Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Maybe I should bring back the Wall O' Frizz

I'm sick of all this depression bullshit, and I'm sure you are tired of reading about it, too. I woke up today still sore as hell and perhaps that led to my sour mood. All I could think about while I was in the shower was how my life sucks. And the shower is where I do my best thinking... I'm a negative person. Not to blame my father, but he is extremely negative, and I've got his genes. I want to be a positive person, but apparently I can't just decide to be positive. That hasn't worked. Instead, I need to find an outlet for my pain and move on from there.

I got to work and decided to not be depressed and sad all day. That's not helpful, productive, healthy, or attractive...all things I want to be. So, I got to work on reformatting the last script of the season. Then, while on a short break, I had a semi-conversation with a new coworker. He mumbled something near me, and I asked him what he said. Embarrassed, he said that he was just thinking outloud. I told him that I used to do that, and it got me in a lot of trouble so now I just stay quiet. I was half joking, two thirds serious. Then he said that he noticed that I was quiet and that I should talk more. That was the end of the discussion, but he's right. I've gone through this cycle before where I get so down on myself and the things that I do (or don't do) that I just shut up completely and try to avoid talking to anyone.

This happened in high school, and I snapped out of it my Senior year. I really snapped, you know. I started doing things that were out of the ordinary for me. One example, is that I used to have my hair perfectly combed at all times and even carried a comb with me and was constantly checking my hair to see if it was still properly plastered in position. During my Senior year, I decided that I no longer cared what my classmates thought of my appearance. I had obviously failed to impress them with my immaculate and perfectly parted hair up to that point, so halfway through each school day, I would let this girl tease my hair into an ungodly wall of frizz. I would then go the rest of the school day with my hair completely out of my control. It was the best feeling I had experienced up to that point. Complete freedom. I suddenly started talking more. Being more outgoing. Being more confident.

That's what I need now. Something to snap me out of this. I need to snap.

After my conversation by the refrigerator today, I went back to my desk and started writing comic strips. I've written four so far today, and they are all dealing with things that I'm currently worried about. These situations always make for the best comics from me. I have two main characters, Jack and Scott. In the past, I always had trouble giving them distinct personalities. But really, each character whould have their own personality that directly reflects my own personality traits. And I've got a wide variety to choose from. So now I'm making a choice. Jack, the sunglass wearing, long haired partier will be the fame-seeking, attention whore, superficial side of my personality. Scott, the bespectacled and bearded character will be the overly pensive, writer, hopeless romantic side of my personality. Can you think of any other obvious personality traits of mine that should be included?

Today, I've been writing from the perspective of Scott. And you know what? I already feel a lot better. My friend told me that seeing her therapist would cost me $170 per session, so I hope that I can work this stuff out on my own.

Monday, January 30, 2006

You're not using those testicles are you?

I need to get out and be more social. This is one of the points on my "Ways to improve Joel" list, so this Sunday, when The Whammer called to see if I wanted to play football I agreed to go. Not at first, I didn't. There was some soul-searching involved first. Some self-motivating. I had already blown off church for the umpteenth time in a row, and the rest of the day was already looking bleak at 12pm. Something outdoors, physical, and social is exactly what I was needing, so I rolled through the shower, found some shorts and shoes, and headed off to Beverly Hills High for a pickup two-hand touch football game with some of the employees at E!

A lot of people showed up. Way more than they were expecting, so we split into four teams by having four girls be captains and choosing the teams. Ok, so I didn't know a lot of the people there, and they all seemed to know each other. Also, there were a few athletic guys there that definitely had an edge on me physically. Sure, I get that. But there's no way that I should have been chosen last! I was chosen last! Last!! I'm 6'2". 165 lbs. Thin, yet athletic for my frame. But, I guess I'm not seeing what everyone else sees, because when they look at me, they must see a bad athlete. Last! What is this? Junior High? Am I still the worst? Give me a break. What a bunch of idiots.

It's not like I was being outwardly social or anything, though. Look, it's the beginning of the year, and I'm just starting to leave my apartment. I'm not good at just going up to groups of people I don't know and introducing myself. I guess I should change that. It probably would have helped me when they were choosing teams. Anyways, on to the game. My team started off badly. I was getting open each play, but my quarterback couldn't get the ball to me. He was horrible, and through my suggestion we switched QBs. This was a great move for our former quarterback, because he started catching balls left and right. This was a bad move for me, because I didn't get another ball thrown to me the rest of the game. Zero catches for the whole game. This was Junior High again. Only throw to your friends. I was playing against The Whammer, and he wasn't getting the ball thrown to him either. I told him that we could have just gone jogging together. Oh well, I think they're playing next week, and I'll be ready. This time, they're going to throw the ball to me occasionally, or they'll have to hear me bitch the whole game. I kept my mouth shut for the most part this game, since I didn't know anyone and didn't want to come across as an asshole. But, if it happens next time, they'll get to understand how big a jerk I can really be.

Today, I can't walk. I haven't run like that in years, and it's no surprise to me how sore I am today. I even woke up at 4am in pain. I couldn't move. I couldn't roll over. I couldn't get out of bed. I had to lift my right leg with my arms to get in and out of the shower this morning. It feels good, though. All I have to do is wait a couple days for the soreness to go away, and I can start running again without having to worry about getting more sore. That's the worst part about working out, the first few days. Once you get over that hump, things get a lot easier.

So, let's recap the past week. I was shot down by a girl that I really liked. I was picked last out of a bunch of people for a football game. I didn't get one catch in the football game. And now I'm so physically punished that it takes me 3 minutes to get in or out of my car. That's quite a blow to the ol' ego. What does it all mean? Am I supposed to be learning from all this? What's the lesson?

I feel fine. I'm writing. I'm just going to keep doing what I do, and the little things will soon fall my way.

Friday, January 27, 2006

This time I really didn't start the fire

I got to my boss' house at around 7:45 for poker night. My boss and a couple producers were there when I arrived, and The Whammer arrived shortly after. My boss, Big G, showed us a refrigerator full of beer, and we were pleased. Then she showed us a plate full of sandwiches, and we were more pleased. Then she showed us weed, and we were not angered by this.

We decided to play a cash game where the blinds are set and you can buy in for $20 and rebuy whenever you're out of chips. While I was setting up the chips, one of the producers, Q, noticed that the overhead lamp was broken. The was some jagged glass hanging off of it, and he insisted that it was a hazard. He took a paper towel, grabbed the glass piece and broke it off. Little shards of glass came raining down on the poker table, but no one cared about that considering Q's paper towel was aflame. Q quickly dropped the towel onto the floor and stamped it out. No one panicked. No alarms went off. Glass was picked up, and chips were divvied.

I had a great time playing the game. I bullied the table a little bit but nothing too major. Big G won one pot from me when she bluffed me off of my middle pair. But I still ended the night with the pot of the day when The Whammer thought his middle pair could beat my set of 5's and gave me everything he had. I ended up with $75, and what's better is Big G ended with $80. My job is not in danger.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

New pattern. Old friend.

I have a new after work pattern. Lately, I've been coming home, loosening my sobriety a little bit, writing and working on my projects for a few hours, and then playing a game of online poker before going to bed. This is a still a very new pattern, just three days old, but so far in these three days I have written and recorded a rough script for my internet show and profited $210 from the poker.

Tonight, I won't have time for writing, because I've been invited to my boss' house in Venice for a poker game. This should be interesting. I'm not going over there to take everyone's money, though. No, this is what's called a networking opportunity. My chances of making money playing poker are much greater if I stayed home and played online. However, I have a serious hiatus from work coming up, and perhaps someone in this game might have some real work for me in the meantime...or even the future. I'll just try to have fun. That sounds like fun. Having fun does.

I'm supposed to go jogging/hiking with some friends tomorrow at the brik-a-break-a-dawn. I want to go, but it will hard to motivate that early in the morning after I go out tonight. Now that this whole SF thing is over I am losing my motivation to work out. That's sad, and hopefully I can fight through it. I've got a case of the "what's the points?"

You're not done yet

Ouch. I bet someone wishes he were reading Loft Boys.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Dear John, you are not a suitable mate

I'm distracting myself with a new comedy project. My friend Ivan in Indianapolis and I are working on a podcast. The show is a mock-gameshow currently called "You're What's Killing America." I don't want to tell anymore. I'd rather just send you all the link once it's finished.

I received a letter from the SF Girl. She broke up with me. Hahahahaha.....sigh. She actually wrote me a very polite, short letter saying that she has no romantic feelings for me. I could have written it myself. There was no breaking information involved. I haven't sent a response, and I don't know that I want to. At the moment, all I can think to write is "Good luck with your abusive roofers and bartenders!" ...which isn't very nice.

I'm not hung up on it anyways. Sure, it hurt. But I was ready for it. I knew it would happen before I took the trip. I'm over it. Let's just call her Thunderdome.

Because I'm beyond it.

Co-signed apologies are just more heartfelt

Oops! It looks like someone got in trouble with their athletic director. Man, that's it. This really might be funnier than Loft Boys.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

You wanna fight about it?

This is the funniest thing I've seen in the Exponent since Loft Boys. (Scroll Down)

Monday, January 23, 2006

But I don't know where to put it

I'm quiz kid Donnie Smith, and I have lots of love to give.

That's a line from Magnolia, and it pretty much sums up how I feel about this past weekend. I went up to San Francisco but knew I was headed for disappointment before I even left. But it wasn't like that from first contact. No, no. Tunes were changed. Gears were shifted. It was all very predictable. I could have written exactly how the weekend would go before I left.

I ran into an omen on the way. As I left Los Angeles and started to hit the mountains, this giant, dark cloud came rolling over a huge hill. The cloud wasn't over the hill. It was the hill. And as my car got closer to it, the wind picked up strongly, and the temperature dropped 30 degrees. It looked really incredible, and I wish I took a picture to show you. I had to stop at a town at the bottom of the mountain to fill up my car with gas. When I went inside to get a Green Tea (to help ward off all sickness), I noticed that my finger was bleeding. From what, I have no idea...but it wasn't a good sign.

After leaving My Girl a voicemail to tell her when I would be arriving, I received a text message from her saying that she was taking a nap and that I should call her when I got close. So, when I was 15 miles out, I gave her a call...and got the voicemail again. I left her a message saying that I was close but surely I would get lost, so she had a little time to wake up before I got there. I immediately called her again to see if she would wake up, but I got the voicemail again. Luckily, I did get lost. I had to use both Mapquest and Google Maps to find her place. Double true. I kept calling her every five minutes or so but got the voicemail everytime. The city was packed as it was Friday night and it wasn't easy to find parking, but I did end up getting a pretty good spot...after I prayed about it. I found her building and a group of buzzers with apartment numbers on it. I knew she was in 974, but there was also a 974A. I rang the first one and got someone with an accent and immediately apologized to them for ringing the wrong apartment. I tried 974A and got someone younger sounding. I asked about My Girl, and the voice told me that she wasn't there. I insisted that she was sleeping and that she should try banging on her door. Sure enough, a couple minutes later My Girl came down.

She was very apologetic for being asleep and had an obvious cold. But she wasn't made up at all. This was bad news. If a girl doesn't make herself up for you, she's not into you. Simple as that. She was into me in past phone conversations...but I felt like something changed in the last week before I went up there. I could feel it. And then I saw her come down in her scrubbies, give me a lightning quick hug, and I immediately knew that this weekend wasn't going to go as I had hoped. I would have jumped back in my car there, but that would be rude and I wanted to see this out until the end.

I met one of her roommates and a friend, and they were very nice. They were warm towards me and that made it all the more obvious that My Girl was being distant. I brought my guitar after a friend insisted that I should, and I really am glad I did. She asked me to play, and while playing the songs I had a chance to escape the awkwardness of the moment. I sounded good. I was funny. Honestly and with all modesty, I can't tell you why she wasn't in to me. As single 28-year-olds go, I think I'm fairly desirable. I'm better looking than most, in the best shape of my life, I have a good and impressive sounding job, and I'm an intelligent, nice guy. What could she be looking for?

I slept on the couch downstairs. Ever listen to the song "Motorcycle Drive-by" by Third Eye Blind? You really should be listening to that while reading this. Regardless of how the first night went, I got up Saturday determined to have a good time and make an effort to win her heart. We got breakfast together. That was a great time to do some catching up. Then we went to Walgreens, so she could get some cold medicine. You can't really blame someone for getting sick, but I really did everything I could in the weeks leading up to my visit to avoid it...and I know that she went out a lot. It is a little telling. Oh, and while at Walgreens she bought feminine products. So, I guess my timing was also pretty bad. But, she bought them in front of me. What is she trying to tell me with that move? She could have bought them before I arrived, and I never would have known. But, instead she puts up the warning flag. A big, red one.

We went for a drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and to some beach. I was doing everything right. I was asking about her, her life, her family, her job, her future plans...and she was asking me nothing. I ran out of things to ask her, and things suddenly grew silent. Awful, horrible silence. So, I decided I was going to have to start talking about myself. I decided to tell her an uncompleted idea I have for a film script, because at the very least I could remind her that I was creative. Girls like creative people, right? This did open things up a bit. From the beach we bought some wine and snacks and when back to her place and hung out on her porch before we were to go get dinner later that evening.

Thank god for alcohol. I needed that sooooo badly. Suddenly, I was able to really get loose and talk about more important things. She would occasionally mention some guy that she had been hanging out with. I believe this to have been my largest obstacle. When I asked her about him, she told me that her past relationship had not ended long enough ago for her to be ready for someone else. It had only been 2 months. 2 months? That's no time at all! Ok, I totally understand that. But, wait a minute. A month ago she was being heavily flirty with me. Of course, I didn't ask her about that, and I regret it. But, I just wasn't ballsy enough to do that. I really, really like this girl, and I went out of my way to not be disagreeable in the slightest. I talked to her a little bit about religion, for she is always talking about God. Then I told her about my past couple years and Maayan and my depression last year. It was important that she realize that I am human. It did help a little. So did the wine.

Later that evening, we went out to a nice, Italian restaurant and had a lovely, friendly, polite time. After that, we went to a bar and sat at a dark table and drank Irish coffees. I knew this was my last chance to speak my mind. It was then or never. And I had to say something. I couldn't chicken out after 7 years. I made this trip to say something and damn it, I was going to say it! So I did. I told her I felt we were perfect for each other. We have a ton in common. It's true. I could make a gigantic list. I also told her that she was a driving force behind my creativity. I told her she was my muse.

She seemed to appreciate it and was embarrassed. But she had her wall up, and no amount of charm and heart felt emotion from me was going to kncock it down. We went back to her place and watched a movie, she on the couch and me in a bucket chair. Then she went to bed, and I went to couch. I woke up very early the next morning and felt like I needed to do something. I couldn't watch TV. I needed to get some feelings out. Apparently I didn't blow my wad the last night in more ways than one. So I wrote her a letter. It wasn't about trying to win her heart still. It wasn't an angry letter yelling at her for leading me on. I wrote the nicest letter I could muster, thanking her for the trip. Four pages.

I dropped her off at a hair appointment before I left. Note that she didn't have it scheduled until after I was there. She hugged me and told me to call her when I got home. I gave her the letter and took off. I did a lot of thinking on the drive back to Los Angeles. I went from sad to angry to something better to something worse to nothing and then back to sad again. I confided with a good friend about the entire weekend, and she insisted that My Girl is an idiot. I agreed and disagreed. I blamed her. I blamed myself. I went through a whole array of different feelings. But by the time I got home, I felt nothing but exhausted. I called My Girl, ready to ask her a couple tough questions that I really didn't have the energy to ask, but thankfully (and predictably) I was once again greeted by her voicemail. "Hi, ____. I'm home. give me a call." And that was it.

I haven't heard from her yet. It doesn't appear that she liked the letter. I'm sure she's telling everyone how this psycho guy came up and harrassed her. Maybe her roommate is telling her what a great guy I seemed to be. She seemed to like me just fine. Maybe not. Maybe I am a psycho.

You know the funny thing? If she called and suddenly was flirtatious with me again, I'd be right back in my car and headed to San Fran. I really do think we're perfect for each other. I'm so hopeless.

She mentioned that she was masochistic. I am too. She's masochistic in that she only likes guys that are bad for her. I'm masochistic in that I only like girls that don't like me back.

Oh well. Lessons learned. I think.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Just a little off the top, but let the back flow

I'm having an allergic reaction to work today. My eyes feel red and puffy. In fact, a coworker just asked me if I had been crying. Then she asked me if I was stoned. If my eyes are red, you can usually count on one of those two options being correct but not this time. Perhaps it was the Pad Thai.

Work is getting very intensive, since it's the end of the season. I've been working my ass off, and I can only see things getting busier.

In other news, I wrote something last night. I finally finished Fat and Lazy by writing a second (or third depending on what you're counting) verse. It only took me 5 years to complete the song. It will be included on this compilation album I'm working on that will feature songs written and recorded by me and my future offspring. Be sure to watch for it.

I printed out a map to Super Cuts and am planning a trip there this afternoon. I'm always scared to get my hair cut, especially at Super Cuts, but it's not like I need anything special done. I think 1 inch off all around will be fine. Hell, if I had a Flo Bee, I could do it myself! My only concern is translating "1 inch" into Spanish. When I printed the map, I ran into the room where the printer is located to get it immediately. When you work at the Style Network, it's not good for your coworkers to see you printing a map to Super Cuts.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

This chair does suck, but I did get a free iced tea today

My new offices got a hilarious write-up at Defamer today. Here's the direct link to the story. One of my co-workers forwarded the site a memo/email we all received. My boss is laughing his ass off. Of course, if this email was sent from these offices, IT can track it and find the loose-lipped culprit. God, I hope it's an EP.

Meanwhile, I'm one of the APs working on an intern's salary. I hope my upcoming hiatus isn't too long, because I need those few pennies for rent.

Caffeine, Punches, Boobs, and Dicks

I just got my second cup of coffee. Danger! Danger! High Voltage! I've lowered my caffeine intake lately, so this cup may just shut down both of my kidneys. That's a risk I'm willing to take.

Last night I had a dream that Shyam punched me in the face. It started with me playfully slapping his arm, and then he decked me. It hurt, but he didn't knock me down or anything. I'm one tough hombre. However, I did tell him that now we would have to fight. But when we squared off, I couldn't bring myself to fight him. I refused to unleash these guns of fury on him. So instead, we got back to swimming with the dolphins or whatever homoerotic dream I was apparently having.

I'm in a new office in Glendale now. Let's call it McDonald's, 'cause I'm lovin' it! A 10 minute drive from my apartment is so much nicer than the 45 minute crawl I had before. The only problem is that my editors and assistant editors are still at the E! building on the other side of town, and I have to go over there at least once a day so far. Starting next season, everyone will be over here, so that will be nice.

Hey! Who wants to see Dan's boobs? I keed! I keed! Actually, Dan, it looks like maybe you did a little working out before the ol' honeymoon. True? I know I would. Not just for my new bride's sake, but because the entire world would see the photographs. Did you hear they moved the Grand Canyon to Hawaii? That should really boost tourism.

See, Dan? I told you this second cup of coffee was dangerous.

I'm still working on that bottle of Crown Royal. The past two nights I have been able to successfully lubricate myself. I like the way the ice clinks in the glass. I also like the way the whisky gets me drunk.

I transcribed the Voice Over script for our latest episode yesterday. To do this, I watch the latest cut very closely, listen for any voice overs, and write them out when I hear them along with the corresponding time code. In each episode we go to a different family's house and try to help fix their lives...by having a yard sale. Well, this latest family is incredible. The husband is the hugest dick! I said "is", not "has". "Is". And his wife is sooo nice. Everytime she would laugh, he would yell at her to stop acting silly. And he is this gigantic megalomaniac with pictures of himself everywhere. No yard sale and new furniture is going to help this couple. I'm not a huge advocate for divorce, but they need one. There will be no working this out. He will never change, and she will never be happy.

I will not be a dick to my future wife. Hear me now! I will be supportive, loving, nurturing, and some other great stuff. Oh, but I've seen a lot of episodes where the wife is the main problem, too. Hopefully, I'll find someone that clicks with me. A couple should compliment each other...not grind against each other. Wait. I guess there should be some grinding.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

I'm smarter and thus mostly miserable

I got angry on the roadways today. Everything was making me mad. Some lady almost caused a huge wreck by having her turn signal on in the far right lane but not knowing it. That pissed me off. Another woman wouldn't let me into a turn lane, because she was having a deep philosophical conversation on her cellphone about either religion, politics, or more likely her hair. That pissed me off. Then I went to Ralph's to buy a six-pack to help calm me down, and the express lane was not what it says it is. That did not cheer me up.

But I'm fine. None of that is really a big deal. I'm simply projecting my own frustrations with myself on other, less intelligent people.

The analogy of Adam and Eve teaches an important lesson. If I were Moses (or whoever supposedly wrote Genesis), the first few chapters of the Bible would be much shorter. I could sum it up in one, short sentence. "Self-awareness is a bitch." The more you realize yourself, the more you worry about who you are and what you are supposed to be doing. Ignorance is bliss. It really is.

I remember in college getting into an argument with one of the members of my fraternity who wasn't really on my level when it came to debate and theoretical discussion. I'm not saying that I'm Confucious by any means, but this was an obvious mismatch. I can't recall what we were arguing about, but at one point in the conversation he made a remark that he could inflict pain upon me...of which he most certainly could have done. I told him that violence is ignorance. To which he retorted, "Ignorance is bliss," and started giggling as if he had just thrown a crushing blow. Well, technically, he couldn't have been more right. If only he knew it.

I'm done with discussing cliches now. This wasn't an angry weekend at all really, just the past couple hours. I feel fine now. I actually had a pretty good weekend. I hung out with my friends yesterday, and then we all went to get sushi. I love sushi, but it's impossible to get enough food to fill you up unless you mortgage your house. I have no house to mortgage, so I did the best I could.

I bought some guitar strings tonight. Elixir lights. The strings that are on my guitar now hurt my fingers. I just don't play often enough to keep my callouses up. I really would like to start playing again. I want to write a new song...I don't know what I will write about, though. Whatever it is, it's going to have to be simple.

Friday, January 06, 2006

This pork is making me sad

I wish I had a girlfriend to cook me dinner. Hell, I need any girl to cook me dinner. Purgatory, I'd let a guy cook me dinner at this point. I can't cook anything. Except spaghetti, but who wants to have spaghetti all the time? I don't marinate meats. I don't even season them. I don't bake. Or broil...I'm not even sure what broiling is. I think it has something to do with London.

I had a dream about Maayan last night. Maayan didn't cook, but that didn't matter. In my dream, I saw her and went up to her and kissed her cheek and her neck. I could smell her, taste her. I woke up completely rested, but I made myself sleep in an extra hour just so I could try to find her in my dreams again. That didn't happen. Instead, I dreamed of some car wreck that happened in front of me. And then I was playing in this poker game, and I kept saying that I needed to go. I had to meet Maayan somewhere, but I couldn't leave the table. I didn't want to leave the table. There would be time to play some more and still get to see Maayan.

It's pretty easy to read into that dream.

I want to have a killer time tonight. I deserve to have a killer time. It seems like it's been a long time since I had last had a killer time.

Did you know a girl accused me of slipping her a Roofie a few months ago? Did I ever mention that? How fucked up is that??

AIM Convo of the Mornin'

Kyle: What up, blood? What up, cuz? What up, gangstaaaaa?
jgirl22: nada
jgirl22: what's up with you?!?!
Kyle: weeeeeeelllllllllll
Kyle: this is my last day in my cube, so i have to pack up
Kyle: but before i do that, i have to go to Huntington Park to get some photos
Kyle: but before i do that, some bitches gots to call me back to let me know the pictures are ready
Kyle: so nothing
jgirl22: fun!
Kyle: if i can make it to the glendale office by 4, they're having a cocktail hour
Kyle: you know i'll be hustlin'
Kyle: ...but i probably won't make it
Kyle: 'cause deez bitches ain't be callin' yo
jgirl22: why are you a whigger
Kyle: i don't know...it's just one of those mornings
Kyle: and it's "wigger" or "wigga"
Kyle: hmmm...now i'm not so sure
jgirl22: nope - cuz you add the white
Kyle: let me check the urban dictionary
jgirl22: white igger = whigger
Kyle: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=wigger
Kyle: BUZZ!!!
Kyle: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=whigger
Kyle: haha...either is acceptable
Kyle: and yet not
jgirl22: i like mine better - biatch
Kyle: mine looks better
jgirl22: nope
Kyle: you've never been more whrong
jgirl22: you're such a whore
jgirl22: damn that sucked
jgirl22: but you are
Kyle: whait a minute. wat did you call me?
jgirl22: a a a a
Kyle: i get it. nice one!
jgirl22: thx!
jgirl22: haha

Well, Bull, it's just you and me

Tonight a friend asked me, "What if _____ sees your blog?"

Well, I've thought of that and for the most part I guess I don't give a shit. That's not true, though. I do give a shit and hope that _____ or _____ or ______ or many other people don't see this blog...or at least won't connect it directly to me. No, it's more complicated than that. If you know that this blog is mine, that's fine. I just don't want people to search for me on Google and find this blog. (Hey, Brian. Could you delete my last name from your post? I found my blog on Google through yours. Thanks.)

This doesn't really make a lot of sense. Part of me wants the whole world to read these neurotic ramblings and appreciate my unique look on things while part of me doesn't want anything negative to happen in my life as a direct cause of this blog.

I do want this site to be more personal than my livejournal, though. It's a delicate situation.

However, due to the amount of comments I receive, I think it's likely that very few people actually do read this.

So, now I'm wondering what the real purpose of this blog is. It's an outlet for...something.

I'm not drinking Crown Royal currently. Instead I opened a bottle of red wine. It's called Abrazo Del Toro, and it's from Spain. I got it dirt cheap at Trader Joe's, and I can't say that it's particularly great. Embrace of the Bull. That's the name of the wine. I do feel like it's trampling me a little.

I think another reason I have this blog is that I live by myself. There's not always someone to talk to about all this shit, and I need to get it out. If I don't, then things get bad for me mentally. This blog is healthy for me. Unlike the embrace of the bull.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

5 Super Christians, a Lesbian, and Me

After work last night, I went over to a friend's place to watch the rest of the Rose Bowl. The game was great and all, but what I really noticed was how much of an ass my friend is turning into. He's trying to get his comedy career going (including making an audition tape for SNL), so he's constantly trying to make everyone laugh. But, he just seems loud and annoying to me. This is disappointing, because I enjoy having this person as my friend, but I won't be able to hang around him if he's going to consistenly insist on being the funniest person in the room. That's what it is, you know. It's about him being the funniest guy around. There were plently of funny guys at his place last night. His roommate is funny as hell, and even I'm known to throw in the occasional zinger. But his roommate and I couldn't even carry on our own private conversation over the din of him trying loudly to rip apart any comment made by the others in the room.

It takes a lot of energy to do what he was doing. I mean 100 mph all the time. No slowing down. I have a feeling that each trip he made to his room or the bathroom was accompanied with a bump of cocaine. I can't be mad at him for doing drugs. I have my own drug issues that I deal with. But if he's doing bumps to stay "on" while hanging out with his friends...that's pretty pathetic. I don't hang out with people to be their test audience. This is the reason that I never could be around all the comedians I know from the shows I did. They're always working on their act with you. You can be funny around me. That's fine. I appreciate it actually...as long as it comes in the flow of the moment. It's like he was forcing everyone to acknowlege his hilarity. Which for me (and his roommate) made it inately unfunny.

My calves are killing me. I worked on them a couple days ago, and they are still screaming. I decided that a good workout for my calves would be to simply stand up on my tiptoes and go back down repeatedly. I did 3 sets of 50 holding no extra weight. Just myself going up and down on my toes. Well, the last 10 repetitions hurt like hell when I was doing them, so I knew something was working. But I had no idea I would be this sore. I can't wait to heal a little so I can try it again. I'm getting very masochistic as of late.

I went to Rite Aid last weekend to get some necessities and decided I also needed to buy a bottle of Crown Royal. I don't think I've purchased a bottle of hard alcohol for personal consumption since college. Why did I buy it? Someone gave me a bottle of Crown for Christmas, 2000. I can't remember who gave it to me, but I remember drinking it on the rocks a little at a time by myself in my first apartment in Los Angeles. I didn't go home that first Christmas, but all of my friends did. It was the first time that I really got to be with only myself far away from home. I enjoyed that time. It was a time filled with hope for the future. I was writing a lot and was genuinely excited about life. I guess I'm feeling that way now. I'm writing a lot. I'm filling up with hope again and seeing things more clearly than I have in a while. The season plus those feelings led me to purchase the bottle.

I haven't had very much of it. I had a couple small glasses while watching the Biggest Loser 2 marathon and one glass since. Tonight, after my workout, I think I'll sit at my computer with a glass and do some more writing. Perhaps, I try the ol' guitar.

I was telling the San Francisco girl about my old house in the ghetto where I lived with 5 Super Christians and a Lesbian. I said it was 5 Super Christians, a Lesbian, and Me, and she said that sounds like a great song. It really does. Maybe I should try to write it. But can I write a song that will top the title? Perhaps not.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

This post is sponsored by Calvin Klein

I've been obsessing. It's been over a year since my last legitimate obsession, but it's just like riding a bicycle. Constant thought and over-analysis. Impatience. Repeated conversations about my obsession with people that have no interest in hearing about my neuroses. All of this eventually leads to burn-out...or worse as the case may be with this one.

My last obsession was poker. At least that obsession made me some money...but it wasn't worth it. It's not like I was ever going to become a professional poker player. I never even wanted to. I did, however, end up wasting a huge percentage of the last year playing poker and gaining essentially nothing of real value from it.

My latest obsession is actually an old one revisited. And here I am talking about how I'm going to do it right this time while worrying about doing it right is how I did it wrong to begin with. Following me on this? It's all cycles and circles. So, I'm taking a break from obsessing about this. I'm going to continue my workouts and do my best to think about other things. Distract myself. Play it cool? Well...maybe play my guitar.

I was going to buy weed last night, but my hook up was unavailable. Instead, a friend came by my place and smoked me out. Thank god for that. I needed to get stoned. Not for the reasons that you probably think. I needed to get stoned to realize that I don't like getting stoned anymore. I hate myself when I'm stoned, and I hated myself last night. It immediately sucked up all the confidence and self-esteem I had been building the past couple weeks...just like it's done to me for the past year. Now, when my hook up calls me, I'll have to tell him thanks but no thanks. Besides, I could use the extra $50.

Another good thing that came from getting high last night was the realization that I was obsessing. But then my brain started obsessing about my obsessing too much, and I got really down on myself. Maybe I'm doomed to overthink and obsess regardless of whether I'm sober or stoned. When I'm sober, I obsess about my desires. When I'm stoned, I obsess about my faults. I'd better stop writing about this before I obsess too much about this entry.

As for my workouts, they're going great. Yesterday was chest day, where I did flies and dumbell presses. I use 45 lbs for both exercises and do the flies first, because they're harder. On each dumbell I have placed four 10 lb weights and two 2.5 lb weights. Two of my 10 lb weights look different from the other because I bought them much later, and I always think that they weigh a little more since they're a different size. They really shouldn't, though. I started off using the dumbell with these heavier weights with my left arm (my weaker arm) for the flies, and man did it feel heavy! I couldn't get the 10th repetition up with my left, so for the next set I switched it to my right. This time I completed all the reps, but it still felt heavier...like a lot heavier. I don't know why I never noticed this difference before! But then Sherlock Joelmes took the case and using my incredible deductive reasoning I discovered something was definitely amiss. The heavier dumbell didn't have two 2.5 lb weights on it. It had two 5 lb weights! Well, at least I got a good workout in...but boy am I sore.

One of the funny things about working out is that after you've finished lifting, you look in the mirror, and you look awesome. Completely ripped. Last night, I could have made a calendar with my hunkiness. Yes, Dan, even the Men of Purdue calendar. But, then you get up in the morning, look in the mirror, and you look deflated and weak again. I guess this is the motivation to continue working out. But, I was thinking that all swimming pool changing rooms should be equipped with weights. This way you can be sure to look your best before strutting out there in your near nakedness in front of all the gawkers.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Sometimes, I wish people read this.

Technically, I started working out a few weeks ago. Not religiously, but that's not surprising considering how non-religious I've been these past few years. However, when I got back in Indiana for Christmas, I started hitting the pushups pretty hard. Back home, I always do a lot of pushups. These pushups are a combination of boredom and the sudden realization that I'm wasting my life. I get that way when I'm home. Very antsy. And pushups can be very motivating. They increase my energy and strength. This leads to increased confidence which leads to creation. I've always said that 40 pushups a day is the recipe for construction. Of course, I do way more than 40 right now...but I do about 30 or 40 at a time.

Now that I have the San Francisco deadline coming up, I have increased my workout regimen. Yesterday, I left work early and decided to hit it pretty hard. I worked on my arms, back, abs, and did some non-weight related leg exercises. Then I watched The Biggest Loser 2 marathon on Bravo. All that working out and watching obese people work out made me hungry, so I went to the Rally's drive-thru and got a Bacon Swiss Burger meal. I brought it home and ate it all while continuing to watch the marathon. Of course, I can eat crap like that, especially if I'm working out. I just need massive calories in any form. Don't you hate me? I'm sure those fat-asses on TV would if they knew what I was eating while watching them. Bwahahahaha!!!!

Tonight, I'm going to work on my chest. Arms and back one day, chest the next. That's the plan. Situps and pushups everyday, of course. The situps are what kill me the most. I've always hated them and have never done them at all until now. But, I've decided that it's time for me to suck it up and be a man. The problem with situps is that when you're finished doing them, your stomach still hurts like hell for another minute! However, I'm already starting to get used to them...and maybe even enjoying the pain a little. One thing I'm really enjoying are the results. They're noticeable already! I think it's because I just don't have much fat on my body, so you can see my muscles getting stronger faster. Ok, now you really hate me.

Let me try and make it up to you. Here's some free downloads of Seu Jorge, the Brazillian musician who provided most of the soundrack to The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. I recently watched this movie for the first time and thought it was brilliant. I love everything Wes Anderson has done. Sometimes, I wish I was him. Sometimes, I wish I could become invisible. Sometimes, I wish I could stop time like that girl whose dad was an alien in that 80's TV show of which I can't remember the title.

Monday, January 02, 2006

I hope I'm not getting set up for a huge letdown.

Did everyone have a good Christmas? Even you Jews out there. Did you have a good Christmas? I’m sure you did. I know I did. I went home to Indiana and had a lovely white Christmas. I actually had a choice between two different white Christmases this year. Either I go home to Indiana and frolic in the beautiful snow or I could stay here in Los Angeles and do a bunch of coke. Just kidding. I would never do that.

On Christmas morning, my parents and I went to church and then to my new brother-in-law’s family’s house for brunch. It was really nice to spend this time with my old family and my new family, and I really enjoyed getting bitten by my sister’s dog. Twice. It’s ok, though. I’m not talking about any pit bull, here. It’s a Min Pin. A Miniature Pincher. Strangely enough, though, it doesn’t pinch. No, it bites.

I have to say that I got everything I wanted for Christmas. I got to spend time with my family in Indiana. I got a new pair of glasses and new contact lenses, so I can now see my beautiful audience. I got a new pair of blue jeans, so my audience doesn’t have to see my beautiful ass anymore through the holes in my old pair. And, I got rabies.

While in Indiana, I connected with my friend Ivan and we hit the karaoke scene. He gave me some valuable information before I left. He informed me that an old friend of ours had moved to San Francisco and separated from her boyfriend of many years. This girl holds a special place in my heart and other places. Back in college, I fell for this girl pretty hard. I was so in love with her that it made me physically ill, but alas, I was unsuccessful in winning her heart. It was my fault, of course. I was missing the same thing that 90% of comedians at open mics are missing leading to their comedy demise. Confidence. But, perhaps now things have changed. Now that she has moved to my time zone, I have another opportunity to get the girl that once made me so lovesick that I got scurvy. I made Ivan give me her email and wrote her the following day.

I’m happy to say, that she replied almost instantly and insisted that I call her that evening…which of course, I did. Now, don’t think that I just dove right into that phone call unprepared. It was the most important call I’ve made in the past 4 years! I’m not just going to call the girl of my dreams, suddenly freeze up, and blow my 20th chance at happiness! No way. I made sure I put down three beers first. Then I called her.

We had a great conversation. I was funny, charming, and didn’t hold back about anything I wanted to tell her. And she was funny, too. She always had been. That’s one of the reasons I like her so much. I think she’s funnier and smarter than me. I had written in my email to her that as soon as she said the word I was in my car headed up to the Bay area to see her. She had replied that she would love to see me. Actually, she said that she would LOVE to see me. So, on the phone I asked her when was a good weekend for a visit. I told her I could take off from work on a Friday, spend Friday night and all day Saturday with her, and jet back on Sunday. I wanted to get dates down in fear that if I stalled it might never happen. She quickly went through her schedule and thought that Jan.20 was a good time. Hell, anytime’s a good time for me. We talked about a bunch of other things as well, but I won’t get into it. The conversation lasted until her friends arrived to take her out that evening, but she said she wasn’t close to done talking to me. She said she’d call me later and mentioned that she might text me that evening. I turned my message alert on high, but she never sent one.

Was this a bad sign? I worry about little things like this. Oh well, I wouldn’t let it bother me, and I definitely wasn’t going to send her any message…not until a couple days later on New Year’s Eve when I was back in Los Angeles. After the ball dropped, I sent her a quick text wishing her a Merry New Years, but I didn’t get anything back from her. Not until the next morning.

At around 10:30 on Jan. 1, I got a call from her. Luckily, since I was still on Indiana time and had been up for a couple hours, I already had a clear head and my energy was up. We kept talking like our last conversation had never ended. She was still in bed when she called me! That means she saw my text first thing in the morning and called me right away. This is what I would call a good sign. We talked for about a half hour and solidified our plans for my visit up north. The conversation ended with her saying that she felt like she could go on talking to me forever. Another good sign.

So, I have three weeks to prepare. I’ve already started a rigorous workout routine. It’s all upper body, since I don’t have any real way of working out my chicken legs. Anyone have any suggestions? I suppose I could start running…but last time I tried that, I nearly had a heart attack. Well, it’s raining right now, so maybe in a couple days I’ll give it a go. I also need to get her a birthday present, since her birthday is a few days after I’m there. I’m clueless on this one. What do you get a girl that you haven’t seen in 4 years? I’m thinking $30-$50 range is appropriate. But what do I get?