Working for the Weekend

Okay so I don't know why I didn't post this when I wrote it and it is now like a month outdated so expect there to be missing links or unfinished thoughts. But no matter, now just for you here it is, digging in the crates....

[The Mgmt.]

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I hope everyone has been having a good 2010. I have been focusing a lot of energy looking for good stuff to write about and just like that these past 5 months have flown bye. For better or for worse I think I can say I’ve enjoyed these 4 months more than any other 4 in my entire life. There may have been a stretch back in 1998 but it’s hard to say. Part of the reason I’m having so much fun is that life is hard. Life fucking sucks and I have had just as much to laugh about as to cry about so instead of doing either I try to just enjoy each moment. When things start to get epically bad, I curl up in bed and don’t move just like anyone else might but when things are good you had better believe I soak up every stinkin’ moment of it. I don’t have any grandiose notions of life and what I can expect from it so the littlest things are starting to mean more to me.

Take this weekend for instance. It was filled with lazy days and sleepless nights. I honestly wish I knew how much fun college could be because right now this schedule is spoiling me rotten. I saw a world-class athlete run track at noon, a softball game with one of my best friends at 1, then watch a great film (Up in the Air) that night with some close friends.

I woke up around noon the next day and though I was woefully dehydrated from sleeping in front of a sun washed window, I still had a whole day to waste. I then played what would become my first games of Bocce ball ever. Awesome game that it was I then had to break to share a BBQ with a buddy who is going to ride his bike to Central America later this year. The night ended with a great playoff game between the Portland Trailblazers and the Phoenix Suns. This is the investment I made 5 years ago. The chance to have weekends like this, are why people go to college. Never again will I be able to invite a model and her friends to my place or any other for that matter just to chill. The good is always balanced by the bad but I have so much negativity reserved for other things that all I will say is this: sometimes you have good ideas, and sometimes you have horrible fucking ideas. Inviting Waffles to the Fucking BBQ was not one of my brighter ideas.

And now time for another random story from my time in the hospital.

I wasn’t always in just one hospital. I actually had 3 surgeries over a 5 month period so all in all, it came out to 4 hospitals in 2 states over 6 months. Not a bad total and for the low-low price of only about $1.5 Million you could take the same trip. I don’t think the miracle of my story has anything to do with my new heart at all. What is miraculous is that I made it that long in the first place. I came home in March to have an AICD implanted which basically gives you a jolt of electricity to try and get your heart back into rhythm. My heart would sometimes beat upwards of 160 times per minute so in order to get that back down to a normal resting rate sometimes shocks were needed. Without the device I was running the risk of my heart getting stuck at such a high rate, passing out, and eventually dying from VFib. So in March of 2009 I came home for spring break and had the surgery done. All went well and I had a pager sized bump in my left pec. I didn’t hurt and it really had no purpose except for in extreme cases. The morning of April 17, 2008 was one such case. That story culminates with me at Memorial hospital in Long Beach and a night in which I often woke up to a nurse standing over me in hysterics. See for me, the heart rhythm had nothing to do with my physical exertion so if I were to be asleep I could still experience these tachycardias. So apparently some nurse was given more than she could handle because apparently while I slept my heart raced wildly out of control. Now obviously this had been happening for quite some time before I’d had the surgery and I had no ill effects. Yet now I was hooked up to a monitor and someone was hearing a lot of alarms most likely because this nurse did what any rational person would do…She woke me up and told me to calm down.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Long Beach and will always consider it home. But in the end those nurses were about as far from competent as I think I’ve seen and TRUST ME, I’ve seen some incompetence in my day. I guess the on call doctor, who was not my doctor, did not want to be bothered. My real doctor was leaving for Europe that night and was unreachable. So these poor ladies were in over their head with a patient who seemed like he might just up and die right before their eyes and were too scared to call the doc. I have hazy memories at best of what happened that night and even then had far less understanding of what was happening than I do now so it’s unlikely I’d be able to make any conclusions of what was going on anyway. I made it through the night and no one had to be called in. I hopped in an “Ama’lance” the next day and made the most nerve-racking drive to Westwood I’ve ever made… yes more nerve-racking than even the one when I got the call.

I Miss You Guys

Lord knows by the activity on this site, I have about 3 readers, but thats ok. I like to bring it up because I know there are actually people out there, who are okay with remaining silent. It reminds me of the scene in that Jim Carrey Movie where he gets spotted by a friend and called on his cell phone, only when he realizes he's been seen, he tries to act like he's on the phone with someone else and convince his friend he's called a wrong number at the same time. It was Yes man to be exact. Great flick.

Anyway I can't really write right now because If I save anything I'm afraid I'll lose it during the Archive and Install I have planned after the term is done. I just typed this straight to the page and I don't like doing that because then I say things like "Will tore down" instead of "will tear down" and that upsets me. Me not stupid, I can conjugate verb right way, me promise."

I just wanted to check in to let yall know that I got a bit of good news today, apparently they're gonna let me outta this place finally. My degree is within arms reach and by June I will be a certified Bachelor of the Political Sciences! (...then I'll go for Masters, and my Masters Masters, then my Doctrine!! Or maybe just move home and try not to get anyone pregnant? Shouts to comedy central for that Chappele's show marathon, which in turn invoked this Kanye reference.)

My only question is this...Are they stupid?! I feel less competent now than I did in 2005 only now I'll have a piece of paper saying I'm like, qualified, and stuff. Weird. Oh well the Earths days are now shorter than before after that colossal quake in Chile, so I won't have to be unemployed quite as long as I thought being that the Apocalypse is hurtling towards us even faster than before. 2012 or Bust right?

I'm setting the tentative return date for March 22, 2010. That will give me enough time to sleep off the hangover from my birthday week...or maybe it won't either way it should be fun to be back behind the keys.

Fiddle Sticks

Everyone always wants to know what’s different for me now that I’ve had surgery and I can say that for the most part things are the same. I have to adapt my style as an athlete however. Running doesn’t come as naturally as it did before. But I feel as if we’ve been over this before. And besides, I’ve to try and do anything full speed yet. No full court basketball, no mile, no trip down the hill on a snowboard. What I have noticed is that concentrating during workouts can be difficult. I find that I carry a certain amount of claustrophobia with me everywhere I go now. Im so used to not seeing anyone after being home for 9 months that It can be weird for me to be in a gym filled with 80 or 90 other people all within plain sight, EFX’ing, jogging, and all together gyrating the calories away. I don’t run laps though, I hop on the nearest spin bike, turn up the tunes, and try to keep my head down.

Add in yoga pants to this equation and with me, you have a nearly untenable situation. Allow me to stop for just one second and reaffirm my deep, deep belief that tights and other form fitting pants of that nature designed for women are a gift from the Lord 8lb 6oz baby Jesus himself! I have neither the means, mode, nor method to fully state just how grateful I am towards whomever it was that brought this phenomena into style. But there is no outfit in this day and age a woman cannot build around a pair of tights. I absolutely love that girls wear them and I would rate them on a scale that goes only from good idea to Fantastic idea. Kudos to you sir or madam for bringing us this great gift.

Something that has held my attention is the idea of pets. In my youth we never had any pets, except for a snake once. I enjoyed that. Now though in the past two months I’ve lived with 3 different cats and was ready to move in with a friend who has a dog. All of which suits me fine except these animals are incapable of denying their base pleasures. The cats see my earbuds as playthings and dogs either love me or hate me there is no in between. This is less palatable for me. I find that cats are born with the entitlement of ten Hilton sisters and dogs when friendly are amazing but when hostile are a terror. My friends dog Mickey, is an especially awesome dog. He’s a short haired pointer and he has a blotch on his back that roughly resembles Mickey Mouse. I wouldn’t mind living with him, alas his house is DEEP in the Eugenian backcountry. I did enjoy meeting him though.

My stance on keeping pets however remains unchanged. I really don’t think you should keep pets of any sort. I never feel comfortable enslaving something just for my comfort. Snakes, fish, and lizards are all semi-appropriate because they don’t really have a social life. Dogs, cats, and other warm blooded pets however all are good pets because they have personalities. We keep them because they are like people, but make better friends. There is one exception however. If you want to get me a gift for any reason I would love a pet Jaguar. I don’t really mean the British car, but that would suffice as well. What I’m referring to I’m sure is equally expensive but TEN TIMES MORE BALLER! Bring me a Jaguar and I will name him the Ghost Face Kitten! I’ve found the place I want to first visit outside the country (Egypt), the car I’d most want to buy (Prius), and now the pet I most want by my side to frolic with me Sigfried and Roy style. (though without the gayness and face mauling if at all possible) I don’t see any downsides to this idea. Luxury pets are awesome. Walking him would be sure to impress, he’d be a cat, but still intimidate dogs, and the personal protection factor is just amazing. I dare you to step to me and Ghostface. Please no really, do it. I will hear nothing to the contrary on this. There is just no way having a pet Jag’ could be bad. I’ll have to investigate more but a Leopard may be a good substitute or even more appealing choice, but at the moment it’s the Jaguar or nothing. Somewhere Waffles is very mad at me right now.

Whatever, she smells like Pussy anyway

What's a Star without it's #1 Fan?

So I know it’s dumb, but I had no idea cats purred. I mean I know they do, but I didn’t know it could just happen. I thought they only made noises in response to stimuli? Well not Waffles. She purrs at me in what amounts to almost a low growl and the first time I heard it, I thought it was my stomach. Both my laptop and Waffles were on my lap and at the time I thought there was a problem with my computer. Apparently she purrs when she wants you to pet her. It’s like a hint, “hey buddy, I would be purring if you would rub my back.” It’s beginning to become a problem. I think we are going to break up soon.

1. Women are innately self-conscious. This is not a choice; it's a genderwide condition. On a bad day, I look in the mirror and see my ten-pound-heavier alter ego. Her name is Bertha. On a really bad day, Bertha sees her two-hundred-pound-heavier alter ego. Her name is Brian Dennehy.

2. Women produce half the world's food but own only 1 percent of its farmland. So we're fine with you picking up the tab. And after about three thousand dinners at Nobu, we should be even.

3. Women like porn, too. We just hate it when you hide the porn.

4. Women remember everything. Don't believe me? Ask your girlfriend where you met. She won't tell you it was at a party. She'll say it was a Thursday, she had just come from dinner, where she ate a veggie burger, and she was wearing her friend Cathy's pink top, which was big on her because Cathy is a big girl. You were wearing a blue button-down, drinking a Jack and Coke with two straws, and talking to Bill, that mutual friend. She waved and you gave her the "what's up" nod. This still infuriates her. ("How could you give me the nod?")

5. An eyelash curler, while mean and ferocious looking, is not a weapon.

6. No matter how much your woman loves you, there are going to be three to seven days each month when she wants you dead. (She may even quietly fantasize about turning her eyelash curler against you.) You have two options: Tie yourself to a tree and wait out the storm, or stock up at Tiffany's, toss a blue box or two into the wind, and hope for the best. We recommend the latter. (The key chain doesn't count.)

7. We think it's weird when you watch sports and concentrate to help your team.

8. "Hey, Melissa, who's the boss?" Not a good pickup line. "Hey, Phoebe, where'd you park your broomstick?" Not a good pickup line. "Hey, Alyssa, you look 250 pounds lighter than Brian Dennehy in that dress." Surprisingly good pickup line.

9. Women hear better than men. That's before you even factor in listening skills and attention spans. Come to think of it, I should have listed this one first because I'm sure I've lost you by now.

10. You may be surprised to know that women were responsible for inventing all of the following: the circular saw, the signal flare, the space suit, the bulletproof vest, and the windshield wiper. You're welcome.

10-things-you-dont-know-about-women

As told to Esquire by Alyssa Milano

Thank you Alyssa, that was a mostly informative and spot on break down of women from what I can tell. Although #2 is laughable because I doubt she has so much seen a cabbage patch let alone worked in a rice paddy, or picked a head of corn.

Jan. 9, 2010

So my new girlfriend is a cat. She is so much like other women I've dated that in the wake of all I've been through it's scary. My roommate Ariana has a cat named Waffles, and I've never lived with a cat before so all her mannerisms are new to me. Basically it is this: When she wants my time she will have it, or if she needs attention she will have it. My space is her space, and it is implied that if I'm eating something she may inquire about it, and possibly taste some of it...But if you had shown me this 2 weeks ago I would have thought you were referring to any girl I've dated, not my new feline friend. It's also worrisome, because when Waffles assumes her spot on my lap and almost knowingly knudges my hand with her face to get me to pet her, I do feel like I should. I don't know why but when she meows at me, It's hard to ignore her. Hmm, there is something so enchanting about both women and cats that if you aren't careful you will find yourself at their beck and call. I try so hard not to fall into this cycle but there is just something I find alluring about that sense of entitlement. It is a bad habit, with any luck Waffles helps teach me to break that spell.

I suppose it's as simple as this. She knows that her wiles will get her what she wants, and for me I'll always be wanted. Who said relationships had to be healthy anyway.