A case of the Tuesdays . . .

Well, I guess since it's officially Wednesday by now, I should change the day, but fuck it. It's too late to get caught up in pointless fucking details.

Quick sports rant (and then I'll move on to more important things): Just got through watching a baseball game where my upstanding Texas Rangers were playing the steroid-injected San Francisco Giants. I'm the last person to bitch about bad calls by officials, but last night's game was probably the worst I've ever seen--really. Not only was the strike zone ridiculously inconsistent all night, but the hit that would have tied the game in the top of the ninth was ruled a foul ball, even though replays show the chalk flying in the air as the ball hit in fair territory (For those who are not familiar with this sport, you have permission to just nod and smile--there will be no pop quiz later). What a bunch of bullshit. Here's what just landed in my inbox from Jamey Newberg, a very well-respected guy who covers the team:

That was a disgusting, pathetic, sickening display of umpiring incompetence that I would expect to have consequences of some sort, if I didn’t have exactly zero faith that the league had any freakin’ clue on how to handle it.
I’m not going to sleep well tonight. Tonight’s home plate “ump” (Larry Young) and tomorrow night’s home plate excuse (Tom Hallion), who are basically bulletproof and not held accountable for their pathetic ineptitude, will probably sleep like babies.

What a disgrace.

My sentiments exactly . . .

On another note, tomorrow appears to be a swim day at A-train's. It seems as if I'm one of the few people usually invited, probably because I am very low-key when peeing in the pool. After that, who knows? I think the plan is to trash Charles' place once he gets out of the asswhip that is Mallory. It should be a good time. I just hope I feel like drinking by then. Maybe I'll take my rum with me, just in case the beer's not really doing it for me.

In the sociolinguistics class today, E made a startling discovery that a certain tribe of Indians in a documentary have a rare dialectal property: All of the men sound like they're gay (and probably of the cross-dressing variety). And yet they wondered why H. Locklear distanced from their community . . . hmmmm. Good times. While watching the film, I often wondered how much one could make off of artistic works such as dreamcatchers and other yarn-related projects, as yarn seems to be making quite a comeback in these modern times.

A Case of the Mondays

It's a little after 10 pm, and I feel like shit. Just fucking tired. And I have work to do which will not get done, or at least not today anyway.

It probably didn't help that my buddy came in from the University of Arkansas on his way to teach a camp at TCU. He and I have known each other for almost ten years, and if there's one thing we've been consistent about, it would be that we both feel the need to pour as much alcohol as possible into our bodies whenever we get together. Sunday was no exception. We started drinking (and I mean drinking heavily . . .) about three in the afternoon and stopped about 1:30 this morning. It's the kind of drinking that always involves some type of cardplay--I couldn't even fathom the number of drinking games I've participated in while hanging out with this drunk fucker.

If I would have been pulled over this morning while on my way to work, it would have not been good. Not that I was swerving or anything of that nature, but my BAC had to be over the limit, even after five hours of sleep. Luckily, everything went fine, though I must admit that I felt like ass. So I start looking around for some headache medicine. As I'm scrounging around in my newly acquired desk (the office more or less officially became mine over the last month or so), I see a medicine bottle.

On a piece of lined notebook paper, someone had written "ADVIL" and affixed it to the bottle using clear Scotch tape. I took a closer look at the actual labeling on the bottle, and I saw that it was for gas relief and PMS. So I wasn't sure if someone was just pulling a practical joke, but the secretary assured me that it was advil. So I took a couple. Oddly enough, my headache never really went away, but I've felt a lot less bitchy since then, so I guess it's a fairly even trade.

On a side note, in case this English thing doesn't really work out, I may start a career writing alternate endings to boring books. Maybe I could be come the "UNAMBIGU-ATOR"--the superhero that removes ridiculous ambiguities in the final passages of texts, a habit that many lesser writers use in their works to compensate for their artistic inadequacies.

Or I may just see if I can find a market for random flow charts.

Odd pics found on the internet (Comical Update)

For Charles:

Wow, maybe life would be easier if we were all deaf:

Funny Stuff below from Natalie Dee's husband at Toothpaste for Dinner:

Because this is so true:

And so is this:

For Everyone:

For Me and everyone like me:

For E, because she loves Oregon Trail:

For the Goose:

For several nameless professors:

For everyone:
**************UPDATE****************
Okay, guys. This is some actual shit I found on my front door about a week ago. It's my two favorite things in the world brought together--religion and wrestling!!

After all, who could refuse the healing power of the Wrestling Jesi?


While I do like the slogan of "Professional Wrestling With a Message!"--I think that "It's like church that really kicks ass!!" would really go over well with the early adolescent crowd.

Some other fun things to do with the flyer or at the event:

• Try to figure out which guys are the good guys and which ones are the bad guys. Hmmm . . . how could you ever guess?? I also wonder if one just might have a change of heart at the end of the night and if, before the crowd leaves, he'll ask others in the audience to come down and join him as he asks for forgiveness, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.
  
• Try to find the Amen Corner. If you're having problems, ask E, as this is one of the few AAVE terms she is familiar with.
  
• Think up your own wrestling name, just in case the Lord calls on you to join this band of merry men.
  
• Along that line, what the fuck is up with Albert? "Albert"!! Are you fucking kidding me? That's the best he could do? That's fucking pathetic. I think he should have just gone with douchebag.
  
• Put a flyer in everyone's mailbox on campus.
• Go to the event completely fucking wasted.
• Ask all of the wrestlers to sign various religious texts you have brought with you--recommended books would be anything by Anton LeVay or L. Ron Hubbard.
• Remind them that of all the things that the Jesi would do, they probably would not be seen wearing a fucking uni-tard or a speedo. From all pictoral accounts I'm familiar with, he was usually either going commando or simply had a curtain draped around him. Perhaps he was trying to keep the sperm count up (see DaVinci Code). ******[As the lights flicker in my house and thunder crashes outside]
  

Because I'm a lazy bastard

Even though I really am under no obligation to do much of anything until I go back to work on Monday, I actually have quite a bit of shit that requires my attention this weekend. However, I am currently lacking the willpower/energy to actually put any of these activities in motion.

Things I need to do this weekend, but likely won't:

• Finish mowing the yard. While I edged and mowed the front yard, the backyard is still needing some attention. Although it is fenced in and not visible to my neighbors, I really would like to get it done so that I don't have to worry about it until next week. But right now I feel like doing a whole bunch of nothing, so it will likely wait until next week.
• A guy I used to work with called me earlier today and left a message on my cell phone. I haven't checked the message, but I assume he wants to get together and watch The DaVinci Code, as this is something we talked about a few months ago. Every three or four months, he calls me to go watch a movie--besides that, we have no real contact. Even the ride to/from the theater is often boring and awkward. But he's a really good guy, family man, and all that shit. And he was a good employee for me. So what do you do?
• My buddy who is working on his MA at the University of Arkansas is supposed to be coming down Sunday, though I need to call him to see exactly what time. A binge drinking marathon will likely follow immediately thereafter. Hopefully I won't have to call in sick on Monday.
  
• I should contact my oldest brother and explain why I haven't returned to finish laying the tile in his bathroom. I'm sure he's getting a little bitter at me by now, but then again, who isn't?
• Pray that E does not mistakenly swerve into traffic during her professional cycling debut. Based on her driving characteristics (such as always staying in the left lane), I could see her trying to pass cars on the road out of sheer habit. While it certainly sounds like a somewhat dangerous proposition, I'm sure it will fill some quality air time during an "America's Funniest Home Videos" segment.
• Don't forget to go to the dentist, something that is always a fucking asswhip.
• Wash my laundry. Though I am not a big fan of this particular household chore, it sure beats finding all of my clothes crammed into a laundry basket two days later wrinkled all to holy hell, something very likely to happen whenever my wife takes this task upon herself. And since ironing is something I don't do (can, but don't), it usually involves me washing and/or drying again to shed the particular garment of the wrinkles.
• Eat three meals a day. I don't make it a habit to do this all that frequently, though I've been making a conscious effort over the last month or so. I'm proud of myself, as most everything I've been able to google highly recommends engaging in this type of activity for health-related reasons.
• Find a plant to take to my office at work. Though no one noticed today, it was recommended/suggested/demanded by a professor for me to redecorate my office as she felt it was unprofessional. Keep in mind that I had not decorated it in any fashion previously--as a matter of fact, I've left everything exactly the same from the previous occupant. So now there's nothing on the walls at all and all of the cutesy shit that was in there before has been carefully hidden away. With it's institutional beige walls and brown shelves, I figure all I need at this point is a toilet installed in order to finish off that prison cell theme I'm going with.
• Start reading again . . .
  

Why Blog?

Over the last month or so, I've begun to question why it is that I actually do this whole blogging thing. Was it to vent my teenage-like angst or simply to send messages to a close circle of friends and colleagues. Well, I've discovered the answer as I've been sitting here at the fucking computer since about 9:30. The answer, of course, is that blogging is a wonderful waste of time, particularly when there are other, more important things that should be taking up our evenings/early mornings. Yet for some reason, I feel very passionate about inspecting each and every blog that I know whenever I am put in this situation.

For example, tonight I need to read about 40 or 50 pages of a book dealing with Appalachian children in urban settings and writing a 3-4 page paper which discusses the placement of certain groups and nationalities into categories because of their assumed relationships with the English language. While these projects sound like quite a fine time, no doubt, I cannot seem to force myself into dealing with it right now. Instead I choose to blog about meaningless nonsense, read depressing redneck poetry, analyze the great question "What if", and try to think up names for a rather large and green swim cap (I like Condi, as it's a name both appropriate and politically relevant). Good Fucking Times.

By the way, it's three down and one to go on the (road?)trip to GA. Congrats to A-train and Little E (and myself). C'mon Charles, you're holding up progress here. I think you should contact them tomorrow and demand immediate acceptance . . . or else.

When there's nothing left to live for . . .

Mavs lose 4 in a row and NBA Championship . . .
I can't fucking believe it.

But at least heaven's waiting, right?

THE ANGST IS MOUNTING

It's about 1:00 in the morning CST and I'm sitting at the fucking computer because I can't sleep.

It's kind of a shame, actually. Friday was an okay day, as I was able to hang out with some friends without too much bitterness from the old lady (even when everything was looking otherwise). I caught a nice little buzz on Friday night, and everyone got home safely, etc., etc. Saturday was really the day things started to go downhill.

First of all, I had a significant hangover that morning. While my wife was kind enough to let me sleep it off, I can't say I appreciated the constant attention while she was reaching this decision. Sometimes one just wants to be left alone, particularly when one has a mind-numbing headache.

Probably what set me off immediately was my nephew filling me in on all of the random shit that had been talked about me the following week. The previous weekend I had went to my brother's house to help lay some tile (since no one else knows how to do it)--I thought it would be perfectly fine to give him a hand, right? It's that whole helping the family out and all of that bullshit that most of us tend to be indoctrinated with as we grow up. Unfortunately, my mother was upset that I had spent time working at my brother's house while her house is still under construction/repair. So she spent the majority of the week bitching about how I hadn't done anything at her house in a while, but that I had been to help my brother. That type of attitude generated the following segment in today's blog post:

Things that I would like to say to my mother, but probably won't:

Dear Mom,

1. While it is true that I haven't been working at your house lately, let me remind you that no one else has either. Before you get all up in my shit, please gather everyone who lives in your house in front of a mirror and take a long hard look.
2. Perhaps you should call your other son and ask him why he hasn't been around to help (The answer to this question can be found in #1). And in case you haven't noticed, most of his tools have found their way back to his house. Do I blame him? Not at all. As a matter of fact, I'm jealous.
3. What sense does it make to spend hundreds of dollars on shit that you don't need yet. Call me silly, but buying a pallet of Pergo three years ago was not a good idea, especially when it takes four months to find a better place to put it than the yard.
4. If you're really interested in getting some work done around your house, then perhaps it would be a good idea to stay home. I don't believe that two weeklong trips to Mexico over the next month and a weeklong trip to Louisiana as well really convinces others that this house is your priority. Obviously, church is your priority (which is fine), but don't expect me to bust my ass when everyone's out vacationing. Perhaps you could get your Nazi church friends to come out sometime and pick up a hammer or a drill.
5. I wish that I hadn't put myself in a position of dependence on you for childcare. On second thought, perhaps spending the money towards daycare would have been a better idea, rather than dealing with this shit. Plus, I could load up my tools and go home and not be bogged down by the endless project of remodeling your house.
6. I only work on your house because I'm trying to be a good son, and I want to help you out and make you happy. Talking shit about me helping someone else when they need help certainly makes me question your appreciation. Now I don't feel like doing shit.
7. When my children are both enrolled in school in the fall, life will be good. Perhaps I'll send you a picture of us--you probably won't be seeing us all that frequently when the summer ends.
8. Speaking of summer, I wish to TGLJC that I hadn't invited everyone to go to the beach with my wife and children this August. After the beating that was Memorial Day where we were miserably stuck in a enormously depressing and anti-fun environment, I regret it immensely. The only people who I wanted to hang out with are not going, leaving only the people who do nothing but talk shit about those who aren't there. And if it is true that you guys expect my wife and I to do all of the cooking for everyone all week long, then we are going to have a good time. I would love to back out of this, but once again, my obligations because of my children put me in a difficult predicament. But just for the record, my wife and I are seriously trying to come up with a good reason not to go. Thanks for ruining my fucking vacation.
9. If you think that we will be joining you guys for July 4th then you should probably think again. While I may be down briefly to see my brother from Tennessee, that's about the extent of it. Luckily, I have school the next day, and my wife will be working, so at least we have an excuse.
10. I can't even count the number of times I've looked around your house today and thought "WTF?" about various things.
11. You guys have ruined a perfectly good dog. When it arrived here a few months ago, it was a really nice, well-behaved animal. Now it's just starved for attention because the only thing anyone ever says to it is "Move, dog" as they're shuffling in the house. It's embarrassing.
12. I could go on and on, but it wouldn't matter anyway. Perhaps I'm just bitter because I hate people talking shit about me behind my back. I can't wait to have a reason never to come back to this shitty little town.

I told you it was angsty, didn't I.

This is actually the 103rd post

101 and 102 were taken down because there were some very touchy things said about certain members of my family who had annoyed me to no end during the Memorial Day holiday. Although I sincerely doubt that any of the people in question would have found this particular blog on the internet, I figured that my luck would eventually catch up with me and I would be disowned--but then again, would that really be so bad?

I was reading Andi's blog earlier and felt as though we had some similar things to say--not necessarily about her crush on Hugh Laurie (I personally believe that the crush is there because of the cane--it makes him seem injured or something, like a lame wildebeest or something--easy prey)--but more about what this blog once represented and what it no longer represents. For me, I also enjoyed dropping the F-bomb in rapid succession and I was angry--mad at the world, mad at my life, mad at everything around me, mad at my shitty fucking luck (here I go again). But I would also agree with the A-train that I don't really feel that way anymore. Why? Let's investigate.

For starters, I guess you could say that I'm a hell of a lot more comfortable in grad school. I know that I can do the work at an acceptable level, or at the very least, bullshit my professors well enough to fool them. While I can't say that I'm terribly thrilled at my current and future role within the department concerning the Writing Center and Basic Writing Program, at least I can say that it's a pleasure to know that I'll be working closely with Little E, as opposed to some other random douchebag I could have been saddled with. So I guess it's not too bad. The trick, of course, will be to keep her sober enough to actually get some shit done.

Secondly, I've had a break from school. While I enjoy the reading and whatnot that grad school entails, it's awfully nice to get a break from the pressure and stress that accompanies it. I've read quite a few books of my own choosing during the break, watched a hell of a lot of sports, road-tripped to Houston, worked in my yard, played with my kids--all that good stuff. And even though I'm currently starting my second week back to school (and work, for that matter) during this summer session, I don't feel nearly as run-down. The class I'm taking now also appears to be gravy, and that's a good thing.

Thirdly, even when I'm feeling a bit beaten down by circumstances or complications, there is always the random inanimate object such as Greg the Tapeworm, Jeff the Frown, and George the Padded Bicycle Shorts to cheer me up. Now that I think about it, these sound like great characters for a graphic narrative (though I would be curious to see how Jeff maintains his stoic nature while being subjected to the shenanigans of George the PBS).

I guess things could always be better, less complicated and all of that shit. And while I have yet to determine the final answer to the great rhetorical question of our Age (What do you do?), I do believe that you take what you can get while you can get it and make the most of your opportunities. There's no promise for tomorrow, so you might as well be as happy as you can be today, right? And for now, I guess I'm pretty fucking happy.


But then again, I'm depressive by nature, so what the fuck do I know?