And In The End...

D: "Well, we're ready to head out."
Me: "I see. All packed and ready then?"
D: "Yep. How are you managing?"
Me: "I'm at 97.2% now. All I have is my bed, some clothes and a few odds and ends."
D: "Ah. Good."
Me: "Yep."
D: "Yep."
Me: "Oh, I found that QTV poster print of Smitty & Lon that you printed out and hung in the office amongst my stuff. Did you mean to leave it or..."
D: "Nah, I figured that you should have it. I can print another later but I thought you'd like one of your own for... uh... for wherever you call home next."
Me: "Thanks, dude. I'll definitely hang it up. Wherever I end up, that is."
D: "Not quite the productive year we'd planned for, was it?"
Me: "No. Not quite. I mean, don't get me wrong. I guess things just changed is all."
D: "Yeah."
Me: "Yeah. Still, no hard feelings, dude. I'm happy for you and your gal. You're about to do something that I've talked about for years... Moving away from this state altogether."
D: "Funny, isn't it? I always thought you'd be the one to go first."
Me: "True. But that's what life is about. Making choices. Heh."
D: "Still, perhaps this is one of those turning points, ya know?"
Me: "Yeah. I was talking about this with a pal of mine yesterday on this subject."
D: "Oh?"
Me: "Indeed. Something along the lines of you being gone not exactly a bad thing. In fact, it'd possibly be a chance to... Well, stretch my wings a bit directly on my own terms, I guess was the point."
D: "What, like QTV's been holding you back?"
Me: "Something like that, I suppose. Maybe not exactly."
D: "Hardly. Dude, QTV's been mostly yours as far as the site's gone. I'm not meaning that to sound in a bad way. I'm just saying that there's a lot of your voice in there, not just mine. You can still claim it as your own. Build it how you will, in whatever direction that you will. Remember, that's how we started this thing in the first place. Two guys goofing off, putting random stuff up there that we thought was cool. Don't give up on that idea just because I'm not around."
Me: "Oh, I wasn't thinking of giving up on it at all. I'm just lacking direction with it."
D: "Start with what you know. Photoshops, Adventures, Stories. The rest will come as it evolves, ya know?"
*Silence*
D glances at his watch as his girlfriend bellows his name to hurry up.
Me: "Well, I, uh... Err..."
D: "Yeah. I know what you mean."
Me: "What, that we've arrived at the uncomfortable stage of our conversation?"
D: "Yeah. The goodbye."
Me: "Well, fuck, it's been almost seven years that we've been friends."
D: "Well, I'll only be up the road after all..."
Me: "400 miles is hardly 'up the road,' Dude."
D: "This from the guy who so casually waved his hand at driving to California, Las Vegas, Orlando and New Orleans on so many trips..."
Me: "Yeah, that was before a 800 mile round trip would run me $100+ in gas. Shit, for $100 a few years ago, I made it to Orlando and a third of the way back."
D: "Yeah. Still, we'll keep in touch."
Me: "Oh, of course. I'd like that. Open invite for beer whenever you're in town."
D: "Deal. And if you ever have that burning desire to visit beautiful OK City, the same is true."
Me: "Sweet. Oh, and I'll run the keys by the landlord for ya."
D: "Oh? Thanks! That's cool of ya!"
Me: "No problem."
D: "Yeah."
Me: "Yeah."
D: "Well."
Me: "Yep."
Girlfriend: "DOUG! WE HAVE GOT TO GO!"
D: "Guess that's the cue, eh?"
Me: "Yeah... Fair winds, dude. Oh, and I totally farted in the back of the U-Haul just so you'd have something to remember me by!"
D: "How thoughtful! Glad I left a Cleveland Steamer in the upper deck of your toilet then. Wouldn't want you thinking I didn't care, right?"
*Laughter*
Me: "Alright, get the fuck out of here before we turn this goodbye into a Hallmark Channel moment."
D: "Yeah. Wouldn't want to get all weepy and stuff. Manly men don't do that kind of shit. Nor do they tell each other that they'll miss each other, right?"
Me: "Course not. Missing people's for the FBI. Now, make with the scooting already. You're givin' me a headache."
D: "Fine. Catch ya later, man."
*Grins and extends a hearty handshake.*
Me: "You too, dude."

I stood there and watched my pal drive off, his girlfriend in close pursuit in her car. They were on their way to adventure.

Myself? I had a storage shed to fill and a few last nights to enjoy in the calm quiet of what is now my place. Can't get any simpler than that.

Be A Hip Cat, Be A Ship's Cat...

It gets to the point sometimes where I have little restraint left but to sit and bellow out into the serene quiet, forever shattering the facade that I really give a damn.

But always, after a few nanoseconds, my brain switches gears and I find myself debating whether I prefer the colour blue or the colour cyan. Or, if my brain is truly desperate, I'll spend a few moments attempting to recollect that time back in third grade when I asked Sandy if she'd be my girlfriend and she replied that I was too immature.

Pretty strong judgment coming from a gal who liked to eat her own snot when no one was looking. Thankfully I found THAT out long after my ten year old brain found another gal to crush on who didn't think I was immature for her liking.

Ah, the days of third grade where "couples" would profess their love for each other, then throw dirt clods at one another on the playground. These relationships would always break up the next week because, let's face it, we were a bunch of dumb kids who didn't understand the first thing about romantic love or serious relationships.

We just liked throwing dirt clods at one another.

Remember when being a kid was just that simple?

It's The Line Between Shame And Dread...

It's been an interesting year of self-discovery.

I moved into town (instead of living on the outskirts as I had previously) with the greatest intentions. I would be living closer to work, be saving money and would be working more on QTV by living with my good friend and QTV collaborator, Doug. Plans were made to jumpstart the life and would move me towards making a more respectable income, advancing my career path and, most importantly, start shaking this cloudy mental funk that has hovered over me for... years?

Then life starts creeping in.

You know, it's funny. I had no idea that a year later that I would have made not only little progress on QTV, but that I also didn't manage to save much money and would eventually greet the departure of my friend not with a sense of sadness but with slight relief. His destiny lies elsewhere and rather than sit here like the Count ticking off the days left on the lease (THIRTY-FOUR DAYS, ah ha ha!), he's started packing moving his girlfriend's and his possessions way over to a whole other state.

I keep my counsels close to myself for the most part. It wasn't the easiest of years. We still got along, but there was always a sort of tension that lingered. Some of it was my cause, personal issues which I tried to either rectify or keep out of the house. Some of it was result of his and his girlfriend's decisions. The rest? Who knows.

It's that feeling you get when dynamics shift. It was nobody's fault, it was just the natural progression towards the door that friendships will take sometimes.

The thing that gets me is that I know that as I type this, somebody out there is contemplating a "friends come and go, that's life, buck up little camper" style reply. Sorry, kids, that's why I killed the comments on this one. I've heard that enough from my mom over the years. I know all that. I accept that.

Believe me, this isn't intended to be a pity party type post. I'm not indulging in something that will serve no purpose. I'm merely observing something, perhaps mourning a bit for the end of almost seven years of constant hilarity and co-comedy creation.

Yeah, we're still pals. Yeah, we'll still see each other every now and then, but there is now a vacuum that cannot be denied.

All that's left is to pack my shit, find a new place of my own and moveondotorg with my life. Perhaps it'd be easier if I still had my other best friend still with me. Today was her birthday and it felt strange not buying a birthday bone for her to gnaw on while I was at work. It's been six months and still I miss my dog. Huh. Yeah. Moveondotorg with the life. At least I still get to see Addycat on a reasonable and regular basis. That little blue-eyed meowbox really worked her way into my heart, boy howdy.

Soon, it will just be me and QTV. A few friends around here to grab the occasional/rare beer with, a few friends to converse with via teh internets, a few co-workers to nod and grumble hello to.

I think what is most striking is this feeling of physical and mental exhaustion that I am feeling. I've been going busy busy busy for a long time and while I enjoy being busy, it's just time to take a break. I can't afford to really travel via airplane to anywhere since I'm saving for new deposits and whatsit, but what I can do is to pack the truck with my tent, a cooler and a camp chair. Drop $70 for the round trip on gas and just go get lost for a few days.

Some of the best trips I've ever made were by myself and perhaps, just perhaps, it'd be a good idea to reacquaint myself with myself. And if I was to end up finding me a hot lookin' gal on the beach/in the woods/by the lake/wherever I end up, I may just tip my hat at her and say "howdy." Maybe cook her some dinner or something.

Hey, a guy can dream, can he not?

Shit. Looking at my calendar for the next month, I must be dreaming. Time to contract a "serious and debilitating condition" that will last exactly three to four days, leaving me better tanned and more rested... Heh.

Power Of Attorney...

Been watching episodes of Harvey Birdman: Attorney At Law on YouTube and find myself just chuckling away the minutes of an otherwise dreary, depressing day...

Your Honor Student Isn't Better Than Anyone Else...

Things That Pissed Me Off Last Week
A Requiem For The Post Cereal Dream
by Robert

1) The people who ask me, "What the hell is this crap that you're listening to?"

Simply put, the world is not all about Hip Hop, kids. Look, I'll be quite honest with you. I hate hip hop. No, I absolutely loathe hip hop. I find a problem with music that requires the artist to not only have their name utilized as background harmony in a majority of their catalogue, but also the issue that they either have to constantly "feature" another artist or at least feature another artist's music within their own without having the courtesy of making such a acknowledgment.

I don't have as much of an issue with the few hip hop artists that actually have a message and demonstrate true originality and talent in their work. I can respect those types of artists for their work, even if I just can't go along with the groove.

Quite honestly, hip hop drives me up the wall. I tolerate it and I won't tell you to stop playing it (as long as it's at a reasonable volume for the time of day or night).

I'll listen to something neutral, but otherwise if I have to hear your music at an unreasonable volume in your car, you can listen to my music at a completely reasonable volume in mine. Just be sure to shut your gob about it if all the constructive commentary that you have to offer is, "what the hell is this crap? Your music sucks!" It's my music and I do not give a damn if you've never heard of the band, the song or if there is a different sound than the usual *thump thump thump thump* that you're accustomed to.

Remember that in my car, you are cargo.

2) Faceless Landlords

While I'm making friends today, let me take a moment to fire a shot across the bow of those who rent out property, give a lot of customer no-service and raise the gorram rent above and beyond what decent, low-earning type folk can pay.

Yes, you are in a business. Yes, a good capitalist realizes the value of profit and makes steps toward that end.

But...

That doesn't give one license to treat one's tenants like they are a cash cow nor does it give one the right to neglect the tenant's maintenance requests until the place is literally falling apart. Treat your tenants like customers not inmates.

What gets me is the poor general level of customer service here in Austin. I can spin many yarns of the slumlord mentality and I know full well that Austin isn't alone in this phenomenon.

Look, it's this simple. If someone pays their rent on time, in full, every month and doesn't turn the apartment/house/condo into a complete and utter biochemical wasteland, why treat them like something you scraped off your shoe after riding the NYC subway?

If you treat good standing tenants like garbage, you have no business being a landlord. Period.

3) Toll Roads.

It appears that the Trans-Texas Horroridor is on hold for the moment. It seems that the Lege finally got the hint that they hadn't exactly thought the Governor's cunning plan all the way through.

Let's hope to Franklin Delano Roosevelt that they scrap the plan altogether in the next session and push for better accountability in regards to the funds that are supposed to go to highway improvements instead of being diverted to other areas of the budget. Double tax roadways make baby Lucifer squeal in delight.

Like The Moment When The Brakes Lock...

Those in Austin remember all too well Charles Whitman and his senseless rampage at the University of Texas tower over 40 years ago. It saddens me to know that yesterday's spree at Viginia Tech replaced Whitman as the country's worst school rampage in our history.

The thing that surprises me just as it has a friend of mine who pointed this out to me this morning. From the responses that he has been getting is that people pointed to racial stereotypes about yesterday's shooting BEFORE considering the possibility that the gunman was most likely suffering from a psychological disorder. Psychological disorders are not limited to "Islamic tehrrrrorissts," and that is something that has been especially ignored conveniently.

I cite as examples:

Charles Whitman, The Manson Family, The DC Snipers, Timothy McVeigh, George Henard, Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Jeffrey Dahmer, David Koresh, Jim Jones...

Point is that there is a ton of ignorance in this world that states that differences in race, religion, financial status, gender matter. In the Grand Scheme, they don't. Or at least, they shouldn't. Too much emphasis is placed in society (by the media, governments, entertainment outlets and by the individual choices that people make) on dividing us by what makes us "different" instead of uniting us by our common Human bond and celebrating what makes us different.

In some cases, it's subtle, in most cases it's not. We've been fighting amongst ourselves over these things for thousands of years and realistically none of that will ever end. The only hope we have left in this world is for people to start reaching out to their communities and start making choices towards building global cohesion and friendship, not forging hate and ignorance.

And that is not likely on a global scale.

We are a species that is capable of so much good and enlightenment but, as a species, more often choose the path that leads to such horror and destruction. We Americans spend more on defence annually than we do on educating our children, funding scientific and medical advancements over a four year period.

Think about that for a moment. According to the 2007 budget, our government currently spends 460+/- Billion a year on defence. We spend a combined total of around 114+/- Billion on education, science and technology. If these numbers hold reasonably steady, four years of defence spending would equal SIXTEEN years of spending on education, science and technology.

Am I suggesting that defence isn't important? No, of course not. The world is a tough place and we need to safeguard our citizens and our country from enemies foreign and domestic. Since our country has a proven history of meddling in other people's affairs (and rightly so in bonafide cases regarding the interests of promoting world freedom and protecting our nation), we've made ourself a target over the years. It'd be foolish to not be prepared.

We have this general overwhelming sense that as long as American Idol is on this week and that we know once and for all who was the second party who uploaded Anna Nicole's baby's DNA onto the World People Server, all is right in the world. Why should we waste money on going into space when we have Bin Laden to hunt? Why should we properly fund our schools when teachers "make enough money as it is?"

Why should we study history or geography when it "doesn't apply to anything I need to know?"

Our nation has lost general focus on what is important in life. If we are to survive as a species, we must start working together. We focus too much on "entertainment" or unimportant "fluff" issues that the media kindly spoonfeeds us instead of research, education, science, building friendships, promoting cultural togetherness, mending the rift of gender inequality, events and viewpoints in other nations, social cohesion.

Events like the VT shooting are tragic, but that does not give good cause or reason to start lining up the nearest group of people of a race that is different than the one you happen to belong to just because you think they "look funny." It's attitudes like this that fired the ovens of Auschwitz, set the churches aflame in Mississippi and brought down the Twin Towers.

Think I'm being a little overdramatic?

Study a little history.

Or are you sheeple just too obsessed with finding out if they finally managed to kick Sanjaya off American Idol yet?

We Can't Stop Here, It's Bat Country...

There are times in my life where extremely obnoxious things happen for unexplained reasons. Call it kismet, karma, divine intervention, yes, you could even luck. Myself, I call it a typical ordinary day...

It started with a invite from a friend who wanted to go hang out with me Friday evening. I was to join friend and friend's friend for some food and a little boozing. I figured, "hey, what else do I have to do on a Friday night? Pack my worldly possessions for my upcoming move to god knows where since I haven't found a new apartment that I can afford on a decent side of town yet? Pffff... Naaaaah."

The initial meetup began by noticing that my truck tire was slowly going flat.

As a side note, I will pay to the order the amount of: one crispy bean and cheese taco and thirty-eight/.00 cents--------------------- to the person who invents a tire polymer that can withstand not only being pierced by a nail but can also survive nuclear annihilation, being eaten by wolves and being poked with sporks. I seem to be running over a ton of nails these days and I'm sick to death of having to sit in the fucking tire shop for 1.25 hours at a time waiting for the tire to be fixed.

If there is anything in this world that I truly hate, it is that I hate tires, tire shops, changing tires, rotating tires, tire warranties and tire disposal fees. Hate hate hate, tire tire tire, die die die.

But, I digress. We were discussing Friday, were we not?

So, yon tire was flat. Forsooth! Found a pump and charged it full of air again, thinking it was just a slow leak from yet another nail. I could deal with it later.

We made our way downtown to the festival that we agreed to meet at. It is then that my friend's friend recognizes that she can't bring her blue heeler/collie mixed beast into the festival. Those who are used to Austin are used to Austin's outdoor festivals allowing dogs to be admitted, one and all. So, it was a logical assumption to expect that this gal's dog would be totally legal.

Nope.

Well, my friend offers to keep the dog at their house. Ok, no problem. Friend of friend needed to stay so that other friends would know where to meet, so I drove my friend and the dog to my friend's house.

Just stop me if this confuses you any. Lord knows I have no idea where I'm at at this point.

Anyway, we arrive at my friend's house. Just as we open the door to my vehicle, the dog bolts off faster than, well, a really fast dog. Hey, if you want farm-fresh crazy metaphors, similes and homonyms, I'm all fresh out.

So, here we are, chasing this dog up and down the street, yelling "SKY! SKY! C'Mere, SKY!" which is probably as useful as writing a letter of intent to arrest said dog on parchment and having USPS attempt to deliver to the address "3810 No Way In Hell St., Poughkeepsie, NY" and having then send a reply back via rhesus monkey.

It just wasn't going to happen.

Our best bet was to attempt to corral the dog into a corner than coax him out with a snausage or a severed limb or something. We might get lucky. Or not.

My friend went to go retrieve some dog treats from the house while I attempted to locate Sky's whereabouts. I saw the dog bolting out from between two houses. I shouted after the dog when I heard, "IS THIS YOUR DOG?!?!" coming from the side door of one of the houses.

I peered into the darkness and saw a lady standing inside her door with a phone to her ear.

"No, ma'am, this is my friend's dog. I'm just attempting to wrangle him."

"Well, I'm calling the police. I found that dog inside my house and since I just got home, someone obviously broke in here to let him in!"

What?!?!?! I was beside myself.

"Ma'am, I can assure you that we've only been out here chasing that dog for the past ten minutes."

She closed her door.

Goddamnit.

I went to find my friend to tell said friend to call their friend to get her over here to deal with HER dog. Just in time for the law to arrive.

Now, it has been only six months since my dog had been flattened by a passing motorist, so I was feeling guilty as hell for this dog getting loose on my watch. True, I couldn't have prevented it, but I'd much rather not have to deal with puppy pancakes. And I sure as hell didn't want to deal with the Law, but there you have it.

The attending law enforcement professional pointed me to the curb with a gruff "Wait here."

Visions of Perry Mason court dramas filled my head as I feared the possibility of ending up in the hoosegow for being an accomplice to the dog's B&E rap. Or a ticket at the very least.

A few minutes pass and the dog is by now long gone. By this time a large storm was starting to slowly creep into the area which will soon pelt the city with heavy rain, hail and a weak tornado or two.

Finally, just as the officer emerges from the house, the owner of the dog arrives and rushes up to claim responsibility. Thank deus.

The officer's final analysis of the "scene" was that the lady had been unloading groceries into the house and since the door had been open, the dog had sneaked inside undetected until she closed the door behind her. Thank deus, part deaux.

Spoke with both the officer and the lady for a few minutes. Mostly glad that everything was ok, nothing broken or missing. The Law promised that while he had to go back on patrol, he'd keep an eye out.

I say my farewells and then my friend and friend of friend split up to look for the missing Sky. I should mention that at this point, finding Sky was going to be difficult since the sky opened up with a fury of rain, wind and hail.

I searched around for a good twenty minutes before the rain finally tapered off. By this point, we had each completed two circuits of the neighborhood and I began to patrol the streets of an adjacent neighborhood.

Slowly, I drove down the street, shining my flashlight under bushes and trees. I was in my truck with the headlights and flashers on.

As I passed one house, I noticed a lady in her living room window just staring straight at me. She had this look of concentration and I muttered to myself "1:1 she's on the phone with teh fuzz about me."

Still, I continued down the street before meeting up with my friend at the set rendezvous point. Our next plan was to drive by the local elementary school since it had plenty of trees, overhangs and covered porches that would be perfect places to shelter oneself from the rain.

Sure enough, we found Sky walking away from the school in our direction. Sky's owner jumped from her car and shouted her name. A happy reunion that was more of a big relief to me than anything.

We corralled the dog and returned to my friend's house. Our next plan was to drop Sky off in my friend's house and then fetch some tacos. Seemed like a plan to me. I'd have a few tacos to calm down first and then I'd casually exit, stage right.

Just as we pulled into Taco Bell, the officer from earlier called Sky's owner, who put it on speaker.

"Did you find your dog?"

Yes.

"Good news! By the way, were you prowling around in a white truck earlier? Some lady called us twice to report it..."

I sank quietly in my seat, knowing full well that I had called that one dead on. The Owner spoke to the cop for a moment and then pulled out a pipe from her pocket.

I recognized the pipe for what it was but wasn't about to shout, "HEY, don't smoke your damned weed in my truck, biatch!" Not with a deputized peace officer in earshot. So, I just rolled down the windows and glared at her, hoping she'd get the hint.

My friend stared at her too, my friend's jaw set in disbelief. What kind of benighted twit smokes a bowl in someone else, let alone a stranger's car?

My attitude about weed has always been that it's not for me. Since I have worked with a ton of potheads over the years, I'm less inclined to be morally offended about something that's really a personal choice. I won't stop people from doing it or bitch about it as long as it's not hurting myself, other people or seriously getting themselves into trouble with other things. It's been my experience to worry more about the raging alcoholic than the occassional potsmoker.

Still, what kind of fucking moron smokes a bowl in someone else's car while speaking to the local constabulary? If you're going to burn one, do it in the comfort of your own home and not in a situation where you can put people's lives and freedom in danger.

I turned on the AC at this point while my friend attempted to get Dumbass Dog Owner to stop by a series of hand gestures and dirty looks. Dumbass thought the situation was hilarious and began to flirt with the cop while fighting my friend's attempt to seize the pipe and lighter.

Thankfully, the ride was very short. I stopped in front of the door and let them both out. I told my friend that I had enough fun for one night and that I needed to get up early the next morning, so... See ya.

I pulled over at the nearest gas station and stepped outside for some calming quiet. I cannot remember the last time I had been this frustrated with people and their lack of common sense. Here I am, 31 years old, and I'm dealing with people who are my age but still acting like goddamned teenagers.

I stared at my truck for a moment and noticed that the tire was now quickly losing pressure. I'd have to change it. In the rain. At 10:00 at night. At a not very well lit gas station.

Feck it all. And people wonder why I don't socialize very often...

All These Worlds Are Yours Except Europa...

Eat it, ET doubters.

It'll be interesting to see how many more worlds we find that support water. There is a theory that Jupiter's moon Europa may indeed harbour a vast under-ice sea. There is a proposal to head to Europa to find out. Should be interesting to find whether or not such a sea does exist beneath Europa's ice sheet.

And if there is any life therin...

General Bitchfest

Item 1:

OMGWTFBBQ!!!1111!!!!oneone!!!

Larry Birkhead is the 1 who uploaded his baby batter unto 1 Anna Nicole Smith and made teh babie!!111!!!oneone!!! OMG! She downloaded HIS child k0not th lawyer's!

Next person who tells me that gets a cold, calculating stare in their general direction. Possibly a snide remark or two. Or a punch in the potato salad.

Item 2:

OMG, WHY ARE WE IN IRAQ? WE SHOULD PULL OUT NOW!!oneone!!111!

First of all, it's too late to simply pull out. This one's knocked up and there is nothing that can be accomplished by cutting and running.

I'm not a big fan of how we got there, but for fuck's sake can we please let our soldiers do their jobs and provide them the tools and funding that they need to truly accomplish the "mission" and get out as safely and as wisely as possible?

True, I was not alive then, but are we forgetting the lessons of Vietnam THAT quickly?

I Don't Believe In Kennedy...

Give me something to believe in, folks.

Rules:

Something not involving religion (organized or otherwise)or atheism/agnosticism.
Something not involving personal self discovery or homeopathic remedies/procedures.
Something not involving medicinal or pyschological assistance.
Something not involving mandated governmental protocols or policies.
Something not involving the mainstream press, gossip outlets or pundits.
Something not involving self-help books, catchphrases or political correctness.
Something not involving scientific analysis, statistical analysis or theory.
Something not involving war, countries, flags, race, colour, leadership or the workings of the "common man."
Something not involving love, hate, feelings of any sort.

Give me something real. Something that can stand the test of time and can survive detailed scrutiny. Something that can justify exactly why it is that I am feeling so damned tired of everybody's bullshit these days.

Winner gets a high five and a hearty handshake for a job well done!

And I Grieve For My Sister...

I have been attempting to put some things right in my life that have bothered me for some time. I'm not entirely sure what I hope to gain from some of what I am attempting, but I do hope that I at least learn something, if not about someone else, than myself.

I've been having Brian Wilson's Smile album playing through my head again. Quite honestly, I had never really been a totally huge fan of the Beach Boys, but gorram if I don't find myself listening to Smile at least once a week. I find myself cranking it more when I'm blogging than any other time, which is also something that I cannot fully explain.

Generally, I'll start with "Our Prayer/Gee" and find myself wrapping up somewhere between "Roll, Plymouth Rock" and "In Blue Hawaii." I rarely listen to "Good Vibrations" anymore because every time I hear it, I think of Sunkist.

Those who remember those commercials probably just clicked their heads to the side in knowing of what exactly I'm referring to.

Moving along the Amtrak of Derailed Thought, I attempted to reconnect with a long lost friend of mine. I stumbled across her number, or at least what had been her number, during a cursory search of my effects. Since that number didn't function, I attempted to perform a Google search, found another number and called it. Didn't work either.

I thought about following up with a more intense Google search, but thought better of it. We had been close friends, but lost touch after the fire and our relationships pretty much took control of our respective lives. To me that sucks because it just drives home the point that I have yielded too many friends simply for the sake of keeping my ex-girlfriends happy.

Now I have neither them, nor my friends that had been shelved. Just a stack of old disconnected phone numbers and a bunch of broken promises to keep in touch.

Still, 'tis better to just pick up the pieces and move on. Keep contact with the pals that I do have and go make more. If fate is kind, perhaps the old ones will return. If not, perhaps it was just time for us to move onto different paths.

That does happen in friendships sometimes and 'tis better to recall the hilarity you did have than to sit here and pine for what cannot be. But, yeah, I still think of her sometimes.

Her and Danny. Jesus, I hope he got back from the IO alright. He'd been on the USS Kitty Hawk for awhile before I lost him. The three of us used to get into such crazy adventures. Darren too, but he was Rachel's soon to be ex and he turned into a bit of a jerk after he got his big deal job stocking wine at HEB. Wheehaw.

At least my Indiana, Lubbock & Ft. Worth pals are doing alright. I've heard from all within the past 48, which amuses me vastly.

I was stopped by teh boss, who had stumbled across QTV's website the other day. No idea how, but she found it hilarious. That's good, but unexpected. She said that my comedic machinations helped to cure her of her spleen impaledness.

Wow. I mean, wow. I've been told we're funny, but curing accidental impalings? That's awesome.

Either way, "Windchimes" is starting to play and I have a desire to grab a beer and watch Escape From Alcatraz, which is playing on TCM at the moment. Assuming I can last another 2.5 hours awake, that is.

And Me Without My Wellies On...

Read the following driving directions very carefully...

Directions like these just don't get any better than that.