Miscellaneous Debris

Yesterday I said that the church I went to was a church of christ place. It was not. There is some disagreeance as to that actual denomination, but it is agreed that it wasn't church of christ. My apologies.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not a religous person. That being said, I do go to church with my wife because she is and I want to give my son the opportunity to decide for himself. Today, we went to a church of christ thing. I can't say that all congregations of church of christ are similar, but this one really took the cake for herd mentality. When the preacher man said something "surprising" or "exciting", and by "surprising" or "exciting" I mean "forshadowed" and "dull", some one would start the moos by saying something along the lines of, "wow". I kid you negative, "wow" is what these people would say. It wasn't a "holy shit!" wow but a "mooooooooo" sort of wow with absolutely no emotion or feeling behind it. Anyway, some one would start it and then a few others would chime in with there own "wow". Inevitably, some goober would say "wow" about fifteen seconds after everyone else had started and completely miss the opportunity to even pretend to have gotten what was said, or have thought about it in the first place.

That was the problem. They were all responding and not quietly contemplating what the message was, or was supposed to be. Responding is a strong word. What I mean is reacting. The preacher man stopped to take a breath, so they reacted by saying something. Half the time I couldn't even make out what they were saying. The only other thing I could make out was, "You're right." (intentionally done without an exclamation mark just like the wows). Usually this also occurred when the speaker was taking a breath, but before he made his point.

All of that to ask this: How can somebody be right, when they haven't even finished talking yet? We've all heard somebody start out on the right track and then through the magic of idiocy wind up just left of BF, Egypt when they should be in Hoboken.

I beg of you, listen to people, think about it, and then respond. Don't follow the herd and automatically think some one is right just because that person is standing behind a podium.

I'm home at last. It's only for a couple of days, but that's better than nothing.

My wife and I were discussing how miserable I was because I didn't have any body to hold or touch or whatever and she turns to me and says without hesitation, "just curl up with Marci."

I didn't know what I was supposed to say to that other than, "I doubt Matt would appreciate that very much."

I'll say more on this later I think but for now I'm going to go play with my kid.

Once again, Brad, open mouth insert foot.

I don't know how many times this has to happen, but I will learn eventually: Quit bitchin', some one will upstage you with some really important shit that ain't good. Suddenly, Side-item #2 seems to need a little correction.

Entree:
As much as I hate going to LaGrange, 9 times out of 10 I have an exceptionally good time. I mean, how often can someone get drunk and then play with swords on a stage? I'm elated that I got to see Travis and Austin again and it felt great to hold a sword again, even just a practice one. I'm jonesing for more even now.

Choice of two side-items:
1) I've have so much nervous energy right now I can barely control myself. I can't really think of a reason that I'm this energetic except that I've, apparently, had way too much coffee.

2) I'm sad. Tonight's my last night in town for over a month and, even though it's free beer night and that's all I should have on my mind, I keep thinking that I only have a couple more trips here before I won't be coming down at all (barring unforeseen circumstances or vacations).

I was sitting in class today helping a group member with our assignment when I realized the conversation I had been drowning out for at least half an hour was directed at me. I didn't have a clue as to what he had said to me so I just gave a non-committal grunt and smirk and turned back to what I was doing.

Anybody know the proper protocal for a situation like that?

Today's one of those days. I feel very much like this:

lazy
lazy
lazy
lazy
lazy
lazy
Jane
she
wants
a
drink
of
water
so
she
waits
and
waits
and
waits
and
waits
and
waits
for
it
to
rain
---------Shel Silverstien, Where The Sidewalk Ends

So I just had to say bye bye to my liver. I'm hungover from last night, it's quite possible I'm still a little drunk and I've just started drinking again.

Bye-bye liver, hello cirrhosis.

My computer just talked to me again. It said, "What do you want me to say, type anything you want." I hope it wasn't just in my head because I don't want to get committed yet.

I have been having an unbelievable good time here. It was good to see Melanie again after not seeing or hearing from her since my wedding. Seems like it was millions of years ago.

I've been able to keep myself in a pretty constant state of inebration. Marci tells a pretty good tale of the times, but should she miss anything I think is worthy I'll be sure to post it. If I can remember it.

You're Master Shake! You're manipulative,
self-absorbed, materialistic, rude, lazy, and
easily distracted. Despite all that, you still
think you're the shit.


That's right. I'm top dog. According to Quizilla anyway.

Also. I learned something tonight. Apparently, pooze(sp?) means some one who is kinda gay. Apparently, my good friend, who is female, is in a relationship of some sort with a guy that is a pooze. I couldn't tell, but it's being told to us time and time again. I'm no expert, but . . . whatever.

The best thing to happen on page five of a book:

I was new, but I'd heard the rumors. I was sitting on a desk in the front room of the Time's offices reading a magazine, when a midget in a pair of pointed toes strutted in the front door and asked for Wilson Caudle.

"He's at the funeral home," I said.

He was a cocky midget. . . .

I was not about to be helpful, but it's dificult being rude to a midget. Even one with a gun. . . .

The laws of nature require midgets to be docile, nocombative people, and this little fella was no exception.

The previous quote was taken from The Last Juror by John Grisham. I elipsesed through some of the less interesting stuff and because I'm lazy and didn't want to type the whole damn thing out. The only unfortunate part is that as of page 33, the midget has not come back into the picture. It's too bad. I got really excited when the previous exchange occured.

I believe you now, Marci (I tried to find the exact post, but it was took more than two minutes so I quit, you find it, or just ask). I was just checking my stats and my computer just started talking with to me. I, unfortunately, didn't hear what it said in it's sexy female voice because I panicked and closed everything down immediately.

Also, is it wrong that I get really excited and start jumping up and down while clapping my hands when the cartoon channel commercial with the dancing heads comes on? I love that show. It only lasts a few seconds, but it's the best part of my day . . . unless something fun happens.

Speaking of fun stuff, I went to the San Antonio Dave and Buster's with the "Free beer tagalongs" and a guy from my home town. It wasn't a shit kicking blast, but it beat the hell out of sitting in my hotel room. Especially since they were running a special on drinks and I didn't pay more than 10 bucks to get good and buzzed off vodka (doesn't count tips), also they paid for the games, hells yes.

Side note, I start headbanging every time the commercial for the PS2 Transformers game comes on. I might buy it just 'cause I like the commercial so much.

Anyway, back to my story. "Moped" (Chris will understand) wanted me to call her tonight so we could go to a club. Needless to say I didn't. Too much risk involved.

That probably beats the hell out of the last couple of posts.

Peter Fordent sat in his office with his feet propped up on his desk sipping on some cheap bourbon that he had just recently discovered in his partner's desk. It tasted horrible, but he didn't care. After the events that had already transpired today, he needed a drink.

He reached into the pocket of his shirt and fished out his cigarettes and lighter. Just as he lit the cancer stick, his phone rang.

"Christ on a bike," he muttered to himself. He picked up the receiver and said in the politest way he could, "What?"

He immediately recognized the feminine voice on the line and a chill ran through his spine. The last thing he needed was some work from this punk. Furthermore, he couldn't stand to listen to Andrea Zapatos' voice anymore today.

"Vat iz wit ze anger?" Andrea said. Peter thought the accent was weird because she was French, but he dismissed it.

"I'm tired, I'm trying to get drunk, and I'm talking to you. That's what is with the anger."

"Tuff. I've got a job for you. The 1903 Wright Flyer has been stolen from the Smithsonian. The suspects include Tina Tumbler, Stacy Casey, and Carmen SanDiego."

Post erased because it was stupid.

To the person who found my site searching yahoo for "getting debris out of pool":

Did you really not find what you were looking for in the 220 web pages that came before mine in the search? Are you possibly so anal retentive that you had to have not only a second opinion but also a 221st opinion? I understand that many of these sites were only advertising services, but come on, one of them had to have the information you desired. On a side note, I hope you found this site to be a welcomed and refreshing change from the many, many, many variations of Tim's Warehouse of Water.

Thank you for your attention.
Brad

I worked today for the first time in years. I didn't make it thirty minutes. I'm so damn out of shape it's rediculous. I'm too damn tired to even write much more. The only thing I'm going to say is that I'm being prejudiced against (is that even the right term?). There is no more than one store within walking distance that sells beer and cigarettes. The manager of that store doesn't want to sell these things to me because I don't have a texas drivers licsense. Like I'm going to get a texas DL for the four or five days I'm in town. She's geographically biased. That bitch.

Well, I feel successful. I have managed to do absolutely nothing today. I haven't even left my room. Today was a good day.

Last night, however, was a different story. I had a dream that bothered me so badly I had to wake up and watch TV and smoke a cigarette before going back to sleep. I don't recall all of the details, but I do remember that some friends of mine and I were at some sort of festival at night. We were apparently waiting for the grande finale which was a sort of dragon thing (like the chinese do with a bunch of people under a costume). When it showed up, we all ran to it. That's when I noticed the sky was really, really clear and I could see all kinds of stars and even another arm of the galaxy or something. A few seconds later, I noticed what looked like some red particles flowing down said "arm". I didn't know what it was but it looked absolutely beautiful, that is until the red particles came showering down on us and we became aware that they were actually some sort of embers. Then the firey rocks came streaming from the sky. That's when I dove into a little clump of trees in some sort of ditch. I guess I thought that some trees would save me from hugh burning rocks. Anyway, as I landed from my dive, the ground started to phase in and out. I could still feel it, but it looked like some sort of mist and I could see the roots of the trees. That's when it happened. I was holding onto invisible ground for dear life and two giant monkeys with some sort of neon glow around their heads and outlining their arms and legs. I woke up at this point. I'm not real sure what bothered me. I don't know if I thought it was the end of the world or what. I do know that fucking ash hurt like hell.

I really do need a shrink.

According to TheSpark.com's sex test, I will either a)cheat on my wife, or b)lose her because apparently there's another person out there that I'll have sex with. Additionally, that person will be female and I have a 36% chance of dying during sex.

Also, according the the same website's friend test, I'm only 67% rock solid friend. Apprently, sacrificing my midgets for a friend just isn't enough.

One final result for now: Only 6% of the people who have taken their jerk test are bigger jerks than me. Hmmm . . . I don't believe that.

I'm so gay. The Goonies is on and I'm so excited it's all I can do to stop myself from jumping up and down on the bed. I should probably do that anyway since I'm in a new hotel.

Does any body besides me remember the good old days when vending machines told you they were sold out before you put your money in? Why haven't people risen up in armed protest of these machines that make you pick diet caffiene free low fat 99% less taste drinks when your first choice is out. I mean, if they let you get your dollar back that'd be one thing, but in an effort to stop people from making change from them, you can only get what's left after a selection.

On another note. I've become that guy. I'm the guy that makes a reservation at a hotel for arrival one night, we'll say Monday, and shows up on another, Saturday for example. I suck.

Edit addition: Marci, thanks for the offer to talk, I don't even know where to begin though. I guess it' a good thing I'll be in town in a little more than a week. I hope you don't have much to do.

Emotions and overly emotional people suck.

I have so much damn stuff going through my mind I don't even know where to begin or who to begin telling it to. I can't remember that last time I was so f*n jumbled. I don't think I can even put a name to the feeling I'm having. Nastalgia? Regret? Solitude? Aggrevation from misunderstanding? I need a psychologist. Marci?

I am in such a bad mood today, but since Marci's having a worse day, I won't steal her thunder.

I have so much to write about and yet so little to tell.

I guess I should start with lunch. Our dike waitress couldn't resist rubbing her tits on my back when she was taking orders, giving us our food, asking if everything was okay, or just simply in my general vacininty. If she didn't look absolutly lesbian, I would have thought she wanted me. It's too bad I don't have the right hardware.

As for this class, it's not so bad. I had a lot of bad preconceptions coming in, but, while they were true, it wasn't to the extent I thought it would be. What I mean to say is that I knew coming here that it would be a "get in touch with your emotions" sort of thing, and while it has a group therapy feel to it, I'm still having fun. I have finally gotten a chance to meet the engineering interns and they aren't as bad as I thought they'd be. As a matter of fact, they thought the same thing about us as we thought about them, i.e. Oh man, these guys are gonna be a bunch of fucking squares. Turns out none of us are.

Actually, we've spent the past few hours getting drunk together and now we've come up with a pool on who is going to cry first (since this is supposed to be a very emotional class). Naturally, none of the guys made it into the top five bets. There was one guy that was a wine lover and we thought he might be the one, but then we found out he drinks whiskey straight, so that's a no go. Our top bets are the Super Christian Girl and the I'm Fifty Seven and I Still Don't Know Who I Really Am Lady.

I feel that I should point out that I told off my wife tonight. She called me again with the, "I can't get our son to sleep and he doesn't listen to me" crap tonight. I don't know if I just can't take it any more or if I've just had too much to drink, but either way I told her that she needs to just give it a real f'n try and not quit after 2.5 minutes and if he's not listening to what you want him to do to make him do it. I may be wrong here, but I've been under the philosphy that if you don't give him a choice, he'll do it . . . especially if you make him.

Any way, I'm a little put off buy this course because I'm supposed to write a journal everyday. Obviously, that's not really a big deal to me, except that I don't really write what they want to hear. Maybe that's okay. Since it's way past my bed time I guess we're going to find out.

Well, here I am in the bustling city that is Kansas City, MO. I must say that I haven't been real impressed yet. The only things around here for food are a WaHo, Ruby Tuesday, and a Wendy's that is a bit further away than I think I'm willing to go.

As for the trip here, everything was fine with the exception of my connector from Salt Lake City here to Kansas City. I was on a jet the was only one step from a Turbo Prop. It wasn't so bad I guess, there was more leg room than in the standard heavies, but the roof on the aisle was about one third of an inch over my head when I stood up, and touching my head when I stood up straight. The real kicker was the bathroom. It's ceiling was approximately two feet shorter than the aisle, so when I went in there I had to either 1)sit and hunch over my knees because it had a curved wall, or 2)bend my body into an unholy position involving me with my head cocked to one side, knees bent about 50 degrees, all of this cocked to one side slightly to allow just a little more room and with my pelvis thrust foward so I didn't pee on my shoes. What a torture device that was.

Well, I'm back from Vegas. The good news? I've had a chance to go out and play in the yard with my kid and my new laptop has come in. The bad news? I only have twenty hours (of which I've already used 16) in town before I leave again, this time for Kansas City and San Antonio and also for two weeks. Sucks to be me.

Further updates to follow. It's a possiblity that I will be meeting and hanging out with the other people that went to free beer with Marci, Chris, et al. Good or bad news? I'll let you, gentle reader, decide.