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 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.


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