Back in the cry room. I can’t cry in the other room. I have to be by myself. I have to allow myself this grief. But it hurts so damn bad.
I’ve tried the lesser reasoning – “He’s just a dog.” But that doesn’t do anything for me. He was such a big part of my life for the last five years. He was the best dog I’ve ever had; so smart, so sweet, so protective, so entertaining. But tonight he had to go.
Yesterday we celebrated my hot cousin’s 20th birthday with a whole bunch of drinking, swimming, music and drinking, and a little sunburn on the side. The party was a wild success. We played water polo, pin the tail on the donkey, simon says, and a rousing game of marco / polo. A good time was had by all!
Some friends of mine came over to assist in the partyship, and everything seemed dandy. Then suddenly, from out of nowhere, one of the pretty girls splashed a little too wildly and her top came down just a little bit. I’m not talking full boobal exposure – just a tad bit of nipple peeked out. And one of the other girls saw it and made a comment to some of the men who were sitting on the deck (and were not fortunate [as I was] to get to be part of the audience).
I’m ready for a new law: one that calls for strict punishment to those who bring frivolous and insipid lawsuits into our courts. This shit is getting ridiculous in the most absurd way. We all know this is a suit-happy nation, from the woman suing over hot coffee (don’t you want your coffee hot, and if so why the hell did you put it between your legs you stupid gash) to the woman suing the city of New York for getting attacked on 9/11 (stupid city should have seen that shit coming and built a fence with a roof around the city) to the woman who is suing Ford because her dumb ass backed over her child (she claims that they didn’t tell her about the availability of cameras and backup sensors – okay, so you didn’t know you could get one, so you should drive like they don’t exist! LOOK BEHIND YOU!). Well all – wait… I see a pattern here… They’re all women! WTF?
I guess I should talk about this. It's still the source of bad dreams that wake me up during the night, even eight years after the fact. It happened when I was still in the military. Way in. I was sent to Panama on an MRT (a Maintenance Recovery Team) to repair a bird that went down out there. I had been there for about two and a half weeks when we finally got the parts in and made our repairs on the C-130. Typical procedure is that it flies home immediately and we as a crew hitch a ride on it. Well due to circumstances upon which I cannot comment, I had to stay behind for several more days, and would catch a bus to Costa Rica (ugh) and from there, fly into San Antonio. All good. I was staying in a cheap shitty motel on the outskirts of…
We saw the last Star Wars yesterday as a team. My boss took us all out and we saw it, then she took us to the bar afterwards and bought us a hilarious amount of drinks so we would be properly prepared to discuss it at great lengths. I have a few complaints, and a few praises I will share with you. If you’ve not yet seen Episode III, or don’t know the general storyline of Star Wars, then don’t read below here, because there will be spoilers.
For years I’ve been looking at Pamela Anderson and wondering what the hell. I look at all the same pictures everyone else does, I suppose. I check the celebrity sites sometimes to see who’s showing their boobies in public. And I’ve seen just about all her pictures. I have actually even actively sought out her pictures on several occasions for research purposes. Seriously, she never did anything for me. I would look at them to see if I could see what the big deal was for everyone. And I never did.
Until I saw her new show on Fox, called Stacked. I don’t know what it is about seeing her in action, but obviously she became three-dimensional at that point. Of course I’ve seen “the video”. Again, it did nothing for me. But now that I’ve seen her acting and being more than a two-dimensional image in a picture, I’ve begun to find her attractive. She’s definitely got charisma. She’s remarkably charming, and I’d never have guessed it.
There sure has been a lot of talk about steroid usage in the news lately. Namely pertaining to professional athletes. This bothers me only slightly. What bothers me surprisingly isn’t the fact that they are using steroids, but the fact that it is newsworthy at all. Of course we all get to hear the ‘news’ that Brad and Jennifer broke up, and the ‘news’ that woman got lost in a corn field. With no corn in it. (Isn’t that a dirt field?) So in these cases, we are shown that anything is indeed newsworthy.
Thus my complaint can’t really be that this is news so much as that it shouldn’t matter enough to ever make it into the news. Who the hell cares if they use steroids? If Jose Canseco wants to pump up so he can knock one over the fence, I say more power to him. So to speak. Why should this bother us?
I got to her house around seven. I'd come straight from work and was still in my slacks and loafers. Not those nice heavy loafers you get in the military. But the thin, soft leather loafers that feel so good on your feet. She'd called me at five or so, I guess it was, saying he was there. He had come to get his stuff. After a week's delay he'd finally arrived to collect. I said so what. “Aren't you glad he's there?” She'd broken up with him the Friday before, and told him to come get his shit out. He got back from Houston today and seemingly made it top priority. So all should have been well. She said no though. She wasn't happy he was there. Oh, he'd gotten his stuff all right. But he'd left her some things too. Some bruises. So now I was on my…
I was sitting in a bar, watching the tiny television in the corner. This isn't something I do very often. I stopped into this place to have a cold pint before meeting with a client of mine at the Internet Data Center right down the road. I was to be giving him a tour of the facilities and showing him where his equipment was racked. Anyway, I'm sitting in there enjoying my pint when a girl comes in and walks up to the bar. As she was standing there at the bar, right next to my stool, I casually looked at her, noticing she wasn't wearing much. She smelled like a cheap hooker – cigarettes and perfume, and perhaps a little sweaty. Her hair was greasy and matted and her tank top was stained and dirty. She leaned on her elbows against the bar, and I could see through the…
I got the opportunity to attend a new release movie expo the other day with Kimbre, who is an exec at a company that handles the accounting for Blockbuster. I had to of course dress up, which I’m not terribly fond of these days, but I threw a shirt and tie on the iron board and ended up enjoying myself quite a bit. I didn’t know what to expect, having never been to one of these expos, but there were a lot celebrities there. I thought that was pretty cool, and realized this was probably a little bit bigger deal than I had originally thought. I saw Willem Dafoe and Carl Weathers, Colin Firth and Julia Stiles. Probably the biggest star there was Will Smith. That was pretty nifty – though I didn’t get to talk to him or anything. But the one thing that made this event really worth going to was the little run-in I had with a C-List celebrity. Actually, if it weren’t for her fisting videos on the Internet, I doubt anyone would ever have heard of her.