Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Make a Plan

So...Yeah it has been ages since I have posted. It has been so long since the last update beloved Senator Ted Stevens of a series of tubes fame has passed away. Died in a plane crash. You have to figure that has to be a shitty way to go.

To put things in perspective, it has been months since the late senator's passing and I didn't even write about it then. Oh well, not much I can do about that now but recounting his death today gives me pause to consider something about my own mortality.

From the department of way out there, for some reason I have been thinking about my own existence. For some reason I have begun to wonder if I am in fact dead and I don't actually know it.

Some people that believe in ghosts believe that ghosts are the incarnation of spirits that do not realize that they have in fact died or even further, refused to accept death's call at the moment it arrived. In the last few weeks I have reflected on events that have transpired in my life, events that could have possibly lead to my demise.

If ghosts do exist do these spirits who have refused to accept death merely carry on their 'lives' with the perception that their new reality feels no different to them then how the rest of their lives would have been? Do they continue on as if they never died? Perhaps the perceptions of their life continue to progress as though they had not in fact died.

I am not one to ever say that I have lived the life of a daredevil but I can recall a events in my life which could have actually resulted in my own death. It could be the case that I am in fact dead but because I have not accepted it my 'life' has continued on and I have merely perceived my experiences as real and true.

When I was a child I became gravely ill to the point of hospitalization. To this day I don't know the cause of my illness nor what my illness in fact was. The only thing I can recall are the images of men in white coats coming into a room and administering shots. Shots I did not like. The image of men in white coats had me so terrified that when my own father entered the room in a white coat I was convinced that he was intent on hurting me like so many of the other men in white coats had done with their syringes and hypodermic needles. Perhaps I succumbed to my illness as a small child but I refused to accept death.

Once I was riding my bike when I was a teenager and I had an extremely close encounter with a car that to this day I feel was trying to run me off the road. With the car baring down on me I swerved out of the way just in time. Once I had passed the car I turned my head in an attempt to look back at the car that had nearly hit me. In the next split second I turned my head and saw that I myself had swerved into the oncoming traffic lane and I was headed on a collision course with a white pick up truck . To this day I have no idea how I did not end up getting hit by that truck. Is it possible that I did not completely escape the path of impending doom and I actually got killed in a terrible accident?

By the time I got into high school my brothers both became fascinated by guns. Overtime their collection of guns grew. One gun would not suffice and satisfy their interest. Two 9mm pistols, a .357 magnum, two .223 caliber assault rifles, two .762 assault rifles, a 9mm sub-compact machine gun, the list goes on and on. One day my brother along with a friend of mine and myself where in the basement of our house handling the guns. At one point my friend pointed a 10mm Smith and Wesson double action semi-automatic handgun directly at me with the hammer cocked back. For some reason he lifted the gun and pointed the gun towards the ceiling as he slowing guided the hammer back up with his thumb. For some reason the gun discharged and a round was spent into the ceiling and I dropped to the floor as if I had been trained to 'hit the deck' like in a movie. Did he really point the gun towards the ceiling or did the gun fire, striking me in the chest causing me to be a victim of an accidental homicide?

How do I know that I am alive? Anyone out there that might read this may simply think that they could submit a comment to this blog as proof that I am in fact alive. However, how would I know that that comment is nothing more than a figment of my imagination created by the subconscious of my spirit. A spirit that refuses to accept the possibility of the end of my physical existence.

Epistemology is kicking my ass right now. How do I know what I know?

Die and Let Live,

In no chronological order

Monday, 25 August 2008

Code Named

As fans of the celebrated blog know, I have a penchant for coming up with double secret code names for those that I have played or would like to play 'Fun Part Touching.' It is all well documented and duly noted.

It has been brought to my attention through back channels that I have been code named. Apparently operatives in the Female Intelligence Agency (FIA) have taken to refer to me as non other than 'Mr. Snarky.'

Being code named can mean only one thing. Out there, somewhere, Beneath the pale moonlight, Someones thinking of me, And loving me tonight. A question remains, who? Who is it out there that wants to play Fun Part Touching with me? This entire matter bears investigation.

Opening back channels,

Wednesday, 20 August 2008

Enough is Enough!

Jen, seriously, when are you going to come to your senses and give me a call?

Sure the whole thing went south with Brad. Divorce happens, believe me, I know. Since then you have been running around with all of these other losers. Male models and musician types sound all well and good but I can't help wondering why you are wasting your time.

Seriously Ms. Jennifer Aniston, give me a call. Hell I would even take a call from 'your people' if it meant us getting a chance to go out on a date. You really should come to the District for a visit. I would be more than willing to take you around town.

For starters we could take a lovely stroll around my neighborhood and you could take in the sites and scents as you never have before. Sure some of the Latino men would stare and point, I mean what self respecting heterosexual male wouldn't be taken back with your stunning beauty, but I would be there to give them the kind of look that says, "Si, esta mami es conmigo."

Our walk would take us through several of the NW DC neighborhoods until we find ourselves on historic U. ST. We could stop in for a beer at a number of fine establishments. And for dinner?

For dinner I would take you to Ben's Chili Bowl. How many times has someone taken you to a historic landmark for a bite to eat? Without a doubt you have come to enjoy champagne taste but I dare say that you haven't lived until you've enjoyed a half-smoke with chili cheese fries and washed it down with a tasty cherry slushie.

Seriously Jen, when are you going to admit that you have been looking for a guy like me? I mean what is there not to love? I am single, I live in a basement apartment, and I currently have a job (albeit part time)working in a career that I desperately cannot stand. What about those facts does not point to me having the total package?

Go ahead and keep fooling yourself into thinking that there is someone else out there that can offer you more than I can. At first, you denying our love was kind of cute but lately it is starting to get a little annoying. John Mayer? Really? He dated Jessica Simpson for Christ's sake. Another bright side to dating me; I have never dated anyone remotely famous so you will never have to deal with relentless comparisons to any other starlets.

My eyes will only be for you Jennifer Aniston. If you ever want me to shout it from the rooftops I certainly will. I would even make a web page as an homage to our love. Of course I haven't made the website yet, because that would be a little creepy seeing how I don't even really know you.

Anyway, give it some thought but I am giving you fair warning. I can't say that I am going to wait around forever, there is a total hottie that works in the accounting department for the company that I work for and word around the office is that she is open to playing the old 'In/Out' with me. Oh, who am I kidding? I would dump her in an instant for the chance to drink your bath water.

Waiting for my phone to ring,

Monday, 18 August 2008

I'll Write a Blog About It

Aside from being an all-around great guy, being the author of 'So...Yeah' comes with humble perks. While it is nice to be able to get a few rounds bought for you at the bar during a night out on the town, there are better trappings of being known on a global scale.

That's right, groupies.

Whether it is the blog or my aforementioned great guyness, for whatever reason the ladies just can't seem to resist the allure that is JrWorthy.

Allow me to set the stage. Friday night and of course the drinks were pouring. I admit it, that's just how I indulge. As fate would have it, throngs of fans of 'So...Yeah' were milling about, men and women alike, the lust in the air was palpable.

Of course the men had no shot, I just don't bend that way. On the other hand, the ladies...well let's just say they were almost falling over one another to get to me. (Well maybe they weren't falling over one another to get to me exactly, it could have been the alcohol - Oh what am I saying? They were practically ready to kill each other for the chance to just sit next to me even if it was to be the most fleeting of moments.)

All the cat fighting aside, I will readily admit that hearing all of the lavish praise does get tiresome after a bit. The compliments and comments were the same as they always are:
- "Oh my god, that is a tin of Altoids in your pocket!"
- "The face you make after doing a shot. It looks like you are about to throw up. Just plain sexy."
- "If you don't take your hand off my ass I am going to talk to the bouncer."

I am sure many of the male readers out there have trouble contemplating what it is like to be such a sought after commodity. To this I can only say, sucks to be you.

Moving on, the night was getting late and I saw no need to retire to my domicile alone. It was time to select which lady was going to be graced with my presence for the remainder of the evening. As I was making my way towards the door all of the adoring fans were waiting in line.

Down the line I went and with each eager fan that I passed smiling faces turned to frowns until I picked that one lucky girl. "You. You're coming home with me." Sure I could have taken a few of them home and run the floor like Magic ran Showtime at the Forum but sometimes I like to let some of the other guys in the bar have a shot at disappointing a lady.

We got back to my place and right off the bat clothes are coming off. I get drunk and have sex, that is what I do. All of the touching and rubbing, deep passionate kisses, you get the idea.

Not so fast. Just as I am going in for some of my patented amorous maneuvers she stops and says, "We are not going to have sex." (the sound of a needle being harshly removed from a spinning record)

"We are not going to have sex."
"Why not?"
"Because if we have sex, you will write a blog about it."

Flabbergasted. WTF? Not being one to beg, I let that shit slide. If a woman doesn't wish to experience new levels of sexual bliss with yours truly, her loss. What she did not and still does not realize is that I would have kept my mouth completely sealed about any of our sexual escapades. However, since we didn't have sex she is in one way right. If we would have just gotten down to playing the old 'in-out, in-out' I would have simply made a mental note of the favorite techniques that make her coo. Now, she has left me with no other alternative other than to write a blog about it. Tease.

Would rather not be blogging about it,

Monday, 11 August 2008

What I Do

Seeing how I live in DC, there is always one go-to question that everyone in this city likes to throw out upon making a new aquaintence. "So, what do you do?" or its closely related cousin, "Where do you work?"

On the surface that question really irratates me. As I mentioned, and fans of 'So...Yeah' already know, I live in DC. To those of you who don't know the city, for the most part it can be one of the most shallow cities to live. What people do and who they work for has somehow become the unit of measure by which everyone judges everyone else.

I have to admit it, I use the question as a measure as well. Guilty, Hi pot you sure are black. The difference between me and the average asshole that asks me the question? First, I never ask what people do. The fuck I care if you are a staffer to Senator Ted Stevens (R-AK)? (side note - if I actually met a Stevens staffer I would without a doubt rip into them and ask if they ever use the Series of Tubes.)
Second, if someone asks me the question, right off the bat, they are a douche. To me it signals the fact that these people don't live for the anything beyond what they do beyond 9 to 5. Am I being a tad bit judgemental? Yes, hello Kettle!

Anyway, What I do for work is not nearly as interesting as what I do when I am at work. Here is a loose timeline of my 'work' day:

9:15-9:30 - I stroll in a little after start time. I use the side door so Lumbergh doesn't see me.
9:30-10:30 - check work email, check personal email. Visit Craigslist for a little RnR. Again this being DC and all, you would think that there would be a few intelligent people posting on the board. It just isn't so.
10:30 Already? Time for a smoke break.
10:35-12 or 12:30 - Surf the web and look for news on my beloved West Virginia Football team. Also there are several return trips to the CL for the RnR in search of intelligent and or humorous post.
12:30 - Lunch for an hour or so.
1:30-3:00 - Internet, Internet, Internet.
3:00-3:05 - I like cigarettes.
3:05-5ish - Internet, Internet, Internet.

When I say Internet, Internet, Internet, I really mean to say the Internets. According to President Bush the Internets are the place to find info and while plurality could simply imply two or more, I figure saying it three times gives it the extra umph for emphasis.

So what are some of my favorite things on the internets? Good question. Listed below are some of the places I like to visit on any given day.

Failblog - for when I want to feel better about my shortcomings.
IDLYITW - I can admit it, I enjoy a little celebrity gossip. I just wish they were nicer to Rachelle, she never hurt anyone.
Urbandictionary.com - Got to keep up with those young whipper snappers and stay fresh on their lingo.
The Washington Post - Stay informed.
Craigslist - I like to keep it local. Despite my best efforts I never successfully have a missed connection. Maybe it is because I don't look strangers in the eye.
Maddox - Do yourself a favor and dig through the archives, pure gold.

Oh and So...Yeah of course, but for some reason there are hardly any updates or they come months apart.

Please don't think these are the only sights I visit. It can get much uglier, much much uglier. Please only click that link if you are brave, very brave. Consider it a warning. For the love of God don't click the link.

Anythng else? Oh how about this one?

So no, I don't do much 'work' at my job.

Surfing the nets,

The Song Shuffle

Like a ton of bricks life hit me a with a stinging jab as I walked down the street on my way to walk this morning. The iPod was on shuffle and on comes 'God Only Knows' by the Beach Boys from their Petsounds album.
Now before you gasp with disbelief with the uneasy thought, the Beach Boys?, Petsounds is considered a fucking masterpiece and for some reason the only album by the Beach Boys that folks from the left coast have never seem to have ever heard of before. Please excuse the digression.
Anyway, the lyrics stung me:

I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
Ill make you so sure about it

God only knows what I'd be without you

If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me

God only knows what I'd be without you

God only knows what I'd be without you

If you should ever leave me
Well life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me

God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows

As it turns out, God and I have something in common. I know what I am without you. Sadly it seems like I am nothing more than a promiscuous philanderer given to bouts of profuse drinking to the point of debauchery. This revelation came on my way to work once I was sucker punched by the random nature of an mp3 player's algorithm for determining which digital audio file to 'play' next. God only knows? Please... let's review the recent behavior:
1) Went to a really nice dinner, drank copious amounts of wine, had sex.
2) Out of town visitor, drank enough to possibly kill a pony, had sex.
3) Went out of town, Jameson, had sex.
4) Went to a wedding, drank, had Clintonian sex.

Some folks may ask, what's the big deal? Lots of drinks, fun. Multiple sex partners, HIGH FIVE! But I have to stop and ask, is this it? Is this all there is? Am I forever doomed to live a loveless life with no real companion and one in which I replace the closeness of intimacy for a few fleeting moments of physical bliss in the form of unadulterated and unbridled sex? I used to think that you and I, we, could be so much more than what we have become. What have we become? We have become two people that don't even speak much less recognize that we spent any meaningful time with one another. We gave it our best shot. It just didn't work out. Hearing that song really fucked me up.

That was until...lunch.

Lunch time and I headed out for a short walk to pick up some food, falafel and Moby Dicks is pretty good. Don't get me wrong, I prefer Amsterdam Falafel on 18th in the Ad Mo but for today Moby Dicks did the trick.
Wouldn't you know the algorithm folks' programming hit me again, Bob Marley - "No Woman, No Cry" The music alone was enough to long for a sandy beach and a warm Caribbean breeze. Listening to the simple lyrics made me realize, I am doing A- fucking-OKAY.
Each day is my own and how I spend it is up to me. If I choose to drink to the point of liver failure and have sex with women that may or may not be married, then so be it. Do you know why? Because everything is going to be alright.

Shuffling my feet,

Friday, 20 June 2008

A Fun Night Ahead

Close friend of 'So...Yeah', Jaded Bitterman, will be at it again tonight as his latest band will be hitting the stage at the Artery in Alexandria, VA. The point of this blog is to let you readers out there know that there will be an update to this entry in order to provide a recap of the nights activity.
The plan so far:
1) Leave work early. Sure I could use the money but drinks are waiting.
2) Meet Moeshness at the Big Hunt. To tell the truth I will probably get there first.
3) Drink my face off for a good three hours.
4) Find some sort of transport to Northern Virginia.
5) Drink what is left of my face off.
6) Stare blankly at some art.
7) Drink more.
8) Listen to live music.
9) Drink even more.

After that? Well, I will update you.