and toss the cigarette butt inside the truck.  He tells me he's going to have me do some things to make sure I'm safe to drive.  He then starts giving me instructions which he has obviously memorized word for word.  The mechanical manner in which he is speaking strikes me as kind of funny.  I do not laugh.

He tells me to keep my arms at my sides and watch his pen with my eyes, don't move my head, just move my eyes.  So I do as he says, while he shines a flashlight directly into my eyes, and jerks the pen around in quick, irregular motions.  Does anyone ever pass this test?  It seems designed to be failed.  Has there ever been a case where, after doing the pen thing, the cop apologizes and sends you on your way?  Seems doubtful.  On to the next test.

Arms to my sides.  Stand heel to toe.  Wait for his signal, then take nine steps, heel to toe, counting them off as I go.  After the ninth step, pivot, and do the same thing back in the other direction.  Do I understand?  I believe so.  Do I have any questions?  No, I don't think I do. 

The walking test was apparently inconclusive, so it's on to the next test.  This time, raise my foot six inches off the ground (whichever foot I feel most comfortable with), keeping both legs straight at the knees, and keep my foot in that position until he tells me to stop.  And while my foot is in the air, count, one-one thousand, two-one thousand.  I made it to twenty three-one thousand (with a wicked cramp in my leg since the early teens-one thousand) before he's apparently seen enough. 

"Walk to the back of your vehicle, sir, and wait."  I do.

"One drink two hours ago, right?"
"Yeah."

He goes to the cruiser and comes back with a breathalyzer.  After all this pussyfooting around, finally we're going to do what we've both known all along that we were here to do.  The moment of truth.  The climax of our short relationship.  And I wonder what will happen if I fail.  I know, KNOW, that I shouldn't fail.  There shouldn't be any alcohol left in my system.  But what if I'm wrong.  I can't get a DUI.  That would be ruinous on too many levels.  I'd have to go to jail.  Who would I call?  You can't smoke in jail, and I totally need a cigarette.  Maybe I wouldn't call anyone.  Maybe I would just stay in jail until they let me out.  But I have my mom's truck, and she needs to know where it's at and how to get it back.  I stand there silently as the thoughts flood my brain.  I think about refusing to take the test on principle, but that's an automatic DUI, I think, and I feel my odds are better if I just play along.  I just wanted to listen to some music and go home.  God fucking damn it, do we really need to do this?!

"What you do is inhale deeply, then wrap your mouth tightly around the plastic tube and blow into it until I tell you to stop."
"Do you hold it, or do I?"
"I will be holding it."
"Okay".

So, I blow until he says stop.  He walks a few steps away and looks at the results.  He opens the door of the cruiser, and tosses the device inside. 

"Have a safe night."
"Um...okay.  Thanks."  I want to ask what my BAC was, but decide against it.
"You should go home and get some sleep.  Your eyes are hit."
"Yeah, I'll do that."

I take a few steps towards my car, then remember the license-plate light.  The dire emergency that got us into this situation in the first place.

"Hey, I'll let my mom know that that light is out."
"Tell her just to replace the bulb."
"Okay."

And he gets in his car, and I get in mine, and we go our separate ways.  And I drive home, wondering why there are so many tests when the results don't matter.  Either I did fine and he breathalyzed me anyway (meaning the tests don't matter), or I did terribly, but since I passed the breathalyzer my terrible performance on the tests is irrelevant (meaning the tests don't matter). 

I'm pretty sure he wanted to arrest me.  Wanted to "take me downtown".  Turns out I had done nothing wrong and he had just wasted a half hour of my time.  I wasn't in the mood to be indignant.  I just wanted to fucking get home.  I think I should maybe stop driving.  The pigs have it out for me, and one of these days they're gonna find some way to bring the hammer down on me. 

I haven't written anything about religion in a long time.  Anyway, here is an essay by Penn Jillette that I'm sure we can all agree with.  Right? 

Now that Dew has decided to write about movies, and do it better than me, I figured I might as well grace you with a few of my halfhearted movie reviews.  My taste is impeccable, but my writing sucks.  At least you're getting it for free.

Movies I've recently enjoyed (Most of which I've seen before, but ages ago.)

* Beverly Hills Cop - A fantastic action/comedy.  I hadn't seen it in a long time, and I had forgotten how good it is.  There is nothing particularly special about the plot or the film-making in general, but Eddie Murphy's performance is pitch-perfect.  It's almost enough to forgive him for all the dozens of shitty movies he made later.  Almost.



* Bowfinger - Another Eddie Murphy film, this time with Steve Martin and Heather Graham.  I'm not sure how this was critically received when it came out (I don't remember ever hearing much about it), but it was a lot better than I expected.  The plot is silly and ridiculous, but I thought it was quite enjoyable.  It's not a "must-see", but there are worse ways to spend 90 minutes.



* Big Trouble in Little China - This is another movie I hadn't seen since I was young.  It held up better than I expected.  Lots of kung-fu fighting and Kurt Russel being a badass. 



* Stir Crazy - I'd never seen this until last night.  It's a 70s-era comedy with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor.  I can't get enough Gene Wilder, so I was pleased with it.  At its best it's hilarious, and at its worst it is still easy enough to sit through.  Check this one out, if you're into that type of thing.



* The Witches of Eastwick - Fucking brilliant.  When I watched it as a kid, I think it largely went over my head.  It's cleverly-written, slickly-directed, and the acting is great (especially Nicholson).  Also, 80s-era Michelle Pfeiffer is really, really hot.  If you haven't seen this movie, I suggest you put it at the top of your queue. 



* The Ninth Gate - I watched this when it came out and was not a fan of it at all.  I recently got to thinking, though...a Roman Polanski film starring Johnny Depp that's about Satan and books...how could it be as bad as I remembered.  So I watched it again, and this time (in the right frame of mind) I loved it.  It's moody and atmospheric and beautifully shot.  Give it a second chance, if you didn't like it the first time around.  It's actually pretty great.



* Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil - Generally, I either love movies directed by Clint Eastwood (Unforgiven) or absolutely hate them (Mystic River).  I can't say that I "loved" this movie, exactly, but I did very much enjoy it.  John Cusack and Kevin Spacey are both fine actors, and they did a great job here.  If the third act hadn't devolved into a typical courtroom drama, I would rate this film very highly.  As it is, I still recommend you check it out.



Movies I've recently not enjoyed so much

* The Great Outdoors - 80s comedy featuring John Candy and Dan Akroyd.  It wasn't terrible...it just wasn't all that good.  There was more boring than funny, and the funny that was there was kind of weak.  I've seen much worse, but both actors have done much better work.  And the teenage-romance subplot was cringworthy. 

* Aliens - This might seem like heresy to some of you, but I kind of hated this movie.  I used to like it.  But watching it this time the flaws were just too apparent to ignore.  Mostly the feral little girl they find in the colony.  To me she was a Jar-Jar Binks or an Ewok...totally superfluous and serving no purpose but to detract from the action.  There are undoubtedly some cool scenes, but I got too annoyed and turned it off about halfway through.  I'll grant that Ripley was pretty hot in her space-underwear, so there's that, at least.

* Welcome to Mooseport - I expected it would suck and it did.  Turned it off about halfway through.  Not my type of movie.

* My Blue Heaven - Kind of remembered liking this when I was young.  And it has Steve Martin and Rick Moranis, back when that meant something.  But when the opening credits came on I saw it was written by Nora Ephron, and I turned it off immediately.  Nora Ephron can go straight to hell.

* The Ghost and the Darkness - Val Kilmer hunting lions in Africa.  Sounded somewhat promising.  Turned out to be terrible.  Turned it off fairly early on. 

* The People Under the Stairs - I remember seeing a trailer for this when it first came out and thinking it looked scary.  Never got around to watching it until a few days ago.  It was god awful.  Flawed in every way.  At least the first half was.  It was a miracle I managed to wait that long before turning it off.  Seriously, take a pass on this one. 

So, I was sitting at home having a very pleasant afternoon.  Relaxing, watching movies, taking it easy.  But I got a little caffeine in me, and decided I wanted to go out and do something.  I get that idea a lot, and it almost never works out well in the end.

As I've said before, I'm probably the least popular person I know, so my plan to find someone to hang out with on short notice wasn't looking good.  Luckily my friend SD - who openly finds me creepy and weird and somewhat unpleasant to be around - was so bored that she took me up on my offer to go do something. 

My car is out of commission lately, so I've been borrowing my mother's truck when I go out.  But for some reason my brother had her truck, and she had his.  So I borrowed his truck.  Never have liked that fucking truck.

Anyway, I'm driving along, on my way to pick up SD.  And I'm smoking, and texting, and not paying a whole lot of attention to my speed.  It's going great until I pass a fucking cop, who immediately turns on his lights and does one of those dramatic U-turns that cops love to do. 

He tells me I was speeding and that he noticed I wasn't wearing a seatbelt.  (Quick note: I wasn't wearing a seatbelt because in that particular truck, the seatbelts are useless.  They hang loose, providing no protection at all, and actually somewhat hindering my ability to drive a little bit.)  I'm not very charming, but I generally have better luck with cops than I do with, say, women, so I thought I might get away with a stern talking to.

He tells me he's going to let me off with a warning for speeding.  Huzzah!, I think to myself.  I dodged that bullet!  Then he continues, telling me that he's going to give me a citation for the seatbelt violation.  Motherfucker.  A hundred and seven god damn dollars.  I've been so broke for so long that I can barely even fathom that amount of money anymore.  Morale was low as I drove off and continued towards Walmart to pick up Sarah.

Once SD is in the truck, things go pretty well.  We go have a little fire and ride the 4-wheeler and have some drinks and shoot the shit.  It was a perfectly pleasant evening.  I had brough some weenies to cook over the fire, but forgot all about them.  So that part sucks.  But all in all, it was good times.

It gets late, so we pack up and leave.  As soon as we enter Hillsboro we pass a cop, who turns on his lights and does the dramatic U-turn.  God damn it, I think...what have I done now? 

Turns out that my brother's truck has no tail-lights.  We sit there forever while he runs our licenses and stuff.  Then he tells me I can drive on to Wilmington, so long as I keep my flashers on.  I was pretty annoyed at being pulled over twice in one day, but I was glad to get away without a ticket.  We pass probably four more cops in town, but they let us pass without any trouble.

The trip is uneventful until we get almost into Wilmington, where we pass another cop, and see another dramatic U-turn.  Seriously?  Again?  Jesus fuckin' Christ.

Another fifteen minutes or so while my license gets ran again, then the cop comes up and says that the other cop was wrong and it's not cool to be driving around with my flashers on like that.  She says it's okay to drop my friend off and drive back home, but that I'll probably be pulled over again when I get into town.  (It should be noted that my friend was in a hurry to get home, and was not very happy about all the delays.)

Miraculously, I made it home without being pulled over again.  Three times in one day, though.  That's stressful.  I was used to that type of thing when I was 16, but I thought those days were behind me.  The moral I get from all this is that I shouldn't leave my house.  At least not in a borrowed vehicle with electrical problems on Memorial Day weekend. 

* Two-headed quarter trick

* Cutting a deck of cards with one hand

One-handed cut


* Tying a cherry-stem into a knot with my tongue

* Opening and lighting a Zippo in one motion

Zippo


* Kicking a hacky sack many, many times in a row

* Nunchuck skills

With a straight face, even


(Turns out it's harder to do things on camera...trying to stay in the frame was distracting me.  Also, all of these things work better when I'm intoxicated in some way.  Or at least the seem to.)

I may start doing video blogs to go along with the stuff I write.  Just me on camera reading what I just wrote, basically.  A lot of the things I say is meant with a certain tongue-in-cheek humor, which sometimes doesn't seem to come across in text.  How my expressionless face and robotic, deadpan voice will help matters, I couldn't really say.  But you never know.  So, if you start seeing videos embedded at the bottom of my blog, that's probably what it is.  I don't really encourage anyone to watch them, as my previous forays into video-blogging have mostly resulted in comments saying such things as "There's 3 minutes I'll never get back".  Also, I'm not going to get all prettied up just to blog, so if I turn up shirtless or covered in soot or something, don't come crying to me.  You've been warned.

Anyway, I stumbled in the door at about 5:30 this morning.  Which is usually a good sign...generally means I've had a fun night.  Trouble is, I'm too old for this shit.  My body is useless and a traitor and is always whingin' about something.  I told my friends earlier what my blood pressure has been lately, and they suggested I go to the ER.  They were probably overstating things a bit, but the fact remains that I should probably start living a bit healthier.  I mean, if I want to keep living.

I go out and act like I'm in my early 20s.  Which I'm very much not.  I should have gotten this all out of my system years ago, probably.  But, like an idiot, I squandered most of my youth sitting at home reading books and generally behaving myself.  Seemed like a good idea at the time, but in retrospect, I don't recommend it.  Gets you nowhere. 

It's not like I'm all that wild or reckless or anything.  Sure, I occasionally overindulge, but no more than anyone else.  My body is just being a real bitch about it.  It's pretty annoying.  First chance I get, I'm trading this fucking flabby frame of mine in for a shiny new robot body.  Something that spends less time complaining and more time doing as I say.  I'm still in charge here, damn it! 

In other news, I've got this idea in my head.  Probably a bad idea, but it's lodged in my brain, and the thought of it appeals to me.  I'll save the details for another blog, but I'll tell you that it involves going for a walk.  A very long walk.  I'll think on it some more and let you know what I come up with. 

The Good Times are Killing Me


(A few notes about the above video.  Basically it is a test run for what I was talking about up in the first paragraph.  I have a terrible speaking voice, and zero stage presence.  So, that's unfortunate.  However, I DID compose a pretty nifty theme song, so I don't count it as a total loss.  Also, I cut the last paragraph because it seemed frivolous and the A/V was going out of sync.)

I've got some tendinitis.  Pretty painful.  I liken it to kidney stones of the elbow.  It's driving me crazy with its moderate, steady pain.  It's my own fault though.  I bench-pressed too much the other day.  (I won't divulge just how little constitutes "too much".  I'll say that it's over 200, but only barely.) 

I don't really think things through.  I'm usually just like, "Rawrrr, I'm going to do this!".  And it's only later that I think, "Wow, I really should have stretched first and maybe done some warm-ups."  So, yeah, it's my own fault.  So it goes, so it goes.

I found a partner for my tournament this weekend.  I talked to her today to verify if she was "going to be able to make it for sure".  She said yes, unless she had to take her daughter to work.  I'm not certain she quite grasps the concept of "for sure".  I hope she's able to make it.  It will be super lame to show up Saturday and have to say I don't have a partner and so I can't play.  That's just the sort of lameness that is probably expected of me.  So tomorrow night might be a mad scramble to find a partner. 

Got to hang out with my buddy Brock today.  That guy is amazing.  Kind of a prodigy, really.  Sat at the gazebo in New Vienna (the one with the "no loitering" signs) and shot the shit and listened to him rock the fuck out on the guitar.  Definitely a good time, although there was a bumblebee that really had it out for us.  In my younger days, I was accustomed to seeing my friends every day.  But now it's normal to see most of my friends once every year or two.  It's a strange system, but it works better than you might expect. 

The weekend is coming up.  My original plan was to lie in bed and use my arm as little as possible.  But I already have plans all day Saturday and most of Sunday afternoon.  And tentative plans for tomorrow (Friday) night.  For being probably the least popular person I know, my calendar stays surprisingly full. 

Kind of sucks that I can't drive my car right now.  I have to bum a ride, or borrow some wheels from a family member if I want to go anywhere.  My car has expired tags.  And no exhaust.  And fucked up brakes.  And bald tires.  And is leaking transmission fluid.  And is in desperate need of an oil change and tune-up.  It's also for sale.  You should offer me a bunch of money for it.  I'll throw in all the expired condoms in the glove-box for free. 

What else?  Hmm...nothing.  Guess that's it.  I mean, except for all the stuff that's actually on my mind.  But gotta keep the good stuff under my hat.  (I mean that figuratively, but I also mean that I hide all my drugs and money under my hat.  I have several hats, though.  Can you find the right one?  How many hats can you look under before I wake up and lunge wildly at you with the hatchet I keep hidden near my bed?  We will find out soon enough, I'm sure.)

My friend Father Flanigan (who I suspect is not actually a priest) takes some rather nice photos.  She thought my Incredibly Popular Blog would be a good place to display them.  So, here's a taste for your viewing pleasure.

















If you'd like to check out the rest of her portfolio, you can find it here. 

If you have a talent you'd like to see featured in my Incredibly Popular Blog, let me know.  I will, of course, keep the customary 15% of the gate.