GTA

Bicurious rendezvous, anything short of heroin, and…grand theft auto? Not that it’s predictable, but to what extent can the appeal I was in college exonerate? In fact, whatever the admission is, it seems to make other adults and especially your kids buy that you weren’t always a miserable piece of mid-life crisis shit. Okay, let’s flesh out this cultural benevolence.
Pro:
-Alcohol, weed
-Casual sex (for men, with women)
-Casual sex (for women, with women)
-Minor vandalism
-Streaking
Forgivable:
-Pills, acid
-Casual sex (for women, with men)
-Cheating
-Socialist allegiances
-Shoplifting
Con:
-Coke, heroin
-Casual sex (for men, with men or minors)
-Armed assault
-Cheating (caught)
-Inopportune vomiting

B-b-benny and the Jets

Anthony Wayne Vending is a warehouse where I load orders of bottles and cans onto carts for several hours each weekday. Its employee base also has enough hospitality not to make light of my ergonomic back brace. There are joes like Floyd and Jeff and Doug who would shoot me face-to-face if I slept with their wife but would also quietly help me with a lapsed insurance payment.

A self-confirmed nondenominationalist told me the pope was a relativist because he considered other religions might have “something to offer”. When I asked why this made Benny a relativist, he directed me to a bible verse. I said something about hermeneutics and called him a dumb ass. This went on for the hour and a half I should have been sleeping and not drinking gin on the rocks with a dumb ass.

I had a dream I was talking in my sleep but may have been disappointed.

Nlok

Someone who can’t hear is deaf, someone who can’t see is blind, and someone who can’t speak is mute. So I’m going to create an adjective for someone who can’t smell. Nlok.
JIM: Mmm-mmm. Them oatmeal raisin cookies sure smell good, Ma.
MA: Hush up now, Jim. You know your cousin Arney is nlokker than a hay bale.
ARNEY: Am not! I can smell better than the best ten men in Rutlin County tied together–hell, better than the best fifteen men.
MA: Arney, we love you, even if you are nlok.
ARNEY: Shucks.
JIM: Yeah, Arn, you’re alright.
ARNEY: Aunt Del?
MA: What is it, Arney?
ARNEY: Do you think…do you think that I’ll ever get my sniffin’ back?
MA: Oh, Arney, you know that’ll likely never happen, ’specially after the accident with the water moccasin. Besides, Sheriff Gruthers wouldn’t be up for allowing it.
ARNEY: But I’m innocent! Innocent as the clear blue mountains! I was just folding up them lacey underpanties in the dresser.
JIM: That’s not what Ms. Emmie Maples said at the social, Arn, and no sound mind’s gonna rightly believe a nlok.

Red White Tuberculosis

Contact update: lens application and remove has improved since Saturday, but while taking a shower a few moments ago (cheeky, yes), a jet of water struck my eye and thrust it backwards. I can feel the bitch folded. Or maybe that’s soap. We’ll have dad take a look when he gets home from work.

Reading: Sons and Lovers
Listening to: British Sea Power, Blind Willie Johnson
Watching: The Blues – Red, White & Blues
On the verge of: an epiphany (unlikely) or passive-aggressive hysteria, bottoming out, staying bottomed
Running joke: telling Dan- avid bingo player, childhood funny fat kid, and route driver at work- that he is developing tuberculosis

“Dre, creep to the mic like a phantom.”
-Snoop

Jim Beam and Eye Drops

Everyone has a Farva. But as Jordan Kleinsmith noted, no one would like to introspectively acknowledge to whom they are a Farva.

I’ve never had the fear that a pair of thin suction cups had rolled up into my brain until today. After an hour or so of the optometrist and his g.i.l.f-y secretary prodding my eyes (as if to say, “Do you really want contact lenses, or are you just going to sit there all bloodshot and cry about it?”) I enjoyed the absence of a three gram burden for about four hours. Then it was time to return to Clark Kent mode. I figured that if I stuck myself in the eyes a few times the little fuckers would pop right out until the next morning when I’d stick myself in the eyes two or three times more. But the whole of my being, particularly my feminine eyelashes, seemed to resist relinquishing a delusional minor advancement into non-nerdom. An hour and a half and several unsympathetic phone conversations later, I, glasses restored, was on my way to the liquor store for a half-gallon of Jim Beam and eye drops knowing that I’d have to wait until the next morning to recommence scratching out my pupils.

wtff

I’m balding immediately and rapidly and grudgingly. Didn’t see that one coming.
I was thinking of maybe shaving the lonely dome (ala G. Gordon Liddy, Paul Shaffer, or Sloth), but I’m not sure if I have the deftness to maintain that. Also, my head is lumpy. Maybe an upgrade to contacts would soften the blow to youth and frivolity, as to avoid a resemblance to George Costanza as much as possible.

Dirty Pictures

Don’t ask someone not to be naive. Rather, show them the dirty pictures of understanding.

Love needn’t accept faults, as such, but say to them, big and real, “Okay.”

Ayn Rand is Sean Hannity for libertarians.

Stop trying to make beauty uncomplicated, uniform, and utilitarian.

The 1960s would be more impressive if civil disobedience weren’t increasingly effective in increasingly just societies.

Listen to “The Lengths” by The Black Keys for forlorn’s sake.

Godstuff

Oh, jesus. One year from today (6/6/06), America and western Europe are going to be pock-marked with various jr. high and grown-up versions of “Goth Talk” and all the while evangelicals will be searching their children’s Life Savers for razor blades.

“Dave, that was the most inappropriate response possible,” my good friend Chris said after a young man in the stands of a church softball game, we decided his name must be Garrett, asked if my tattoo was “scripture” and I blatted out no! and claimed it was a treasure map.

A critical analysis of Real McCoy’s “Another Night” by Rob Loudon.

Pagans

Not necessarily because their belief is silly, which it probably is, I don’t think I could ever be friends with a Pagan. More because they will exaggerate their youth, rebelliousness, and affluency to their own children on the grounds that they smoked pot once and wore oversized pants with superfluous amenities on them. There’s also that Hot-Topic-on-a-nature-walk feel and I’d rather not get involved in a debate over the existence of chakras.

The Pass

Would you rather receive unlimited acts “pass” for massages or fellatio? The massage doesn’t include your gentleman parts and the retail value for this pass is x number of dollars or x units of socio-economic power. But we’re talking free in this scenario. I didn’t say cunnilingus, not because I don’t have a vagina, which I do not, but because the x number of perverted semi-attractive men is much greater than the x number of dollars or x units of socio-economic power available to men desiring unlimited acts of fellatio. Who’s performing the massages and who’s performing the fellatio would also be a factor. Let’s say the same person in either case, and she/he is skilled in both areas. Mo’ money, mo’ problems, as they say.