Romance and World Music

What happened to romance?  Did it die, or do I still misunderstand it?  I feel like today's romance is a drunk girl in a bar.  I want more.  Maybe I listen to too much shoegaze; I do.  Maybe I watch too many sappy romance flicks, check.  I'm sorry, but I want what these mediums portray.  A happy couple, through good and bad, living together, leaning together, and talking through the difficult parts.  A tub of popcorn and a cheesy movie, that's my kind of date night!  Sex gets old, real quick.  Sometimes I'd rather just jack off; I know myself better than anybody.  Every time I date a girl, I grow farther and farther apart from this so called "romance".  I'm losing touch, and that scares me.  I don't want to become apathetic, I want to feel something real.  I don't mind crying, but I haven't done it in years.  I'm feeling a bit empty.  A bit deserted.  I've never told a girl I love her, and I'm scared I won't be able to when I find her.

Indie folk, world music, whatever the fuck people call it, sucks real bad live.  I'm talking about those bullshit bands that show up at a photo shoot with a ukulele and some African tribe getup.  Beurit or Gogol Bordello are good examples.  I've seen both live at Bonnaroo, and it was just as I expected.  Slow, boring and pretentious.  "No, our band is far better and more advant-garde than any other band in the land, and we'll prove it with an overabundance of brass and tambourine players."  These bands also seem to be a callout, or maybe it was the triangle dinner-bell they were playing, to all the hippies at the festival.  Here they come, with their hula-hoops and dirty skirts, marching away from their nesting tree in an unbathed routine that can only be described as communal.  Yeah, all a hot summer day needs is more stinky people.  As soon as this gathering arrives they move from foot to mexican blankets, unknowingly knitted by kids in a factory.  During one show, a girl looks at me and notices my grim disposition. "Aren't they great?"  No chick, they are not great I explain.  No chick, they only sound good cause you're on drugs, I explain.


I probably shouldn't be writing to the internet when I get real drunk alone.

Picture of day and new favorite meme.

Star Trek and Anti-Wingman

Ever been driven to learn something because you didn't get a joke?  Well, the other day, I was having a long, in depth conversation about the paradoxes and time periods in the Back to the Future series when some guy abruptly threw in a Klingon joke about Christopher Loyd.  I didn't laugh, but everybody else did.  I was like why you got just throw Star Trek in here like it's relevant.  And that's when I realized my reputation was on the line.  I was about lose some major street cred. So I went back home, paroooozed the internet, made a couple bags of popcorn and revisited some old lost friends, Captain Kirk and Starfleet Enterprise.  Below are some notes I took along the ride.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture

• Learn how to wink with Kurk
• Long sequences of the Enterprise with epic music
• Sulu has the widest eyes of any Asian
• Bald chick is real bald and real celibate
• Kinky machine sex

Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan

• Veronica left her secret closet as a Vulkin
• Main theme of the movie is Khan's kentucky waterfall
• Subplot is Khan's pecs
• First sign of boost mobile
• Genesis is not just a video gaming system
• KHAAANNNN!

Star Trek: The Search for Spock

• Christopher Loyd is back as a cleon
• Where in the worlds is Leonard Nimoy
• Men in purple suits can't fight
• Vulcan puberty 

Star Trek: The Final Frontier

• Maniacal laugh
• Three titted cat dancer
• The axil rose version of klingon
• Definitely directed by William Shatner
• Spock: "Please Captain, not in front of the Klingons."
• All shots fired at the enterprise hit the cockpit

Let's talk about the idea of an Anti-Wingman.  I propose that you should have one for every drunk situation.  This would be a clear-headed dude that works like a censor.  Whenever you think something is a good idea, you tell him your idea.  He'll then put logic behind it and probably tell you it's a terrible idea.

Example situation 1:  You've had a few and you're about to text this girl.  You type up the message, and show it to your anti-wingman, let's call him Tom.  Hey Tom, I'm about to send this message,  Tom replies "that's a bad idea, and she will not think that her and the band Slayer will have a lot in common."  

Example situation 2:  You've had a few and you're thinking about going home with someone.  You let your anti-wingman, Tom, know that you're about to home with a girl. Tom replies "no, that's a bad idea, that's Molly.  You just tried breaking off a relationship with her 2 hours ago.  Don't be a fuck up!"

Thanks Tom, you've saved my ass once again.

Poems and Dick Pics

Poetry is kind of a funky turkey.  It's something people write for themselves, and then, sometimes, share with other people who are suppose to interpret it.  Poems are not meant for the reader, and considering the several factors leading up to its invention, no one can really understand it besides the one who created it.  Yeah, he might be talking about the girl that got away, or maybe he's just really pissed that someone took the last cookie at the dinner table.
Well, here's a few poems I wrote a while back, sometime in the past with many influences leading up to multiple ideas that made sense at the time.  They are both untitled to make them even more vague.

Untitled #1



A friend is a foe, for one minute's loss

An idea loses its shape

Five hands at one throat.

Compass turns south,

Entropy reaches a singularity.

Untitled #2

Busy is the bee called mother

Sacrifice one life to feed another.

Fire yields and fire burns

Everyone must take their turn.

To fight is to live another day

While death is on step away.

I don't understand the reasons dudes send girls dick picks.  Do guys really think girls want to see their penis on a tiny cramped screen at low resolution?  If they are lucky, the gal wont' figure out what it is.  Seriously, what girl gets a dirty text and is like "Oh, what a beautiful dick", then immediately sets up a date.  It would be a touching story when they grow old together.  Imagine the family sitting around the fireplace, enjoying each others' company, when little Timmy asks "Grammy, how did you and Grandpa meet?'. "Well little Timmy it all started with a dick pic."

Top Tens and the 80s

Well, another year down.  And this year was by far the best.  I did a lot of crazy shit, some good, and some bad.  Got some body art, made a lot of friends, and had a lot of fun.  So here's some top tens for ya.

Top Ten Albums

1. Bright Eyes - The People's Key
2. Graveyard - Hisingen Blues
3. Girls - Father, Son, Holy Ghost
4. The Go! Team - Rolling Blackouts
5. Deer Tick - Divine Providence
6. Touche Amore - Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me
7. M83 - Hurry Up, We're Dreaming
8. Real Estate - Days
9. Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues
10. Tennis - Cape Dory

Top Ten Movies

1. Hugo
2. Drive
3. Another Earth
4. Attack the Block
5. Melancholia
6. The Skin I Live In
7. Hanna
8. Take Shelter
9. 50/50
10. Bridesmaids

Movies I need to see: Carnage, Shame, Sleeping Beauty, The Future, The Seperation, or The Artist

Top Ten Foods

1. Reuben
2. Fish Tacos
3. Beer
4. Bloody Marys
5. Meatloaf
6. Rice cooker surprise
7. Anything my neighbor brought me
8. Juicy Lucys 
9. Chocolate
10. Beef Stroganoff

Another thing happened this year.  I moved back to 80s.  Seriously, I listened to more Depeche Mode and New order than any other year.  Call it maturity.  I found a new lust for leopard leotards, poofy hair, and started calling tits ta-tas again.  Every girl in sixteen candles is now attractive, and  I'm showering less.  Also bought myself a whole set of puffy paints, made a sweat shirt for my teacher, only to find out she's dead.  Following my dad's adivce, "put on some pumps, and don't ever go anywhere without a trapper keeper", I was able to make create some wicked good times and totally meet some bodacious broads. I had love and loss, but didn't forget to hold on to the 80s.

This picture pretty much sums up the year.

School and Yoga

Well, I'm off to another field of science.  Took the GRE, applied and got accepted to the Food Science department for graduate school.  I've been accepted as a student for the Spring semester, but I'm not really starting until the Fall.  The spring, and summer, will be filled with prerequisite courses and a full-time job, which is currently statistics.  Yep, I've decided to have no life, working 45+ hours a week during the day, grabbing a big gulp and honey bun for dinner, and promptly spending the rest of the night in classes.  The summertime will be a continuation of the same, excluding a well-timed Eurotrip to France and England.  There is a bit of anxiety, but mostly, there is a thrill of excitement similar to arriving at the peak of a rollercoaster track.  I'm afraid of my intolerance to focus, but excited at what might happen if I follow through to the end.  One thing, some people might know, about me is I'm never the best at anything.  I've become good at multiple things, but never the best.  One part concentration, one part loss of it, I get close to arriving at nirvana, only to drop off to another subject.  I want to become the best in something.  I think this might be my ticket.


I like yoga.  Not the metaphysical bullshit a lot of people associate with the term, but the physicality and relaxation I seem to find with it.  I don't believe in chi or chakras, which are completely made up and only make you sound like an asshole when you talk about it.  I do believe that taking long, over-drawn breaths can over-oxidize your brain creating a high, and stretching and working out muscles that don't get a lot of attention is good food for you.  Ok, with all that being said, let me tell you somethings that piss me off about yoga classes, which I've had to resort to since my house is now too far away for lunch.

People Breakdown:
1. Fat Bitch - That one fat person that tries to start conversation with the instructor in the middle of a sun salutation.
2. Old Bitch - That one old person that requests alternative poses, thus destroying the idea of getting a decent workout.
3. Reoccuring Bitch - That one person that shows up to every class to give bad looks to newcomers and clap at the end of every session.
(By the way, the term Bitch is referring to a man or woman, excluding the "Fat Bitch" who is always a woman. I've just never seen a fat dude participate in a yoga class)

Move Breakdown:
1. Mooing Cow - I'm not even sure this is a real move or I've got the name correct, but it's completely useless. Position description: doggy-style without a partner
2. Six Sun Salutations in a Row - I just don't understand why we can't add a couple of harder positions into each cycle.
3. Long Pauses - If I wanted to rest, I'd be sitting my ass on a couch, watching The Wire, and stuffing my face with Doritos.




Picture of the Day

Question of the Day

Would you rather see a Ghostbusters prequel or Bill and Ted sequel? 

Moms and Cats

You know how that dude got famous with his twitter account "shit my dad says", well I need to replicate it, but instead use my mother.  Today, she sent me a message, using her new favorite technology texting, that said "I got charged for a kids price at the movies!  Do I look 14?" My response, appropriately, was "You go girl!"  Actually with her recently acquired free time, we've been hanging out quite a bit.  Cooking once a week, going to movies, and getting coffee.  It's weird, but I've learned more about my Mom in the last 2 months, than I had from living in the same house for 18 years.  I guess, that's just how things work out.

One thing my Mom always brings to my house is a goodie bag.  Now everybody's Mom, or Dad, or grandparents, carry around a thing called a goodie bag.  Whether it be chocolate delights, water guns, or just old shit they found in the attic, the goodie bag exists.  For me, it exists every week.  And every week I obtain new oddities that sit in my house because I don't have the heart to throw any of them away.  I'm also a pack rat, but we'll get to that another day.  This weeks bag was pretty random like most weeks. Listed below are some of the items:

• Pencil sharpener
• Two magnet clamps
• Two pan scrapers
• Poster of Arkansas Delta Family Gospel Fest
• Plastic cup
• Box of Fiber One bars
• Four Arkansas Animal Guides (Birds, Snakes, Waterfoul, Fish)
• Wildlife calender and pencil
• Riceland frisbee
• Two coupon pages (Burger King and IHOP)

So my cat is on vacation at the Reilly's house, and I miss it a bunch.  Last I heard, it's getting along with the other cats, cleaning them and occasionally staring out the window.  That's pretty much sums up Lilly's life, adventure and mystery wrapped up in a giant ball of hair.

Before the trip to Russellville I found learned something new. One of the most daunting feats a man can take is getting a cat into a car.  They really don't like surprises, car trips, and they will meow a lot.  Like 30 minutes worth, then realize that it's not too bad and there are worse things that could be happening.  Lilly finally came to this realization and began to explore, eventually tiring out and falling asleep in my lap.  Towards the end of the ride, she woke up, placed her paws on the window seal, and hung her head out the window like a dog.  Talk about getting a lot strange looks from truckers.

Question of the day:

What is your favorite meme?

Stress and Disney World

Hey.  Let's talk about stress.  Everybody gets it; some people know how to deal with it and some do not.  Most types of stress can be placed into two categories: eustress and distress.  Eustress is a positive form of stress that happens when you complete something or have desirable events happen in your life.  Distress on the hand is a piece of shit.  This bad boy carries some nasty kinds of medical conditions like psychological coping and anxiety.  According to the General Adaptation Syndrome, stress follows three stages.  Alarm is the first stage is activated by a stressor or threat.  Now the funny thing is this threat can be real or fantasy.  And if you pick fantasy, you're on a road of fatigue.  Because the real world really isn't too bad, and there's always a point when everything works out.  The fantasy world doesn't have those limitations.  And without walls, it is free to manifest into a phoenix.  This phoenix has a pretty likely chance to drive you bat-shit crazy over and over again.  That's when stage number two happens, Resistance.  You try to find a way to cope with it.  I prefer to drink a lot.  Once you've depleted your coping resources, or bottle of Jack.  You fall right into the third stage (or maybe a screen door), Exhaustion. This can result in fatigue, high-blood pressure, or getting sick.  For me, I get sick and my balls start to hurt.  Yes, I'm pretty sure it's not normal.  It's probably due to getting punched in a balls everyday at recess from Joseph Newton.  I don't really know, but it sucks.  I'm actually writing this post to not think of them.

Ok, enough of the bullshit, let's talk about Disney World and all the rides I'm going to fucking own.  If you're not in the know, Disney is one of the happiest places in the world.  There's cotton candy, talking mice, fireworks, and a big fuckin castle.  This is a fantasy land that actually exists.  As soon as you walk in, all your problems melt away and you become a 10 year kid with a brand new pair of roller blades.  This year is going to be even more awesome than ever because we are going in October.  This means three very important things, no lines, Star Tours and Mickey's Not-so-Scary Halloween Party.  Boooyah, big time!  Yeah, that means all day power hours, the original dark lord (not that voldermort asshole), and goofy kids running around with goofy costumes.  It is going to be epic.  Just so you can have a little taste, check out this video.

Question of the day

Mr. or Mrs. Pacman?