I wish:

-I wish Steve Nash would grow his hair out again, so we would have a shot at a championship
-I wish I was sleeping right now
-I wish ASU would offer more core English classes a semester
-I wish I wasn't in such a bad poker downswing
-I wish I was a little bit taller
-I wish I was a baller
-I wish I had a girl who looked good (I would call her)
-I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat and a '64 impala

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F is for f'ing awesome

We had to write something to read to the class, so I did this. I like it.

Won't You Take Me Down

Bert made his way through the familiar streets of Chicago after work. It was late, and he smelled like coffee. The closing Starbucks shift was not nearly as glorious as his last job, but these were rough times and he was just happy to be earning a living. He pulled his long coat tight, hoping no one would recognize him going into his building. It was a far cry from the luxurious apartment he had in his younger days. He wasn’t so much ashamed of his living conditions; he was just tired of telling his sad story. He entered apartment 207A. A is for apathy, he thought to himself with a grimace.


Inside the fox news late night C-squad anchors were awkwardly fumbling their way through the night’s happenings. The economy was down. The war was continuing. Bert sighed and cracked open a Budweiser. The apartment hadn’t been cleaned for weeks. Ramen noodles and cheap take out containers lined the kitchen counter. Bert didn’t ask for much, but if he was going to be the only one trying to provide an income, the least he could come home to was a clean house.

“You here?” Bert asked.

“Yeah I’ll be out in a minute” said Ernie.

Of course he was here Bert thought. Bert muted the news, waiting for the sports segment. Ernie made his way out of the bathroom and plopped down on the couch. They sat together in silence. Bert didn’t like to be disturbed while he was enjoying his Budweiser. When he worked up enough courage he asked Bert how his day was.
“Well, I made a couple thousand drinks. Everyone continues to ask me if I’m that guy that used to be on TV. My 22 year old manager made me clean out all the coffee machines after close, and I come home to a pig sty. I thought you were gonna tidy this place up a bit while I was providing rent?”

“Well gee Bert, I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Ever since Sesame Street was cancelled, we’ve had nothing but time Ernie.”

“Aw gosh, I suppose I can do it tomorrow.”

“It’s always tomorrow with you Ernie. It’d be one thing if you were out looking for a job, but you’re just pissing your life away.” Bert said, his yellow skin turning an angry red.

“If you’re just going to be in a bad mood, I’m going into the other room.” Ernie said, as he left. Bert noticed that he was balding, and noticeably skinnier than he was In the showbiz days. He got up for another beer and as he sat in his familiar place on the couch, he noticed a big yellow feather. Bert had reached his boiling point. He walked into the bedroom.

“Ernie, so you had a busy day? Where were you?”

“Oh just had to take care of a few errands I’d been putting off for weeks.”

“You ran into anyone from the good ole days lately?”

“Just you Bert.”

“Can I see your arms really quick Ernie?”

“Well gosh, why would you want to do that? You’re silly sometimes Bert.”

“I’m not joking, let me see your arms right now.” Bert yelled.

“Do we have to get another domestic call Bert?” Ernie said.

Bert pulled out the feather. Ernie’s ever happy face soon turned ghost white.

“You been hanging out with those junkies again Ernie?”

Ernie let out a sigh. He was caught. “You don’t know how hard it is these days Bert.” He said

Bert put a hole through the wall. “I don’t know how hard it is? I work 8 hours a day 7 days a week damnit! They tell me they can’t afford to pay me overtime, so I have 2 separate clock in numbers jus so I can work 60 hours a week. I don’t know how hard it is?” Bert was furious.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t spent all of our savings on roulette, and dog racing, we’d still be downtown living the life of luxury.” Ernie said.

“You’re blaming me while you’re out with that low-life dopefiend Snuffleupagus, and his dimwitted dealer Big Bird? How are you paying for it Ernie? I hope it’s not with my hard earned money.”

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not with your money. I help them out, they help me out.” Ernie said with an ironic smile.

“If that means what I think it means…”

“It does. Whenever I said I was out visiting my family, I was with Big Bird.” Ernie said.

Bert couldn’t believe his ears. B is for betrayal, he thought. He sat in silence. The words finally erupted from his mouth.

“Get out. Right now. We’re through. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“But… We’ve been together over 20 years! And it’s not like I love Big Bird! I just didn’t have any money and I needed a fix!” Ernie protested.

“You’ve had your last chances. I want you out. Now.” Bert said calmly.

“You’re making a mistake Bert. You’re making a really big mistake. Is it really over?” Ernie asked.

“Yes. It’s over.” Bert replied.

Ernie was crushed. “Well, gee Bert, I don’t suppose I know where I’ll go.”
“I don’t really care anymore. Call up your junkie friend.” Bert said.

“He never lets me stay the night though Bert.”

“Well, from now on, neither do I.”

“Spare me one last favor. If you won’t let me stay here, can I atleast take one last shower? I haven’t had a chance to clean up today.” Ernie pleaded.

Bert just wanted him out of sight. “I’m going to go get some Mickey D’s. When I get back I don’t want to see you in here.” C is for compassion, one last shower isn’t too much to ask, he thought. And with that Bert left.


When Bert arrived with his dollar menu feast, he heard the water still running. He was furious. He burst through the bathroom doors yelling “I thought I told you, I didn’t want to see you here when I got back!”.

But Ernie didn’t say anything. Bert stormed closer to the bathtub. The tub was filled, a crimson red color made Ernie’s usually light orange skin appear dark. He was bleeding out.

“I always loved you Bert. I couldn’t do it without you.” His words were barely a whisper. Ernie had his eyes closed. “Don’t worry, you’ll never see me again.”

Bert picked up his dying lover. D is for depression, he thought. Ernie was cold. It was too late. Tears streamed down Bert’s cheeks. Ernie’s body went limp. “I love you too pal.” Bert said, to ears that would not listen. “I love you too.”

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pretty pretty seandigs

Lesson learned:

If I pull my super stretch gym shorts past my nipples, it looks like I'm wearing a strapless dress. Instant sexytime feelings.

It kind of reminds me of the time I went to a party in a skirt and bra a few years ago. Except this time a whole room full of people didn't see my testicals because I was sitting unlady like.

[English girl enters from stage left.]

"excuse me sir, but we've all been having a gander at you" she says in english accent.

"well babe I've been having a gander at you too"

"no I mean at you erm your errr... balls"

Well since we're already this far...

[Exit hero, alone.]

In other news, the gash on my eye is healing well. An indication of the scar to come:


I think I look positively picaresque.

I'm going to have to turn my anti-customer story into a love story. It reads more like a boo-hoo blog post than a compelling story right now. Everyone was interested in the love connection in it. I'm not qualified to write these kind of real world emotion stories. Maybe I'll just add zombies instead.

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The Skateland Massacre

This weekend, I discovered that roller skating is about as fun as reading a blog. If you combine it with drinking alcohol, it turns into a whole other beast. Imagine how shaky I was on skates without drinking anything. It'd been a good 11 years since I've had any kind of wheels attached to my feet. By the 3rd or 4th beer, it took quite a bit of concentration to stay up. By the time I had 6, I was having alot of fun. And then I noticed I wasn't skating, but face down on the rink.

Of course I laughed it off. What else can you do? My face was pleasantly turning cool. Not quite the heat expected from my reddening cheeks. I thought that was odd. So, naturally, I wiped my face. Then I realized my whole arm was covered with blood. Epic.

I managed to make my way to the bathroom, leaving bloody hand prints and smears along the skateland walls. The title to the event was The Skateland Massacre, so I feel I added a bit of realism to the otherwise drab, unmassacred halls. The blood stopped pouring about 30 mins later. Awesome.

Now I have a UFC-esque cut about my right eye. This may seem like a horrible tale, but in reality, it was the funniest thing to happen to me in a long time. Mixing booze with rollerskates, I had an idea that something like this might happen. I was just hoping it would happen to someone besides me.

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Running with scissors

Today I was discussing my fears of signing a new lease with my parents. I commented on the fact that I was terrified of having someone on the lease who would make my life Hell. I don't want to be stuck paying someone else's room and board.

My Mom said "that is why you should get a girlfriend. Then you could split the rent and it'd be really cheap."

As if I didn't find the idea of living with someone I wasn't dating terrifying enough, she had to go there. I considered it for 45 seconds, then realized its scary enough dating someone when you don't have to actually live with them. I'd have a hard time handling either one seperately, but combining both would do me in.

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I have a bathroom again! Kind of...

We've got the bathroom almost put back together now. Don't have a shower yet, but maybe in the next month or 6 weeks. Only thing functionality thing left to do is tile the walls. The toilet is clutch. No more peeing outside after 10pm. Also huge is the fact that I have a mirror for shaving again. Simply amazing.

Continued the downswing in poker. Bubbled out of another SnG. I played decent, though not good. I pretty much had to push on the hand I lost, so I'm not too upset. What can you do when you only have 4 BB left with an ace, and it's 4 handed. Of course the Ace was dominated by the big stack who had AJ. Heartbreaking, but the short stacks kept sucking out, and I was being blinded away. Hopefully I'll start hitting the cards before I run out of money. I think I've lost 8 of the last 10 SnG's.

A big thank you to the wonderful Special Filet Night \ Happy Hour bar guests. Proven fact, if you're getting filets for 6 dollars off, and drinks for half price you don't need to tip. If you're going to leave a 0 dollar tip, just take both copies of the credit card slip with you. Atleast then I can rationalize that you forgot to leave a signed copy. No worries, tuition pays for itself anyway.

I didn't even watch the championship game tonight. I was too pissed off about dropping from tied for first to out of the money to even care about the game. I guess Kansas won. Hooray.

The first song I ever learned on the guitar was Day Tripper. I hadn't played that song in maybe 5 years, and randomly decided to jam out to it tonight. I figured out that one of the most frequent licks I play while improvising was in the solo to the song. So that is where it came from.

Daily moment of Zen:

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Love in C minor

Hey there. It's a pleasure meeting you. I don't often try to meet people in these kind of places. Hardly anyone is worth talking to, which is why they play the music so loud. Funny how that works huh? Yeah I agree. The drinks are overpriced, and it's too crowded to move. Who wants to pay extra to wait in line?

Oh you like reading too? I usually have to pretend like I'm in to the newest Dan Brown novel or it scares people away. What do I want to do with my life? I'm not really sure. I figure I'll just keep a job to pay the bills for a bit while I figure it out. I kind of want to do some traveling before I'm locked into a 9-5. Wait you're still talking to me? You know I won't be making more than $28,000 a year for quite a while right?

Well it's been fun, but I have to go now. No, I don't think we should meet up next week. You're easy to talk to, and seem to actually have interesting things to say. You listen like you actually care about what I'm saying. And you're emotionally available. 3 strikes and you're out kiddo. I don't handle it well when you might be capable of real emotion. It's just not going to work.

signed
xxx minorly Affected

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Dead To Fall Are Serious

Are You Serious?

"WITH ONE SUPER-MASSIVE FIST
MANKIND WILL BE CRUSHED
MANKIND IS DOOMED"

Enough said. Dead To Fall was one of the most respectable bands, in an unrespectable genre. How can you take yourself seriously when you play death metal-core? Regardless, they were always technically tight, even if the songs were pretty ridiculous. It seems the members of Dead To Fall have become aware of this fact with their latest release. Instead of trying to keep up their image, Dead To Fall have created a new image. They have started a new genre. I would like to coin it Party-Core. I appreciate a band that mocks their entire genre, as is the case with Dead to Fall in "Stupid?" "I think we should end this song / with a fucking break down" they sing, on top of a trite break down. "This song is realy fucking stupid!" they croon during a typical death metal riff. Golden.

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Weekend update: First Friday + Random Sports failures

I braved another trip to First Friday this week. It was the first time in about 2 years that I hit that monthly downtown art show. It reminded me of how terrible downtown Phoenix is. Lesson of the week: Phoenix has no cultural identity. There is no sense of an artistic community. Instead there are about 20 different showings of wildly different styles (ranging from overexaggerated, bright, cartoony still life, to what I can only describe as dark, formless and as depressing as ASU's football team in the Dirk Koetter era). There was really nothing even worth writing about. I'm always a bit dissapointed when the best work at a show was photography. Photography is fine. It just doesn't capture the sense of spirit I look for in art.

Not to say that I didn't enjoy going. It's always fun to go out. Maybe I just have my expectations too high, or didn't hit the right spots. I was dreadfully tired anyway, which has a bad effect on my mood.

But don't even get me started on the music. 8 years ago, we atleast had a music scene. The Gin Blossoms, Jimmy Eat World, and a variety of other bands I wouldn't be caught listening to once grew up playing on Mill Avenue. I hate that kind of music, but atleast artists had a chance to develop a sound and grow. Now all you hear are amateurs. Shitty bands that are tight musically are alot better than shitty garage bands.

This weekend was a complete disaster in the sports realm. I was sitting pretty in the work NCAA pool. Apparently the sports gods felt the need to punish me for the chalk final four picks. I was up a healthy margin, needing either UCLA + UNC to advance to the finals, or UNC to win it all to pick up a nice spot of cash. Instead both teams get blown out, and I'll sit a few points out of the money. Looking back I should have picked Memphis over UCLA, but I still defend my UNC pick.

The gambling gods have also been spiting me after I cowered away from making a super bowl bet that would have payed off about as much money as I make in a year. On top, in the previous 6 months I built my online poker bankroll from $100 to $500, only to donk it all away. Don't play when you're tired, on tilt, or emotionally unstable kids. Played a SnG today and bubbled (as is customary with my gambling). I play conservative when I should be pushing things, and then I go ultra aggressive when people start sucking out and winning big pots. I did alright in the cash games, but had my strong hands cracked by ridiculous runner runner flushes\straights. 'Tis the nature of low limit poker online.

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New In Flames

The new In Flames cd A Sense of Purpose has arrived.

Chorus lyrics include "I feel like shit / but atleast I feel something" and "Don't tell me / tell my ghost / cause I blame him / for all I don't want to know". This is the kind of thing I listen to In Flames for. It's not their sometimes thrash, sometimes nu-metal sound. It's not for their goofy (or in the case of a song like cloud connected, well conceived and fitting) synth moments. It's not for their guitars, which range from "pretty awesome" to "2nd year guitar student penned". It's their brilliant lyrics.

I fell in love with In Flames when I heard the song Minus, where Anders sings "I leave you / negative behind / Watch me all in flames / on a butterfly I ride". Not only does he name drop his own band in the lyrics (one their 6th or 7th album) but he talks about riding a butterfly. A butterfly! This is band started off close to a Swedish Death Metal band. How cool is it to think of a Death Metal Warrior riding to battle on a flaming butterfly! Perhaps the swedish word for butterfly and dragon are very similiar.

And as much as it seems I am just mocking In Flames, I like their music. They settle into some nice grooves, and have a pretty good ear for melody at times. Having seen them live, it really appears they truely enjoy doing what they are doing. It would be hard to say that they are doing it for the money. This attitude makes it much easier for me to enjoy their music.

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