We've got a Problem Here


We know good and god damn well how I feel about Kimberly Kardashian. But today was a day I never thought I'd see, but should have absolutely seen coming. (Yea Deja Vu, all over again.) The last 10 seconds of this truly make me sad. Being a Scorpio and all, it's no surprise her inner bitch turns me off instantly...but still that exterior seemed bulletproof to me. I'm just so sad.


Not even this will cheer me up. =(

Such Is Life


So tonight was one of those nights where I set myself up to fail. I was in my room and I changed into a warmer hoodie than the one I had on. This was bad enough being that it's almost April and it is still sweatshirt weather indoors. But what was i to do, this was a hoodie I had pined over for nearly 3 years and I finally hunkered down and bought it this Winter. I started moving all my Oregon (Pronounced: green and yellow) stuff home sometime my Junior year partly as a shift in my stylistic tastes and partly for posterity. I am less certain I will one day have a nuclear family all my own but still I just don't rock that much Oregon apparel when I don't have to. As i put it on it struck me that this would be the last time I'd wear this beloved hoodie of mine for quite some time because tomorrow the UPS lady is bringing me a Birthday present and I will be able to move this Yellow gem out of rotation for the near future.
Well as luck should have it, tonight was home made Yumm bowl night and as is my custom, I top off the Yumm bowls with a mix of Soy Sauce and Tapatio. The only issue tonight was that of the thrirty or so bottles, flagons, and other vessels present on my kitchen shelf the first one I pulled happened to be the single oldest bottle of Soy sauce I...ANYONE has ever seen. So I plucked this perilous pitcher from its perch and proceeded to pull open it's lid in order to pour it on my dinner...Disaster ensued. Ya'know, if I had been able to make it through just one more meal that hoodie would have gone into the closet in mint condition. Alas the ancient bottle was so old the soy sauce had begun to ferment and pressure had built up. When I lifted the top an explosion occurred instantly. I was sprayed in the face with soy sauce probably older than me and then the realization set in..my bright, incandescent, yellow sweatshirt was splattered with it. Worse things have happened.

The Culprits

Take me away


Travel is what I want to do with my life. I want to go places and see things. Tourism isn’t what I mean either. Just seeing the same things other people can see or will see so that I can impress them when I know about it too, doesn’t seem like fun to me. I want to mention places that no one else has heard of. I love Anthony Bourdain’s show as well as Andrew Zimmern’s, though his not as much. It also may explain my love of space and space travel. The downside to seeing the world is that unless you are quite well off, it is incredibly costly, rather uncomfortable, and potentially dangerous. A good friend of mine wants to climb Everest which is a great example of all three rolled into one. My unique health concerns also preclude me from being nearly as daring as perhaps I once was, but I don’t think it will keep me out of all travel. I mean no more so than any other limiting factor would. One new factoid I just read about however just might make me think twice before I whip out my Passport…Baggage. I have learned to travel light and it seems that the further from civilization you get, the less you actually need to bring. (Material possessions are for westerners.)

I know for a fact that people are stupid. It is intrinsic in us. We have no instinct, we have no skills. Everything humans accomplish is a learned ability. It is why we had to learn to write while other species don’t. Imagine your surgeon trying to do a Liver transplant without ever reading a book, but only “shadowing” another surgeon for a period of time? Actually the more I think about it, the more feasible that seems, but I tell you what..I don’t want to be there first patient. So when I see that there were 25 million pieces of luggage lost for good last year it doesn’t really surprise me. But that breaks down to a total number of 3000 pieces per hour! I have no way of knowing just how many people fly each day but with each state averaging lets say, 3 major airports operating each day, then that means 20 bags/airport get lost each hour. That number small as it may be is still fairly large and you could say that maybe half are due to human ineptitude. So that leaves 1500 bags per hour getting truly lost, stolen, or misdirected by the airlines. This leads me to just one conclusion.

Never check anything of value. Ask DJ’s, they know. DJ A-Trak blogs about his travels often and he makes sure that when he gets on a plane he always carries his most essential items. I also love how the list above does not include employee theft or Plane crashes. If I had to do a break down it would look like this:

- Human Idiocy: 42%

-Airline Mistake: 51%

-Theft after check in (by security): 15%

-Pirates: 13%

The maximum value insurance will cover for a lost bag is $5,000 USD so make sure if you’re carrying around your gold brick collection that you spread it around. Though with gold coming in at right around $1,100/oz and most bars weighing in at 400oz…you may want to find some other way of transporting those things.

It's My Party


I'm in bed. And I have a confession. I'm skipping my meds tonight. They're downstairs. It's cold. This bed is too damn comfortable. Besides I'm out of milk. I understand I am lucky to be here, and to have received the "gift of life" as they all say is a special thing indeed. But I've said all along regimented maintenance care just isn't for me. I'm not ranting because there are those who can't rant, or have much more to rant about. I'm sorry. I promise tomorrow I will do better.

The writer must earn money in order to be able to live and to write, but he must by no means live and write for the purpose of making money.


I just applied for a job as a writer. It was the most excruciating thing ever. I cannot stand when people ask me to show them, "what I've got". I don't got anything but a coke and a smile but I'd like if you'd give me a damn job. It's funny to me in retrospect because in school I used to hate writing to prompts or answering dumb test questions. Yet now, without a prompt I ain't writing didly squat. It just doesn't work like that. I mean I have random half assed ideas all the time for movies that I'll never finish, and a Fiction novel idea I'd love to actually do one day, but this whole affair was about as much fun as an algebra test.


The main reason I'm doing this though is so I can gain some semblance of self sufficiency. See to me, true success comes when I don't have to beg, borrow, or steal my way to life's simple pleasures. If I knew as a kid how much financial freedom would mean to me today, I'd have forgone all those trips to the comic book store and instead asked people to start a trust in my name. I'm sure all my readers can sympathize with the notion that getting control of your own life is hard work. I know a lot of people who have jobs and they all miss school but i don't intend to be in school forever so the quicker I can be in control the closer I am to freedom. The question I have is this...What do you think would happen if someone granted you complete freedom right this minute? Lets say the most you will ever make in your life, just in this world, not in some dream world, would start being given to you right this second. For arguments sake you follow the exact same career path, and you don't change your dating or living habits in ay significant way. So for instance if you were to be a doctor one day, you'd make whatever it is that pays these days, but you still gotta go to med school, you still have to live with the people and interact with the people you'd normally do so with and in the end, be right where you were always meant to be.


This is a rough hypothetical I know. Economics tells us that people always spend based on their means so when you go from eating off the dollar menu to making a million bucks you don't just start buying millions of Double cheeseburgers, you buy what you'd buy if you could afford anything. But the point is this, in my head I constantly think about what my next dollar is for. At some point I get to a spot where all my bills are paid, and even then where all my wants are had. But this being a daydream I of course still have money. I got this idea in part from a story I heard about Antoine Walker. For those that don't know, Antoine played in the NBA and during his time earned over $110 million dollars. This may seem like a lot or a little, but to him it wasn't enough because he is now broke. Not only has he spent more than the $110 million but he is also in debt a few million as well. I'd like to think that if you gave me even 1% of that I could make it through 1 whole year, before it was all gone. But something tells me there is a great chance that it could also be gone in 6 months. And I don't even have an entourage!

So if this writing gig pays off and I start raking it in hand over fist. Just go ahead and remind me I wrote this. I'll bet you a Million bux that I can keep the promise to myself that the money will last 12 months, but if I doesn't last is there a better mistake you could make?

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Green Means Go!


This video is extremely dumb but also extremely funny. At this time of day/night it is blogworthy, lets hope I still feel that way when I wake up.


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Please just shave it.


Well Pregnancy brought at least two good things for Britney.


"I don't care if it's A la, Hundred dollar bill, Im not eating it"


Wait, what do they sell at American Apparel again?


Fun for all ages.

I miss you all the time


I don't like assholes...no really like visible anus' annoy me. But the two I live with make me miss Waffles like the dickens. These two cats I live with now are nothing like her and I truly loathe and detest them. And what makes them the worst is that they have some sense of entitlement to everything. They try to sit on your lap and when you shoo them away they will force themselves on you. I however am not one to be bullied and so after many failed attempts Vince and/or drama always make it a point to stand facing away from you with tail held high, looking for someone else to bother. I'm not so naive as to think they don't know I'm now getting a full view of their butt hole. In the cat version of flipping the bird it's passive aggressive and somewhat bitchy. Just like every other trait they have.

I don't hate cats, but these two really make me understand why most people do. I also can't get with the shedding. I remember having a day dream about people shedding the same way snakes do; Head to toe, and only once a month or so. This is more to do with the fact I hate the way I feel after I exfoliate, but before i use lotion but it should be a universal truth that if you shed you have to do it all at once and in an easy to clean method. Snakes>Cats

I'm going to have stop this fairly random diatribe and move on to something a bit more...Fascinating.

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The less I say, the more they Like me


I was at the gym today playing basketball. It's been a long time since I've said those words. I could do an entire post on the emotions I feel when people ask me if I do indeed play, "the basketball", as one guy put it while I was at the local Costco a few weeks back. But no. Not here, not now. Rather what I found interesting was my demeanor while sitting on the couch catching up on 'Parks and Rec'.

In my lukewarm, semi sleepy, achy muscle, state of mind, I felt like I was at some sort of equilibrium. I don't know how to describe it but basically I could just tell I was at just the right amount of awake to be both mentally sharp, but not overly talkative. It is weird to say but I almost felt better than normal? I imagine it is what Jay-Z often feels like. Un-rushed because there isn't anyone who won't wait for him, completely in control because he has been for so long, and unworried because both he and his wife are rich in their own right. It's a great feeling, one I want to feel on a more regular basis. This is more than just swagger, and is exactly what they mean when they say comfortable in your own skin. I'm a super skittish person. Like embarrassingly so. One of my favorite scenes in any movie is the scene where that famous line in Apocalypse Now is uttered. As Lt.Col. Bill Kilgore squats in the Vietnamese mud, gunfire and smoke emanate from behind him and he makes the famous statement. A mortar appears to explode just a few feet behind him and it's as if he is deaf to it. To say he doesn't flinch doesn't do it justice. It is as if it didn't even happen, or better yet he knows exactly that it happened, but doesn't care. That mindset it what I'm after. It feels perfect.

Imagine the funniest thing you've ever said. You probably weren't trying to be funny. This is because your lack of effort allowed you to really nail that deadpan or emphasize the timing naturally. I think for me when I wake up I'm too wired and too attentive. There's an episode of House that fittingly enough is titles, Ignorance is bliss. Esteban Powell plays a man of prodigious intelligence who literally drugs himself to reduce his IQ. For him, life as a super genius was hard because he was so much smarter than everyone else. He literally was sketching a Toroidal helicon plasma device on a napkin once they started treatment to bring his IQ back to normal. Now I don't say all this to say I'm a super genius, or that when I go into rural areas, people talk about me as one of those, "big city" learn-ed types. What I do mean is that on a daily basis my normal disposition is geared towards getting through the day's travails as quickly as possible. I don't really take time to scan and survey all situations, I definitely rush most things, and often I wish it could be otherwise. I guess efficiency for me is measured in the number of tasks completed and not so much in the quality of what I do. This here blog is the first time I've ever attempted anything with a conscious outlook of doing everything well down to the last detail. What I think the point for me personally comes down to is, at that moment the edge was taken off. I wasn't "scanning on all channels", there was no high alert, no need to alarm. If you know me personally you know I don't shy away from fights or conflict. Kinda. I enjoy arguing and conflict because the level of agitation implicit in those situations just brings people up to where my mind already is. A famous hockey player once said that "when I get into fights on the ice, my blood pressure doesn't go up." That makes sense to me. I've always felt my "calling" if there is such a thing, was to fight for a cause, like the rights of those who are less fortunate than I. I try to stay honest, I try to gain knowledge, and I was born looking for a fight. I don't think anyone who has seen me either all the way pissed off, or just at my best arguing a point would have trouble envisioning me as some sort of civil liberties lawyer. I'm not saying that's what I want to do with my life, but I've heard the complaint more than once, that I don't know how to drop a subject, or let something go...Which is exactly what the poor, and under represented need on their side right. =)
I am also fairly patient considering this disposition of mine. I find that I am either completely impatient, or too patient. As always there is little moderation in my life but this is an important point. I don't lose my patience just because I am pissed. I actually gain more I think? That day on the couch I figure there was a certain amount of adrenaline in my blood from the workout, seratonin and dopamine were hard at work, and endorphins probably were in abundance as well. So basically I was on my natural high in a way that even my beloved fentanyl couldn't provide. But was it the perfect mix of chemicals in my brain that made me cool out, or is that a persona of mine that is there but I only see at times? I don't think Jay-Z learned to be cool over night, I imagine he has always had that much cool in him, but the circumstances around him allow for it to be his everyday and not just his sometimes.
All I can say is that when I wake up everyday I assume that extra level of gusto I seem to have for things is just my cross to bear. I was made this one so that hopefully I can oneday fight on behalf of those who are unable, even if that just means my and my friends. We all have some natural talents and I see this as mine. What makes it interesting is that this state I was in wasn't a reduction of that skill, if anything it was enhanced because I was more calm and able to think slowly or more accurately, more effortlessly. The last thing Kilgore says after his remarks fully embodies the tone of this feeling I had. He says simply, "Someday this war will be over."


That Vegan Cheddar Was Nasty


So Spring Break is roughly half done and it's been a blast so far. I have a lot of great stories about the time I got to spend with my friends who I love and miss. It's 2:13am local time so I won't get into all that yet. I'm just here to dispel the myth of my demise. Hopefully you guys are all caught up because there will be lots of content coming your way. After a visit to my dream job (no not the White House) I have renewed determination to really meet some of this potential people tend to think I have.

And now as promised. My first ever, random story about my time at UCLA Medical.

I remember in late April I was almost ready to go home. I had been in the CCU since April 17 and I was really quite ready to go home. In hindsight, I was very much of the belief that if I didn't think anything was seriously wrong, then nothing bad would ever happen. That would soon change. I had someone bring me food, because as anyone who has spent time in a hospital knows, tasty = unhealthy to doctors so tasty is not what they serve you. I was eating a chipotle burrito...I haven't had one since I don't think though I don't attribute it to this. Anyway...I was sitting up on my bed and eating. Enjoying my last night of confinement. All of a sudden the nurses rushed into my room rather worried. Now me being me, I was only annoyed. Annoyance is my primary reaction to almost everything. In people 50 years my elder this is termed, "crotchety". So with burrito bol before me, I put down the fork and allowed them to fuss over me. That was the last time I took a bite of that burrito. Over the next 5-8 minutes on call doctors arrived, more nurses, and any random person from the hall seemed to be in my room. There are parts of this night that I do remember but don't feel like discussing though I also recall cracking wise to the doctor when they asked if I was still conscious which, unfortunately for at that moment, yes, I was. That would soon change. So finally after the mad scramble for a crash cart came up fruitless a nurse hurried off to retrieve it and I was left on a bed with a room full of people and the bed tilted so my feet were higher than my head. At a time like this most people would be quite worried and perhaps even panicked. I however wasn't even really curious. I didn't have any pain...well not from my body at least. And so I was unconcerned. Why you might ask?

It's simple. How the fuck should I have known what was happening? There is no way I could guess, and not being a trained doctor, there was even less chance I could self diagnose, so no I wasn't even the least bit nervous, I felt fine and so I daydreamed. I remember looking over at my burrito bringer; which is the only neutral term I can think to use for them at this point, and thinking I'll bet from where she's sitting I look a mess right now. Then every thing went black.

Two days later I woke up with a whiteboard and a marker laying on my lap. By the way I'm writing this story now so from a big picture point of view I think we know how this eventually ends. And aren't we glad all their hard work has culminated with my tapping away at these keys? I thought not.

No rest for the Weary


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I'm out of town for a few days. Enjoy for the meantime.


I just Rememebered


I am so incredibly remiss for not putting this in the original Birthday post. God I am dumb. I pulled this clip for one reason and yet here I am. Enjoy.
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Bottom Line: EVERYday is someone's Birthday


I make no secret that I don’t really like to celebrate anything. I think part of it is that I never learned how to celebrate. Nothing I’ve accomplished seems all that impressive. I have a bachelors degree*, but so do most of my friends and both of my parents. That’s not extraordinary. I had a heart transplant at 23 and walked away just fine. Well I suppose that’s good? But Kyle does the Ironman. So that’s nothing major. And that kind of does it for my list of things to brag about. And that says it all if you ask me. I don’t even consider most things to be celebratory matters seeing that, no one ever taught me the human condition begs us to sweat the small stuff because we aren’t promised the big stuff. “Be glad you graduate highschool, because college ain’t for all of us.”, or “Be glad you woke up today, tomorrow is not promised.”, and my favorite, “it’s your birthday week, do whatever you want.” I just feel cheesy celebrating some things ya'know? If I get my JD, or pass the California Bar I will try to be excited, though that will make me just one of 222,000 others to have done the same thing.

One of my idols growing up, who everyone thought was lazy, but really was just misunderstood taught me a lesson once that has a lot to do with this I think. Everyone knew he was super talented and so they expected crazy accomplishments from him. Sometimes he delivered, sometimes he didn’t. But to me one quote was all it took to prove he was the hardest working man in the game. After a practice one day a reporter asked him a question. “Randy, you just won the NFL Offensive Player of the Week…again,Where is the trophy?” His reply, “In the trash.” He explained that he didn’t keep small awards because unless you win the big ones in life the rest are irrelevant. In college football the highest honor for Receivers is the Biletnikoff Award. He’s won it. But it ended in the same place as the rest of those “minor” accomplishments. Now maybe I’m taking this lesson too literally, but I agree. I know that the small things are fit to be celebrated but I guess I just have big city dreams because I can never seem to be happy no matter how good I have it. I don’t think it’s human nature to wake up and simply be flush with joy that the sun is out. I mean when the sun comes up I am glad it’s not the apocalypse, but there are no dances to be made. I digress.

My day of birth, or the last day I was early for anything as it’s known to my parents, came and went with so little work on my part that I just don’t feel the need to do something special. It is nice. Don’t get me wrong. But without turning this into a complete bummer, let me just say I don’t need my expectations to get jacked up for something I didn’t care about in the first place. I actually like other peoples birthdays but mine is probably getting taken off of Facebook so that next year when it comes, the 4 people who really know when it is will be the only people I hear from. The ego boost, artificial as it may be, is a short lived high the likes of which I’ve been avoiding for a very long time. (Ask me about my thoughts on Fentanyl sometime though.)

In honor of “my” day I will share this story in it’s entirety because thought it is tragic, it is hilarious and so titled...

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE NURSE WHO GAVE ME AN ENEMA BOTTLE AND TOLD ME TO DO IT MYSELF WHILE I WAS HIGH ON MORPHINE.


Hello Nurse,

Given you work in a busy emergency ward, I don’t expect you to remember me.

It was a late November night in 2007 and I came in with severe abdominal pain.

This pain was on par with the labors of my children so I would like to thank you for the morphine. It stopped my screaming and gave me a decent “just peed in my pants” buzz. I would also like to thank you for the blanket you gave me when I got the chills. I would be nothing if not appreciative for the good things you did for me.

I’m not 100% certain whether it’s protocol to have patients give themselves enemas, or whether the nurse is supposed to do it.

If asked, let’s say, by a stranger on the subway,

“Hey, suppose you go to the hospital and need an enema, who would give it to you?”

My guess would most likely be nurse.

I’m still not even certain why I had the enema.

I loathed having to admit to all of you that I had pooped that morning.

Regardless, the fleet enema bottle was handed to me,

“The bathroom is down the hall.”

“Pardon me?”

“The bathroom is down the hall. You take the top off the tip, it’s lubed, you bend over, squeeze and hold in the water for as long as possible. Then sit on the toilet and let it out.”

“Okay.

I’m a nervous wreck when it comes to attempting new things, and the morphine certainly took the edge off having to put a bottle of fluid up my ass in a public washroom. Also, I really don’t like feeling mortal, and poo is just one of the obstacles that gets in my delusional ways. I’m a clean freak. I don’t use public washrooms. I don’t poo.

Nurse, I remember quite well, standing with my hand against the wall, bent over with the bottle poised to insert into my asshole. A Herculean feat, getting me into this situation, yet you… you managed to do it by simply asking and giving me the tool and meager direction. Without the morphine in my system, you would have been giving me that enema, and I would have been lying sideways on a bed with my iPod blaring, concentrating on something like the failed series “The Cosby Mysteries”.

Whether it was procedure to have patients give themselves enemas, or merely you taking a break for an egg salad sandwich and using my morphine dazed state against me, I will never know.

Hand against the wall, I took a good long look at myself in the mirror and thought, “Crunch time.”

You weren’t very good at giving instructions dear Nurse. At this point I realized I had no idea how long to hold the water in, but really, I had no concept of time because of the morphine.

Fortunately you didn’t lie when you said the tip was lubed. Also, it was thoughtful, or rather mandatory (?) that the bottle and fluid was heated a little. Nonetheless, it made the event more comfortable.

As the bottle squeezed empty in my hand, strange sounds erupted in my body. Clugs, and squeals. I inched my way over the the toilet wondering how long I could possibly hold this water in? Suddenly it occurred to me that gravity could help the situation, however, when I put my head between my ankles I was not prepared for the head rush and subsequent morphine derived spins.

I fell.

As I fell, a spray of water erupted from my body and spattered to the floor. Not much, but certainly enough to be ashamed of. I couldn’t stop the eruption so I gave up the holding part, got up and voided into the toilet.

I can’t claim I was spry in my movements, you know, given the morphine.

And I’ve blanked out and can’t recall exactly what state the washroom was in after the fall. But I did manage to clean up the mess with the paper towels available to me in the washroom.

I’m not sure how long I sat on the toilet wondering if I was done or not because it certainly seemed as though a lot more went in than came out. And like I said, you weren’t very clear with how long this entire thing would take me.

When I came out of the room I walked back to my gurney and pulled the curtain. You arrived within a few minutes. You asked if I felt better. I said yes.

I could read nothing on your face. Were enemas not your forte in nursing school? Were you a deviant? Were you put on earth to help me find my inner animal spirit? I will never know. What I do know is, that my pain was gone, and I had just gone against all of my moral excellence in that emergency room public washroom.

I’d like to quickly tell you how this experience had a positive effect on my life,

1. The following week I visited my family doctor, when he entered the room and asked, “What’s new?” I responded, “Life changed when when I gave myself an enema with high on morphine in a public washroom” And I have been a favorite patient since ever since, he even makes extra time to see me for last minute crisis with my children.

2. Giving enemas was a great skill to acquire. I had my third child in August of 2008, and the week I was due I gave myself several enemas at home to prevent the feared “shit while i push the baby out” every pregnant woman dreads throughout her gestation.

Nurse, I’d like to thank you.

Whatever your reasons, whatever they were, I am a better person for having given myself an enema while high on morphine, for unknown reasons, for undiagnosed pain, in a hospital, on my birthday.

Yours, Kelly Oxford


* - (It's on its way even though I had to whip out the PH.D to convince these fools)

I'm not hard to shop for, Just put me down for one of these 364 days from now. I mean this chick obviously has exquisite taste in brand loyalty.

Birthday Sex


It’s officially my favorite time of year!!! Where I grew up there aren’t really any seasons but it was always nice to know there were more days of school behind you than ahead of you, and that’s what spring means. It’s also time for baseball, track, and Halter top day. But today is really important for one reason in specific…It’s Spike Lee’s Birthday. Perhaps the single greatest movie maker of his era, you really can’t say he’s done a “bad” film. Shelton Jackson Lee was born in 1957 in Atlanta but his first film ironically was made in 1986. That year he was almost 30 and I was just arriving but his films have always been my favorite. He makes films the same way I would. He talks about topics that are important to him, and he includes things he enjoys personally like shoes and music…and Rosie Perez. Spike is an amazing artist who never quite found the acclaim many lesser artists did largely due I think to his devotion to making art and never really commercializing his work. For that I respect him. His life may be branded up and down, but when he puts out a creation it’s more likely to be attacking the establishment than supporting it. So in honor of his birthday I got a pair of Tom’s shoes. Which means not only will he get a pair, but some kid in the third world will too, and it might even be their Born/birth day too?

I’m sitting naked in my room writing this because I just woke up after the LONGEST nap I’ve had in a while. Well, it wasn’t really a nap, After I peeled myself off the couch around 2 AM last night, I got in bed and didn’t move for the next ten hours. During the term I never sleep in. I don’t even hit snooze. I swear. So knowing that today I would have no school, work, or other engagement I just don’t think my body was going to let me wake up a moment too soon. It felt like I came out of a coma, trust me I kinda know about such things. It was warm yesterday for the first time in months so that was nice. I always forget how ridiculously nice this town can be when it’s warm. It’s a veritable Jumanji with all the plant life and insect spawning going on in such a short amount of time. But with months of rain, all it takes is the quickest burst of sun to set things off. I walked outside after my last test and was like wow, it FEELS better out here! I didn’t know what spring fever was but you honestly feel hunkered down in the winter. It’s cold and harsh, and your body doesn’t worry about anything but staying alive, but now that this sun has hit us…how could you not feel friskier?

I wrote earlier about this week being good for me, and so far it’s shaping up to be fairly nice. I just saw the link on twitter for a review of “Breaking Bad” and that really put a smile on my face. It’s funny that this show has caught my attention because Giancalro Esposito is a new’ish character to the show. Through 2 seasons I think he’s only been in an episode or two. But in his prime he starred as Buggin’Out, the loud mouthed friend to Mookie in my all time favorite Spike Lee film, “Do the Right Thing”. Oh how things come full circle!

I think that’s it for me. I plan to do a bunch of writing over the next few days but for now I think it’s time to do another photo purge from my desktop.




Civil Unions are for Fags...Literally

What's this world coming to?

What's My life coming to?


I feel this way ALL OF THE TIME.

HE HE HE HEH

If you've got a blackberry add this contact.


This is my life.

Ya'Know..I just want to know what the fur tail accessory is all about?
You're not really my type..but you are kinda cute.

We lost another member of the club today. Be well

She might be mad but so what? Sue me. I just made you famous.

Fact: If you're drinking Green Beer...we're not friends.


I hope everyone has a good spring break. I'll be spending mine here dealing with some things. I can't wait to be home soon though. It's always funny to me when a drinking holiday comes up because I never know when they are. I think I have more knowledge of Jewish and Islamic holidays than American drinking ones...I think I like it that way too?
It's funny to me how I can feel so bad about things sometimes and then 3 minutes of my day can turn things right around. I hope this video makes you smile just as much as it did me. Thank you Mr. Sandberg. Thank you and your voice Mr. Casablancas..you're such a fucking Rock Star.


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Ghost Post #3

Well everybody, it’s time to say goodbye. JT-Rex is back and I just want to say goodbye. I hope you’ve enjoyed my time here as much as I have. It’s been real. Here are 3 more for the road...


Photoshop is racist- Yea sure travel is fun but lets not forget that our racism isn’t like their racism. It’s a surprise anyone of color from America can do ads overseas. I mean even here stateside, Barbie knows better than to cross the color barrier for sake of sales. But over there…you can’t even show a black face when you’re advertising software. Last time I checked there was no involvement of race in opening up a word document, and the faces shown in this ad weren’t even purported to have anything to do with the design of the application, so if you were worried about a minority tainting this software with their inferior ideas…that’s not a concern you need to have.


Neck Tatz- I think life is full of choices. Tattoos are one of them that really show just what you’re path in life was, and will be. Keg stand, bong rips, one nighters…Nothing goes to show more about your character and who you truly are than what you choose to do to your body. And a neck tat’ says it all. I often wish I could have a neck tat. I think it’d be great to be able to have that look but guess what…how many dudes do you see walking around at 80 years old with tattoos on their necks? Not many I’m sure. Now this may have more to do with the place you live, or the lack of old people in your life, but to me it says, neck tat’s are for those that die young. And that’s what makes them so B.A. You’re telling every man, woman, and child around you, that you’re in it to win it, and things may end in the process but you are okay with that. More succinctly, “I ain’t never scared!” Which is dope, especially when it comes to the ladies. But you know what that doesn’t say about you…”Hire me” Life is all fun and games but to be honest I don’t know that a neck tat is something I’d want to stray to far from a college campus with. I mean honestly that thing is going to outlive its usefulness quick, fast, and in a hurry. Kinda like the morning after pill at a Pride parade. But I’ve got an old soul. I don’t see myself in my late 20’s and early 30’s being the man I wish I could have been ten years before. At that time I’d like to be well on my way to the man I wish to be ten years in the future, but with a younger mans body. I just can’t make that kinda decision knowing the shelf life of it’s usefulness is so short.


Allow Me to show you- I don’t know what you think, but it is possible that I made some rude comments about Kim Kardashian and ‘T-Rex’s inexplicable attraction to her. What’s more bothersome to me is that he has no idea what he should be looking for. I think he knows what "healthy" looks like, but like any one on a diet what comes easy and what might be bad for you are often one and the same. So on my way out, let me just say this. Kim is dumb, she is way too dumb for him or anyone for that matter. The slack jawed picture seen above just kind of cements for you what in my mind she always looks like…mouth agape not a thought in her head. To be honest that quote down there, is what makes the most sense to me in reference to her. She tweets and I don’t read it, she has a show and I don’t watch it. I even saw the sex tape on mute.

Please just please take a look at these candidates instead.