Looking back...and smiling

The trivial yet crucial question that comes up in someone's mind when they meet a new friend for the first time is this, "what will this person think about me when they are gone?". Granted, this eternal question may be presented in a plethora of fashions, but we all think about it in some sense or another. I learned tonight that the only way to truly generate a legitimate answer is to think about the question from another point of view. How did I see them as they left? In all honesty, I think we will all find that we were so concerned about our own safety and comfort level that we disregard the satisfaction of the other person. I was lucky enough to meet someone who made it really easy to be as corny, lame, and awkward as I would normally be while at the same time keeping me interested in everything they had to say. The moral of this story is this:

No matter how uncomfortable you may be around a new friend, if they are a person worth talking to, you will not hide behind your fear, insecurities, or inability to make eye contact(sorry about that, it's my 'thing'). And once the person has gone, don't think about the things you did wrong, think about the things they did right; the things that made you happy to have the conversation in the first place. Win Win.

The Anisette

So I’ve been boring lately, going to work then going home and going to bed. As a man who defines his life by the amount of mischief and compromising situations he can get himself into, I find this unacceptable. So, in an effort to expand the horizons of my writing repertoire and necessary exposure, I am getting a little staff going to contribute and move this blog thing to the next level. The current staff of the blog you are reading has purchased The Anisette domain and will be moving on to bigger and better things. In the near future the “Daily Daris” will become “The Anisette (theanisette.com)” and artistic contributions of any kind will be accepted to be posted on the site the next day. I am talking to the boys at Wrecking Ball promotions in Santa Cruz about getting some promo stuff together once the site is up. I am pretty excited about this and the time I have had to spend getting it going is partly responsible for my inability to supply you with delicious tidbits of poisonous literature. It will be back and going shortly.

Thanks for reading!!

Arabica(L)

Turns out 2 cups of coffee and two shots of espresso is a bit much for a person of my naturally energetic disposition. So far I've made a string cheese last 45 minutes while successfully re-organizing my entire iTunes folder, washing the telephone headset in my office, changing out my picture frames with newer (hotter) female celebrities, and coloring all of the blue states on my political calendar red(and vise versa).



To sum it up, I feel as if my heart may erupt from my chest cavity, land on my desk, and challenge me to a dance off.

On Being Home

Great time in Chico this weekend. I got to see my boys and my girls and the cat that only a person with a sense of humor could love. I have to start by saying I am sorry to those of you who I was supposed to spend time with and flaked on. I know I am an asshole for missing out on times and the only way for me to even begin to make it up to you is by saying I'm sorry and promise to see you again in the near future. Eli, grand fiesta bitch. Much love. Katie, I miss you more than you know and I hope to see you soon. Jeff and Kylie, congrats on the graduations and welcome to the working class. It's shitty. Cory Lee, you look like your ten years old and it makes me smile. Don't ever grow old Peter Pan. Jen Hall, I finally got to meet you and I must say that your butt is the 8th wonder of the world...and Aca Taco at 2:30 in the morning is the only way to eat a burrito. I think I've got what I need to complete the story of my life (up until now) from this weekend...time to get this written.

I love you all and I'll get back at you shortly.

Two Girls. One Thought.

Sometimes a man can't really know what he is talking about until a women tells him it's actually relevant to the situation at hand.  I have come to know two girls in my life that make me feel like a Muppet Baby struggling through  an episode of Jeopardy.  Though their opinions may seem like mindless babble at the time; later their thoughts turn out to be the pot of gold at the end of the jumbled rainbow.  Sitting in an office chair in front of her bedroom desk, Kay tells me, "Sometimes you aren't yourself, and it pisses me off.  But sometimes you are yourself, and even though you may be acting stupid, I believe that it's you, and it makes me smile."  Anne sits to my right and concentrates on our conversation about younger women dating older men and chimes in every fifteen minutes.  One unrelated diamond includes, "I don't want to smoke cigarettes because we have to smoke outside. There's no heater outside...it's cold outside, so I'm not smoking."  I never thought Mother Nature could have a positive impact on personal health; other than the insertion of vitamin D into the community.  

In conclusion, around my girls, my guard falls, my mind opens, and no matter what the topic, I know that all of my arguments will be enlightened by the shining light of two women with experiences and insight that can only come with estrogen and gumption.

One Pissy Mother

I am going to Chico today at 5pm. The excitement inside me right now can only be described using intense hand motions and flamboyant vocal stimulation. So, being that there is no way for me to physically express my excitement, I'll move on.

If you have ever been to Nevada (for an extended period of time) you know that if you don't like the current weather, wait ten minutes and it will more than likely change. I must tell you that if you think the weather in your area is fickle, you have no idea what you are talking about (unless you live in the bible belt in which case you win. But being that I don't know anyone living in the bible belt...). On Monday and Tuesday it was hotter than 3 Brazilian models fighting over which football game to watch. 95 degrees all day long. Then Wednesday rolls in with Mother Nature hitting her menses and going straight for the box of chocolate; hot, cold, hot, cold. Make up your frickin' mind MN, can't we just have some consistency this weekend, for me. I have a 4 hour drive ahead of me and far too much fun stuff to do to be hindered by a storm that finds it necessary to wreak havoc on us all. So this is me, Daris, asking you, stupid bitch of nature, take some Midol and call it a day. Please.

On a lighter note, the season finales of these dramatic crime dramas have been a blasty blast. The first one I watched was the NCIS finale which rocked my socks off. If you are a fan of NCIS hit me up and we'll discuss our thoughts. I'm pretty much a gay sailor when it comes to that show, I Tivo that shit and watch it again right after the initial airing ends. It's bad. Last night was Criminal Minds and CSI:NY, both of which were, eh, so-so.

So anyway, that's me this morning, I hope you are doing well, and if not, just know that at least your day isn't going as bad as Mother Nature's.

The Greatest Talk Show of All Time. Period.

When I get home and see the pillow on my bed, the only thing I can think to myself is...I have to eat it.


Diet Book Author Advocates New 'No Food Diet'

Dear Hypocrite,

I love the way you tell me one thing and do another. It's always a welcomed surprise to hold a truth and share its existence with those around me only to later find out that the truth I was relying on was a barrel full of bullshit served up to me by the feces supplying hole on the front of your face. I love it when I plan on one thing going one way, only to have it turn out to be completely different than you said it would be. An "I don't know" is much more helpful to me than a crock of shit siphoned from the nearest parallel universe where your lies are reality. I don't live in this fallacy perpetuated land where what you say is instantaneously deemed law. I love it when I am called out on a lie that you told me and instead of owning up to the lie yourself, you make me work out the kinks because you are too much of a fucking slack to face those who have been effected by your inability to comprehend reality. I am sick of this shit and it ends shortly.

P.S. I'm sorry. Let's still be friends.
See, I can lie too.

Cookies, Pregnant Men, Boobs, Jesus, and Jose Canseco

Sitting at my desk I was thinking about what to write about. My sunburn from Tahoe is slowly subsiding, I ate dinner and went to bed last night and since I've been at work, not a whole heck of a lot has happened...with me.



Thanks to Jay Ay Em I was sent a little nugget of gold via email just a few moments ago. So, in light of this deliciously funny story, I have decided to post the top 5 funniest stories I was able to find on the Internet this morning. Enjoy!

Sweet Driving Skills

Manual labor isn't recommended while pregnant...dude

What happens when the "Boob Inspector" acts like a Dic

For the love of God, keep those boobs away from Winnie!

Jose Canseco looks to add injury to Insufficient Funds


Yay! Now wasn't that entertaining. Maybe we'll do this more often. Thanks Jay Ay Em!

Sunday Beach Tips

Sunday.

After the Friday night catastrophe the boys and I wanted to get out of town so we piled into the truck and went to Tahoe, however, not before stopping at Wal-Mart, Safeway in Carson, Raley's twice, and Safeway in Tahoe. For some reason we thought we were going camping so we had to bring rations and enough Capri Sun to fill a kiddie pool. Whatever. As we are getting ready to leave the Safeway parking lot I got to do one of my favorite things. If you don't already know, Daris has had a bit of a drinking problem in the past and the judge has recommended I get an "interlock" in my truck. It's one of those things you have to blow into in order to make the vehicle start (like in 40 year old virgin...yeah). Anyway, I see this really cute older women in the truck right next to me and I figure I'll have a little fun before I leave town. I look her in the eyes, smile, and slowly bring the interlock to my lips and blow into it while it makes it's high pitch whistling sound and the truck fires up. I throw it in gear and we're off, never breaking eye contact with a now confused woman.

We roll up to the beach with our ice chest and lifetime supply of Doritos and cop a squat on a promising part of the beach. Not but 30 seconds later a fight breaks out between some guys sitting 15 feet from us. They are brawling all over their spot, girls are screaming, guys and provoking, and I'm elbow deep in Nacho Cheese Doritos watching these high schoolers brawl like its High School Musical: Braveheart Edition. After the fight, these drunk kids proceed to call up all of their friends and make a mini Woodstock right next to us. Now, I'm not one to have a MASSIVE problem with the condition of my body, I'm not a track runner or a body builder and that's cool, but seeing 40 dudes under the age of 21 looking like they all employ the services of a personal trainer is a little disheartening. It's times like these that I really like to push the envelope of what is considered "awkward encounters".

In any situation, if you know there is absolutely no possible way that you can get a girl to find you physically attractive based on the current competition, go with a completely unorthodox approach. Example, walk up to the hottest girl in the group and ask her for her ugliest friend's phone number. She'll be excited that someone is interested in "Petunia" and her three chins, while at the same time you will have talked to the hottest girl in the group, gotten a phone number and possibly even an invitation to hang out with q group of ladies. You then return to your group of boys who were absolutely POSITIVE you would have been shot down, and, acting nonchalant, you show them the phone number and BAM! You're the balls. Another fantastic way to look a lot cooler than you really are is to pretend you have the hottest body on the beach. Confidently make eye contact with the women on the beach while rubbing suntan lotion on your hairy stomach and chest. Women will wonder why it is that you have so much confidence yet look like such absolute shit. "He must have money". The only bad thing is that when this actually works, and you end up making her pick up the bar tab, the masquerade is over. Now you're just fat and poor. Time to go home.

Aww...good for you.

Friday night after work me and the boys were at home Bar-B-Qing and throwing the football around when I realized that we hadn't been out on the town in a month and we were simply passed due for an adventure. Dave decides to stay at the house and be emo or whatever so Mike and I hit the streets. We started at the Firkin Fox, and being that there were roughly 5 or 6 people in the place, all of whom were more than likely already enjoying what's left of a Social Security income (they were really really old), we decided to move it on down the street. We get to Dopplegangers where we run into Kris Fite, whom I hadn't seen in quite a while. As we approached Dopples, the side alley entrance, which is usually empty, is filled with gorgeous women. Mike and I looked at each other and knew it was going to be a decent evening. We stroll up to the entrance and move through the crowd of women at the door, and the bald bouncer, only to get inside to a sea of more gorgeous women. A veritable buffet of women could be seen mingling in every corner of the room. So, as my straight forwardness is one of my most outstanding qualities (i like to think), my first order of business is to approach the bar, which is lined with short haired little "cute as a button" girls and grab some drinks.

Daris- "Hey ladies, how are you all doing tonight?"
Girls- "Not interested."
Daris- "Ouch. Just saying hello."

After the embarrassing gunning down, I go back over to the table Kris and a few other people had picked out for us. I couldn't let one bad interaction hinder my evening...I had to try again. Two tables over there is a beautiful girl with long black hair, tight jeans and a few tattoos sprinkled in to show she didn't care what society thought. Nice. I walk up.

Daris- "Hi, my name is Daris, can I buy you a drink?"
Hot Girl- "Eh. Go."
Daris- "Excuse me?" Hot girl rolls her eyes and looks away. I tap her on the shoulder and say into her ear, "It's great to see a girl whose debilitating daddy issues haven't harmed her sparkling personality." I walk away.

I was starting to get really frustrated with this place. An abundance of possible interaction yet no one to share in my desire to converse. What the hell? After returning to my table I see something that brings it all together. How could I have missed this one detail that was so incredibly significant. Like putting a single drop of dish soap into the greasy pan water, the film parted and everything was clear. All of these girls weren't just shooting me down, they were shooting every guy down. The bouncer at the door wasn't a big bald guy, it was a big ass butch lesbian. It was "lady's night" aka "clam catcher's night" aka "no wang required". I was running around this club hitting on women left and right, while getting shot down EVERY SINGLE TIME. But so was every other guy who wasn't smart enough to see the signs.

I learned a few things that night that I will take with me forever: 1) Always make sure a bar's Journey cover band has at least one guy in it; 2) If something looks too good to be true, more than likely it is; 3) When in packs, lesbians reserve the right to be complete bitches; 4) Nothing feels worse than failing in front of friends; 5) Nothing feels better than to watch someone else fail even more miserably at the same thing you just failed at.

He shoots, He scores

I just got the Soundtrack Score for Transformers and it rocks my socks off. Not only is Transformers one of my favorite movies, the Transformers Soundtrack Score is now one of my favorite albums. This is one of those albums you play to see what your home entertainment sound system is made of. Bravo.

Dictation Station/The Easten Major and Braddock Bear

Pictured- The Eastern Major and Braddock Bear




The birthday was terrific last night so thank you to all involved. As I am in serious recovery mode from the late night, the only comprehensible way for me to string together a line of thoughts is to dictate to someone and allow them to form coherent sentences with grammatical validity in an effort to combine my enthusiastic story telling abilities and their ability to stay conscious into a rambling soliloquy that will end without a point, resolve, or guidance.

Stay tuned. I'll tell you about the birthday night shortly.

Jack Bower's got nothing on me

Ah, so it's the big 24 for Daris today. The thing about birthdays is that when you're young, birthdays are simply and excuse to get money and presents from family members and if you're lucky, the mother's of your playground friends will buy a gift and let their son or daughter present it to you as if it were their own selection. As we get older the value of a birthday doesn't exactly decline, but it definitely shifts. In our 20s we have a pass to feel young and act young while receiving most of the benefits of maturity (some of us). This is the time when you are simply shifting to a different stage of 'The 20s' and never really getting any older than you were the year before. However, this year feels a little different for me. Going through school at Chico State, I always placed a separation marker on 24 year olds. In college, the 'kids' who were 24 and still there were always losers in my eyes, not because they were 24, but because a lot of my clients in the paper writing business were 24 and older and it seemed to enstill upon me the lack of direction and motivation that came with hitting 24. So, as a resolution, I have decided to make 24 my most productive age. No matter what it may be, a business venture, a leap into doing something I may not be comfortable with but know I will excel at, or just doing everything a little bit more efficiently and confidently. This is the time to prove to myself that 24 does not have to be the wash out crap shoot age I had always envisioned it to be. So jump on the train, embrace your age, and go do something you'll feel good about.

Come 25, I obviously give myself a free pass to eat an entire box of donuts while watching Jerry Springer reruns in my underwear at my neighbor's house...but that's 25.

Fairwell Winter

Summer officially started for me today and I must say, it couldn't have come at a better time. Mother's Day was yesterday and the wind, and overcast sky in Reno made it difficult to enjoy the outdoor events. Let me get off subject here for a moment and tell you about the deliciously white trash art fair we accidentally attended in Sparks, NV yesterday. My grandmother suggested that, after our large brunch, we all go for a walk around the lake out in Sparks. It's more a dirty reservoir than anything, but it's all they have out there, so they call it "the lake". We start walking and no more than 150ft. down the shoreline is a huge art fair with people selling paintings and pottery and glass work and other hippy stuff. We stroll around looking at the stuff for sale and listening to the music when almost simultaneously, all of us begin to focus on the people around us rather than the items for sale. This was a gathering of the broken, dying, and unsightly. One woman walked by wearing a sun dress that was inches from blowing up clear over her waist, and she was a solid 220lbs and looked like the witch in Kevin Costner's Robin Hood. Another woman was roughly 4' 9" and looked like "The Hut" as she waddled by. Her cankles were so gnarly that her calf fat hung over her feet, like ear muffs. And the final spot of ridicule goes to Guido, the track suit wearing, corn dog hording, jewelry flaunting hit man who looked as though he was the star of the Sopranos spin-off "The Sopranos: Diabetes and Me". I thought track suits were meant to wear on the track, when exercising, and not sitting on a park bench sweating from the physical excursion required to dip a nacho into blue cheese. Seriously man, go for a walk.

Anyway, Summer is here, swimming is here, girls in bikini's are back, it's my birthday tomorrow, I'm going to Chico in 2 weeks, and I got my driver's license back this week. Everything is gonna be alright.

Keeping my Kool and Driving it Home

So it turns out getting ones license returned to them is even better than getting it the first time. Like tasting Kool-Aid for the very first time is a great experience and all, but having a Kool-Aid shortage is detrimental to human development...that's what losing your license is like. In a nut shell. If you like Kool-Aid. I do.

The Nights for the Days

Here's to all the things that I cannot do
The test that I've fail and the tasks that I blew
The game on the line and lack to pull through
So here's to the things that I cannot do.

The beer I can't drink less I get out line
The fun I can't have without a full stein
The will power in me that I drop on a dime
The thing I can't do happens all of the time



With faith restored with every sunrise
And the truth that I find when I cop to my lies
The feeling I get when I accept my insides
The things I can't do right in front of my eyes

A week passes by with full clarity
Things start to make sense, karma's sweet charity
This time will be fine so please bear with me
Because the thing I can't do has posterity

So I'll regain my strength and stubborn my grasp
I know I'll be fine when this moment has past
The urging to fail is fading off fast
So kiss my ass beer, water I'll have a glass

Barats and Bereta for MD

Barats and Bereta do it again. This is my brother and I to a T. Happy Mother's Day mommy.

Conversations.

Davis walks into a bar with his friends one night and after about 2 or 3 hours of shooting pool, pooling shots, and overemphasizing their love for Journey on the Jukebox, a dare is made.

Mark- "I'll bet you 10 bucks that you don't have the balls to buy that girl a drink", pointing to an attractive blond sitting with a large man at the bar.

Davis- "Why just 10? 20 bucks says I'll buy her a drink and her boyfriend will shake my hand before I walk away." His swagger was intense, as was his confidence and BAC.

Jason- "Don't do it fucker, I don't wanna watch you *hiccup* get the crap kicked out of you in front of such a pretty girl. Homeboy is HUGE." Jason's sway was turning into a nauseating dance that made even the most sober man sea sick.

Davis- "Oh I'll do it bitch. Stop moving." Davis set the pool stick on the table and pushed the 8-ball toward a pocket hoping it would go in, just to solidify his confidence and show the boys who was boss. Wide right. He started towards the bar as his friends looked on.

Mark- "This kid is going to fucking die. That chick's boyfriend looks like a marine or something. Is that a tattoo of a jet on his arm. Jesus Christ."

Jason- "Have faith dude. Plus he already opened the tab with his credit card, it's pretty much a win win for you and I *hiccup*."

Davis plopped down two seats down from the couple and ordered a shot and a beer. Looking up at the television screen for conversation-starting assistance he realized it must have been the only night in ESPN history in which there wasn't a single game on. "How's it going guys? I'm Davis."

Girl (to boyfriend)- "Sweety I think he's gonna throw up. We should move."

Davis-"No I'm not. Gonna throw up...*burp/hiccup* I think it's scary when fish have teeth..."

The Boyfriend- "Listen bro, why don't you back over to your friends huh."

Davis stared into the girls eyes and mouthed a sentence which was unrecognizable to any human being on earth. He then made his move. "Can I buy you a drink beau...beau...beautiful..." His eyes rolled back in his head as he had a split second blackout. "I'm serious *hiccup* your fuckin beautiful."

The Boyfriend- "Oh, your serious? I'm serious, I'm gonna fuck you up if you don't get out of here."

Davis- "Here dick shit head, go dancing." Davis slid his beer in front of the girl and put the shot in front of the boyfriend just before mildly vomiting into his mouth. "Let me talk to the lady and then you can. You get to talk to her all the time."

Jason- "He's gonna fucking die."

Mark- "I know right."

At that moment the boyfriend stood up, effectively flinging his barstool out from under him. He went for Davis, his bulbous veins protruding from his forehead. It looked as if Davis' days were numbered...until.

Davis- "Help, police!! This fucking dude is trying to kill me!!" The cops had been there for the last half hour. It was shift change and this happened to be the cop shop's favorite feeding grounds. Davis had known they were there the entire time, he had known. The sneaky little shit.

Mark-"He's gonna go to jail. I can't watch. I'm going piss, text me what happens."

Jason- "No fucker, stay, what if he needs our help". Jason' s sway had subsided for the time being.

Davis-"Cops!! Help, he's going to hit me!!" The boyfriend was a deer in headlights as the police jumped from their BLTs and French Onion soup to come to the rescue. They quickly grabbed the boyfriend, subduing him. I'm sure seeing the beer in front of him as well as the shot Davis had slid over, gave them suspicion enough to assume he was intoxicate.

Cop 1-"What's going on over here? Hold still sir".

Davis-"I was just walking over to get napkins and when I said hello to this guy, he went completely ballistic." His sober tone of voice and intense coherency was uncanny. "It's fine, just let him go, I'm sure it was a misunderstanding." The cops let the man go as the veins seemed to pulsate with his growing rage. Davis stuck out his hand as a peace offering. "Sorry guy, I don't know what I did but, I'm sorry." The cops stared at Davis' hand and then their eyes moved in unison to the boyfriend. He reluctantly put his hand out and shook Davis'. The cops went back to their sandwiches and soup, and Davis walked back to Jason who was texting frantically to who could only be "Bathroom Mark".

Jason-"You're out of your fucking mind man *hiccup*."

Davis-"I had it. The whole way. I had him." Mark came out of the bathroom, phone in hand with a look of disbelief on his face.

Mark-"No he didn't. You didn't really did you? You crazy asshole." Mark glanced at the table of cops who were intensely watching Davis. Davis fought back a smile. "It's true isn't it. Who calls the cops when their hammered starting fights?!"

Davis- "Rack 'em fag. You owe me 20 bucks. Both of you." The girl took a sip of the beer he had left and consoled her pissed of boyfriend.

Victory.

Walk Hard: A Really Overdue Review

I just watched Walk Hard:The Dewy Cox Story and I must say, I don't think I've ever had such mixed feelings about a movie. The premise is a bit unoriginal in a Scary Movie fashion, using direct parallels from Walk the Line and Ray. I know this was the main point of this type of movie, but I am getting a little burned out on the unoriginal, uniform tangent orientation of these spoofs. In addition, there is a significant extreme between the slap stick element of the film in comparison with its serious points; its Anchorman meets Almost Famous meets Mafia, two of which I adore. Another problem was the gratuitous cock shots scattered throughout the middle of the film. I'll laugh at shock humor just as much as the next guy, but wrinkly dick does nothing for me but make me want to watch something else. On top of that, they trick the guys in the audience into HAVING to see dick; multiple naked women walking around a room is not something a man can look away from, but then to have close-up shots of man bag suddenly flashed into the screen is enough to make a guy seriously pissed off.

Anyway, on to the high points. The cast is amazing, with Paul Rudd, Jack Black, Justin Long, and Jason Schwartzman all having cameos as The Beatles which, for me, was the absolute highlight of the movie, being the huge Paul Rudd fan I am. The music was actually catchy at 3 or 4 points during the film and I found myself going through to the closing credits just to see what the songs were called for future downloading purposes. In addition to the super hilarious Beatles, Jenna Fischer(The Office) was truly funny and made me adore her even more than I did before.


I guess what I'm trying to say is that the cast was fantastic but the movie was complete shit. Check it out if you haven't seen it yet and make your own judgment. I suggest downloading it off Lime wire or borrowing it from a friend. You're going to watch it once and then it will more than likely become a coaster on the coffee table, a makeshift Frisbee or mouse pad, or that DVD that gets stolen from your house during a party and you never notice it's gone.

FaceSpace

Just shy of the invention of Google.com I must admit that Facebook and Myspace (when used maturely) have to be some of the greatest technological advancements in recent memory. After High School I went to Chico State and proceeded to get really, really drunk (and use my gifted ability to bullshit), to waste tens of thousands of dollars on an education that was never completed. With 18 units left to graduate, and 4 1/2 years chalked up, I was offered a job and dropped out of college. And though this may seem like a discrediting story of failure and under achievement, I would have never realized who I am and the amazing abilities I have had I not left school. The one thing I do regret is having left the places I have lived without getting information from some of the people I truly miss, and would love to have stayed in contact with. Myspace and Facebook have afforded me that luxury. Granted, the inadvertent interaction with aspiring comedians who will never make it, and internet porno girls who try their damnedest to look like confused local girls looking for new friends, can put a damper on the experience, the hassle is worth it. I have recently found people that I have not seen in years and being that I have no idea when our high school reunion might be, I am able to see who is doing what with their lives and, surprisingly, it gives me a sense of home.

As the antithesis to the beneficial aspects of these unifying websites , it's always a let down to actually meet someone whom you know on "the space" only to find out that instead of being the 5' 8" blonde bombshell from L.A. your friends told you she was, she's the 5' 2" bald gas station attendant from Philo, Ca. with a club foot. That wasn't funny guys.

Amy Winewho?

I am proud of this post, so I thought I would put it on here even though it's seen the likes of Myspace before.


The product of American popular culture that I am, I like to think I have a fairly solid handle on music and movies and the like; at least to some degree. It’s hard not to be consumed by the bombardment of celebrity exposures and red carpet happenings when 7 out of 70 channels show Ryan Seacrest balls deep in A-List Land 12 hours a day. There is one thing that has somehow valiantly eluded me to this day. Amy Winehouse. Who in the hell is Amy Winehouse? Every time I see this woman she is running down the street half naked in a drug crazed zone-out looking like a future CSI: NY subject. I don’t even know if she is an actor, or a singer, or some kind of heiress (that we are all so quick to give celebrity status to these days). Most of the time celebrities blossom in the beginning, gradually escalate the shenanigans as their fame grows, and then, when they can get no higher up on the celeb food chain, they explode into a brilliant display of drug abuse, debauchery, and sexual indiscretion. I think Amy Winehouse may be dyslexic. Hopefully after the 4 week spin dry programs, and the 3 month stay at Antigua's Crossroads Center, Amy’s inner child will die in the arms of her sobering maturity and we can all take solace in the fact that we didn’t need to know who she was, or what she did. It didn’t matter. She isn’t a “shooting star” or even a “rising star”, she’s the smoldering ashes of a paparazzi induced car accident called modern day entertainment.

Used Up, Let Down

In third grade there was a boy in my class who would constantly draw on himself with marker and paint his nails. His favorite color was black and he had a distinct way of isolating himself without even seeming to care. As a boy, I was indifferent to his choice of body art and weird behavior and over time I completely forgot his antics. Until I went to the Used concert. We showed up about and hour early to take in the sights and really get a feel for what it must be like to want to die. Three hundred 14 year olds standing in line talking about whatever it is 14 year olds talk about, looking like the beginnings of a Jonestown mass suicide party. The girl next to us in line was a self-proclaimed “world traveler” who smelled as if she hadn’t bathed in a week and said she was staying in a hotel room with her friend “Ronald”. Turns out “Ronald” had picked her up a few states away and, from the sound of it, was using Stockholm syndrome to his full advantage. The woman behind her was either a very healthy 55 year old, or a very alcoholic 39 year old. She had a heard of children with her and was wearing the bands tee shirt with her face painted like BoBo the Clown talking about how much she “really really needed to meet the band”. I, on the other hand, had expectations like that of an onlooker at the Special Olympics, no matter how great the show was at the end, we all looked like fucking morons standing in line to get in. It turns out only something like 400 people showed up for a show that was being held in a venue with a capacity for roughly 18,000. We looked like trailer trash gathering around a bug zapper; the bands that played must have been embarrassed to have to come out on stage to a crowd 8 people deep and 50 wide. Way to go Reno, you shit hole underachieving car wreck. The bands came, all 5 of them, the show sucked, we went home and passed out. I have to look at it this way, it was better than staying home on a Saturday night…barely.

If you haven't seen the "Powerthirst" movies on YouTube make sure to go check them out. Make sure you are in a location where the volume on your computer can be on "Oober Loud" without making the person in the next room crap their drawers. No matter how many times I have seen it, it still remains my favorite online video(s) of all time.


Well, not including TechnoViking or Bungee jumper guy who shats himself on the way down. Both of those make me pee out my butt with laughter.

Cinco de Youro

This is the first job I've had where I do not have Cinco de Mayo off. I am wondering that maybe it's because I work in Nevada now instead of California. All of my California jobs gave me the days off. Shit, some of them gave me two days off and the company paid for drinks that night. I don't know how much sense it really makes, being that I think I am closer to Mexico now(geographically) than I ever was in Cali. I have a suggestion for this great Nation, just make Cinco de Mayo a National holiday already and give everyone the day off. No one knows what the bastard holiday is for anyway, and we are pretty much en route to adopting Mexico as a sunburned orphan cousin who steals shit our of your wallet.

Starting the Spill

So I finally started a blog. I have been thinking about a way to record the amazing happenings of my life and put them into a format that can be shared. Now, thanks to Jen, I have accomplished this. I haven't read a lot of blogs in the past, so I may not conform to the norm, but I'll do my best. When I was signing up for this blogger service I was wondering if I was going to have enough interesting stuff in my life to add an update everyday and while signing up I leaned back and forgot my chair is a little off balance and I went spilling to the floor, only to leap up as fast as possible before anyone stuck their head in for a "everything alright in here". After that I figured I'd be able to write at least 3 or 4 times a day. : ) Welcome to my blog.