So...Yeah

Make a Plan

2010-11-16T18:57:00.000-08:00

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,
42

In no chronological order

Code Named

2008-08-25T08:59:00.000-07:00

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,
42

Enough is Enough!

2008-08-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

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,
42

I'll Write a Blog About It

2008-08-18T07:57:00.000-07:00

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)

"What?!?"
"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,
42

What I Do

2008-08-11T12:30:00.000-07:00

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,
42

The Song Shuffle

2008-08-11T11:10:00.000-07:00

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
(repeat)

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,
42

A Fun Night Ahead

2008-06-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Even the Best Laid Plans

2008-06-20T10:37:00.000-07:00

Update to the blog.

Well every item on a previously posted list has been checked/crossed off.

1) The money has been gotten and I am having an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic time blowing through it. That takes me to item #2.
2) Took an abbreviated API trip. While the original plan had me going to Japan, Thailand and an undetermined tropical island getaway, I was only able to make it to Japan and Thailand. Japan is an amazing place and my trip blew away most of my preconceived notions I had of the country before I left. To quote Namond Brice, "The shit is right, Yo!"
As for Thailand, also known as the land of a thousand smiles, it is really fucking hot there. The best way to describe it, scrotum sack chaffing hot. Female readers may not be able to relate to that comment given that they are free of scrotum sacks but I imagine they know the discomfort involved with chaffing. Aside from the searing pain I experienced in my nether region, I recommend that everyone who has the opportunity to visit Bangkok should jump at the chance. If you ever get the chance you should stop by the Rain Hut on Soi 18 in Sukhumvit. Mokey will serve up cold ones and you should be sure to shout out 'Hello Hansum' to all of the tourist men as they walk by. All of the girls at the bar will love it.
3) Dogbird...even the best laid plans.

Totally Random

2008-04-10T13:35:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the hot topics churning through the gears.

- I am not much of a writer these days beyond 'So...Yeah' but I am working on changing that. One could guess that this blog is an exercise in working on the discipline needed for the writing of extended pieces. In the last few months I have come to know of a few people that I have met who are aspiring children's books writers. While I have my own stance on children that many fans of the blog are keenly aware of, I have to say 'hats off' to any one that wants to give those little germ monkeys something to keep there minds occupied with other than some stupid show like the Wiggles, Teletubbies, or that lovable purple dinosaur Barney. Who doesn't like dinosaurs? I know I don't give a shit about them.
Perhaps my sentiment for the wee-ones has lead to the genesis in my own mind what I consider would be one of the best characters in a children's story. This character would represent a modern day ogre and not like that laughable and lovable Shrek. I am talking about a scary looking oafish brute but this ogre would be different than the flesh eating humanoid monster made famous in so many early works of literature. No this ogre would be different. Instead of eating children he would steal their stuffed animals in the cover of darkness as the children slept. His clothing would consist of only the pelts of the stolen stuff animals. Can you imagine how scary that would be for children? The thought of their first and very best friend and shoulder of comfort being used as the clothing for a horrible monster? Instant classic!
Sure in the end one of or a few of the children would wind up vanquishing the evil villian but I think you would have to admit, it would be a great character.

- A good friend of 'So...Yeah', JadedBitterman, recently lent yours truly Season One of the HBO Series 'Deadwood.' Holy fucking shit there is a fucking load of cursing in that show. Now to those of you who have not had the pleasure to have ever made my acquaintance, I am not one to blush when I hear what I like to call swear words. Every other word in that show is cocksucker. It is always something like somebody informing someone else that 'You are a cocksucking whore cunt cocksucker!' Total fucking disregard for the Queen's English.
And I love it!
While I did watch the entire season in two days while I should have been job hunting I can say that I am only 50/50 on the show itself. Overall I kind of like it but part of me is not entirely sold on all of the characters or their story lines. But given all of the swearing and atmosphere of testosterone, I have to say I do find it enjoyable at times.
Of course when you overload yourself on the show and then go out for a night of enjoying spirits, some of the shows finer diction tends to find a way out.
Allow me to set the stage.
I went out last night to Polly's on U. Street. If you have never been, you should stop by sometime. The crowd is very relaxed and generally a great mix of the neighborhood. Before I go any further I should let it be known that I had already had enjoyed a half of a bottle of wine during dinner. As I walk through the bar making a few hellos to some folks I make my way to the bar. Sitting next to an empty stool was none other than JadedBitterman. I sit down and we start with the 'What's up Yo?' turning to the bartender I ask for a Jameson on the rocks. She bears nothing but bad news and informs me that Jaded himself had just finished off the last of the Jameson. Taken back I turned to my friend and all I could say, "You Fucking Cocksucker! I can't believe you finished the fucking Jameson. Cocksucker!"
Well since I am not that good of a catholic anyway I settled for Bushmills.

Jesus H.

2008-03-24T11:54:00.000-07:00

Easter has come and gone almost the same way the individual that is celebrated. Yes, 'So...Yeah' fans I am talking about none other than our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I do not and most likely will not claim to be a devout follower of Christianity but I figure that I should share my own special 'Easter/Jesus' story.

Just last week I was walking in my neighborhood of Mt. Pleasant. For those of you that are not familiar with the many fine neighborhoods in the District of Columbia, Mt. Pleasant is a quite neighborhood nestled between Adams Morgan, known for its rich nightlife and climbing rents, and Columbia Heights. The 'CH', as one of my friends Grand Ma calls it, is known for the efforts of city officials that are doing their darnedest to revitalize the once strong neighborhood.

Way back when Columbia Heights was a bustling community for some of the wealthiest of DC residents. If you want to read up more about the CH go nuts. Anyhow, somewhere between then and the current revitalization shit done fucked that place up. Now, however, hope is horizon with the construction and completion of a great big retail shopping center. Perhaps in the future I will pontificate about the likelihood that DC's revitalization efforts are likely to fail. The reason I don't wish to do that now is because this story is about Jesus.

Ah, now back to Jesus. So there I was walking down Mt. Pleasant St. and on the sidewalk a small group of people were gathered on the corner ahead. Were these people refuges from the great savings made available at the recently opened Target department store? Were they fleeing the CH to get away from all of the fresh white faces that would have never dared venture so high up 14th St had it not been possible to purchase cheaply made mass produced inventory from the factories of China? As I got closer I could see these were not your garden variety crack heads looking for spare change, in fact, they were not illicit drug users at all. These folks were high only on the love of the lord.

Now I have no problems with religious folks, if Jesus is their drug of choice so be it. Those with the love of the Lord in their hearts are much better than a drooling homeless person with fresh spray paint around their nose and mouth from the last round of huffing a fresh can of Plasti-kote.

When I reached their location one of the fine Christians in the pack handed me a flier and told me about a special offer if I chose to attend their churches Easter Mass. The Church was named the Third Church of Christ. Right off the bat I have to admit that I was not aware that churches had a ranking system because I have heard of the First Church of God several times in my years. Hearing the name made me wonder if there was some sort of ranking system similar to college football out there for the Christian faith and its places of worship. I guess when I think about it, you would have the religious journalist out there with there own ranking system while all of the pastors, reverends and priest involved in their own ranking system. Shoot, I keep getting distracted from sharing my story.

So this faithful follower of the Lord told me that if I was to attend one of their Easter services I would be eligible to win a free Apple ipod. Got that, me! I could win a free ipod just for attending someone babble on and on about how a really long time ago the son of God died on the cross for our sins and then a few days later he arose from the dead and ascended into heaven. Just think of it, a free ipod. I think there must be something going on in the hallowed halls of the Third Church of Christ because it seems as if the elder council has stooped to a fairly low level if they are offering cheaply made mass produced electronics from a factory in China over eternal salvation in the afterlife. Is pack-a-pew day not filling the seats like it used to?

So what did I decide, a shot at an ipod or sleeping in until well after 10 AM Sunday morning? Well when it came down to it and I read the fine print on the flier it said that I would have to indeed be present to win (bummer) and that the drawing for the ipod would be held following fellowship in the rectory. The real let down, it was an ipod 'shuffle' and only a one gig model at that. In the end I told him that I already owned an ipod 'Classic' which is like 100 times better than the puny little 'shuffle.' Had it been a 'Nano' then maybe I would have thought about it but since they didn't even throw in a possible shot at salvation I just had to pass.

Once I told him that I wasn't interested and that my ipod was actually a better model his faced started to lose that 'turn the other cheek' look that Christians are supposed to have and I could see that it was being replaced with the sort of look that said more of a 'I am going to enjoy the afterlife knowing that your soul is doomed to eternal damnation.' Before his face could display his waning patience any further I thought it was a good time to ask a couple of my own questions.

I asked him why Easter is celebrated in the first place. To which he replied, 'We celebrate Easter to recognize the miracle of Christ Resurrection.' With a look of renewed faith in the Christian god I could see his mouth about to start to move in order to spill out some other inspirational words. Before he could get another word out I had yet another question, 'Well that begs the question, why doesn't Isaac get his due? He was resurrected too, right? I don't see little kids biting the heads off of chocolate bunnies looking for hidden eggs. Why can't Isaac get a day? Huh? What's up with that? Is it because he was for sure a Jew? Huh? Oh I get it, only children of virginal mothers can have their resurrection celebrated. I see how it is!'

Blink, Blink, Blink.

Turns out I slept until almost eleven. I would have gotten up sooner but I didn't really see the point. I already have an ipod, better than a shuffle I might repeat, and I think that salvation for me is a little out of reach at this point. I think at best all I can hope for is purgatory, it will only feel like eternity.

Waiting for the Ending,
42

The Greatest Show on Earth

2008-03-12T16:42:00.000-07:00

No asshat, I am not referring to the circus. Why would I ever support the entrapment of wild animals purely for human entertainment? I am not seven and neither are you. Granted that maybe out there somewhere there is a seven year old kid with Internet access that could be reading 'So...Yeah' but if there is then maybe his/her parents should be monitoring their child's Internet usage.

So not the Circus, I am referring to the HBO produced program, 'The Wire.'

Wait, scratch that. I am not going to spend this blog sharing my thoughts on the greatest show ever made simply because I have done it before. Faithful readers are fully aware of my thoughts on the greatness of the show and if not, they are welcome to dig through the archives and read up all about it.

Let me go back to what I was talking about before, children on the Internet. It would be cliche of me to say that kids these days have it easy, but aren't cliches rooted in some small amount of truth? Back in my day when I wanted to see images of naked women I had to sneak off somewhere with a friend's father's stolen Playboy. These days I consider Playboy to actually be a strong journalistic periodical. If I want to see images of nakedness all I have to do is open up the series of tubes, find a search engine and enter any number of words.

For example...
ass http://www.google.com/search?q=ass&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a

Wow, instant porn. God bless Al Gore. He created the Internet, remember?

Going to enter some search words,
42

Perspective and Shit

2008-03-06T06:21:00.000-08:00

Word around the way is that some of the fans of 'So...Yeah' have been clamouring for an update. To this I say, here it is.

The last entry to the blog came at a time when I was all about positive vibes. The vibe is still there but the since the post my life got hijacked so to speak. In essence, some folks around me had their lives touched by darkness. All I could do was to put my life on hold for a bit so I could extend my hand to some close friends that needed more than help, they needed the total package.

At the time of the last post I had essentially squared off against the universe and threw out a challenge. Basically I said I wasn't going to take no more shit. In retort, the universe accepted my challenge and said, 'Oh you fendin' to raise up? Well then, take this!'

It turns out the universe packs some heavy shit when 'This' is thrown out. When I look at my life from a distance, I can easily say that my life isn't that bad. There is always someone that has it worse that you do. It gives perspective.

It reminds me of one of the monologues from the classic movie 'Goodfellas.' Pardon me for not providing the full reference, but fans of the movie should recognize the words once they read them:
"Business bad? Fuck you, pay me. Had a fire? Fuck you, pay me."

"The place got hit by lightning? Fuck you, pay me."

The universe in all of its vastness, does not give a shit about you and what happens to you here therein. It boils down to one little cliche, life is what you make it. I think I am going to make a wonderful batch of spicy Italian sausage and green peppers but only because I don't know how to make General Tsao's chicken.

Let me back track for one second for I think I may have misspoken. Is it the correct phrase to say someone or something 'does not give a shit'? The reason I ask is because I am a little confused. Perhaps some of you loyal fans could help me out in understanding this bit of vernacular. Listed below are some phrases that I have heard in the past and my thinking is that they all essentially mean the same thing.
"I don't give a shit..."
"I could give a shit..."
"I couldn't give a shit..."
"I couldn't give two shits..."
"I could give two shits..."
Usually these phrases are generally, but not always, followed by what the person either doesn't, could, or couldn't give a shit about. For example, in referring to who your favorite sports team signed as a free agent I might say 'I don't give a shit if the Yankees signed (insert a popular overpaid professional baseball player's name here), I still hate baseball.'
What is with the shit giving or not giving? Seriously folks, will someone help me out here? Is it generally a positive thing to say you could give a shit? Would one be really faining interest if they could or couldn't give not one but two shits? Help me out folks, I need some help on this one. Feel free to comment away.

Trying to figure this shit out,
42

I'd Rather Be Smoking

2008-01-14T12:45:00.000-08:00

So this quitting smoking thing is hard. I am going to be honest here and let you all know that I have not gone cold turkey here. I have smoked cigarettes throughout the day and I have enjoyed each and everyone of them.

Today is My Birthday!!!

2008-01-11T07:31:00.000-08:00

As per the title, today is in fact my birthday. With that said I am resolved to make this year a great. A person very close to me talks about a belief in something called the Laws of Attraction. The basic principle lays in the belief that everything you want to happen will happen if you project positive thoughts towards the desired outcome. While I may be over simplifying the belief, the premise itself is rather basic. Think something will come true, and it will.
I will repeat myself, this year will be GREAT!!!
As I begin the dance in the bottom half of my fourth decade I making declarations to myself that I intend to keep. Let it be known that "So...Yeah" is back and it is back with a renewed vigor to return all of its previous glory. Even if it is only five minutes a day spent sharing my thoughts with the world for all to see, then so be it. Come on, it is only five minutes a day. In the time it takes me to smoke a cigarette I can add to this wonderful blog.
What does that mean? Less smoking, more writing. While it is easier said than done, so are most things. I am sure that everyone has heard that the journey begins with the first step. Let everyone be on notice, the sound you just heard is that of my life on the heel of my right shoe.
Today in the paper I read some people's New Year's resolutions. Reading them reminded me that I did not make any resolutions that began on the first of January. The more I thought about it I realized that New Year's resolutions are practiced as an arbitrary custom assigned to a single day that is considered a fresh start, but I see a fundamental flaw here. The New Year tradition begins on a day that is celebrated on the Roman Calender. I have to ask what about the Chinese Calendar or the Jewish Calender, what about their New Year's days?
So today I am marking as my New Year's Day. It is a new year and it is time to be out with the old and in with the new. I have made several personal resolutions for myself. While some of them fall in line with so many other people's (stop smoking, eat better, exercise more) there are more that I am going to give every effort I can muster that will help me make this year true in its greatness.
I am not wishing. I am not promising.

I am attracting.

Positive things happen to positive people,
42

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans

2007-10-07T09:04:00.000-07:00

Kudos to John Lennon for giving us all food for thought.

Lennon was absolutely correct. All of this time I have been around on this earth I have been making other plans. The only real problem I lack follow through. Ask my friends and family and they would probably agree.

Why the lack of follow through? I know the answer and the answer is fear. I have a fear of failing and I guess to a some extent, we all do. That fear keeps me in check. It keeps me from going out and doing what I really want to do with the rest of my life. And do you want to know something? I am sick and tired of it.

I am not going to let it keep me under its control. For far too long have I allowed it to determine my every step with its tight grasp firmly wrapped my every thought. The fear impedes me and I am finished with it and no longer want anything to do with its Vader like choke hold on my life. Like the evil Sith Lord standing in front of me with his hand ever so extended from his torso reaching out to choke me from across the room, the fear has had too much influence in my life.

How will I escape this dark shadow that looms behind every corner of my life? Well I am going to quote Joel Goodsen when I say, "Sometimes you just gotta say, "What the fuck, make your move.". "

I am going to make my moves. For far too long have I let this division of assets thing get in my way. No more. For this I am going to turn to Flyguy from his eloquent poem that landed him the title of Pimp of the Year oh so many years ago...
My bitch better have my money/Through rain, sleet, or snow/My whore better have my money/Not half, not some, but all my cash/'Cause if she don't,/I'm gonna put my foot in her ass.

On the List:
My mother fuckin' money.
An API trip
Dogbird - I am coming for you.

Holy Shit!!!

2007-10-07T08:54:00.000-07:00

It has been absolutely been way to long since there has been an update, so to the fans of 'So...Yeah' you have my deepest apologies. How could more than two months have gone by without an update? I have no fucking clue.
With that said, let the blogging resume.

Just a Few Questions

2007-08-02T08:29:00.000-07:00

What the fuck am I doing? I have no fucking clue. I walked away because because I took the red pill. Now all I can think, hey dumbass you hate the Matrix! This bears the question, what is wrong with being plugged in? No I am not asking you to reply, the question is rhetorical for all intents and purposes.
The choice made was red and now I am as close to cursing myself as I have ever been. For reference sake, I care not to wish the casting of curse onto others because you never know when it may come back to bite you in the ass. Look at Lady Anne,

Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!

What did that get her? In one fail swoop she cursed herself by cursing the one person she hated most. Of course when she uttered those words of such foul contempt she had no idea she would wind up marrying the man that had killed her husband. In the long run she had doomed the lives of her yet to be born children.
So what to do now? That question is not rhetorical, in fact, feel free to comment away. Ok, I know I am not offering too much in the way of details regarding my chosen path nor have I disclosed the divergent nature of the blue pill. Regardless, the question I posed to you, which pill would you take and why?

Scratching my head,
42

You Want it One Way but it's Another Way

2007-07-20T07:46:00.000-07:00

First let me start by apologizing for the lack of post in recent weeks. The nation's birthday celebration coupled with four days away from work lead me down a relaxation path that I wasn't able to jump off of immediately after the dust had settled. Nevertheless I am back and ready to update the ole blog for all of the 'So...Yeah' fans on the SoT.

This return to the blogosphere comes in the form of a rant. I am here to rant about the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences and their clear lack of any form of intelligence whatsoever. I will begin my rant with one simple question posed to the Academy, "Have any of you ever watched even one episode of 'The Wire'?" The academy in its infinite wisdom has chosen, again, to overlook the greatest television show ever made by granting it 'zero' nominations.

For those of you who have never watch the HBO series 'The Wire' all I can say is, do. It has to be the greatest dramatic television series ever produced. I will forgo providing a synopsis of the series other than to say the series plot revolves around the drug trade in Baltimore, MD.

Here are what some folks in the business of writing reviews have to say about the series just to give you a perspective.

"When television history is written, little else will rival "The Wire," a series of such extraordinary depth and ambition that it is, perhaps inevitably, savored only by an appreciative few." - Brian Lowry, Vanity Fair

"HBO's morally complex, richly textured series "The Wire" is not just the best thing on TV -- it's a Homeric epic of modern America." - Heather Havrilesky, Salon.com

"HBO's masterpiece series "The Wire" sucks because after you watch it, you realize that all other shows on television are so fucking bad that you would rather stare at the sun in hopes of burning your eyes out and then for good measure dig them out with a rusty spoon so you will never, if even by accident, have to watch another cliched doctor/cop/lawyer piece of shit contrived melodrama ever again." - Me, So...Yeah http://jrworthy.blogspot.com/

The number of injustices by the academy in this case are too many to examine in one single blog entry so for the sake of keeping the flow of information on the SoT as light as possible, let's take a look at one single category, 'Outstanding Drama Series.' Below are the nominated 'shows' that the academy believe are more deserving of winning the coveted Emmy award.

Boston Legal - Wow what an original idea, a drama about lawyers. A program so original in theme how could the Academy not vote this one a winner. Since it does have Captain Kirk, Murphy Brown, and the dick from 'Pretty in Pink' it must be great. Wrong!

Grey's Anatomy - Wow what an original idea, a drama about doctors. I have never seen a show that examines the lives of doctors both at work and at home. This is the same show that fired Isiah Washington for using the word 'faggot' in a tiff with a cast member who isn't even gay. Turns out another cast member, who wasn't even in the room at the time, is gay and was utterly offended by the 'bundle of sticks' reference. This show wasn't even that good when it was on another network with even prettier people and it was called 'E.R.'

Heroes - Ok, so here is a case of an original premise for a show. Characters begin to realize that they have special powers and then they become divided by the line of good and evil in their fight to destroy/save the world. NBC seems to have a sure fire hit with this one, but let's be honest here, I don't want to delve into the personal lives of my super heroes. When filmmakers and television producers try to show us a hero's non heroic life the illusion of them being greater than us disappears (see Superman Returns.) I could go on and on about Superman's bastard child but I will refrain. This show belows on the Saturday morning lineup with a Power Rangers lead-in.

House - Wow what an original idea, a drama about doctors. I have never seen a show that examines the lives of doctors both at work and at home. Does this comment sound familiar? But wait, House is different in that he solves medical mysteries right when you think all hope is lost. Great, the fucking Perry Mason of doctors. Speaking of, when will the network brass come up with the show about the law practicing doctor that solves crimes in between making rounds? I can't wait for Esq. Ira Rosenstein MD. now that would be some shit, wouldn't it?

The Sopranos - Right there in the 'last but not least' position the god father of the nominees. No don't pardon the cliche, I don't want you too. The finale season of the show was, at best, just 'ok.' The show had so many loose ends to tie up that the entire season was disjointed and had no real flow. Thank god the show is over, I would hate to see Gandolfini get any bigger. Seriously if you watched the show and had the volume level just right, in between dialogue I swear you can hear him get fatter. While that shouldn't be a justification for the show not to win, it is mine. Badabing!

"The Wire" is better than all of these shows, period. I won't explain my reasons why I think it is better, simply because I can't. How could I ever try to tell you about it when you don't know where Wallace is at? What could I muster to explain the righteous indignation doled out by Brother Mouzone? Never having grown up in the city, what would be the best way for me to tell you about the brown bag? Quite simply this is the Cadillac of television dramas, or Lexus if you don't know any better.

All in the game.
42

I Think I am Going to Die

2007-07-01T08:22:00.000-07:00

Ever since I have been traveling down the path towards my asset division I have been living in the wonderful city of Washington D.C. Living in the nations capitol has opened up a new world to me and everyday I find solace in the fact that the hum-drum suburbs are quickly becoming a distant memory. Most of the time I enjoy this notion, however, today is not one of them.
Since my relocation I have discovered the wonders of public transportation. Sure I had ridden the Metro system on a daily basis to and from work but there remained another facet of the mass transit that had eluded me before I lived within the border of the city. The bus system. While I cannot say that I have become an expert of the routes and bus lines, I have come to believe that the system overall is fairly reliable. With a fair amount of certainty I can assume that the S1, S2 and S4 will take me down the long stretch of 16th St. NW towards the area where I most need to go for work. Another option available to me is the 42. The 42 begins in the neighborhood of Mt. Pleasant, drives through Adams Morgan, down Connecticut Ave towards Dupont Circle and beyond. I rarely ride far beyond Dupont Circle so I can't discuss the 'beyond' portion.
Usually riding the bus is a fairly benign experience and I am just happy to arrive safely at or near my final destination. Today, however, was completely different. I got on the 42 at its point of origin in Mt. Pleasant, score for me as I had my pick of seats. I chose the window seat on the right side of the bus immediately behind the backdoor. I take that seat whenever possible because, well, I am a backdoor man. I settled into the seat I open the newspaper to follow current events, read my horoscope, and catch up on 'Pearls Before Swine' (I just love that little pig.) As the ride progresses the bus begins to fill up with morning commuters. This morning everything was running as normal until about half way into my trip to work.
As I was reading the paper I could tell the rider behind me was getting a little close and then it happened. I felt a subtle but apparent burst of air on the back of my neck. The passenger behind me had just coughed on the back of my neck. He coughed on me! Ever heard of covering your mouth you disgusting germ factory? For some reason I couldn't muster the nerve to turn around and confront him. I mean, what kind of horrible individual open mouth coughs in this day and age let alone on public transport?
Slowly I turned my head ever so slightly to peak out of the corner of my eye and I could see that he was a little on the brown side. Now I don't ever want to be considered a racist nor a racial profiler but I think he was of some type of middle eastern decent. Could he be linked to al-Qiada? I think for sure he must.
Now I sit in my office typing away knowing that my fate is sealed. I am going to probably be the first person of hundreds, perhaps thousands to die from some sort of new biological weapon that has been introduced into the populace of D.C. via this new form of suicide bomber.
Why 42? Why? You have been so good to me, why have you forsaken me now?
As I further ponder my fate I can see the bright side of things. The first thing I would like to say before I part the here and now, "Good Bye student loan payments." I will miss, missing paying you on time.

The irony of 42,
42

Programming Note

2007-06-30T07:57:00.000-07:00

As you all know 'So...Yeah' was started as an outlet for my creative flow with my dating woes as the backdrop. So far everything has gone well, but something is amiss. Perhaps it is time to change gears and explore other topics on which to muse. 'But no!!!' I can hear it now from all of my devoted fans, but fear not, 'So...Yeah' won't give up the dating genre entirely. It is just time to let everyone know that tales of tails is not my only suit. Luckily as managing editor of 'So...Yeah' I am free to direct this blog in anyway I see fit.
So in the future when you return and read stories that are unrelated to the women that I love, have loved, or just hooked up with, please do not despair. Those stories will return. For now look at it as a new day, a day where unrelated accounts, musings, and rants (etc.) can appear together like parents of a divorced child at a birthday party.

That is all,
42

Someone Else I Know

2007-06-30T06:43:00.000-07:00

The virtuosity of patience loses ground to the forces which hold it in contempt with every passing minute. The pride in this man will not see fit to remain in check. As you wallow in your self pity my pride paces the cage, tongue bitten,eyes trained, studying, waiting.
The time has come and passed for you to step up. When I think about you I resolve that you do not stand as a man. The civility of men protects all, that by our nature, we seek to destroy. Your chosen course of action will lead my civility to unlock the cage and unleash the animal of my pride. The uneven instep of my boot will search for steady footing on the back of your neck.
On what you hold close, keep a watchful eye. Prepare your walls for defense. The guards of my cage door grow weary of their responsibility with each passing day. They hear the whispering siren song of my dignity and soon they will fall powerless, unable to remain idly by holding back the fury of my pride.

Biding my time,
42

Some People I Know

2007-06-22T11:11:00.000-07:00

Time to update my blog on the SoT, if not for the release of my creative flow then for the three of the millions of fans of 'So...Yeah' who have commented on the lack of an update. Without further ado:

Back when I was in the CIA we used to have a roster called the Non-Official Cover list, or NOC list. If you don't know what the NOC list is, look it up. I am not here to educate you on the 'ins and outs' of international espionage. My time with the agency was short but effective and at this point I am not at liberty to discuss any of the missions or operations in which my service was integral. So for now, I cannot share with you in part or whole about Operation Moldy Havarti nor the fallout from any of the closed door Senate Hearings.

Now that I am out of the Agency, I will share with you a different list. This list is comprised of individuals that I either play, played or would like to play FPT, or Fun Part Touching.

Sleepy Waitress:
From the first time I saw you in the library I was in awe, you were a vision. Despite my best intentions, all of the wrong cards were played and I watched myself slip into the 'friend zone.' I am going to borrow from Omar and say, "We could'a made a baby." Oh, they would have been such beautiful babies and this comes from someone that fears the little walking bacteria fraps.

Butterfly:
The hippy chick, so unbelievably beautiful. A few years younger. That trick you can do, how does it get that tight? Despite your free and fancy spirit of hippy youth, no patchouli (sp), your scent is morning dew sweet. So incredibly tiny, you could make a guy with even the biggest Asian fetish looked beyond your long blond locks. Not to say you have the body of a twelve year old boy, but it is certainly small, slender and oh so sexy.

{FPT cover omitted}:
Too many fans of 'So...Yeah' could decipher your identity should I disclose too much. While this list is not presented in any order or ranking, you definitely rank high on any list. Passion is not an issue with this asset and for that matter neither are assets. You certainly do not have the body of a twelve year old boy, you are all woman and I have enjoyed every line and curve of your form. We knew each other for a year and then we met on a Saturday in a foreign country. You stated a price, I countered. In the long run I got it for free. In a heartbeat. Like I said, we met on a Saturday, the best day of the week.

Dogbird:
A kiss. One solitary kiss over a monumental sky and you got me. Something is different here, can't pinpoint it. You aren't like the one I left in the morning nor like the two on my answering machine, something is definitely different. What is it? I am still trying to figure it out. Is it the left coast roots? The Zimmerman helps me by saying, "You're going to make me give myself a good talkin' to."

Coffee Bean:
Such a naughty little temptress. When we met you worked in a coffee store and this was well before people eagerly laid down small fortunes for a venti, double caff, mocha, latte ichi-ichi ya-ya-ya-ya. So much I could share, but like us, I will exercise restraints. As it would happen, things didn't work out. You see, you are a little off. Perhaps that is why I think you were my very first stalker ever. I don't mean to belittle either stalking or victims of stalking but in the end isn't nice to know that someone cares about you so much that they will wait outside your house across the street in the rain just for a glimpse of you and then leave a note threatening you and that 'little whore you've been fucking'? Doesn't it just show you they care?

Please note that this is only a partial list of FPT assets, there are more. See below:
Quiesenberry
The Vulcan
Punkin
The Romantic's Daughter
Vanessa
Short Change
Not Bronte's Sister
Kappa Kappa Gamma - Yes, one time I sneaked over the walls guarding the Ivory Tower.
Gee
Tryst

Non, Je ne regrette rien,
42

Make it Rain

2007-06-19T07:04:00.000-07:00

So I got separated and I am heading toward the inevitable division of assets. Again, not the first and surely not the last, right? After fighting the good one, eventually it was time to throw the hands up and be done with it.
What next? Well after going through the whole "I am never going to find anyone else" woe is me crap, you eventually have to stand up and dust yourself off. All of my friends encouraged me to get back out there and give it a shot. And so I did, I got the courage to ask a girl out. Written below is a partial account of evening details.

*What you are about to read is completely one hundred percent true, I swear.

In the interest of saving time and conserving bandwidth usage on the series of tubes I am going to refrain from sharing how, when, where of meeting this girl. Believe me when I say it is no where near as interesting as how the evening came to a close.

Again, forget the details and just assume the usual dinner, movie, and cocktails, although I feel compelled to share with you that I paid for everything. (Toot! Toot!) During drinks I was definitely getting the 'vibe.' You know the one. The one that tells you, upon arrival at her domicile, clothing may become optional. All of the subtle signs were there, laughing at my jokes and not before the punchlines, brushing her hand against my arm when we shared a commonality, the gentle squeeze on my leg just above the knee when she shoved her tongue down my throat while we made out in the corner of the bar. Oh yeah, the signs were there.

The weather complimented our evening, DC was unseasonably warm this past winter, so we walked backed to her place stopping occasionally for her to pin me against random walls and proceed to make out with me. Thoughts at the time, "Ten years off the market and you've still got it. High five yourself in the morning."

When we got back to her place it became clear that my hunch was correct all along, clothing became optional. As soon as the door was shut behind us, clothes started coming off. Maybe she seemed a little easy, but I wasn't in the position to judge and I really wanted to touch bottom as it had been a few months without any action in that department.

She lead me down the hall and her bedroom was in sight. Not so fast. She stopped, looked me in the eyes and said, "I can't have sex with you." Ok. "It isn't that I don't want to, it is just that I have a boyfriend, well we are on a break right now and I just don't think I am ready to have sex with someone else." My thought at the time, "This really is something that you could have brought up before you brought me back to your place for what I thought was going to be a fun game of the old 'in-out, in-out'." but something in my head told me to keep my mouth shut and to let her do all of the talking. Sorry this, sorry that, I told her it was ok (lie), that I completely understood (another lie) and not to worry about it (yet another lie.)

As I was about to depart, she grabbed me again and started with the kissing, touching and rubbing. The sadistic glutton for punishment in me kicked the level headed angel on my shoulder in the ass and decided, 'We can pull this one out.' Life just isn't that easy.

She pulled away one more time, and I thought to myself, "The sadist wins again! Damnit!" With the most sincere look in her eyes she said, "We aren't going to have sex..." I remained silent. "...but I will get you off if you will do something for me." Oral for oral, I have no problem with that, but again, life is not that easy. She told me that while she had no problem with giving, receiving wasn't in her bag.

What then? What would I have to do to make it all happen for me?

"I will give you a blow job...if...well, I really want you to go on me."

Go? Go on her? What was she talking about?

"I want you to piss on me."

What? A golden shower? All my life I wondered what kind of person likes to be pee'd on, now the mystery was over. Apparently pee bodies look just like you and me, regular folk.

"Hmmm, she wants me to piss on her, " was one thought. Could I do that? Could I jump across that line? I say jump, because that is not really a line that you casually step across. I, in no way, have I ever considered myself a prude but water sports is an entirely different arena. How could I go from the regular missionary, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, etc. to what can not be described by anything other than the word 'fetish'?

Now I wish I could tell you that I got up and walked out only to never speak to her again, but I reiterate, life just isn't that easy.

It was an amazing blow job. And well, you know how it is when you drink too many beers.

Am I headed to making number two,
42

It was the 80's that night

2007-06-13T12:35:00.000-07:00

Stop. Rewind. The year is 1987. I am a sophomore in high school and it is a Saturday in the fall. Smell those autumn leaves. In the hallways at school the buzz all week has been the party at the Raptist brothers house. Parents are out and the beer will be flowing. One thing for sure, the party is going to be bumping, and oh yes, I will be in effect.

Hold up, not so fast. See your boy has a chica friend from another school across town and her mom's throwing up the red light. What's a strapping young lad to do? Skip what is sure to be the dopest night of the year and spend it with his lady or hit the party with his boys and turn that mother out?

Amy H. rings me up on the phone after a full day of back and forth about what I am going to do. She proceeds to lay down the guantlet, "If you go to that party, don't worry about calling me tomorrow." Silence on the line. What to do, what to do, what to do? Come on folks, this is no contest. "Ok," I retort, "Take care." Click.

7:30 in the PM and the big brother drives me and my boys to the party but not without a stop at the 7-11 to pick up some beer, plus his normal twenty percent (Hey, it is a buyer's buyer's market.) With my Old Milwaukee tall boys, eight beers in the convenience of six cans, I hit the party and what clearly is a new world.

The Raptist brothers are seniors but one of my boys has an 'in' so we are golden to get the pass, free from hassle. I am seeing shit I never thought I would ever see, is that a joint being freely passed around out in the open? Over to me, "Hey, you cool?" Toke, toke. "Cool enough."

Scoping the scene and the upper class ladies are to die for. Jennifer L. and Katie C. girls in womens bodies. Allison and Laura, twins, so much beauty God had to make two. Ms. Weaver, you and your lady friends, in all of your independent flair, it is just too much for the man in this boy...for now. We will come to meet ours, but for now a hand reaches down from above and a voice rings in my head, "Walk first, plenty of time to run later." Now is the time to play with kids my own age.

Deep into the tall boys, I have a full swagger. Any writer worth their salt will tell you to write what you know, so goes the same in life, work what you know. I settle into some conversation with Elizabeth T. and Angie H. (fellow sophomores) and on the stereo this new song that is gaining traction on the charts comes on. A new band, called Whitesnake and the song is called "Here I Go Again."

Never before in the history of this man has music been so fitting. Sure I like music as much as the next guy, but when David Coverdale opens that tune with:

I don't know where I'm goin
but I sure know where I've been
hanging on the promises in songs of yesterday.
An' I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time
but here I go again, here I go again.

It was a flash of clarity, there are in fact plenty of fish in the sea and also at that precise moment music stopped being background filler and stepped into the role of soundtrack to my life.

Right after that another voice sounds off in my head, "If you go to that party, don't worry about calling me in the morning." No problem because I am in the middle of trying to decide which of these two girls is going to be sucking on my face in thirty minutes.

Epilogue:
Amy H called on Sunday morning to apologize for her behavior, I didn't.

All for now,
42

Definitely not the first, surely not the last.

2007-06-11T13:57:00.000-07:00

As per the title, this is my first foray into what has recently been tabbed as the blogosphere (is that spelled correctly? Who can tell these days since is seems that new words are made up on a daily basis an inserted into the lexicon as common place?)

A close personal friend of mine, Jaded Bitterman, recently shared his own musings with me on his very own blog. Upon reading his posts I figured that I too could hop onto the series of tubes and post my thoughts like countless of millions of others all the while hiding behind the anonymity in all of the glory that is the SoT.

So I have come so far as to begin this blog, but now what do I write? Jokingly in my conversation with JB, I said I could begin, in catharsis, by telling the world of my dating woes with the ladies. Surely no one else has ever used the Internet to openly discuss such a personal matter, right? JB was not impressed but he did give me some encouraging words and even penned the opener for my first ever post on a blog. Without further ado,

"hi: im {proper name omitted} , im separated and living my 20's in my 30's. do you want to have sex with me?"

For now I bid farewell but not before I ask any of the ladies, (as per JB's offering) do you want to have sex with me?

Out,
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