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.