The Holidays and Small Talk

The Thanksgiving holiday just ended and I got a chance to see and spend time with a lot of people who came in for the holidays. I also got a chance to see what Wichita Falls traffic is like when nobody has to work. My shoulders are sore from bumping into shoppers looking for their next item on their non-existent list and from trying to manuever my way around crowded sports bars.

Thanksgiving and Christmas are my favorite two holidays of the year. I get to experience some great meals that I could never make myself, receive some hopefully cool gifts that I am too lazy to actually buy on my own, and get paid time off from work for all of the holidays that come up. I like seeing all the Christmas lights, the feeling of cold weather, warm fireplaces, and on some occasions, pumpkin pie and eggnog.

But something that I have never really enjoyed when seeing people that I haven't seen in a long time or talking to people that I didn't know very well in high school is all the small talk that is involved with that. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing these people, it's just that I don't enjoy asking the same questions and generating the same responses each and every time I talk to someone different, as if I have some type of pull string in the middle of my back. I think some people might agree with me.

It's not that I am impersonal either. It's just that I don't like the repetition, the awkwardness of having run out of questions, and the possibilities of having an inconclusive ending to the conversation. How many times have you seen someone you knew and ran out of things to ask? How many times has the feelings of awkwardness followed that moment, as if one such thing was the product of the other? How many times have you, after there is a moment of silence, had to think of ways to depart without making the situation even more uncomfortable or seem insincere? And how many times were you left with a conversation that was never concluded, as a result of someone else coming up and saying hi to that person? What do you do during the wait-for-that-other-conversation-to-end grace period? What is the grace period for waiting on someone to come back to an interrupted conversation? And do you just leave without saying anything or is a simple "good talking to you" line required?

It's just best to not have to deal with any of those questions. But unless you're a jerk you can't NOT talk to someone after you see someone you know and they have made direct eye contact with you. The pretending you didn't see them trick lost all credibility after high school. And the turning your head the other way thing dug its grave a long time ago as well.

Not to sound like an infomercial, but I have created the perfect solution. It's called a small talk card. The small talk card is like a business card. It's created to fit in any pocket so that when you leave the house you can take them with you, just in case. Now you don't have to worry about all of the questions posed in paragraph number four.

Upon the initial interaction, you recite a greeting and pull one of these handy items right out of the location that you established for it. If the other person is keen to this new way of communicating then you might just get one back. You can take the card, view it at your own pleasure and do whatever you want with it afterwards. No more thinking of questions, which will probably be retarded since it's thought of in a pressure situation, no more awkwardness, and no more having to worry about being on hold and wondering what the grace period for waiting is. The small talk card can even be given out to other people. For example, if I saw someone and I knew that someone next to me had their small talk card I could ask them to see it and know all about what's going on without getting into anything generic and under a minute long.

Now the holidays can be the holidays without the feeling of a high school reunion. If I could only create something to make stores less crowded...wait, I thought the internet was supposed to do that.

It Is Probably Not A Good Idea For Me To Go To New York City Soon

Because I like to be consistent, I was late leaving for work again today. I live about two houses down from a pretty busy street called Brooke. I say that because I typically wait until I get to the stop sign to put on my seat belt. I figure the odds of me having a fatal car crash in the twenty feet leading up to it are pretty slim. It wasn't until today that that logic was undermined. I didn't have a car wreck, but as I pulled up to the stop sign I didn't have my seat belt on either. Normally this would be ok, but things aren't normal when a motorcycle cop drives by and stares at your non protected chest.

I thought I was safe at this point. No I didn't. He slowed down and pulled into an adjacent parking lot. He then turned around and was waiting for me to pull out, while staring right at my car the entire time.

I wrote a blog a while back about an irrational fear that I have about running from the cops. Luckily, this temptation didn't cross my mind. I waited for a few minutes to turn, but as soon as I did I found the lights in my rear view window. I wasn't really nervous though. I figured that unless he was a jerk I could explain to him that I had just left the house and that I was about to put my seat belt on. He came up to the window and asked for my license and registration. 10 minutes later he came back and asked for my social security number which I thought was weird. He also asked for my weight. He then went back to his motorcycle for another five minutes, came back, and asked me if I had ever been to New York City. I thought he was leading me into a joke or just making small talk. "No, but I would like to go someday." He then asked me how long I have lived in Wichita Falls. I told him I have lived here my whole life. "Do you have any tattoos," he asked. "Uh no." He told me that the reason he was asking me was because a Henry Justin Ozuna has a warrant out in New York City for dangerous drugs. I asked the officer how old this guy was and he said that he has the same birthdate as I do. I thought this was hilarious and had a hard time keeping my laughter in. If I would have been taken to jail then I would have at least had an excuse to miss work. Not only that, it would have been a great story!

My full name is Justin Henry Ozuna. I don't have any tattoos and I haven't been to New York City. I wouldn't know what to do with dangerous drugs and have no idea where to get them. I don't even know which drugs are considered dangerous.

Luckily, he believed me because this guy had a different social security number than I do. But the better news was that I ended up with a warning instead of a ticket. In fact, I didn't even get anything. He just let me go. But the best part of the whole deal was that I had an excuse to be late to work. Maybe waiting until I get to the stop sign to put my seat belt on isn't such a bad idea after all.

How Do I Title Crap? Oh yeah, Laguna Beach.

I enjoyed my years of high school. It was the last real period of my life where I could have a little sense of freedom with no responsibilities. I liked not really having to study and the accessibility to new girls and relationships. Football was fun, baseball was too, I even got to miss class because of it. But then again, that was high school. Just like everything else, it was fun and I'm past that.

I bring it up because I have moved on and have experienced life outside of MTV. But sadly, MTV and Fox are trying to pull me and everyone else back into the social quagmire that nobody needs to experience anymore. I'm talking about the worst tv series on right now, Laguna Beach, with the possible exception of the OC.

If you have ever seen Laguna Beach then you know what I'm talking about. It's a semi-reality show on mtv that follows a group of high school seniors around and documents their lives, which consists mainly of gossiping about boys, creating drama, and pretty much every other little petty thing that goes on in high school. I call it a semi-reality show because every one of these kids were born into money and spend most of their time chatting over pedicure and manicure appointments. The only reality of this show is that the characters are real people. It's a modern day soap opera at best.

I could care less about who likes who or what someone said to someone behind someone elses back. That means nothing to me. If I wanted drama I could hang out with a bunch of 17 and 18 year olds and try to be the coolest college guy ever. The only difference would be that if I were to go to Laguna Beach then there would be a lot of pretty faces attached to the same kind of garbage.

Everything about this show is petty. The girls don't impress me and if it's cool to be a good looking guy with not much of a unique personality then mtv has done a pretty good job of convincing the world. I would love to put these same people in an environment not mistaken for a movie set and see how they handle life. Life without mommy and daddy and the ocean in their back yard. It wouldn't last very long and it wouldn't be very popular.

I don't really care about what goes on in Laguna Beach. I get that every adolescent girl goes through stages where the most important thing in the world is the latest gossip about who did what with who and who is the latest popular crush. However, I do care that most people who watch this show think this is what the world is about and that it's what they should become. It might not be evident on a conscious level, but it is definitely there. Don't put people on pedastals for having done nothing creative or intelligent. If I wanted to gossip then I'd be gay and have my own show on the E! channel.

Her's a little advice for the cast of the Laguna Beach and those who want to be. If he isn't that into you then GET OVER IT. If he made out with some other girl then that's too bad now isn't it? Get over that too. If you can't make up your mind between two guys then I hope they both make up their minds for you, while leaving you rejected. In the meantime, challenge my intellect, give me something wholesome, be unique, and don't rot my brain. But then again, it's mtv and a bunch of adolescents so nevermind.

*Oh and for ironic purposes, I have someone (or used to) who actually claims to be from the show as one of my myspace friends. I have no idea who she is and I'll keep it that way. In fact, I don't even know if she is on Laguna Beach or the O.C. To go even further, I don't even know if I could go through my friends list and find her (if she is even there anymore). Who knows.

Where have you been?

I'm sorry that it has been so long since I have posted. What have we missed? Oh yeah. Everything. But unlike the absence of food, I think the world still revolved. Not that I think it should have. In fact, I think it should have stopped at least once, just to acknowledge the long awaited update to my blogsite.

Regardless of the world not pausing, I must say this, it needs to every now and again. What ever happened to the Zach Morris time-outs? Why didn't God install that into our system? Oh wait, I know. We learned what happens when people aren't around and aren't responsive, just look at Louisiana. Someone would call a time-out and the next thing you know someone else would be wearing your favorite t-shirt or stealing the last rice krispy treat out of your kitchen cabinet. Good call God!

I haven't posted in a while because of the demands of a free state of living. I'm not talking about the kind of free living that involves pot smoking or LSD, but the kind that includes a full work schedule accompanied by a full load of school. I also moved. I forgot what it was like to pack all of your things and go somewhere else, even though it only took me across the hall, into a different bedroom. But I think I'll be having a little bit more time on my hands. I hope to begin posting regularly again.

I don't have cable in my room yet so I haven't heard of any hurricanes that are supposed to come this way again. Maybe if nobody in the US had cable, the hurricanes katrina and rita would have gotten bored with the lack of attention and turned around and hit France. That way, we could have sent them rain coats, no money, and other meaningless crap like they sent the United States after Katrina hit Lousiana and Mississippi. Anyway, if you're in the internet neighborhood then stop by, I promise to keep this thing updated as much as possible.

Irrational Fears

Let me start this out by saying that I'm not scared of much. I don't think that makes me tougher than the average person, I think it just means that most of my fears are irrational.

My semi-rational fears include: wasps/bees/yellow jackets, scorpions, falling from a high elevation, and getting eaten by a shark. These things cause me fear because they will all consistently cause pain or introduce me to death, I am not a very big fan of either.

I don't like pain. I am not ashamed to admit that I run every time a bee is near me, I beat a scorpion abount 50 times with a shoe (not mine) just to make sure it's dead, I never get close to the edge when I'm in elevated locations, and I don't swim past the roped off areas in oceans. So as far as rational fears go, my bases are covered.

What I am unsure of is whether or not my irrational fears will consume me. These are the fears that I control, but wish I didn't. I mean, I wish they were under control, sort of like breathing, then life would be a lot simpler.

At work a couple of weeks ago I had to sit through a boring presentation. Forty other people attended this training seminar, but somehow I figured that 40 other people did not share the same senseless fear that I had. Ten minutes into the hour and a half seminar I felt an urge. It was a familiar urge, an irrational fear if you will. It was an urge to yell something really loud, it didn't matter what it was, it just needed to be loud. I was thinking "balls". I knew that would grab the attention of everyone in the room and the thought became so appealing. I knew the moment would have been embarrassing, but in my head I knew I would be able to laugh at it later. Nevertheless, it was up to me to control and suppress my fear and I was worried that the urge would grow stronger and stronger. I knew I couldn't yell in a quiet room, my social skills held me accountable, but the fact that I wasn't supposed to made me want to do it anyway (or was it that pint-sized guy on my right shoulder?).

I have other ridiculous fears too. I don't attend a whole lot of weddings, but when I do I can't relax until I've made it through the part where the priest asks the congregation if anyone objects to the wedding. While I sit patiently, my palms sweat as I think about being the one to object. I think about standing up, proclaiming in a loud voice that "I do", and then telling everyone that I have always wanted to do that when asked why I objected. It wouldn't have anything to do with who is getting married, my ideology of marriage, or anything else. It would have everything to do with the fact that I know I shouldn't, that I know I have no reason to object, and that nobody else ever does. The 21st century could do me a favor and take that question out of there. Until then, it's just another fear I have to keep a close eye on.

I hate backing up in parking lots. I have a fear of hitting someone as I back up. That may sound rational and I agree that it is, but what isn't is that I have a fear of running someone over and pulling back up and running over them again in a state of panic, which then transfers my rational fear into an irrational one. I hope this never happens, but the fact that I am capable of it creeps me out. I don't completely relax until I'm moving forward (and nobody is lying on the pavement).

I only get to sit and think about my next absurd fear when I'm in the process of getting pulled over (which, lucky for me, is on rare occasions). Maybe I have watched too many episodes of COPS or too many OJ Simpson car chases in my lifetime, but I fear that one day, when a cop is trying to pull me over, I will slam on the gas pedal and try to outrun him. Let me stress the fact that I would never have any reason to do this (unless of course you count that one time when my stomach was grumbling and...well, nevermind). I've seen the shows and I'm no fool, nobody EVER gets away, unless you work in fast food and you talk to the guy with the Dale Earnhardt hat, he has a story for everything. I wouldn't try to outrun the police to get away, I just know that I'm not supposed to...and that the thought always crosses my mind, even if it's just for a split second.

The probabilities of getting eaten by a shark are way better than any of my irrational fears actually taking place (unfortunately), but they are still fears. I'll never yell an incoherent word or sentence in the middle of a meeting, object to a marriage I could care less about, back up and run someone over only to pull up and run them over again, or try to outrun the cops, but the fact that I am capable of doing them and have been trained not to since my conception makes me want to. So until I actually carry one of these things out they will always be fears of mine, but if I ever do you'll be the first to know.

Please Add $10 To My Already Expensive Tuition and Fees

It's only the second week of school and I already have a parking ticket. I knew I would get one the moment I left my car, but I had no choice. Ok, maybe I did have a choice. My other option would have been to drive around campus for the entire hour and a half I was scheduled to be in class and try to find somewhere to park. I'm sure I could have found a parking spot and made it to class for the last 10 minutes. I should have done that. Oh well, I know that paying my tuition and book fees aren't enough for this large public college. But I have some better ideas.

I think one of the best ideas to generate revenue is to stop issuing tickets to college students who can barely afford the rising costs of gas prices and start eliminating the salaries of those people who drive around and write these meaningless tickets. If I am correct, there are two people who drive around in a little golf cart and issue tickets while students are in class learning (the students who actually GO to class by the way). Cut their positions and I'm sure the university can save at least $40,000. Is it really worth paying two people an average of $20,000 (so it's a wild estimate) to generate a ticket revenue of a maximum of $3,000 a year (once again, that's another estimate)? If you eliminate the ticket fairies you solve two problems. First and foremost, you save money for the monetary hungry institution known as Midwestern State University. Secondly, you create more parking spaces because more people will be allowed to park illegally, with the only exception being that you can't park in a handicap spot if you aren't handicap because that's like slapping a man with no arms.

I don't think that will happen though, it almost makes too much sense and if there is anything that I have learned from state institutions it's that things that make sense usually don't happen. As a result, I suggest that students start writing tickets for what the university doesn't do right, such as not creating enough parking spaces, interferring with my ability to concentrate on my academics (by putting my registration on hold until I pay the MSU police for my past due tickets), and for having a really crappy local educational access channel. I propose that the ticket costs be pro-rated to each students tuition and fees costs so that we all come out even. Then maybe they'll get the idea.

When I went to pick up my parking sticker I noticed a sign that said tickets cannot be paid for in large amounts of change. I sense that my ticket frustration is not unique, but I never thought it was. I hate tickets of any sort. And I hate universities who enforce them like they are going out of style.

Don't Take It Personal New Orleans Part 2

I don't say very many things that I regret, mainly because I think about what I'm going to say long before I say it. I'm really thankful that somewhere in my 24 year existence I learned to analyze my thoughts and opinions fairly and from every perspective. I'm pretty good at seeing both sides of a story. I'm also the first person to admit when I am wrong or when I said or did something I never really believed in. And believe it or not, I have been known to change my mind about how I feel towards some things. That's the reason I am writing this amendment to what I wrote about those victims who stayed back in New Orleans.

When I wrote the "Don't Take It Personal New Orleans" I must admit that I intially didn't think it was as bad as it has become. I didn't think that the death toll would be as high as it is. I didn't realize that 24% of Lousiana residents are poor. I didn't think about the storm, which changed from a category 3 hurricance to a category 5 as it passed through the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I failed to take it all in. I admit that I wrote part 1 because I was frustrated that so many people were in trouble and were succeptable to death. I'm sure that many who stayed in New Orleans didn't want to, but due to the high price of gas (even before the hurricane) and the lack of transportation they probably did not have a choice. I don't think anybody intially thought it was going to be as bad as it was, even the government.

Say what you will about the slow response, but with every national tragedy it is easy to see the good. We see that, once again, Americans will do any and everything to help people who need it. Our country, as divided as it can be sometimes, is one of compassion and consideration. Politics aside, we are capable of doing great things for one another. And it doesn't get much better than that. People have traveled to New Orleans to help with the victims, have donated money, and have taken people into their homes. That's the real story and what makes me proud to be an American (..."where at least I know I'm free"...).

My Thoughts On Cindy Sheehan

I shouldn't even know the name Cindy Sheehan, but now that I do I wish that I didn't. If you haven't heard of her by now then let me give you the cliff notes version of who she is. She is a mom of an American soldier who died in Iraq. After her son's death she camped out on the side of the main road that leads to the President's ranch in Crawford, Tx. with the hopes of getting to speak to the President about the war. She was determined not to move until she had the opportunity to meet with George W. Bush, for the second time (she had already met him once and described the meeting as "genuine and sincere"). Because there was nothing else significant going on in the news at this time, the liberal media made her a lead story and focused their attention on her quest to speak with the President.

As a result of the president meeting with her once already, not to mention that he is a president in the middle of a war, he sent two of his advisers to speak with her. This was not good enough for Ms. Sheehan and, as a result, she (who was married before this ordeal, but was soon after divorced) stayed and began to attract supporters of the anti-war movement. If you are curious as to who she attracted I'll run some names for you: Michael Moore, Al Franken, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and other left wing fanatics. Sheehan started writing blogs on Michael Moore's website and associating herself with an obvious political agenda. Her protest was no longer a simple request, and it became apparent that she was no longer simply a grieving mother desperate for answers, she was now someone who was influenced to be a spokeswoman for a so called "peace movement". This "peace movement" now plans on touring 25 states on their way to Washington D.C. for a Sep. 24th anti-war March.

The purpose of this "peace movement" is to have the president withdraw troops from Iraq and bring American soldiers home. They believe that the war is unjustified and that occupying Iraq until the area is more stable is unnecessary. Ms. Sheehan says that staying in Iraq "has no noble cause", but then again what does she know?

I feel sorry for anyone who has lost a relative or loved one in Iraq, I really do. I don't like war, I don't like death, and I don't like the after effects. But then again I am a realist and I understand two things: 1) Everyone can look around them and come to a logical conclusion that this world isn't right. Violence and bloodshed has and always will be the reality anchor to humankind. There is no getting around that and as much as I'd like for that to disappear in this world, evil in any form will always prevent that from happening. 2) Whether or not the Iraq war was a mistake no longer makes a difference. We are there now and if we leave anytime before the Iraqi's are ready to take over then Iraq will be the breeding grounds for lawlessness and a honeycomb for terrorists. It would be like living in the most corrupt city with few well trained police officers.

But it's not about a lost son to Ms. Sheehan anymore. If that were the case then her grieving would have been over by now. It's become something greater than that, a chance to grab the spotlight and shine in the face of publicity. Sure, she may believe that her motives are pure. In fact, they very well may be. However, she fails to think logically because she is riding on a wave of emotional motivation, one in which the liberals and left wing media have exploited for their unrealistic agenda.

For Ms. Sheehan, there is no noble cause in Iraq. So the decision boils down to leaving Iraq now and letting it go to waste, allowing it to become one of the most corrupt middle eastern countries in the world or to honor America and finish a job we said that we were going to finish. The now liberal mom chooses the first option. As for me, I choose the latter. That doesn't mean I think more deaths are acceptable (I believe that's an unfortunate part of it) or that I don't want our troops to come home as soon as possible, it just means that if we want any part of this war to remain noble then we have to finish what we went there to do. And as for Ms. Sheehan, she has no business in Texas.

Don't Take It Personal New Orleans

Any sort of national disaster is a bad thing and I am probably the first person to admit that. I don't like hearing of the deaths, looting, and violence that follow them.

I remember when sim city first came out on the computer. You could build your own city from scratch, set up your own infrastructure, and optimize your city's overall prosperity. I also remember the natural disasters that you could unleash on your man-made town if your frustration with its citizens reached its breaking point. It was refreshing to unleash a tornado or fire on a simulated city that never saw it coming. It made me feel vindicated for the high tax complaints of my citizens.

In the real world, unlike the game, there are cirumstances where you have time to evacuate your home, city, or state in order to seek protection. For example, many Californians know what it's like to hear of an uncontrollable forest fire and can choose to either evacuate the path of the ravenous fire or to sit and do nothing (and ultimately die a horrendous death). Floridians know what it's like to abandon state, sometimes even 2 or 3 times a hurricane season. As a result of these scenarios, we hear of a lot of destruction, but few casualties. I can live with that, and probably so can everyone else.

What I cannot live with is what has been going on in Lousiana. People were told to evacuate from New Orleans and surrounding suburbs before hurricane katrina had even touched American soil. The smart ones left, the not so smart ones stayed and ignored the advice. As a result, people have been stuck on second story apartment floors, in attics, in collapsed buildings, and I'm sure that many more have died. The death toll is relatively small as of today because rescue workers were told to look for survivors and ignore the death count and the lifeless bodies, but I imagine that it will rise sharply over the next week. This irrational decision has made rescue workers efforts sometimes futile and tireless. It has caused more of a problem than the actual hurricane damage itself and has endagered other lives as well.

I've never been in a hurricane, but I've seen pictures. I'd like to think that if one were coming and people who knew about it more than I did told me to evacuate I would. The last thing on my mind would be a second story apartment building or an attic to climb into. I'd rather float my way through the middle of an ocean storm on a small, wooden boat. But then again, I have common sense and a strong sense of logic. I'm not saying that those who decided not to flee deserve the fate that was handed to them or that they have no basis to make any more critical decisions in life. Wait, I guess I am saying that. I wonder if the witch doctors saw this one coming. And then I wonder if anyone who is still left in New Orleans listened.

Less Is More

I don't really have a blog for today. I think it's because I messed around and didn't start writing one until 3:41 am. Because it's so late, my eye lids are heavy and my fingers are typing exceptionally slow. Consequently I'll just write something simple, yet forthcoming.

School will start next week and now would be the time to use a Zach Morris time-out. I'm not worried about the school year or its demanding schedule, I'm just worried about my future. To be honest, I should have graduated by now. To be even more honest, I have switched my major 3 times and I still don't know what I want to do. If lottery strategy were a major, I'd major in it twice.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm lazy. I just don't want to do something that's so organized and tedious. I don't really want to wear a suit to work 5 days a week and be obligated to workout on my lunch breaks, just like all the other corporate bigshots. I don't want to carry around a cup of coffee every morning just because I feel like I have to, I don't want to eat my lunch out of a vending machine, and I sure as heck don't want to pretend I'm somebody that I'm not just to make a little bit more money. So, as a result, I'll just complain, write blogs, and freak out about thoughts that I hate to freak out about. And in the meantime, if anybody has any ideas please let me know.

Fat Is The New Thin

To nobody's surprise, a consumer health group decided to tell the world that Americans are becoming fatter and fatter. It is estimated that 24.5% of Americans are overweight, which is up 2.5% from 2002. So what? Are they tattle-telling?
I remember learning somewhere in high school English that, in medeival times, beauty was symbolized by the chubby girl who ate a whole lot. It wasn't quite put into those terms, but that's basically what they wanted to say. The excuse was that fat people were seen as wealthier citizens because they could afford to eat more food. And then people started to conquer other people, floated across oceans, and started civil wars on other continents. In the midst of all that, people became skinny and the importance was placed on whomever could rub two sticks together and start a fire. Small colonies actually had to do things to survive like attack Native Americans, have Thanksgiving, and write in journals.
Now we are back to square one. Americans are fat because we grew up watching Rerun from What's Happening, Fat Albert, and Chris Farley, they all made us laugh and frankly that's all we cared about. We have no fear due to the fact that we are the world's only legitimate super power and have a superior military (as long as Republicans stay in office).......and because we grew up watching the Brady Bunch, where we learned that every bad story has a good ending. But then again, all that could be our downfall. History repeats itself, and if you haven't noticed by now, everything in life cycles (I'm patiently waiting for the chili-bowl haircut to be popular again).
But as for fat Americans, so be it. I say, if you want to be fat and enjoy the luxuries of this world then go for it. Just know that there is 1 out of every 4 Americans who are doing the same thing. However, also understand that if and when America is attacked again, you will be on the front lines, after all, you will have a lot of McDonald's to defend.

The West Nile - Some Say It Is A Virus, Others Say It's One Side Of A River, I Say I'm Doomed

Within a year or two you will be hearing my name. Sadly, it will be for all the wrong reasons. No, I don't plan on committing mass homicide, becoming a famous musician/actor, having my own tv show, or crawling on my knees from here to Maine in some sort of protest (because I'd stop about 5 minutes away from my house, get up and come back home). I think you will be hearing my name because I will be one of the victims of the West Nile virus.

One of the reasons that I am confident about this is the fact that I live in Texas, where the summers are humid and the rain we do get is more responsible for birthing mosquitos than it is for watering crops. I'm also that guy who doesn't like going to the doctor unless pain is unbearable. As a result, I feel that I am going to die from this virus due to the fact that I don't know exactly what the symptoms of the west nile virus are. Because of this, I decided to look them up so that I could give you a more detailed explanation on why I'm doomed:

Serious symptoms include:
High fever - This doesn't really impress me, the Nile has to come harder than this for me to seek medical attention
Headache - So far it's sounding like I filled a whole bowl with cereal before realizing that we were out of milk, I'm probably just in a bad mood.
Neck Stiffness - I must have slept wrong, I'm kinda pissed now.
Stupor - It must have been a late night.
Disorientation - It must have been a really, really late night.....who brought me home?
Coma - I swear that I fall into some kind of coma every time I sleep, it's called R.E.M and it doesn't sing "Losing My Religion" or "Everybody Hurts".
Tremors, Convulsions, Muscle Weakness, Memory Loss - Sounds like someone had a crush on me....and that I shouldn't have drank the punch.
Paralysis - Ok, I have the freaking West Nile Virus.....my blog came true after all....how could I have not seen this coming?

This afternoon I made the mistake of going outside for an extended period of time without the assistance of mosquito spray. I almost made the mistake of wearing shorts, but who can blame me? The entire time I probably looked liked I was crazy to someone in the distance, mainly because I was swatting things in the air, staring at my legs to kill anything that landed on them, and periodically running in place. I normally keep my testosterone in control, but I killed more mosquitos on this day than I have in a long time. Satisfying? Nah, because it made me mad that they were picking on me. Justified? Certainly. My opening paragraph says that I still have a year or two before a mosquito takes advantage of me, how's that for an ending?

The Express Lane Transgressor

I don't go to the grocery store all that much. The only times that I really go are when food rations are extremely low and when there aren't any deer in my neighborhood to kill, with my bare hands. But when I do go, I tend to be conscious of other shoppers, my squeaky cart, and it's jacked up wheel. I try to not get suckered into buying things that I never wanted, things that are placed so strategically throughout the store that they crush my will and comform my mind, leading me to think I'm an average American consumer and that I need fatty cakes to function at an above average level. I used to go to the store for two reasons, the free samples and the free cookie that I could always locate in the bakery. And then I grew up, got a job, and moved out of my mom's house, which defaulted me to solo status. No more free cookies (after about 13 I think I started to feel stupid, I thought there was really not any need to push little kids to the ground so that I could get the first one), the candy aisle meant less to me, and I discovered a fondness for the express lane.

The first few times I went to the grocery store alone I always forgot that I needed some sort of basket to put things in. It would never be obvious to me until I ran out of places to put the items that I was holding (so that's why they made cargo pants....?). And when I did start remembering to get baskets I would always, by default or bad luck (whichever one you believe in), get the one that turned sideways or the one that was so lopsided the fourth wheel would barely touch the ground. I would almost always keep my shopping at a minimum. Making sure that I qualified for the express lane was my first priority, second was beating others there. I'd have to say that, for the most part, I did a pretty good job.

I had to make a trip to the store this past weekend. It was one of those meaningful, yet meaningless trips. All that I had to get was lettuce, tomatoes, and a bag of ice, things that I couldn't buy at the convenience store down the street. I got my items and headed towards the front. As I got to my coveted express lane, I saw a lady in front of me. She had a grocery cart with items in it. By items I don't mean a couple of items, a few items, or 12 items, I mean exceeding express lane limit items. I was baffled so I looked up just to see if the express lane had changed its criteria due to high oil prices (ok not really, I just wanted to include that because everyone seems to be talking about that these days), but the limit was still 12. I didn't know what to do, so I started counting. I got to around 15 and I stopped. She had at least ten little jars of baby food alone! Do you think I'll feel sorry for you if you have baby food? Ok, maybe it softened my heart a little bit, but the lettuce head and tomato that I was holding were making my arm cold and I needed a reason to be mad. I didn't think I would be behind someone who disregarded the unwritten rule of a lane that attributes its popularity to the word express. But that's where I found myself, this time I lost. Next time I'm running to the front of the line, and I will take an extra head of lettuce to throw at anybody who tries to get in my way.

My Wrong Career Choice

I have a feeling that things are starting to catch on in the rap industry. First it was Jay-Z, now it's Eminem. After cancelling his tour in the UK this week, apparently Eminem is calling it quits. Yes, he is "retiring". What exactly that means is rather ambiguous because Slim Shady is only 32 and is about to dissapoint like a million little white kids who want to be just like him.
I get that if you are a rapper it is probably pretty cool to retire at a young age. I mean, who wouldn't if you already had your time on Cribs and millions in the bank? It's like the high school senior who has half of his college credits before he steps into a college classroom for the first time. I, on the other hand, should have graduated last year, but I'm only half-way through. It's about the equivalent to where I am at financially. I think I am estimated to retire when I'm in my upper 50's, and I'm confident that I won't have close to a million dollars in my checking account. It just goes to show that school doesn't pay. I should have moved to the projects and started my own rap career. Sure, I probably would have been killed for being a poser, but what if I got lucky? I'd probably be on cribs right now, or at least going to Diddy's parties. But I'm not, I chose to stay in my middle class neighborhood and take honors classes my junior and senior years in high school. Where has that gotten me? To college, a place where, even after I graduate, I will be making less than the interest on Eminem's weekly allowance. If my high school counselor would have done her job, I would have a platinum necklace with a miniature spinning rim dangling from my neck right now. Instead, I have to work another 55 years. Thanks, Mrs. Hicks.

$50 Can Buy You Chaos

Early this morning, Henrico county in Virginia opened its gates to prospective iBook consumers (Apple computer laptops). 1,000 laptops were being sold for $50 a piece so you can imagine how many people were waiting in line, with the hopes of getting their grubby hands on one of the used computers that were being cheaply sold by the Henrico County School District. What ensued was the equivalent to what would happen if 5,500 human beings heard that there was one t-bone steak left on a 3 acre deserted island. People were trampled, baby strollers were broken, and nobody has admitted it yet but I'm sure somebody's underwear was torn. Old people never really had a chance in the race to get the computers and it's probably safe to say that little people were written off from the very beginning.
The event included, a broken stroller, an old man-who relied on a walker-being trampled to the ground, scraped up knees, someone who was treated for a leg injury at the hospital, and 17 people who were treated for heat exhaustion. The only things missing were a blind man, someone in a wheelchair, anybody wearing an oxygen mask, and a circus clown. Five off-duty police officers were on the scene when the gates opened and 70 more had to be called in, 20 of those sported the oh-so-cool riot gear.
If this were a party then I would be the first to say that it was the sweetest party ever, but it was a public event so you'd think that people would know how to conduct themselves. But in mass gatherings, when it comes down to the survival of the fittest, I wouldn't want to be in line with a walker, stroller, or anything else that would prevent me from acting like a primitive ape. I'd carry fruits, nuts, old bread, and raw meat so that I would be able to throw them on the ground while I sprinted to the front. That way the cavepeople would become preoccupied and leave me with a straight shot to the first turnstile. But then again, I'd make sure to bring enough nuts, fruits, old bread, and raw meat for everybody, or they'd fight/trample over people for that too.

The article
If you click on the link, be sure to watch the video. Look at the old dude who is getting passed by everybody (at the beginning of the video). That's gotta suck, lol.

Dropping the P. in Coolness

I've always thought that it was kind of weird and unfair that I was given a name as a child and that I still have to answer to it to this day. My name could have been anything and I wouldn't have had one say in what was actually put on my birth certificate. Luckily, my parents were responsible human beings and didn't take that vital chore litely. As a result, bestowed upon me was a name that was somewhat popular for the early 80's (which was never really that popular with me).
But when you get famous things kind of change. If you're lucky enough, you finally get an opportunity to decide what people will refer to you as. You can choose a name that is more marketable, easier to say, or if you're a rapper, one that is easy to chant. You can choose a single name like Prince, Madonna, or Gallagher, or you can go with the intial/part last name like j.lo.
My personal favorite is the nickname for Sean Combs, a.k.a. Puff Daddy, a.k.a. P. Diddy, and now a.k.a. Diddy. It's true that "Diddy" has once again changed his name. I'm sure that this is not breaking news to most of you, but for the sake of my blog I must elaborate on why I think this might be pretty cool. First of all, the thing I find the coolest is how sneaky P. Diddy has been about making everyone in the whole world refer to him as "daddy" (albeit, in a subtle way), without many people even actually realizing it, and I like that. I personally don't know Diddy, but from all the hype he seems like he might be a pretty cool guy. But if he really kept it real then I could go up to one of his exclusive parties in a taxi, instead of a limo, and ask if I could get in, I'm sure he wouldn't be so real then....on the way home, feeling all rejected and dissapointed I'd really wonder what "being real" really meant.
I think it's kind of unfair that I can't change my name and actually have people call me by it. If I could, I would like to be called dad, it's not too flashy and it gets the point across. I could start this in the fall semester, on the first day of school. "If there is anybody here that goes by a different name then what is on the attendance sheet please let me know.""Yeah my name is Justin, but I go by Dad, thanks." The only problem with that nickname would be that I would probably have to grow a large belly and cut my hair so that it looks like I am going bald. I'd be forced to talk about things that nobody had an interest in and I'd need to be way out of touch with this generation. I'd wear a hat made of nylon that said "The World's Greatest Dad" and have to change my own oil. On second thought, I'll stick with Justin.

The Topic of Evolution....And a Frozen Turkey

The older I get the more I realize that there is some sort of distance between my generation and the genration that is right behind me. As a kid I was always outside, I knew what it was like to play in the rain, I actually had to knock on doors to see if my friends could play because I didn't know how to use a phone, and I actually participated in pick-up baseball/football games with the neighborhood kids. The older I got the more convenient it was to stay inside, but I still made time to get out and enjoy some fresh air. Waterballoons were like candy to me, the more I got, the more I wanted. Nothing brought me more joy than hitting someone or their car with my perfected 75 degree launch-and-run technique, except that one time I finally beat King Koopa and saved the princess in the first Mario Brothers game.
But as I have gotten older things have changed, technology has gotten better, and we're paying more for gas (which isn't as bad as it appears because, adjusting for inflation, we would have to be paying $90 a barrel of oil to match the oil crisis we faced in the early 80's - right now we're at $65). Kids are evolving too. More and more kids are now staying indoors. No, not because we are in somewhat of a nuclear arms crisis with countries like Iran and North Korea (so slap a kid in the face if they attempt to use that as an excuse), it's because they opt to play playstation 2's and x-box's instead, while growing increasingly obese (don't worry about that, Mcdonalds is becoming increasingly healthier....riiiight). And while water balloons might never go out of style, more teens are opting to throw frozen turkey's, resulting in broken faces. Maybe not all teens, but I know of one in particular.
A teenager from New York thought it would be a good idea to throw a frozen turkey out of the back of his window and onto another car. The result? A broken windshield, a shattered face, and a turkey that got the raw end of the deal (no pun intended....seriously). Apparently, five others were also arrested for charges that included a stolen credit card, used to buy video games, movies, and oh yeah, a frozen turkey. Luckily no truck was bought (with naked lady mud flaps), 20,000 dollars wasn't taken to complete a robot (a girrrrrl robot), and nobody felt the need for a $1500 leather boustier (one that lifts and seperates).
I don't know if that necessarily proves my point that generations are becoming more hardcore, however, just ask the turkey who sacrificed his life to end up on the side of some road, see what he thinks. Let him tell you that his ancestors were never used to go "egging". And then ask yourself, who was the bigger turkey..........ahhhhhhh I HAD to say it! It is the cheesiest pun ever....ahhhhhhhhh....nooooooooo....I tried to run away from it I swear, I saw it coming before I ever wrote this blog. Forgive.

The article

Get Your Own Girls Underwear

Since my last blog was about the greatest video game player in the world I must mention that the hamburglar was probably the greatest hamburger thief in the world. Throughout my childhood, I saw the hamburglar on tv commercials and he always had a hamburger in his hand. Not only did he always have a hamburger, he was always running way faster than any human being was able to run. I used to think that it didn't make sense because if he ate hamburgers all the time then he should have been fat and slow. Silly me, what did I know? As a tribute, Mcdonald's even started putting him in happy meals. I guess they figured if you can't beat him, glorify him! But this isn't about the hamburglar, arguably the best quarterpounder bandit ever, it's about a dude who is possibly the worst womans used undergarment crook on....the planet.
His name is Bruce, he has a mustache, and is from Oklahoma. How could anybody not see this coming? On five consecutive nights, Oklahoma's finest stole bras and underwear from the same woman at the same house. On the sixth night, his mustache finally caught up with him. He was caught by the husband of the woman and beaten with the leg of a baby's crib. The police were called and he was hauled off to jail, possessing only the underwear that he was wearing.
The beating looks pretty bad. He almost looks like the laundry he was trying to steal. How humiliating, but hat doesn't compare to being known as the worst women's underwear pirate of the past century, or getting beaten over the head and in the face with the leg of a baby's crib.

The article

The World's Most Dedicated Video Game Player 1976-2005

I know a lot of people are dedicated to video games, but I'm not one of them. Don't get me wrong, I have a playstation 2 and play it every once in a while, but I haven't died yet. A 28 year old male from South Korea died today because he apparently played video games in an internet cafe for 50 hours and experienced heart failure. Not to make light of the situation, but I'm willing to bet he lost.
50 freaking hours! I honestly don't think there is anything in this world that could occupy my time for 50 hours. If so, then I probably would have already died trying to do it. I guess the real lesson here is that things should be taken in moderation. Moderation is good. If you have too much, things start to lose their flavor and can become dangerous. If you have too little then you don't really get to enjoy the fullness of what you are currently experiencing. Call it a universal truth if you will.
The only thing I am left to wonder is whether or not this guy is viewed as a martyr for video game enthusiasts everywhere. I'm sure that he has to be known as the greatest video game player in the entire world. I'm not talking about a region, state, country, or hemisphere, I'm talking about the planet! I might even have included the galaxy, but I'm suspicious that the aliens have this dude beat. If he is not the greatest gamer, then he might just be the biggest stoner on the planet. After all, his co-workers told reporters that he "quit his job to spend more time playing games".

The Article

My Most Worthless Blog - Besides the Lazy Fish Blog

If you haven't heard by now, Britney Spears just got more annoying. Except this time, it wasn't her tv show, which is rather boring and uninsightful. Someone shot a photographer outside of Spears' home while he was attempting to get pictures of Britney's baby shower. I don't know whose side to take because I am sure that the paparrazzi and Britney/Kevin Federline are equally annoying. But then again, if someone wants to take pictures of you and your new baby clothes wouldn't you just go inside your house? Especially if it is as big as hers (Assuming it is big, I don't really care). There really isn't any need to shoot someone, even if it is with a pellet gun. I think a paintball gun would have been a lot funnier, and who knows...maybe I wouldn't be so harsh on the Spears/Federline family. However, I do have a problem with celebrities not changing their last name after getting married. No wonder the marriages never work out, they appear to be just glorified dating relationships. It's not like nobody would know who Britney Federline was. But I'm sure it would be a hassle to change back once they got divorced, which is likely to happen one day. Anyway, enough on Britney Spears. I just thought it was funny that someone got shot in the leg with a pellet gun. Just think about 50 cent getting shot 8 times with a real gun. A pellet would probably bounce right off of him. Then again, 50 rolls with like 20 people so I'm sure nobody wants to take a shot at his posse, not unless your rolling in a car.

*disclaimer - Marianne, sorry for the negative remarks about Britney....(fingers crossed)

Refunds Are Good, Refunds For Crappy Movies Are Better

I bet you have exited many movie theaters in your lifetime where you wish you could have gotten your money back. I know, for me, there have been more than a couple of times. I think the worst movie I have ever seen in a movie theater was probably Shazaam, the movie with Shaquille O'Neal who plays a genie that has been in hibernation for like a million years. Needless to say, following the movie my three wishes would have been to have the time back that I lost, the money back that I spent, and to be brainwashed into thinking that I had never seen the movie. But none of those things happened. In fact, I may have suffered brain damage from the whole encounter.

However, for some lucky movie-goers you now have the chance to get your money back for some movies that you went to go see (and that probably made your gf or bf break up with you). I think you can call it "justice".
You think I'm lying? I'm not. Sony pictures recently settled a lawsuit that began back in 1991 that will pay movie-goers a total of $1.5 million dollars. But before you start claiming that you watched every Sony pictures movie during their original theater runs, let me inform you that it only qualifies for a select number of movies. Those movies include: Vertical Limit, A Knight's Tale, The Animal, Hollow Man and The Patriot (sadly).
The reason behind the settlement, and the $5 refund, is due to the use of a fake film critic that Sony used to promote these films. This critic (that Sony made up) maybe said a total of 4 words for each film, which is really retarded. The lesson here? Even when you get out of school you still musn't cheat and make up crap. You'd think that something so public such as making up a critic and using him as a promotional tool would be incredibly obvious right? Someone must have thought otherwise. But that someone will go down as the dude who got people back their money for watching some really crappy movies (except the Patriot). And for that I'm going to check out the background of the critic who got me to see Shazaam. He was the little red guy on my left shoulder.

The article

Look What I Didn't Win!

I'm not really sure what kind of day it is for star wars fans. I wish I could say that I was one, but I rarely remember the first episode or two I saw as a little kid. And because of that I haven't watched any of the recent ones. If I were to catch up on any of the star wars movies I have missed it would be like going to next years prom, I wouldn't know any names or what the whole thing was really about. Plus, I would probably have to fly solo because something about "hey I rented star wars, do you want to come over and watch it with me?" doesn't sound right.

Regardless of whether or not I have actually watched the movies, I am hip to current events. Because of this I know that the original lightsaber used in the original star wars was sold for $200,600 U.S. dollars, or 164,200 euros if your gay. Darth vaders lightsaber was sold at a measley $118,000, or 96,600 euros if your still gay.
I can't imagine spending that much money on something that doesn't really light up. As a matter in fact, I can't imagine spending that much money on anything that does light up, except for a really hot model that smokes an occasional cigarette. If I were bidding on this lightsaber my bid stick would go up when the price was around 10 dollars and that's where I would stop. I'm sure everyone else would go on to bid 500 more times while I cursed my way back to my car, but at least I'd get to take home a bid paddle (for FREE suckers!).
So, for the star wars fanatics who are wondering who actually won the auction I have some bad news. The winning bidder chose to remain anonymous, which shows me that not all star wars fans are dumb.

My problems With Extremists

London police hold up pictures of a bombing supsect

I don't know about anybody else that is not a muslim extremist, but I am getting pretty tired of bombs going off in all parts of the world. I think the thing that makes me the most mad about it is the innocent lives that are taken as a result. The thing that makes me the second most mad about it is that these terrorists don't have to work like I do. I normally put in a 40 hour work week. Ok, maybe a little less. However, I don't think it is fair that terrorists make a living by making bombs and putting them in places to be blown up. And that kinda ticks me off. They say that they do it for Allah or whatever their reasons may be. Well, what happened to the lazy or apathetic arabs? I mean, all I did when I went to sunday school as a little kid was color pictures of Jesus and sing songs that made my heart feel good. But sometimes I didn't want to go to sunday school and I knew a lot of kids who didn't either. Why couldn't some muslim extremists have been the same way? It's not a matter of culture, it's just a matter of being a kid. If they had been as adamant about not going to sunday school like some of our American kids then I'm sure they wouldn't have grown up to be aspiring pyromaniacs. And I wouldn't have to be angry that I have to go to work and they don't.

Congratulations to Lance

Overall leader Lance Armstrong, of Austin, Texas, signals seven for his seventh straight win in the Tour de France cycling race

I'll be the first to admit that I am not the most knowledgable cycling fan in the world, better yet in my neighborhood. In fact, I don't even know if I would call myself a cycling fan period. I know two names, one is a friend of mine and the other is Lance Armstrong. By now, even the average person has an inkling as to who Armstrong is. Much has been spoken of Armstrong and derservedly so, he just won his 7th straight Tour de France, easily surpassing the previous record of 5 by three other riders.

What captivates people, and what has made me admire Armstrong the most is that Lance is, in no way, bigger than his sport or bigger than himself. He has been just as much an advocate for cancer awareness than he has a professional athlete. He is humble in his victories and always compliments his teammates on his success. After overcoming cancer, Armstrong has done things that people would never have imagined. Some may say that he's not as great of an athlete as Michael Jordan or Jerry Rice because he rides a bike, but I tend to disagree. I would put Armstrong along the same category. If I were attempt to even finish the course, even if it were in last place, it would be a difficult task. And even after all this, I have to mention that Armstrong is a TEXAN! No wonder.

Monetary Merry Go'Round

I'm sure that there is a time in every person's life when they would like the bank to mess up and actually deposit more money into your checking account than should be deposited. That day, for me, was yesterday and was a serious turn of events.

It started when I got off work. I had some things to do like go to the atm and get dog food, which for me is a productive day. I went to an atm across the street from the grocery store and tried to get some money, but as I went through the whole procedure I noticed that there was a lot of wait time, more than usual. And from what I experienced yesterday, wait time is not good if you are at an atm. Wait time either means you don't have any money or your card is going to be eaten up. Extended wait time for me yesterday meant I wasn't getting my card back. I don't mean not having it for a day or two, I'm talking about forever. My card ceased to exist.....as a card, as my card. But to add insult to injury I also didn't get any money. So I sat in my car and reflected on the last 5 minutes of my life and how it had become a waste of my precious time. Not only a waste of time, but I began to think of how to survive without a debit card. I knew it would not be easy.

I gathered myself, untied the rope around my neck, and remembered that I had an atm card from before debit cards were ever invented. I went home to get it, dusted the dust off of it (because I like being somewhat redundant with my rhetoric) and headed to MY bank, where at least I thought my card would be safe to use.

I pulled up to my bank full of glee. I put in my card and experienced the dreaded wait time once again. This time it wasn't money, it wasn't about my card being eaten up, but it was about my card, which wasn't able to be processed. My half-hearted grin turned into an angry scowl and it was the first time in a long time I felt like turning green and growing muscles. But just as I thought nothing could get worse, I called my bank to check my automated account balance (I need more phrases like this one). To my surprise, I learned that my bank account had deposited my paycheck twice. I automatically wanted to say "that's ya'lls bad", but I knew that this mistake probably wouldn't last long. I'm a thousandair for the next couple of days and it feels good......maybe if I could just spend it all before they realize their mistake and take it back. It wouldn't be about greed, it would just be about teaching lessons.

Sorry

Sorry that 'From a Fishes Perspective' sucked. The idea of this column probably sounded a little funnier than it's manifestation. Regardless....use your imagination and I'm sure you'll make it what I intended it to be.

From a Fishes Perspective

Fish are suckers

I overheard someone say last night that they went fishing earlier in the day. Someone inquired about the fish at that particilar location by asking how he did to which the fisherman answered, "the fish were f'ing lazy today." It got me thinking from a fishes perspective.

We all have days when we are lazy. It could be after a long weekend, on a day off when you have nothing to do, or it could be for no apparent reason at all, maybe even genetics. But it is difficult to imagine a fish that is lazy. Sure, I used to enjoy the homemade meals that came with living at home, but had there been a hook attached to my food, one that took me out of my house when I bit it, I would have no longer take these meals for granted. I would probably have been freaked out by any food that I saw and take extremely small bites.

But apparently lazy fish don't care. They get caught once, released, caught again on another day, released (if they are small or lucky), caught again, and the cycle continues. But imagine if you were a fish, a lazy fish at that. You have a worm, stink bait (or a lure of someone elses choice) in front of you and you bite without thinking. F*&^%$ S#@! you would think after getting hooked for the 10th time in 10 days. How could you be so stupid? And then you remind yourself that you are a fish. You don't fight as you get pulled in, that way the fisherman thinks you're a sucky fish and will be willing to throw you back in. You hang there while he pulls you out of the water and you realize the fisherman was like 4 years old and you got caught on a scooby doo fishing pole. Man life sucks, but you get another chance to do the same thing tomorrow as the kid throws you back in. And it's about that time you realize, I am one damn lazy fish.

You're My Boyyyy Blue (Sep 3 '03 - June 20 '05)

Monday is usually a bad day for everybody. But today is no case of the Monday's for me. It was the final day in Blue's 2 and 3/4 years life. Blue was a betta that Tabitha Baker graciously gave me on my 21st birthday. He came with a little hexagonal betta tank, some betta food, and a stiff lower jaw. For the next 2 and 3/4 years, me and blue bonded in an indirect, non-communicative kind of way. He would swim around in his tank and I would stare, but we never really said much to each other. But lack of communication was ok with blue. You see, Blue and I had an understanding. I bought him a luxurious tank (with a pump and plastic plants) and blue revealed a different side of me to the ladies that came over. Aww, how cute...you must be such a sweet guy, you have a fish. I'd wink at Blue and say, we did it again boyeee. It's hard to write the eulogy for your best friend's funeral, but it's harder to be the only pallbearer and attendant also. Blue was the first fish I had to flush down memory lane and if I had my choice I would have cryogenically frozen my little buddy, at least until they found a way to clone betta. If Blue had any regrets I bet it was that he probably didn't get to hook up with any chicks. I didn't want it to be like that, but betta's are weird about being in the same tank so for Blue's sake I could never arrange such an interaction. Nevertheless, my betta had a long and exciting life. A life that had I tried to live, would have made me really pruny.

The Only Thing I Want To See Flipped Are Burgers

Each stage of life possesses a gayness that comes along with it. Around the age of five or six I was in love with the WWF. Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant,. the Ultimate Warrior, Hacksaw Jim Duggan, Coco B. Ware, all of these wrestlers were at the top of my interest lists. At that time, I had no inkling that wrestling was fake, but I don't think it would have mattered anyway, those were still impressionable years. I had a helmet haircut and wore MC Hammer pants until the age of ten. And then there was puberty and the squeaking of my voice. I used to dread it when our teacher decided to read aloud as a class and I always had my fingers crossed, hoping that she wouldn't call on me. I never was guaranteed that the first word out of my mouth wouldn't be a squeak.

I don't think my wardrobe got any better over the next few years. I wore basketball and football jerseys like they were going out of style (had I only known that they eventually would - unless you're black and have an ability to make anything look cool). I was a player when I was 14 and 15 and thought that was so cool/challenging. I once dated three girls at the same time and wrote gay poems for each one of them. No only that, I was gay enough to all write them the same poems. I don't think anything has been more awkward than that. High school reeked of the awkwardness of having to go on dates and meeting parents for the first time. And who could forget the awkwardness of the freshman year picture?

Now the world is challenged with a bigger dilemma. A dilemma of collar sized proportions. Two inches have destroyed my hopes for a less awkward end of my awkward years existence. Collars never originated in the form of 2 inches, but someone, somewhere magically, and haphazardly thought that one inch wasn't long enough. And some of the poor world followed. I'm talking about the flipped up collar. I've seen it more and more and each time I wonder if individuality were more celebrated would people become increasingly more original? My other question is, since a flipped up collar is already halfway up your head, why not just add another couple of inches and make it a hoodie? Or why not just make the collar out of cardboard? That would really bring out the 15 and 17 year old girls who look to mtv as their source of normality. I've seen some bad fads within the last two years and they usually originate by one human being, Ashton Kutcher. The trucker hat fad, the Von Dutch fad, the mustache fad (oh, how I only wish). But I think he gets a pass on this one. Nothing says look at how unoriginal I am more than the flipped up collar. Nothing screams out take me to prison (when I attract high school girls like blood does mosquitos) more than popping the collar. If I really cared, I would be tempted to send out a mass email across America. I would at least attempt to get the memo across. But then again, I prefer to laugh and point. I prefer to stare at girls that fall for guys with this style, because after all, these are the awkward stages right? "Mom how did you meet dad?" "He had one HUGE collar dear, and he wore sunglasses indoors....at night. He was hot."

The Once Baddest Man on the Planet

I was in awe of two things growing up. The first was "Thriller" by Michael Jackson. Nothing made me almost pee my pants more times than the man who narrated the song or the music video itself. In fact, had I not been potty trained early in life I may have produced wet shorts every time I heard that song. The other thing was Mike Tyson. The man who could knock someone else out in the first round and who had muscles that i didn't know existed. But as I grew up one of these things diminished and it wasn't "Thriller", although it's creator did. It was Mike Tyson. Three years ago he was knocked out by Lennox Lewis. At that time, I felt the way I would if my dad had gotten beat up by one of my enemy's dad. I had thought that nobody could beat him. I thought it was a fluke when he was knocked out by Buster Douglas in 1989. I knew he had lost to Evander Holyfield, but I justified that also. But when he gave up in the 6th round of Saturday night's fight I had to concede to the fact that he was a changed man. He was no longer the baddest man on the planet. That may have left when he went to prison for three years (although you'd think that prison would make you even more of a bad ass). Or it may have happened when he converted to Islam (even though Muhammed Ali was still the greatest after his conversion). I don't know exactly where Tyson lost the baddest man on the planet stigma, but with me it left when he said he could not fight anymore, during the end of the sixth round against a fighter who, at one time, wouldn't have been able to stand in the ring with Tyson.

Real World Austin

I've heard a couple of people say already that they were around when mtv was filming the real world Austin. They both said that they got on camera, but I doubt that they will be on tv because they did not have to sign any tv releases. But it got me thinking about how cool it would be to be on tv. I'm not necessarily talking about being on the cast...wait yes I am. However, if being on tv consisted of me walking around aimlessly in the background then I'd take that. If I had my choice I'd love to be on the cast though. I know that I would never make it, I'm way too laid back and I get along with everybody. I rarely get mad and I have good communication skills. So because of all this I would have to be someone totally different. I'd tell them I fight with everyone, I have a short fuse, I am a biggot who hates homosexuals, I don't like white or black people, and I can't hold a job. I'd tell them that I get into stupid bar fights, I create and enjoy drama, and that I slap my own momma when she talks back to me. Then, maybe then, I'd become a cast member.....and be on tv.

If I Were a Hot Spot, Cancun Would Be My Girlfriend

El Riu Caribe Cancun - Our Resort

We got back from our neighbor Mexico a little redder than we left, but we all got back. For a little bit I thought it was going to be only 5 returning instead of 6, but we ended up talking Matt into coming home with us, which just goes to show that girls are the devil. Either that or that guys (or should I say humans) get pretty retarded and irrational after 6 shots of tequila and 2 rum and cokes. And all this after we had checked out of our rooms and were waiting for our bus ride to the airport.

Not that I could blame anyone for that though. In fact, I think it would have been really funny if we had let him do what he wanted, which was to stay with this girl he had met (and drank with) by the pool. It may have ended up being the funniest thing that I would have ever been a part of. I'm sure the bus ride back to America wouldn't have been too gross and sweaty....but then again....I would have hoped that it was.

But there are a lot of stories that went along with this trip. I guess a trip to Cancun, at a nice resort with an all you can eat and drink agenda, includes stories in it's all inclusive package. My stories are kind of boring though. Unless you consider the fact that I lead a group of about 12 people (all of whom shared the same resort as us) to the wrong bus which took everyone 20 minutes the wrong direction. It prompted a nickname for me by these people (B.B.), which stood for bus boy. With my lost sense of direction I also lost my credibility for the whole trip. I could have told someone that a cheeseburger had cheese on it or that if you feed a shark with your hand it will chomp your arm off and nobody would have believed me. But come to think about it, maybe that wasn't so bad.

I'm sure in the next few days I'll have a more detailed and interesting blog about the whole trip, but I'm heading to Austin tomorrow and I need some well deserved sleep. I forgot what it was like to sleep for longer than 5 hours, but somehow, someway, Cancun will do that to you.

Possum Kingdom Lake and the Turbos

Don't stare at these too long, but do enjoy

Ahh, the lake. Ahh, the lake on memorial weekend. Ahh, the lake with friends. Ahh, peeing in the lake because you can't on the boat (except for that one time, when nobody was around). The only thing missing this weekend was the sun. It was a nasty trick for the clouds to cover the summer sky and mist on the domes of lake-goer's, but the fun outweighed the crappy weather. I'm surprised I still have my arms after getting thrown around on the tube. They are a little sore, but I had a reputation to withold. I could never see enough faces meet the water in brutal fashion while wakeboarding, but I got to see plenty of that this weekend. I didn't realize that paddle boating was so difficult until me and Balch incognito-ly (just made that word up) paddle boated at 2 something in the morning after exceeding our drink quota. But what MADE the trip consisted of a seven dollar investment. The local lake store had a rack of glasses, but this was no ordinary rack of sunglasses. Well, not in today's society. The rack was probably placed there in 1978 or earlier. Regardless, I had not seen gayer sunglasses in my life. They were so gay that they easily skyrocketed to "William Hung" status. There are times in your life that you know something is right and this was definitely one of those times. I knew I HAD to get them. I would never come across this opportunity again. IN fact, production of the turbos probably halted at the end of the cold war. So me and Trey purchased the turbos and the rest was history. It was hard to not shake or get nervous when I took them off the rack and put them on my face, but I knew that my face was about to have a party and the turbos were the main event. Once I put them on I was a different person. I felt more violent, more like I was the boss. I had authority, people feared me, and nobody wanted to fight me. I felt that I could drive as slow or as fast as I wanted and didn't fear getting a ticket. I felt that I could not take a shower and then make people tell me I smelt like roses. I felt like I could take a kick to the nuts and not budge, but I knew that with the turbos on nobody would dare kick me in the nuts. And it was so fitting that it was stormy, because with the turbos on, I felt I could take on the world like a storm.

Memorial Day, Schmemorial Day

Some sweet lake where I am not

Out of the many things to do this weekend, memorial day weekend that is, I have so many choices. I could chill at the house, chill at the house and watch tv, chill at the house and play ps2, or chill at the house and mess around with the website. Notice that in that last, what appeared to be a run-on sentence, I didn't say anything about going to the lake. I didn't say anything about leaving Wichita Falls or answering my cell phone, which is irrationally ringing off the walls. The closest I will get to a lake this weekend consists of my staring at this nice, little picture above. But with the undeniable wisdom of the "if you're given a lemon, make lemonade" revelation, let me tell you what I am not missing out on. I'm not missing out on a snake, spider, or other species with teeth biting my leg, arm, or both. I'm not missing out on the possibility of algae consuming my body and the probability of a slow, painful death. Wait....someone just called. And I'm going to the lake.

The Blog Revolution

For so long I have wondered what all the hype was about blogging. I started my own little website about 4 years ago on aol's free webpage, but I thought that was too restricting with what I wanted to do with it (no not porn for all the perverts) so I made a free sites at geocities. Soon after, I began using Microsoft Frontpage and began hurtlester.com. There is still a lot of work to be done and it and hasn't reached the capacity that I envisioned it, but it has come a long way. Time is the biggest factor for not being able to update and work on it like I used to, but with the new internet fad comes a little motivation to juice up the site. I will be working both sites simultaneously hopefully, at least until I am diagnosed with carpal tunnel. Come regularly or I will fight you.