Thankfully Yours

It's Sunday and Thursday was Thanksgiving, of course. This may not be obvious to you if you live in, say, Mongolia, but here in the U.S. the holiday is popular. The day after Thanksgiving, I was listening to a podcast called Stuff You Should Know and they mentioned that a typical Thanksgiving meal has the equivalent of six Big Macs in calories and fat. Any way you look at that, that's fucking awesome.

So, for Thanksgiving, we went to Katie's grandparent's house. There were the grandparents, their children and spouses, and their children's children and spouses/boyfriends/girlfriends. All in all, it was a huge affair and... well, I really had the best Thanksgiving I could ever remember having. We played a lot of games - board, video, and outdoor ones - and ate really good food. Fun was had by all. Katie's family is really great and I was happy to be welcomed enthusiastically into their world.

I worked Friday about half the day and then drove to my parents house with Katie. Although I don't really get along with them, it was nice to see them. My sister is about to pop with her second illegitimate child, and while the first one started out pretty ugly, she's turning into a real cutie. I ended up buying my niece a unicorn hand puppet, which, after starting out shyly avoiding, warmed up to it and started kissing it a bunch. I went to see the new Bond film with my dad Friday night and Saturday, we ate and played an epic game of Monopoly. Katie kicked everyone's ass. I did, though, pull out a neat deal with my dad on one of his monopolies. I "invested" $1200 in his greens for half the profits the next 4 times someone landed on them. It ended up being a bad investment, though. You play, you learn.

Today, I threw away a lot of my life. A lot of memories had been storing up to create some of the most horrid clutter one could ever imagine. I decided that I didn't need all that junk and ended up disposing of five trash bags worth of crap. It was very cathartic. My life is with Katie now. The past is the past and I'm glad to leave it behind as my new life with the woman of my life takes off.


Man, I'm turning into a wuss. Where's the anger? Where's the angst? Where's the liberal use of curse words when talking about something? I'll have to find something to rage at soon. Click Here to Read More..

Dear Zachary

Last night, my girlfriend and I saw an amazing documentary at the Belcourt. First, I have to mention that I did not really know what to expect from the movie. It was something that I did want to see, but the movie far exceeded my expectations.

Let me give a small summary: A man by the name of Dr. Andrew Bagby was killed by his ex-girlfriend Dr. Shirley Turner. She fled to Canada where the legal system put her in jail (which she promptly left by posting bail). She was supposed to be extradited to the US to face trial for murder. Also, she turned out to be pregnant with Dr. Bagby's child. While she should have been in jail, the legal system failed and she was allowed to walk around free. Meanwhile, the parents of Dr. Bagby moved to Canada, gave up everything, to try to get custody of their son's son.

The documentary was made by Andrew Bagby's childhood friend with the purpose of showing the son all of the friends and family Dr. Bagby had in life. It was truly one of the most gut-wrenching movies I have ever seen. There were several parts where I had to bite back audibly sobbing. Both Katie and I cried several times while our eyes kept in a constant state of watering.

I highly recommend seeing it at the Belcourt. You won't be disappointed.

Also, since I didn't put the word "fuck" in this post or get angry, here it is. Fuck. Click Here to Read More..

Because They're Different Than Us

So, today I made a faux pas that may or may not have insulted Brad Paisley and, by proxy, his wife.

Scene: Elliston Place Soda Shop

Plot: My boss was getting food from the Goldrush. I was thirsty and wanted to get a drink from the Soda Shop. Oddly enough, they sell sodas. Well, I had noticed that there were some new pictures on the wall signed by some of today's hottest and biggest country stars! Woot! So, of course, I had to make fun. Maybe not so much fun, per se, but I was my boisterously loud self. Go me.

Me "So, you get lots of country stars here, huh?"
Waitress "Yeah, I guess we do."
Me [moment perusing the pictures again]
Me "I don't really recognize anyone up there, except LeAnn Rimes."
Waitress [horrified look]
Me [not really getting it]
Me [in bad country accent to waitress scrubbing a shelf] "Better scrub them shelves good!"
Waitress [horrified look]
Boss "Is it good, or well?"
Me [in a bad country accent] "Good, since we're in the country."
Me [laughter]
Boss [laughter]
Waitress [horrified look]

And we exit without really looking around or talking to any of the patrons.

So, my boss turns to me after we turn the corner.

Boss "Do you know who that was in there?!"
Me "Who?"
Boss "That was Brad Paisley and his wife! (who was on According to Jim, I guess)"
Boss [maniacal laughter that makes me think she's going to pass out]

Then she proceeds to tell everyone at work while I google Brad Paisley.

Scene. Click Here to Read More..

Go Fetch

Usually I have sympathy for people that work in the food industry. Today, however, I did not. Concluding a recent disappointing trip to Fido, a Nashville coffehouse with quirky charm, I thought it prudent to politely register a complaint.

Let's back it up a little. Fido is where I met my girlfriend for our first date. Our 5-monthaversary was yesterday. She was up for some coffee and suggested that we visit the place again. The last time we went, it was Halloween night and we were seeing The Shining at the Belcourt. We had about 40 minutes before the movie started and decided to go to Fido. It took 30 minutes after ordering to get our coffee, which we had to dump in the trash because they took so fucking long. It was not busy that night, at all. Today, my girlfriend had to wait 23 minutes (timed from the time on the receipt to what my phone said the time was) just for one cup of coffee. It was a little busier (understandably, being an afternoon in a coffee shop on a weekend), but the unkempt employees were goofing around, making drinks for themselves, stopping to take swigs of coke, and engaging in other tomfoolery. After we witnessed this behavior, by the time girlfriend got her hot beverage, she was upset and wanted to leave. Well, being the second time in a row this has happened, I decided to complain.

I was polite about it. I started off with "Look, I know you all work hard and you don't like to hear complaints, I know it's busy, but..." I was trying to be as nice about it as possible. The woman that I talked to said "Well, yeah, but if you don't want to wait so long for your coffee, maybe you shouldn't come on a Saturday." I was kinda shocked by that and walked out. You know, I've been there before on a Saturday. I met my girlfriend there on a Saturday. The service had never been that bad before. Seriously, people BEHIND us in line placed their food order and had their food brought out to them and were halfway done with it before we got one fucking cup of joe. Does that sound reasonable to you? It sure as fuck doesn't to me. Then, you know, I'm not as abrasive in person as I am in this blog, to be told that I shouldn't come on a Saturday if I didn't want shitty service, well... needless to say, we won't be going there again. At least we'll always have that magical first time there where everything was cute and adorable and koalas were passing out rainbows at the door. Click Here to Read More..

War: What is it good for?

Absolutely nothin'! I mean it. Yes, there were wars like the Crusades that introduced Europe to spices and different ways to cook goat, but war does so much irrepairable harm than good. Think of all the hundreds of billions we spent on the Iraq war when so many people are in trouble in our country. Think of all the families, on both sides, that will forever be without a father, brother, son, uncle, or other male figure. Yet, somehow, I'm supposed to feel bad that I want to bring our troops home? I'm supposed to feel unpatriotic, unAmerican, because I'm against war? Fuck that. You know, if the Iraqi people truly wish to be free and have a democratic government, WE can't help them. They have to help themselves. They have to want it and strive for it. I'm not saying that we made things easier for them, but we did remove a major obstacle that was in their path. Now we have to back off and let them sort it out. Unfortunately, it has to be that way. I believe it was Benjamin Franklin that once said, "That which we attain too easily, we esteem too lightly." By going in there and constantly warring against insurgents, all we're doing is trying to hand them a government on a silver platter. It can't work that way.

Personally, I hate to see death and violence. It sickens me. I get sad just seeing a squirrel run over on the road. While it does take good people to stand up and overcome a tyrrany, those people have to exist within your own country. They have to be willing to stand up and do the job for themselves. The American troops have done all they can and it is pointless to spend another five years killing everyone that takes up arms against us. Enough of that, though.

I'd also like to mention something about patriotism. How is it that Republicans have monopolized the concept of patriotism? Are we really patriots if we rename french fries to "freedom fries"? Are we then patriots only if we eat the "freedom fries"? Are we patriots if we drive around in SUVs with stickers of flags that say "We remember 9/11"? Are we patriots only if we support this fucking war? Are we only patriots if we think we should keep troops over in Iraq for an indeterminate amount of time? Fuck no. America was formed by dissent. We disagreed with our current government and took up arms against them and our neighbors and killed and raised bloody hell and anarchy. When we were done with that, we took our Articles of Confederation and threw them out the window to pretty much create an entirely new government than the one previously agreed upon. After we expanded from coast to coast, based on Manifest Destiny, stealing land from people that had been there thousands of years before we were, we went to war with each other because we didn't want to give up slaves. Now, I'm all for Repulicans hijacking that concept of patriotism, as it would really accentuate what fucking hypocritical bastards they really are. Don't spoonfeed me that the only way to be a patriotic American is by believing that our country is right in all things, can go around killing whomever we wish, overthrow governments, and pretending that we can teabag any nation that doesn't agree with us. Those are not the things I believe in and I'm sure as hell a patriotic American.

In conclusion, Obama won, get over it. He's not the antichrist. He's not the end of American life as we know it. The war will end by his hand, things will get better, and in four (or eight) years, you'll all be kissing his black ass and saying "Thank you, sir." Click Here to Read More..

SNL (Shortly Nearing Lameness)

With election day finally here, something has been truly nagging on my mind... I'm not worried so much about who is going to win or what the policies of the next president are going to be. We all know we're fucked anyway. I'm worried about SNL. These last couple of months have provided me with so much laughter and pants-wetting. I'm sad to see Amy Poehler move on, especially to a spinoff of The Office - which I hope will be good, but will likely cause the downfall of humanity. I'm sad to see Tina Fey move back to her show rather than entertain us with the dead-on impersonation of.. umm.. who did she play again? Joe Biden? And what about Darrel Hammond? I think the only impressions he can do are of presidents. Isn't that why he's been kept on the show for the last fifty seaons?

I'm so used to SNL being unfunny that it has been a complete shock to my system to laugh at their sketches once again. Like a crack addict looking for his next fix, I've been suffering the shakes until Saturday (and Thursday, and some Tuesdays, and a Monday for good measure) for my favorite late night sketch. We NEEDS it, We WANTS it, my precious!

Despite my best hopes, though, I know I'll be disappointed. Every time the show seems to be on an upswing, the election season ends and I'm left like a girl after her first time saying, "That's it? That's what I've been told was so great?"

Click Here to Read More..

NaNoWrMo

Today marks the satrt of National Novel Writing Month. For those of you uninitiated, go here: http://www.nanowrimo.org/ . Katie and I went to see "The Shining" last night at the Belcourt Theatre. Beforehand, we went to Fido to get a cup of Joe. The movie started at 9:10 and we got in line for coffee at 8:35. Our order was placed by 8:40. So, we sat.. and we waited... 9:00 rolls around and our coffee FINALLY got done; well, at least Katie's did. As they were giving us hers, they said "Wait, you didn't get your iced chai, did you?" I told them to not make it, we were already late and we couldn't drink the coffee we already had. Am I unreasonable in thinking that a cup of coffee shouldn't take 20 minutes to make? Maybe I'm just an asshole. Katie was upset by it, too.

Now, I haven't the stamina to write a novel in a month. I'm just too lazy, really. But, in support and honor of this momentous occasion, I present the first part of a a story I've been working on:

 The plodding sound of shod hooves on packed dirt and the tinny rhythm of metal clanging against itself were the only sounds in the still desert air. The sun had gone down hours ago and the chill of night started to seep into the bones of the lone, shadowed figure. The trail had ended at least a hundred miles back, but the man atop the horse seemed to know where he was going. For the most part, he had been resting in the saddle. Days of riding without end were familiar to him, but that didn't mean he still didn't get sore every now and again. He was far from the young man he had once been.

 He stirred in the saddle. Something seemed to be off. Nonchalantly, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the leather case that held his cigarettes. Parke-Davis cigarettes: the kind with cocaine. The promise was that they'd supply the place of food, make the coward brave, the silent eloquent and... render the sufferer insensitive to pain. It was the pain part he sought to take advantage of. Pulling a match from his Diamond Match book, he struck the surface and watched it flare a moment before lighting his cigarette. The brief glow of the match revealed a man with rough features and dark hair beneath a tan stetson. A mustache with a week's growth of whiskers adorned his face. His nose was perfectly-aligned and his chiseled jaw provided for his features in a way the women of the day would refer to as “rugged handsomeness”.

 The cowboy took a long drag on his cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke into the still night air. He closed his eyes as numbness crept through his body. 'Just once,' he thought as he silently prayed for release. Slowly, he removed his hat and put it in his lap. He knew what was coming before it did. Years of experience on the battlefield prepared him for it. Just as a slight breeze played up, a bullet whizzed through the skull of the man followed by the rapport of a rifle from somewhere in the hills to the east. He slumped forward, dead. His horse startled, the mare began a fast trot in the direction they were heading. Luckily, the adding bumping and jostling didn't jar the rider from his saddle.

 Five minutes later, the dead cowboy began to move. Groggily, as if awakening from a long, restful night's sleep, he slowly put his hands under him to steady himself in the saddle and sat up. He glanced down at the hat in his lap and unflattened it. Giving the stetson a quick inspection, he made sure there were no blood stains on it before putting it back on his fully-healed head. The man leaned over and picked up the reigns of his trusty steed, pulling back slightly to reassure her that he was alright and to slow her down. 

Click Here to Read More..