Well, I guess it was bound to happen. After Mother's Cookies went belly up last year - and after I devoured several metric tons of animal cookies, believing I'd never eat them again - Kellogg bought them up and put them back on the shelves! Those bastards!!
Oh well. I guess it's just time I become resolved to being fat...
(Side note: You should have seen Vicky zoom in on them at the store. For those who have seen the trailer for UP, it was like that dog: SQUIRREL!)
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The wisdom of the tooth…
This all started because of ice cream. Damn you, ice cream! Damn you to hellllll….
… oh well.
You see, I was getting a twinge in my tooth when I ate ice cream and that had begun to worry me.
… So, I ignored it.
But that didn’t stop the twinge of pain in my tooth. Funny how things work.
Finally, I made the mistake of telling Vicky. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Marriage 2.0, it is “Never tell your spouse what’s on your mind. It’ll only get you into trouble.” No kidding. Things like “Hey, look at that blonde with the big tits. She’s hot.” or “I’m thinking of shaving my head” or “My tooth hurts” – it just never ends well.
So, I told Vicky and right away she over-reacted. “You should see a dentist.”
Crazy talk!
And every time I complained about the pain, Vicky would started talking nuts: “Go to the dentist.” Seriously, the girl needs help.
But I did finally go to the dentist. I was there yesterday. The cleaning went very quickly – I was happy. The x-rays showed nothing more than a cracked, old filling that needed replacing – I was happy. And then, she was poking around the back of my mouth when her metal poker stabbed right through my jaw!!!
Ouch!!
I motioned to her to stop and she said, “Really? That was your wisdom tooth,” as if to say, “Silly boy, wisdom teeth don’t cause pain – not to those stupid enough to still have them at 43 years of age – you know… like you… moron..” And then, as if that was enough, she moved her hands back towards my mouth! No! You don’t get it! I’m in pain here!!
You see, I was one of those “lucky people” whose wisdom teeth grew in straight. Great. Fucking party. Now, at 43, it looks like I’ll need one – maybe two – removed. I’ve got to wait a week for it, too – cause, you know, with something like this you want ANTICIPATION!
But I think there’s a play in there somewhere, just the same…
… oh well.
You see, I was getting a twinge in my tooth when I ate ice cream and that had begun to worry me.
… So, I ignored it.
But that didn’t stop the twinge of pain in my tooth. Funny how things work.
Finally, I made the mistake of telling Vicky. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Marriage 2.0, it is “Never tell your spouse what’s on your mind. It’ll only get you into trouble.” No kidding. Things like “Hey, look at that blonde with the big tits. She’s hot.” or “I’m thinking of shaving my head” or “My tooth hurts” – it just never ends well.
So, I told Vicky and right away she over-reacted. “You should see a dentist.”
Crazy talk!
And every time I complained about the pain, Vicky would started talking nuts: “Go to the dentist.” Seriously, the girl needs help.
But I did finally go to the dentist. I was there yesterday. The cleaning went very quickly – I was happy. The x-rays showed nothing more than a cracked, old filling that needed replacing – I was happy. And then, she was poking around the back of my mouth when her metal poker stabbed right through my jaw!!!
Ouch!!
I motioned to her to stop and she said, “Really? That was your wisdom tooth,” as if to say, “Silly boy, wisdom teeth don’t cause pain – not to those stupid enough to still have them at 43 years of age – you know… like you… moron..” And then, as if that was enough, she moved her hands back towards my mouth! No! You don’t get it! I’m in pain here!!
You see, I was one of those “lucky people” whose wisdom teeth grew in straight. Great. Fucking party. Now, at 43, it looks like I’ll need one – maybe two – removed. I’ve got to wait a week for it, too – cause, you know, with something like this you want ANTICIPATION!
But I think there’s a play in there somewhere, just the same…
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Spinning...
Vicky and I just came back from spin class. She's been thinking of asking me for a while now and, when she did, I took her up on her offer.
Now, despite what you might have heard, spin class does not make you totally gay.
I am not totally gay now that I'd taken spin class.
But for those of you who know my history, you might appreciate that I close enough to being gay that I could probably have a child with my ex-wife now...
Now, despite what you might have heard, spin class does not make you totally gay.
I am not totally gay now that I'd taken spin class.
But for those of you who know my history, you might appreciate that I close enough to being gay that I could probably have a child with my ex-wife now...
Friday, May 22, 2009
Telling someone off…
I finally told someone off today that I’ve been wanting to tell off for over twenty years. I told him he was a rude and insulting prick, and it felt really good. I mean, you’d think it wouldn’t actually feel so good but, sure enough, it felt really good. This is coming from a guy who hates conflict and does everything he can to avoid it. I mean, I’m normally a very level-headed, even-tempered guy who treats everyone with kindness and care – but some people are just rude, insulting pricks, you know? So, after more than twenty years, I finally told him. That’s right.
It still counts if I did it over the phone, right?
It still counts if I did it over the phone, right?
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Writing and Studying and Neither…
So, here I am. Another sleepless night. Suki was scratching, which is her way of saying, “Dude! My eyes are turning yellow!” Vicky didn’t really want me to get up because I think she knew that once up I’d stay up but up I went and out we walked and after Suki peed and we came back… I was up. Again.
But that’s okay. I’ve got a lot to do.
Finals are coming up. Per usual, my philosophy instructor has sprung a surprise on us and I have no idea what she wants in this final. So, my strategy is to just hit as much as I can and hope for the best. So, I’m reviewing all things Nietzsche and trying to drill them into my head, if only for the few hours I’m writing my final exam.
At least, that’s what I should be doing. Because even as I study, something else is going on. I suppose I should have seen it coming and I should be grateful it waited. But the writer inside is waking up again. Like some leviathan, it rises from the depths of my subconscious and won’t be ignored until I write something and maybe even something else. Placated, then, maybe it’ll return to the recesses… and shut the hell up…
Right now, it’s feeding me all kinds of lines for a couple of plays I want to write. I try to be philosophic about it. Although I’ve met little success of late, you never know what’ll happen next or even if a joke might make Vicky laugh, which is worthwhile in itself. Now, I should probably return to a couple of books I’ve been picking at but, honestly, Vicky hasn’t proofed Daughter of a One-Armed Man, yet. I wrote that a couple of years ago and can give her another book when she’s through, so it’s not as though I’m in need for any new material there. (Once she finishes Daughter, I’ll be ready to work on selling that – but it’s the next one, Last Ditch, that’s the real killer. I can’t wait for her to read that!) The bottom line, really, is that no matter what I should do, the writer inside of me wants to write these plays.
I already mentioned one, Sometimes We Find Our Way. I’m intrigued with this character of Jimmie Fatovich. Fatovich just sounds funny to me; I don’t know why. But I have this scene stuck in my head – these things just pop in on their own – where the woman he picks up at a bar tries to analyze him: “And Jimmie – you’re a grown man and you still call yourself Jimmie! You’ve been so dominated by your parents that you can’t escape this childish name, this schoolyard name, this boy’s name. Jimmie!” When, of course, he just likes the name. I’m beginning to see the play as a series of miscommunications, of people not really understanding what the other person is saying, which is something of a metaphor for our relationships. I mean, how do we know we understand another person? We just have to assume it and hope for the best.
The other play is this monumental reach into absurdity I can’t even begin to explain. It’s one of those “You have to see it” things. But it begins with a husband and wife:
Wife: Did you eat all the ice cream?
Husband: Yeah, I needed to check my tooth.
Wife: With the ice cream?
Husband: I think I have a cavity.
Wife: And you did that with –
Husband: My tooth’s been very sensitive so I had some ice cream to test it.
Wife: So, you ate the whole –
Husband: I wanted to be sure!
Mind you, those are probably not final lines. They’re just the ones revolving in my head. The play includes murder, zombies, and the devil… Like I said…
And, in there, I need to study for my final exams. One exam, in my Kinesiology course, is a take-home. LOVE THAT! But I can’t escape Nietzsche… try as I might…
Well, I guess I should head upstairs and try to sleep some more. We’ll see…
But that’s okay. I’ve got a lot to do.
Finals are coming up. Per usual, my philosophy instructor has sprung a surprise on us and I have no idea what she wants in this final. So, my strategy is to just hit as much as I can and hope for the best. So, I’m reviewing all things Nietzsche and trying to drill them into my head, if only for the few hours I’m writing my final exam.
At least, that’s what I should be doing. Because even as I study, something else is going on. I suppose I should have seen it coming and I should be grateful it waited. But the writer inside is waking up again. Like some leviathan, it rises from the depths of my subconscious and won’t be ignored until I write something and maybe even something else. Placated, then, maybe it’ll return to the recesses… and shut the hell up…
Right now, it’s feeding me all kinds of lines for a couple of plays I want to write. I try to be philosophic about it. Although I’ve met little success of late, you never know what’ll happen next or even if a joke might make Vicky laugh, which is worthwhile in itself. Now, I should probably return to a couple of books I’ve been picking at but, honestly, Vicky hasn’t proofed Daughter of a One-Armed Man, yet. I wrote that a couple of years ago and can give her another book when she’s through, so it’s not as though I’m in need for any new material there. (Once she finishes Daughter, I’ll be ready to work on selling that – but it’s the next one, Last Ditch, that’s the real killer. I can’t wait for her to read that!) The bottom line, really, is that no matter what I should do, the writer inside of me wants to write these plays.
I already mentioned one, Sometimes We Find Our Way. I’m intrigued with this character of Jimmie Fatovich. Fatovich just sounds funny to me; I don’t know why. But I have this scene stuck in my head – these things just pop in on their own – where the woman he picks up at a bar tries to analyze him: “And Jimmie – you’re a grown man and you still call yourself Jimmie! You’ve been so dominated by your parents that you can’t escape this childish name, this schoolyard name, this boy’s name. Jimmie!” When, of course, he just likes the name. I’m beginning to see the play as a series of miscommunications, of people not really understanding what the other person is saying, which is something of a metaphor for our relationships. I mean, how do we know we understand another person? We just have to assume it and hope for the best.
The other play is this monumental reach into absurdity I can’t even begin to explain. It’s one of those “You have to see it” things. But it begins with a husband and wife:
Wife: Did you eat all the ice cream?
Husband: Yeah, I needed to check my tooth.
Wife: With the ice cream?
Husband: I think I have a cavity.
Wife: And you did that with –
Husband: My tooth’s been very sensitive so I had some ice cream to test it.
Wife: So, you ate the whole –
Husband: I wanted to be sure!
Mind you, those are probably not final lines. They’re just the ones revolving in my head. The play includes murder, zombies, and the devil… Like I said…
And, in there, I need to study for my final exams. One exam, in my Kinesiology course, is a take-home. LOVE THAT! But I can’t escape Nietzsche… try as I might…
Well, I guess I should head upstairs and try to sleep some more. We’ll see…
Thursday, May 14, 2009
This is how these things work…
Today is the last day of instruction for this semester, meaning that next week I have finals.
Ugh.
The crazy thing about how my mind works, though, is that whenever I really need to focus on something – like, say, finals – I get an idea in my head about something I want to write. Mind you, I haven’t been having the best luck this year… or for a few years… I returned to writing plays because I had more luck with plays that novels. But, damn, so much for that idea.
This time, the idea is a play called Sometimes We Find Our Way, a comedy/drama about a mother and son who have just lost their husband/father. The son had moved back in with his parents to help take care of the dying old man and now feels stuck having to take care of his mother as well. One night, he brings a woman home who intercedes in the pending familial collapse by bringing it on much sooner…
Of course, I can’t write that. I have to study. As a result, it’s all I can think about… of course…
Ugh.
The crazy thing about how my mind works, though, is that whenever I really need to focus on something – like, say, finals – I get an idea in my head about something I want to write. Mind you, I haven’t been having the best luck this year… or for a few years… I returned to writing plays because I had more luck with plays that novels. But, damn, so much for that idea.
This time, the idea is a play called Sometimes We Find Our Way, a comedy/drama about a mother and son who have just lost their husband/father. The son had moved back in with his parents to help take care of the dying old man and now feels stuck having to take care of his mother as well. One night, he brings a woman home who intercedes in the pending familial collapse by bringing it on much sooner…
Of course, I can’t write that. I have to study. As a result, it’s all I can think about… of course…
Monday, May 11, 2009
Been searching…
So, I guess I should catch you up on the job search, huh?
It’s terrible. Absolute hell. Here’s a fact: 4 interviews in 4 months. It’s not just slow out there; it’s the Sahara.
Why is that? Well, there’s a few things going on that contribute to this aside from my lack of a Bachelor’s degree (5 courses remaining after this semester). First, employers seem to want the absolute most for their money. They want marketing writers with years of graphic arts experience or marketing managers with contracting licenses. In other words, conflicting skill sets. I’m sure they understand that most writers who are also graphic artists won’t be that good at either, but I’m also sure the pool they have to draw from is so full they can afford to be choosey. That’s another thing: money. I’ve seen marketing management jobs that pay $12/hour and writing jobs that pay $10. How do they expect people to eat on that or pay their school loans (since they also require bachelors or masters degrees).
The fact is, it’s a buyer’s market and it may be one I need to get out of. The fact is, I may need to find a job outside of marketing if I want to find a job at all. This is infuriating, considering all I went through to compile a marketing resume but it may be the sad truth.
I’ve got two more months of unemployment insurance. Time is running out.
It’s terrible. Absolute hell. Here’s a fact: 4 interviews in 4 months. It’s not just slow out there; it’s the Sahara.
Why is that? Well, there’s a few things going on that contribute to this aside from my lack of a Bachelor’s degree (5 courses remaining after this semester). First, employers seem to want the absolute most for their money. They want marketing writers with years of graphic arts experience or marketing managers with contracting licenses. In other words, conflicting skill sets. I’m sure they understand that most writers who are also graphic artists won’t be that good at either, but I’m also sure the pool they have to draw from is so full they can afford to be choosey. That’s another thing: money. I’ve seen marketing management jobs that pay $12/hour and writing jobs that pay $10. How do they expect people to eat on that or pay their school loans (since they also require bachelors or masters degrees).
The fact is, it’s a buyer’s market and it may be one I need to get out of. The fact is, I may need to find a job outside of marketing if I want to find a job at all. This is infuriating, considering all I went through to compile a marketing resume but it may be the sad truth.
I’ve got two more months of unemployment insurance. Time is running out.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
On tomatoes and the growing of things…
I know. I know. I’ve been horrible about writing. I’m going to try to start making up for that. Honest.
Let’s start with the tomatoes. As you may know, I planted kind of a garden a few months back: three tomato plants, some herbs, and a jalapeno… something. This is a bit of an update.
Jalapeno… I think it’s a bush… could be a tree… Either way, it’s in FAR too small a planter to be any good and may get choked to death (as its roots coil around and around on themselves) before I get a bigger planter to transplant it to. It’s doing well, otherwise…
Herbs… Well, the basil got eaten alive by some bug or something within a week of planting it and the rosemary (which is known as a tough herb to grow anyway) disappeared beneath the tomatoes. I should have known better than to expect them to get sun under tomato bushes.
About them tomatoes… they were doing great. Just great! That is, until the painters came in to paint the exterior of our building and STOMPED ON THEM. One bush got knocked akimbo. The other one, they pretty much broke in two. Vicky was kind enough to try and stake one of them back up but it’s not looking very good to say the least. I’m doubling my feeding schedule, trying to kick-start their growth but I just don’t know.
Not the best news, huh… Sorry. Well, it’s my first year back to gardening and sometimes you just gotta take your lumps, right?
Finals are coming in two weeks but I am going to try to get to at least a bi-weekly schedule shortly thereafter. A job would be nice, too. (Oh right, I should tell you how that’s coming…)
Let’s start with the tomatoes. As you may know, I planted kind of a garden a few months back: three tomato plants, some herbs, and a jalapeno… something. This is a bit of an update.
Jalapeno… I think it’s a bush… could be a tree… Either way, it’s in FAR too small a planter to be any good and may get choked to death (as its roots coil around and around on themselves) before I get a bigger planter to transplant it to. It’s doing well, otherwise…
Herbs… Well, the basil got eaten alive by some bug or something within a week of planting it and the rosemary (which is known as a tough herb to grow anyway) disappeared beneath the tomatoes. I should have known better than to expect them to get sun under tomato bushes.
About them tomatoes… they were doing great. Just great! That is, until the painters came in to paint the exterior of our building and STOMPED ON THEM. One bush got knocked akimbo. The other one, they pretty much broke in two. Vicky was kind enough to try and stake one of them back up but it’s not looking very good to say the least. I’m doubling my feeding schedule, trying to kick-start their growth but I just don’t know.
Not the best news, huh… Sorry. Well, it’s my first year back to gardening and sometimes you just gotta take your lumps, right?
Finals are coming in two weeks but I am going to try to get to at least a bi-weekly schedule shortly thereafter. A job would be nice, too. (Oh right, I should tell you how that’s coming…)
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
FCU: Fact Checkers Unit...
It just does my heart good to know that Bill Murray drinks martinis while watching M*A*S*H...
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