It's a treat for you.. drink it!

Last night I sat down to watch The Road, featuring Robert Duvall, Guy Pearce and Viggo Mortenson's buttocks (two scenes! WITH cellulite!) in a special "For the love of fuck, PLEASE give us an oscar for this!" performance.

It is the story of a young child being helped along as he makes his difficult way through puberty against the backdrop of southern rural America, in the early 1960s... Uhm, wait. Actually, no it isn't.

This film is based on the Cormac McCarthy book of the same name, a tale set in a post-nuclear (?) future in which the driving theme is about a father's love for his child and the loss of humanity. It was recommended to me last year by a friend and promptly devoured in the space of three days. As I was tearing into it, I was both impressed at the economical and bleak style of writing yet there were a few elements that I found irritating.

For one thing, the dialogue in the book is horrendous. I'm certain that a pair of neanderthals clapping rocks together would have offered more insight and exposition than the characters in the novel did.

Another issue I had, was the ending. It wasn't what I expected. It was open-ended, and ultimately a disappointment. Why? Because the damned kid appeared ungrateful for the sacrifices his father had made for him.

The ending that McCarthy wrote, (spoilerz!) made an implication that the child was to be the saviour of mankind, he carried the "fire" within his heart. Yet as the book came to an end - he treats his father's death with the equivalent of a shoulder shrug. This was in conflict with the way the narrative unfolded in which the boy was given every possible luxury and treated like the pubescent second coming of Christ.

Come on. You don't just say "oh well, dad's dead" and then latch onto this other family who happens to be wandering by afterwards. It made me lose all empathy for this kid, which I suppose may have been lazy writing. (oh noes, my publishing deadline is nearing!)

(/spoiler) So I didn't come into this film with any high expectations other than wanting to see a reasonable faithfulness towards the source material. Surprisingly, the director made it work out fairly well. The colour palette effectively conveyed a gloomy, post-nuclear fallout vibe and the score by Nick Cave of all people - was subtle and whimsical, very much appropriate.

Yet, where the film fails, is in the deviations it makes. There are at least a half a dozen flashbacks involving Viggio's wife (as played by Charlize Theron) and while it is always a joy (in most men's pants) to see Charlize prance about, it doesn't work for this film.

The idea of the novel (which didn't have any of these flashbacks, or as many), is to draw the reader into a bleak, unforgiving post-apocalyptic world. However, the director decided to break up any perceived monotony by throwing in these brightly-shot vignettes to offset the doom and gloominess.

Big mistake.

The thing is, we are SUPPOSED to experience discomfort which is what I thought the novel excelled at doing. The cinematic flashbacks, in a way, diminished the intensity of hopelessness which is prevalent throughout and kills the tone. Except for that one flashback where Viggio ravages his wife's naughty bits at the opera (that scene can stay).

But, the film version of The Road - as well crafted, shot, acted etc, just doesn't hit the mark. But it didn't fall apart at the seams either. It's a cinematic experience where you can blow off a couple of hours and be entertained. What more would you want from a rental anyways, right? So it delivered on that front.

Yet as a legacy that shall endure, or even as a contender of any kind of award (other than cinematography), The Road ain't all that. There are some scenes worth watching that I continue to be impressed by, the coke can ("it's a treat for you") and the part where they leave a robber naked in the road to die, as he whimpers with strands of snot dripping off his face. It's a powerfully emotional moment and it left quite an impression. Yet, those type of scenes are few and far in-between.

I suppose much of the blame falls on McCarthy as well. I don't think I remember reading about irradiated mutants aimlessly wandering around carrying giant clubs with nails poking out of them raping anything that moved. I feel that the story could have been tweaked out a bit more and given a little extra oomph.

So that's that. My out of 11 ranking (just 'cause I'm boss like that), would put the Road at a..

Hmm.. Let's say, 7.45 / 11. Making it a bit better than average, yet without approaching the "omg I want to watch it again!" level.

Also, the asscheeks killed part of the score. I'm sorry, but when you got a guy romping about in the nude and the kid keeps his clothes on (to the detriment of pedobears the world over) - it just smacks of shoehorning in a gratuitous spectacle. I'm looking at you, Eastern Promises. *shakes fist*

In other news. I still love Lauren and I'm back to being a cynical asshole.

As you were.

closure - it's whats for dinner

Finally. I finally got what I wanted from my relationship.

Closure. The knowing why and how it came to an end.

A few days ago, I was at Walmart holding in my hand a case of bottled water when I happened to noticed the Halloween costumes all up on racks nearby. I've always enjoyed checking out the latest advancement in costume technology and sadly, there wasn't much other than latex Avatar masks that bucked the trend of vampires, werewolves and a kit containing everything one needs in order to impersonate Michael Jackson. Yeah, the single glove with glitter was included, the prosthetic nose sadly, was not.

Yet, it was when my watchful gaze travelled towards the children costumes did I notice one in particular that caught my attention.

It was this:

AUGHHghh. How disgustingly cute is that? There was no way I could possibly resist purchasing this item, despite the fact that I am single and have no children of my own. Sad to say.

Yet, my ex-girlfriend's child came to mind. Her name is Sophia, a precocious two years old with an unhealthy Elmo fetish. She is exactly the person an Indonesian seamstress earned six cents and contributed sixteen minutes of her life towards.

I knew Soph would enjoy wearing it :)

But.. as any reader of this blog would know, I have broken up with the ex and such a gesture may be interpreted as an excuse to worm my way back into a relationship.

This was so not the case for me. I bought it because I knew Soph would like it and as a result, the thought alone was all I needed to be content with.

Yet, it was problematic of me to decide whether or not I should lay this costume at the front door and leave, or maybe I would be able to knock and give this gift in person.

A few days passed, to last night and I bit the bullet.

I texted Lauren saying that I missed her.

Ugh. It's true. It's probably not what I should have said, but in my heart it was something that needed to be expressed. How do I know this? Because for most of my day I had been fighting off a headache that immediately resolved itself after I had sent this message.

The only explanation I can come up with, is that my repressed emotions were physically causing me pain.

So, with that text sent, we chatted off and on over the course of the day. I wasn't sure what I was doing other than enjoying talking to her and getting up to speed with how her life has been lately. The next day however, I dropped the bomb and told Lauren of the costume I had for Soph. She expressed a concern that I was crossing the "ex boundary" and that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea.

I explained myself as best as I could. That I was doing this out of my own free will, that there was no ulterior motive or strings attached to this deal. I just wanted her child to be happy, which despite my not being directly involved in her life - made me feel a little happier as well.

It was a tough decision for me to do, but I had already purchased this outfit and I wasn't going to throw it away. So I drove up to Lauren's house and left it at the door, as she suggested I do. It didn't feel all that great to be honest, not being able to come inside and see the smile on her child's face as I handed it over. But hey.. I still felt a measure of joy from having done this. I don't regret it.

Over the next few hours, words were exchanged through text and finally the tipping point presented itself and these were what followed:

What else do you want from me, David? I can't imagine that our continued correspondence is a good thing. Its just dragging it on and on.

I just can't understand you Lauren. I really can't. You've been all over the place in our relationship and I am genuinely concerned about your behavior.

Your concern is patronizing and unwarranted. You're the one who can't regulate your emotions, admit responsibility or take no for an answer.

And being passionate is not the same as being irrational and overly sensitive.

There is something about your neediness, sensitivity, and dependency that inspires meanness in me. I don't like it. But you don't back off.

Thanks for finally opening up about how you feel. I could argue with you all night about what you said but the fact is...

I still love you. And you have yet to know what that word even means. Maybe someday you will.

Good night Lauren.

And thank you for a lesson that I needed to learn.

No, it wasn't easy for me to take, but I needed to hear those words. The thing with Lauren is that she always had a hard time articulating how she felt. This was an aspect of our relationship that greatly contributed to it's failure as it was often up to me to try and understand what was going through her mind at any given time.

Even direct questions were often met with a blank stare or given an answer that offered little insight into the feelings she kept to herself.

Yes, I admit and take responsibility for my actions. I was needy, insecure and dependent. I know that. I accept it and I am a better person now for being able to pinpoint what I did wrong.

What must be understood is that I did not enter the relationship as the kind of person Lauren described. This was the result of her attempted breakup and I began to feel more insecure and desperate for anything that I could plant both feet in. There was never any sense of commitment given by her to me. Only the barest illusion of it.

She is a tragedy that has yet to fully appreciate what love really is and what it involves. This sort of truth is usually revealed when one has suffered or experienced rejection, things that are alien to her comprehension as she had always been the first to leave a relationship.

There is nothing sadder than a person who is incapable of understanding and expressing love for another human being. Or for themselves. People often mimic what they feel "love" should be, and quite often, it becomes more mechanical then genuine. Like a bad pantomime.

This is something that I and Lauren both need to work on as we go our separate ways. I had surrendered my individuality to this person and was disrespected for having done so. That was my biggest mistake and I have no choice but to pay for it.

Hers, was not knowing what love really is and the things that it involves doing. You do not say "I love you" and then hurt the person you are with for no reason other than to serve an insecurity within yourself that demands malicious and cruel behaviour.

I should add that she has been sexually abused as a child. Maybe her manipulative behaviour is operating from a sense of helplessness and a desire to control others.

I don't know. I might never know why she acted this way if she can't even explain it herself.

I wasn't proud of what I did today. Part of me did operate out of self-interest rather than altruism. That is not to say I didn't care, or used the gift as an excuse to connect, but that is direction that I unexpectedly went towards.

So.. with a heavy heart, I must accept responsibility for compromising the truth that I carry within. The lesson being, to never succumb to another person's whims at the expense of your values and needs. Love should be giving, understanding, respectful and caring. It is supposed to bring out the best side of another human being, not the worst.

It was a tough lesson and I am still learning it. It is not easy for me to admit at the moment, but I am fortunate to have had this experience to grow and evolve from.

And.. I think I can start to move on now. Though I haven't had all of my questions answered, I think the most important one was knowing if Lauren meant what she said when I asked if she loved me.

"Yes, I believe so."

It appeared to be a hesitant and unsure answer.

I still love her though, but in a different way now.

And I will suffer the pain of it. For however long it lasts.

God help me.

I am such a loser.

wistfully withering wantonly

There was a man, living in a house, alone, sad and weary on a quiet, unassuming Sunday afternoon.

He was reclining in a chair shaped like a bowl, resting upon a wooden base. It was much like the feeling of being encased in the womb, yet with a startling degree of comfort and a lack of a umbilical cord attached to his bellybutton.

It was upon this throne, that the man mused. Contemplated, even. The vastness of the space he found himself within. A bedroom, large in size with a walk in closet and a bathroom, fumes of paint tinted the air he breathed as he sat upon this chair, typing on his laptop with quiet intensity.

Listening to the sounds outside of his home, the man could discern cars in the distance, growling softly as they made their way to whichever the destination may be. The sound would swell at first and gently fade into the wind until it was difficult to distinguish between the two.

Winter was coming. As he sat in his chair, the back of his head rested near an open-window to which cold, icy fingers reached inside to brush lightly against his neck. This was his feared nemesis, the bane of his existence, an enemy that is silently marching towards his door in proportionally greater strength with each passing day.

Summer has faded into the nothingness from whence it came. There would no longer be joy in stepping outside to appreciate the tree in his front yard, as it regretfully shedded the leaves that clung to it's branches. It, as well as others, wither into skeletons during this season. Sticks reaching for the sky in protest, the garments that it had been garbed within, laying scattered among it's feet, curled up and decaying.

Yet, the man resigned himself to his fate. It was the natural order of things after all. And it would be difficult to appreciate summers without the contrast of winter. For as he was well aware, it is the pain that makes pleasure all that much more meaningful.

And he was in pain. His head throbbed, whether it be from the fumes in the room he was in, or caused by the cigar he had smoked a short while ago. His stomach gently growled, the suppression of hunger was something he had grown used to.

For he was unable to find much joy in food. It seemed to him that he has tasted all that life had to offer and he could not find any contentment or surprises that he could lavish his taste buds with.

Music, also, sparkled much less brightly than it once had for him. His ears seemed to strip a melody of it's magic, leaving only a husk in it's place that shuffled reluctantly into his heart.

An emptiness enveloped him, as he sat in his moon chair, clinging to the illusion of the warm embrace that it offered. Yet, his soul knew that it was not being comforted, or given what it needed.

He sighed, letting a soft gust of air escape his lips. There was not much that could cheer him up at this point. He knew the hurt that held a fierce grip upon his soul, it's claws digging ever that much deeper whenever he should ruminate upon it.

The one thing that he feared most, was losing his ability to love again. To feel and connect with the passion he once had. For he had been such a man, kind, gentle and in love with life, yet, as he sat alone, his heart grew heavier with each passing moment.

His thoughts cried out in silent agony, as if they were beggers in ragged clothing with empty hats reaching towards him. He could not bear the sight of them. Tears threatened to fill his eyes as he forced himself to look away, feeling shame as he did so.

The man sat in his bedroom with bare feet rubbing lightly on the carpet. Hair, wet from a shower that he didn't really need but took anyways, anything that would help distract him often became solicited and welcome diversions.

Anything to keep from feeling this pain.

The man sat. Typing on his laptop.

Not knowing what he should do next.

the hardest part of being in love..

.. is letting go.


I still have knots in my stomach.

Quizzes like these makes me smile. I had a strong urge to braid my hair after taking it.

It's Genuine Love!

The genuine love bug has most likely bitten! You have the mature ability to see your guy in the true light of day, without putting him up on some pedestal of perfection. Unconditional caring is essential to any strong bond, and will be a stable basis for weathering any emotional storms between you. Real romantic love will usually endure, and even deepen, when the going gets tough. Good luck, lucky girl!

Lucky girl, indeed. :P

the bitter morning after pill

I really don't enjoy dating. It's not so much as worrying about making a good first impression, but it's the whole random factor of not knowing what type of person you will end up meeting. There are people who consider this part of dating to be the most exciting, but not me. I consider the most interesting part of a relationship is the moment when two people open themselves up emotionally and sexually. And the initial meeting can only offer a small glimpse of potential.

So, last night was coffee with Lisa. She's 36, single and had just left a nine-year relationship. Prior to meeting her, she seemed sweet, smart, sassy and in touch with her emotions. While we didn't have a whole lot of emails or text messages exchanged, we did favour quality over quantity and her perspective on my breakup was invaluable and very appreciated. So, it felt like I was in debt to this person and that I owed her for the help she had given me.

In the two hours we spent there, I was on. Ribald. Suave. Funny. Smart. Flirtatious. Yet, as I stared into her dark, brown eyes I couldn't help but wish they were ..

(sighs) .. Lauren's color.

No. I'm still not over it.

You would think that the cure for a broken heart is to be with someone new, and I'm sorry to say that it didn't help very much.

While we shared two hours of non-stop conversation and later made plans for the weekend, I felt sad afterwards. This wasn't the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, not even close. Though she shared a lot of the same views I do, there was just something "off" about the meeting that I couldn't put my finger on.

It felt to me, as if my body showed up but my heart stayed at home. When we discussed sex, there was a stirring of emotion that had me leaning forward like a giant perv, but there wasn't anything else I was interested in. She works two jobs, is busy with home renovations / friends and with the small amount of free time that she does have, it's not spent on any artistic or intellectual pursuit like music, movies or books. She openly confessed that she doesn't have a hobby, a favourite band or is all that interested in doing anything creative.

.. This sucks. While it was fun to hang out with her and be reminded that I hadn't lost sight of the man I've always been, I still felt disappointed in her not living up to the online persona that she created.

There's something to be said for chemistry, there really is. If it's not there, it's not worth pursuing. But, in this case, I am interested in seeing where it might go. Maybe things will change over time and I will begin to see her in a different light, but I can only be cautiously optimistic about that.

So.. that was the date. It went well. It was two hours. And we made plans for a movie on the weekend. Big whoop. The only thing that I'm somewhat intrigued by is how sexually generous she made herself out to be. Not in the "omg what a whore" kind of way, but in the "I love giving BJs and don't ask for anything in return" way. After having been involved with someone who wasn't very affectionate, this was a welcome change of pace for me.

After we exchanged our goodbyes, I found myself making the long drive back home from the West End. As I passed 156 street, I realized that ..

(sighs)

.. Lauren lives on 149th.

I figured I would drive by. For what reason, I don't know. I just wanted to see her place again and maybe feel a bit better for having done so.

As I sat in the car down the block looking at the light on her front porch, something welled up inside of me.

It was like... I had butterflies in my stomach, but a more deeper and balanced sensation.

So I got out of the car, thinking I would knock on her door, ask for a hug and then leave. I walked up, knocked and it took me all of six seconds as I was waiting, to realize that I am a complete, fucking idiot for doing this.

I turned around and left, glancing at the window to notice a silhouette of her head framed against the computer monitor. Whether she was deliberately ignoring answering the door, or oblivious to it - I forced myself to walk back to the car and drive home.

I hated myself for that. But I'm glad I didn't knock a second time, I think that says something about me that I should be proud of. At least I came to understand that I have some measure of self-control in this situation and that I can .. (dammit) try ..to go on with my life. That I was able to step outside of my feelings and look at what I was doing, knocking on the door of an ex-girlfriend who is unwilling to love and accept me for who I am.

.. I can't be with someone like that. But why.. why does it still hurt so fucking much? Why is it that I'm fighting back tears as I write this and why can't I stop thinking about her?

.. I hate not knowing the difference between love and obsession.

I hate it.

FML.

pride and prune juice

So I'm taking this entry to expose the sinister underpinnings of what my brainz has been up to lately.

I'm talking about "the book" of course. An imposing tome bound in human skin that shall become the legacy that I will leave behind.

The thing is, I hate discussing the book. As I was looking over past entries on my blog, I came across one that laid out how I felt about being motivated enough to put a book together. I started thinking, well, that was three years ago almost wasn't it? What have I done since then? And it hit me.

A hell of a lot more than I had hoped for.

It's interesting how it works. I have been consumed by many ideas for a book or screenplay during my lifetime, yet there was always that moment when I'm forty pages in and thinking, "geez, I like this other idea better." And then whatever I've done flies away like a deflating balloon. Pfbhthtjrkghghtutututtttt! It even makes that sound as it exits my consciousness.

It doesn't help that all of my previous ideas have been given enthusiastic green-lights by people who have read them, there was just nothing that inspired me enough to keep pushing forward with it.

Until last year that is. When I came across an idea so audacious that my enthusiasm has yet to wane over it. While I can't possibly describe what it is in detail, it is the most original thing I have ever thought of.

What really hit me, when going over that one post from two years ago, was the amount of pages I have came up with.

over TWO HUNDRED. Two hundred and nineteen to be exact, and that is not including the 136 pages I have of "supplemental" material that I still need to work on.

So I think I've found it. I've discovered what my legacy shall end up being, and it will be this book.

The fun part about writing to me, is how when I go about my daily routine, something just "pops" into my noggin and I scramble to get it written down before it flutters away.

Take for example a quote like this:

"Culture is the reflection of humanity's spirit."

It's short, sure, but it's true and to the point. It's what I consider to be a lead-in, where one sentence can inspire a diatribe or monologue that can be segued into. It can be fleshed out, dissected, examined, fried with bacon and then surreptitiously consumed (YUM). At the very least, it can inspire a few extra pages worth of material that I can shoehorn into the main body of my manuscript.

I'm really proud of what I have accomplished with this, and how it feels when I put together a paragraph that sings it's way off the page and renews my faith in the process.

The thing is, it's not an easy task to write a few hundred pages of fiction. Non-fiction, sure, I mean you can always find references and people to quote. There's a formal structure that is fairly simple to follow when it comes to putting together a "how to" or anything that is rooted in exploration of an existing or new idea.

But fiction? There is always the risk that your imagination will run out of steam at some point and you would have to start taking ideas from other sources.

I'm glad that isn't the case with what I'm doing. Not at this point, anyways.

Two hundred pages. When I look at my binder struggling to contain what I have written this past year, I can't help but feel both intimidated and proud of what I have done.

This isn't a subject I'm comfortable discussing, but who cares? As far as my friends know, this blog died years ago and I'm shocked whenever I see a visitor listed on my site meter, so.. at least this all appears to be quite anonymous. Though I do wonder why I'm posting it online when I should maybe consider doing an offline journal.

But hey, I love this blog and there's a sentimental attachment that I still have towards it.

So, this is me brushing off the cobwebs of trying to write informally again. I miss the times when every day was an adventure and I think blogging was really something that I needed to be doing more often. Because, it becomes inspirational in it's own way. "What should I blog about today?" is a thought that can reoccur over the course of my daily routine, and thusly encourages a more objective and interested perspective in the things that go on around me.

Let's hope I can get back to doing this seriously again, because I love it. I miss it. And I should never have abandoned it.

(*kisses monitor*)

Four more hours until I get to go out on a date! Maybe I'll even brag write about it!

the river of deceit flows down

Getting up out of bed today had me thinking almost immediately about what I wrote last night.

Lauren. Lauren. Lauren.

I admit it. I’m obsessed, or I at least have a hard time letting go of her. The second part rings truer than the first because I can’t bring myself to think that there is anyone else out there that I’d rather be with (excluding Patricia Arquette, Beyonce and Catwoman).

It really fucking sucks to have this kind of thing on my mind from morning to night. I’m finding ways to keep distracted but the free moments almost inevitably lead to a recollection of the good and bad of my past relationship.

The visual of her face framed by clouds as we had sex in her backyard.
The time she attacked me and made love on the couch.
The way holding her hand felt so right as we watched a movie together.
The way she tucked her feet into my lap as we sat opposite each other on the patio.

The time we spent in Canmore listening to the radio in bed and the god awesome steak we shared together.

The fights. The hypocrisy. Having her daughter hug my leg. Random memories that float from outside of my peripheral awareness and dance about for immediate attention.

Then, the sudden urge to look at pictures of us together on my phone. The occasional teary eye.

Whenever I think my obsession has to do with wanting to change her mind or feeling like I will never find anyone else like her out there; I’m reminded of something my friend Jerry said.

“10-08-30 4:15 PM: I think you may realize that Lauren as a whole may be pretty unique and it will be difficult to find someone quite like her. But her good attributes, the things you liked about her won't be. If you focus on finding someone like Lauren then it will be a long and difficult process...”

That is so true.

It’s funny, but I keep reminding myself of the negative qualities this girl has. And I can think of many. Sure, she wasn’t perfect, but she was a lot like me. We were both flawed. And had my upbringing been a little different, I suspect my life would have followed the same trajectory as hers. I would’ve gone for a Ph.D in psych as well. I love helping people, I enjoy trying to understand and work through their problems. It's something I’m very passionate about and would have done had my destiny thought otherwise. And had I been with a more supportive family who wouldn't have pushed me away from psychology/writing, there's no telling what I could have accomplished by now.

The chemistry.. the rapport.. I just can’t get over how there was rarely a dull or awkward moment with this person.

But really, is she the one I am meant for?

How can a girlfriend look me square in the eye and cheerfully announce, "I'm going to visit my ex while in Toronto!" days after we had a fight about seeing ex's? Is she that clueless? Inconsiderate? Or was I privy to the reflection of the depth of cruelty she is capable of expressing?

What kind of person is she? How can she go from "You're the only man for me" to "I think we should see other people." Or, "I love you." - said with a straight face, and weeks later: "I'm holding out for someone more compatible."

How can someone change their mind like this at the drop of a hat? Is this the kind of person I would want to be with? Someone who has admitted to cheating in the past and claiming monogamy "is such a struggle" for her?

How? I am really trying hard to understand how she arrived at all this. I know she's heartless, cruel, emotionally-immature and stubborn as hell, but..

I can't stop thinking about her. It hurts knowing how casually she curb-stomped our relationship.

I spend all day thinking about her. I'm trying to distract myself but my thoughts keep gravitating towards someone who seems incapable of being a decent, caring human being.

Why that is, I’m really not sure. I just know that the heart wants what the heart wants and allowing myself to feel the pain of seperation is just another step in the grieving process.

Or maybe I hate giving up. Or maybe I want something I can't have.

Maybe it really is love. Though I question why after all that she has done, that I’m still feeling this way. Conflicted. Confused. Unable to move on.

And why a new girl in my life is unable to fill the void that was left behind.

I don’t know.

I’m going to home depot and buy paint for my bedroom. It’s time to put the focus back on my life where it belongs. Yeah, on home improvement. I can only laugh at how trivial it is in comparison to what it feels being without someone to hug and kiss.

(sighs) .. It’s another day.

I’ll get by.

oh, snap

Wow. Seeing my blog again for the first time in a year has stirred a mess of emotions, both good and bad.

I’ve neglected my baby :’(

I didn’t mean to lose sight of the importance of journalling, but there were several good reasons for me to do so. I had wanted to put focus on other areas of my life, chief among them trying to accomplish what I wanted most.

To be loved.

.. It’s pathetic isn’t it? People usually desire trivial things. Money, fame, prestige, respect, admiration, a good-hearted towel-whip on the buttocks. But I wanted something deeper, something more meaningful and visceral in the way that poets would describe as the nakedness of the soul. I wanted to feel like I could give myself up to someone who was willing to drop the pretences, the cynicism that comes with living in such a shitty, materialistic and “me”-centric world. Someone I could be myself around and not have to apologize or feel insecure about.

I wanted to be loved.. and I found someone, who for the first time in my life seemed to have *almost* all of the criteria that I have come to admire in the relationships I’ve been. She was smart, funny, pretty, independent, strong-willed, fun in bed, was able to wax philosophically as well as being able to discuss psychology which is a fascination of mine... but she was also petty, insensitive, selfish, superficial, ambitious to the point of being oblivious and took my feelings for granted.

Yet I loved her like I’ve never loved anyone else before.

It’s a sad fucking cliche to hear these stories of unrequited love or the ones where the perfect couple gets torn apart due to some unforeseen calamity and the guy/girl falls apart at the seams. You see it all the time in movies, books, songs and in the question in the back of everyone’s mind is:

“Can that shit even exist?”

And I’m .. pained to say that .. it does and it does not. Things like “The Notebook” can happen. But it is so rare to find that perfect person whom you wish to share your entire life with. Especially when you misinterpret their motives and what level of commitment they are willing to give.

I made a mistake in thinking that I did find the right girl. That Lauren was everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m a broken, bitter person now for the things I have been through in the past three months.

Maybe I was wrong, maybe the kind of love I am searching for doesn’t exist. Maybe I need to be content with a woman who prefer me to be an asshole rather than a genuine, honest human being. Because face it, 80% of relationships is a power-struggle. You give, you take, they give, they take. It’s just the way it works and quite often, being upfront about your feelings is like emptying the bullets out of your rifle in the middle of a war. BE VERY FUCKING CAREFUL ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE DOING. Because there is nothing more dangerous in this world, than to trust someone so completely that you’ve willingly disclosed your vulnerabilities without asking for anything in return.

Well, that’s not quite true. I asked her, or should I say, ASSUMED that she would reciprocate in kind. That had I been honest and proved myself trustworthy, that I would receive the same treatment. Treat others as you wish to be treated. Someone has to make the first move, right?

Was that ever a mistake. Not only did I find myself being thought of as being unworthy of respect and told I wasn’t “smart” enough to be with her; I also had to endure the trauma of having an axe taken to the concept of love that I have been nurturing all my life. This person shook my beliefs to the core and all I can feel right now is pure contempt for allowing me to be able to trust and confide in someone who wasn’t willing or capable of expressing their feelings in an equally honest and straightforward way.

I’m so ashamed of myself for the way it turned out.

But let’s get back to the beginning.

Lauren and I had met online through a dating site, we texted back and forth, emailed and eventually spoke on the phone. I suggested we meet up for a movie and thought nothing of it.

I wasn’t particularly excited about this date. Or this person, though she was a bit more interesting than the other women I’ve conversed online with. I mean, this girl could hold her own in a conversation without resorting to LOLs and one-line responses. That was impressive enough for me to warrant a date, but I would never have seen the trainwreck coming had things not unfolded as they did.

I think the pivotal moment for me was sitting opposite Lauren, looking into her eyes and thinking “my god, she’s beautiful”. But, before someone can assume it was only appearance or lust that clinched it for me, I can say that while this wasn’t quite love at first sight, it felt very promising. It seemed real. The connection was simply there.

She was overweight and a single-mom, but to me, those aspects were easy to overlook. Only the superficial and shallow would hold such things against someone, presumably forfeiting who the person is in favour of some delusional fantasy that they’ve constructed for themselves.

The night unfolded painlessly, I had fun, Kick-ass was a great way to waste a few hours and we exchanged an awkward hug/kiss in the car before I went home.

Hell, I really could not have seen it coming.

I think it was around date number three where it started to infect me. The potential for us became much more obvious. Because by this point, we had exchanged constant text messages feeling each other out, she implied she was a monogamous person and interested in pursuing a long term relationship. Questions were asked about if I was able to re-locate to another city in the event she changed jobs, how many children I wanted, what shape my finances were in.. I bought it all hook, line and sinker thinking it meant she was smitten with me.

And this is the price I am paying for being so naive.

Because while we shared the most incredible chemistry I have ever experienced with another person in the first few weeks - it all came crashing down after I had failed her “friends” test. You know the one. Where you meet her friends and she watches to see how well you get along with them.

The day after this happened, I got a phone call from her suggesting that we should break up.

My mind was blown. BREAK UP?! After this incredible sex, chemistry, communication, etc? None of that matters because I couldn’t get along with your friends?

Let me draw out the situation. Lauren’s “friends” are head-in-the-sand, disrespectful, egotistical and unpleasant people to be around. From the moment I walked through the door of their apartment, I was not given any introductions, had my hand shaken or welcomed inside. That doesn't mean it was all about "me", it only pointed out the level of courtesy they were capable of giving.

A subsequent BBQ party involving those two and three others ended up proving me right, as they collectively sucked up oxygen rendering most everyone else mute. I felt embarrassed for the three other people there who were forced to listen to an egotistical maniac describe how her mother picks up empty bottles on the side of roads. Who cares? That's not a party, it's a stage with one person hogging the spotlight at everyone else's expense.

It was such a horrible experience. Ever had someone blab at you without pause, not caring what you think or wanting anything more than an excuse to put their fat egos on display? This was that, but with THREE people involved. Non-stop chatter, just this sickening exhibition of verbal masturbation in which I was phased out of existence upon arrival.

And I failed the test because I wasn’t able to throw mindless random crap in response to what seemed like a flurry of non-sequiturs and ego stroking. There was little attempt on anyone’s part to become more involved or thoughtful about the topics being discussed. I have never seen three people so insecure with themselves that they formed a perfect synergy of psychic vampirism.

I mean, get this. You have the receptive audience (Lauren), you have the Queen (Tammy) and a dutiful servant (her husband Mike) all bouncing off the walls clamouring to fulfill such petty needs that I was starting to disassociate myself to keep from feeling ill.

I don’t claim to be this incredible psychologist who can pick apart situations with ease and reflect on it’s composition and the motivations involved, but I’m not an idiot either. I could see very clearly what each person was getting.

Tammy - An arena in which she can demonstrate her awesomeness
Lauren - The squire or handmaiden to this great, charming person
Mike - A cheering section in fear of losing his relevancy

And me, the only guy in the room that would have liked to spend just two minutes on a topic without having it derailed in favour of something more gratifying to the egos involved.

But, I realized afterwards, that it wasn’t a test that could be passed. There is no living being on this planet (aside from the Elephant Man and maybe Stephen Hawking) who could have taken attention away from the ego tripping and steer it towards the realm of normal conversation between people who respected and were interested in learning about each other.

So, by holding my tongue, I failed this “test” and that was when momentum shifted. It went from amazing relationship to the threat of no relationship and because I didn’t want to let go of this incredible thing we had going - I sucked it up and gave my best anti-breakup speech. I was honest, expressive, stifled back tears which I eventually failed at - but remained humble, and I’m still proud of how I conducted myself during that moment.

And it worked. We were back on. One month under the belt, two more to go.

.. This is a really long story.

Points of contention began to emerge from here on out. One issue in particular was the idea of being able to “hang out” with male “friends, irregardless of their martial status and without my being invited.

The idea was that I had to “trust” her. This was just a few weeks after the first breakup attempt and I was still smarting from it.

No fucking way was I going to put up with that. I threatened to leave if she wouldn’t compromise, I was already going along with it until driving home my emotions got the best of me and I texted saying that I loved her. I felt like I had nothing to lose or gain in saying that and it was something I was happy with keeping to myself until the right moment came along.

What a big fucking mistake. We got back together, but now she knew how I felt and didn’t feel obligated to say that she loved me back. At least not right away.

That was month two. The downward spiral commenced. I withdrew, became guarded, lost sight of my other commitments and friends. The relationship soon turned into a project, an idea for me to work on, to improve and to salvage.

In short, it became work. And work fucking sucks when one person is sitting on their ass calling all the shots while you sweat and break your back trying to keep everything together and making the best of the situation.

Another thorn in my side was her being a single mom. Yes, BAGGAGE. I hadn’t gone into the relationship thinking that it was an important thing to be wary of, but I was gullible and ended up fooling myself.

Because I was already good with kids, I figured that would be the only issue I would have to deal with. Not so, as babysitting was a bitch to come by and 90% of the time we spent together could only be at her place. There wasn’t any room for my usual spontaneity, or opening ourselves up to more experiences and situations where we could better understand and learn about each other.

90% of the time was at her place, and I started wondering why am I even here? For sex? Companionship? Conversation? She had never really explained why she enjoyed my company.

I think I was just a way to pass time.

Then.. down the line, she admitted she loved me. But it turned out to be a red herring because you don’t treat people you love, the way she treated me. When you say words like that, you are supposed to mean them. You don’t send a wimpy half-assed declaration in the form of a text message bereft of emotion and sincerity. You don’t start saying shit like “being selfish has always worked for me, why change?”, or “monogamy is such a struggle.”

you know what? I am sick of writing about all this. I am actually feeling nauseous reliving these moments. “I want to be the girlfriend you need and deserve.” right, I believe it. She was a lonely person that dangled carrots in my face. She lied, she was hypocritical, made harsh judgements, assumptions, availed herself of effort in making things work and was a cruel, manipulative and confused human being. In the final stages, I was a puppet being dangled about to do her bidding.

The worst part was being given hope. “I want to be the girlfriend you need and deserve”. And not actually bothering to, y’know, DO something about it. Make an effort. Anything. Just don’t expect me to cater to your whims while you sit back with a smug expression on your face knowing that I’m eating out of the palm of your hand.

Never again.

I learned something very important from all of this.

And that is to be true to yourself. ALWAYS. Always put your needs ahead of anyone else’s because its YOU that matters the most. It’s YOU that has to live with your decisions, your successes, your calamities and fallacies and whatever. They go with you from the cradle to the grave.

We all die alone.

Love is a mutual thing. There should not be any dependency involved. It should not be teased about or taken lightly. It should be giving, forgiving, caring, honest, trusting, appreciating, encouraging... It’s should be about bringing out the best in each other and overlooking their weak points. But at the very least, love is an effort. It is not effortless, no matter how you slice it. This applies to love-struck teenagers as well as the couple celebrating fifty years of marriage and toasting colostomy bags together. Love is about making compromises and being sympathetic to the needs and feelings of your partner. It is not about one person being waited on hand and foot.

I just hate what she turned me into. Putting me on the defensive, getting me frustrated, not being able to be who I am and calling all the shots. Excuses pulled out of thin air that contradicts things that were said earlier on. “I love yous” said with a straight face and holding empty promises. No desire to change or accommodate my needs or to prove herself worthy of my attention.

There was trouble the moment I started asking, “what about my needs?”

“YOUR needs?” .... Point taken.

I had enough of giving.

It was bullshit. It was betrayal. Hypocrisy on a scale that I am deeply repulsed and still frightened by.

The worst part was hearing her reasons for why we aren’t right for each other.

“You aren’t smart enough for me”
“You aren’t ambitious enough for me”
“You aren’t sociable enough for me”

It was always about her. Her needs. Her wants. None of mine. It was irrelevant that none of her issues applied because she was too lazy to discover the side of myself that would have proven her wrong. Leaps of logic. Fantastic conclusions and the hypocritical mention of, “I don’t make assumptions.” early on in our relationship paired up with these ridiculous statements.

I was somewhat tempted to show her my bank statement, my book, my proof that everything she said was unfounded, luckily I resisted.

I’ll never fall into this trap again. Not until I am SURE. Absolutely certain that the girl I am with, is one that is willing to deliver the level of honesty and openness I crave. Someone who has proven herself trustworthy.

That she will not treat me as a source of amusement, or as a wallet, or judge me by criteria that carries little relevance in what I consider a successful relationship to be rooted upon.

That she will not come in all wide-eyed and excited, telling me what I want to hear only to recant later on.

It is the oldest trick in the book. Spot their weaknesses and snare them by any means necessary. I should not have given myself up to her the way I did. At least not so soon, but it felt like I didn’t a choice once she pushed for that first breakup.

I failed myself.

.. And yet I still fucking love her.

I think about her everyday.

It’s not so much the person she is that I’m in love with, but rather, the person she could have been. The couple we could have been. The promise. The potential.

“I don’t think you are smart enough for me”

Unbelievable.

I should have answered, “Good. Because you’re not skinny enough for me. Your stretch marks are gross and I don't find your rolls of fat attractive in the least.” But I refused to step down to her level of retardation. Pointing out the holes in her reasoning was a waste of time. I should not have to hold someone’s hand and explain how no one is perfect, that it is our flaws which make us endearing. And that yes, love IS enough. Some people honestly cannot separate the things they need from what they want.

Whatever, life goes on. I can rebuild myself. I’m still willing to trust and love someone without feeling guarded and reserved about it.

I know I’m a good person.

I deserve to be loved.

(cue violins)

Someday I will.

does a body good

So I'm watching Milk, yeah the one that won all the awards? Sean Penn? Well I just started watching it and from the first freakin ten minutes, my mind was blown. You know every year the academy awards roll around and some movie you've never even heard of is spoken as the contender for like.. thirteen hundred different awards and you go WHAT? I had to choose between this and Legends of Wrestlemania at the video store (it has the Piper in it!), boy am I glad I went with this instead.

But the first ten minutes.. Whoa. I like paying attention to actors, watching how they emote or try to mimic the real life expressions of someone who geniunely IS in that particular situation or is a particular person of sort. I don't know if there's anything more difficult than for a straight (supposedly) man to make out with another dude, on the big screen to boot. Vin Diesal would definitely be pulling out his hai.. uh, his pubic hairs out if this was something he had to do.

For one thing, you have to give yourself COMPLETELY to the character if you want to make him believable. You just can't flinch on-screen every time you're supposed to tongue-dive into another man's mouth. You have to totally transform yourself and commit each mannerism; no matter how vulgar it may be, to a part of your brain and allow it to be welcomed as a transient guest of your psyche.

I don't know. Could I do something like this on a whim just because I can or would I have to be paid millions of dollars to cope with the ruinous, most deadliest thing a man could do to himself? Because like I said, it takes a tremendous amount of acting ability to do a realistic job. I was going to say cojones as well, but considering the depths these straight men are descending to; I'm not sure if they do have balls.

And its not just Sean Penn doing a masterful job but James Franco of all people! You can see the little, twinge of his smile deliberately raise up as Sean Penn is about to deep-throat him in bed. Thats... that's impressive. It almost makes up for the tripe he's showed us in the Spiderman flicks. Almost.

Usually young actors these days are a greasy nickel a dozen. They come into the business, make three or four successful movies, a few flops, etc and then you never see or hear from (most) of them again. Flashes in the pan, like the entire cast of American Pie for instance (except Stifler, how the hell does he still get work after Bulletproof Monk?).

But Franco, Jesus,.. pulls it off masterfully, and so does Penn. I think it's the money, and the prestige these men are bending over backwards for. At least I don't think either of them said, "hey I've always wanted to pucker up with this guy!". Its gotta be the monies, or raising their stature in the industry. HAS to be, right?

So Milk gets a huge two thumbs up and a raised pinky for it's brilliance. Though most of the credit would have to go towards Penn / Franco, it just wouldn't work nearly as well had Carrot Top and Rob Schneider been casted.

And I almost felt like turning gay after watching it. That's not good.

what the...?

ITS AN UPDATE! HALLELUJAH MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS!

...and thats all for now! see you in another twothree years!

malaise a la' monde

There are few things in life of which I am certain of. Thanks to the events way back in November, I'm forced to make several hard decisions about what I plan on doing with my future. This blog of mine has had its ups and downs but it has never come close to the display of wit that I bestowed on past forays into writing online. And I realized, I just didn't care. It felt pointless, as if I was masturbating before a live audience just to see what their reaction would be. Thanks to my keeping this blog a quiet affair among myself and a small number of people, I no longer have an audience of millions in which to entertain with crass anecdotes of bad sex and general ribaldry.

But I think maybe I should get back into writing more seriously, its easy to become complacent and to let my ability slide over time, maybe if I were to try and push myself into writing on the blog, I could rekindle the love affair I once had with words.

One of my goals at the moment right now is to write a definitive version of what happened in November of 2006. It is by far and away the craziest story I've ever heard and I'm fortunate to have played a starring role in it. Well, not quite fortunate depending on the perspective used to look at it. Whatever the case, the events yielded me a hefty amount of material in which to draw from. This was my story, and I'm going to try my hardest to tell it.

I have problems with motivation. I've always been dutifully complacent and lazy when it comes to putting real effort into something creative. Ironically, I've always wanted the one monument that will end up being the legacy of my skills as a writer but could never settle on any one idea to see from conception to completion. The only single complete story I've ever written was this comedic piece of first-person drivel that involved my borking some girl with a foot long dong :P somehow I don't think thats what I want my kids to end up reading later in life, "look kids! daddy's a writer!" (hands out manuscript)

So my present dilemma is this. To write a fully detailed account of my experiences but without the expense of hard work. I admit it, I'm a wuss. So far I had managed to get it up to around forty pages of original material with many more in a rough, unfinished form but its hard to keep inspired throughout. I realize I'm the type of person that needs strong encouragement and a lot of prodding to get things done, self-motivation can only last for so long. If someone were to put a gun to my head while writing this, I would still drag my feet throughout the process and make excuses. Thats how difficult of it for me to keep a strong focus, even if I essentially have most of the story details worked out. I am part of the ADD generation, always looking for the next shiny thing that captures my attention.

Obviously I need to somehow convince myself that I can, and will write this book even if it begins to feel like work. For a long time, I would only write when 'inspiration' struck and even when it did, I often didn't bother to try and put pen to paper to immortalize my thoughts. As a result, my skills as a writer took a severe beating in the last few years as apathy set in. Maybe my mistake was giving too much credit to inspiration as being a necessary prerequisite for anything that I planned on writing. Maybe to help keep me focused, I could set the small goal of just writing something, anything, at least once each day.

I'm reminded of Hubert Selby Jr. each time I think about my problems. Hubert was a lifelong user of painkillers and heroin due to his diminished lung capacity, as a result, he remained bedridden and unable to work for much of his life. Much like William S. Burroughs, Hubert realized his desire to write, and used his experiences with drugs to craft cautionary tales which earned him a reputation among his peers. One of these tales was "Requiem for a Dream" which ended up being a pretty good fucking story, at least from what I saw in the movie. Whats worth noting is how Selby set out on the path of becoming a writer, a quote of his echos the thoughts at the time:

"I know the alphabet. Maybe I could be a writer."

... and off he went. Without any formal training. Selby analogously was a man claiming, "I know a few words of Spanish, I could be a translator." His dream of writing a book in order to make a living for his family arose from such an innocent and naive view of the English language that he ended up creating his own style and from there, became a bona fide author with several published books and short stories. He proved to me that if anyone wants something badly enough, they can get it, but only if they invest in it proportionally to what they expect to achieve.

While Selby's life eventually ended tragically admist periods of depression and addiction, he had finally conquered the demons that haunted him for decades. He passed on April 26, 2004 at the age of 72, not bad for someone who was once told that he wasn't expected to live for more than a year after being diagnosed with tuberculosis. He was fifteen at the time.

For those interested in Selby and his works, I suggest to check out the interview that is on the Requiem for a Dream DVD. The impression it left on me hasn't faded in the three years since I first watched it.

As for me, its time to stop doing fat chicks and to start writing. I can only hope it will all work out somehow. *crosses fingers*

Im tired of sex

Gahh, I'm starting to regret this whole sleeping with fat chicks thing I've started. I dont mean to imply that they are worth any less than the fistful of Canadian Tire money I have scrunched away in my wallet, but they're just a pain in the ass.

Which gives me a segue. The girl I'm "dating" is a gay man in a woman's body. I don't know if its something I fell asleep in sex ed over, but is it normal for guys to want women playing with their poopchutes? This girl apparently thinks so. Here are some choice quotes:

"how do you know you won't like it?"
"the last guy I was with LOVED it" (dildo)
"there's more erogenous zones around a guy's bum then anywhere else!"
"I'm interested in exploring, pushing the boundaries..."

after I said I'd probably would never want a pink floppy dildo up my cocoa tunnel and that I wasn't quite on her level yet:

"so when will that be?"

I have to constantly be on guard for an object going up the one-way street of my anus. Its not fun. What if she surprises me with a curling iron up there? There just isn't enough therapy in the world to get over something like that.

Then you have the complication of seperating sex from love which I find difficult to do. For me I realize that I have to want to be with the person if I'm going to let them touch my naughty bits. So you have this relationship which is like this completely boring thing that only gets interesting during sex, but once thats done, then what? You massacre millions of friendly sperm people, put your pants on and go home.

Now is this really worth it? I rarely feel happy about the two minutes it takes for me to get off but even though this is completely 100% free no-strings sex, I don't know if its even worth it. After I'm done, I just end up feeling guilty about it, even though I'm pretty damn sure I'm the victim here.

So I'm starting to think of how I can comfortably dissolve this 'relationship' without any hard feelings. Its a little hard to do when you have text messages like these coming to you at all hours of the day:

"you totally want me"
"morning, did you sleep well?"
"are you thinking of my boobs?"
"can you come over right now?"
"Oh good. Iwill get out the lube ;)"
"I don't have aids you stupid homo"

It also doesn't seem to matter what I write back half the time. At one point I suggested rather diplomatically that she get off on a large vegetable of her choice. But it appears that an English cucumber is no match for my tiny pencil-sized penis.

I realize she's lonely, sad and wants companionship as I do but not having any chemistry with someone just makes it awkward and weird. The fact that she's very open about shoving things up my ass just makes it even more uncomfortable when I try to splooge on her boobs without feeling like I'm degrading her.

I wish I could say she's a nice person, but some of her mannerisms just reeks of privilege and expecting people to do all the work. Its not fun giving her a foot massage that she says "you're really good at it" and getting a woefully mediocre one in return. I also feel like such an idiot when I'm laying in her bed and she says "you are so sexy... I love the way your ass looks, I love how you feel inside of me..." and I'm stuck there thinking.. "uhm... you have nice hair". Of course she's a good looking girl from the neck up but I honestly can't find much about her that turns me on. I am so going to hell for this.

*sighs* I never thought I'd complain about having a girl wanting this much sex out of me, but but.. arghhhhhhhhhhhh. I think I'm going back to putting lipstick around the edge of my hand and making love to myself. This just sucks, and I'm only going to have sex with her ONE more time before I break things off for good! I think I mean it too!

"do you want to skip our first date and just..."

So add another feather to the overwhelmingly obscene looking headdress that adorns my skull.

I had sex with a very, very large woman two days ago.

There are those that can immediately be expected to give some wildly varying opinions on the logistics of fucking a fat person and there is never any shortage of amusement in debating this very topic.

I however am of the opinion that no one in this world is allowed to judge a person to be unworthy of love, sex, security, friendship, respect and the right to live.

But, among the superficial male of my demographic, the answer is more often than not, "there's no fucking way I'd put my penis in THAT." which I feel is unfortunate and speaks volumes as to the quality of that person's character and perception of others.

So on Thursday evening at around 1:14am, I had been doing my usual moseying around on the intranets when suddenly this girl I had met weeks earlier (on an online dating service no less), had messaged me saying she wanted me to come over and play with Mr. Floppy.

Now, a few days prior I was bored out of my skull with nary a plan for a Friday night and I thought "eh, why not take this girl out, she could turn out to be interesting. Even if she is like two hundred and fifty fucking pounds." so I called her up, we chatted and I was none too surprised that my sparkling charisma won her over (wink). So we set ourselves a little date to go to Schanks and watch the Oilers lay the beatdown on Dallas.

But apparently the patience required of her to wait an extra day was simply too much and thus she was willing to forfeit having to go to work the next morning if I would simply come over and nail her.

So, here's me, at my computer, reading the words "I just want to get fucked..." written by an obviously horny thirty-one year old (and depressed, and lonely, but lets not get into that just yet) and I leaned back into my chair and stroked my goatee in a very pensive fashion.

First I laid out the facts.

#1 - A free ticket for sex, no strings attached
#2 - She was fucking fat
#3 - Though she was fat, she was also very pretty
#4 - She had nice long curly red hair, god I love nice, long, curly red hairs
#5 - I hadn't ever had a one-night stand or anything of this sort ever happen to me before. At the very least, I could have an entertaining anecdote to pass around at the dinner table with family and friends while I talk with food in my mouth and waving around a giant turkey drumstick.
#6 - I had never met this girl in person before, maybe she's a complete loon. But who's to say I'm not one either :)
#7 - She is either a who-ore, or trusted me enough from our three online conversations and one phone convo to give me this offer.
#8 - Her bra size was 38H. yes.. I typed "H"
#9 - My to do list of things to do before I die includes doing it with the morbidly obese at least once.
#10 - I may never be able to look at myself with any shred of respect or dignity ever again if I go through with this.
#11 - What have I got to lose? (other than the aforementioned respect/dignity/sanity/etc)

So I went ahead and drove on over to her apartment. Yeah, I went through with it. She was waiting for me at the bottom and we were both talking on the cell which I would later find out to be the exact same fucking Sony Ericsson Z520a I had.

As we made our first eye contact, I snapped my phone shut and smiled.

She smiled back with the most genuine, awestruck and abashed little thing I had never seen before in my entire life. I was immediately flattered and we had not exchanged a single word between us yet.

Then blah blah blah happens, we go up, blah blah blah, she shows me around, blah blah. Wanted me to watch Shirley Valentine (her favourite movie) blah, I said forget it, it sucks and I put it Groundhog Day. We watched that. Then she starts kissing me and playing with my penorz. Blah blah. Finally we go into her room, she starts asking me if I like getting it up the ass and I'm like "uhhhhh nope!" then she starts trying to convince me about erogenous zones and being "completely open" with another person that you're comfortable enough to stick your tongue up their poopchutes. I was like "yeah okay, well, how about I just take a shit on you instead?" and basically told her it wasn't my thang. Still, my sense of humor made the most of a situation that could have spiralled into something even more awkward than the one we were already in.

Thankfully, it went quite well. I'd share the gory details, but I'd probably get the Blogger guys on my ass about indecent content ;) Still, no, there wasn't any physical difficulty in actually "doing it", I also didn't regret what I've done because I was the victim more than she was (*wink*) and the end result was really two people getting something they've wanted in the first place. Nothing wrong with a win-win situation if you can recognize it and not let your inhibitions and doubts throw you off in the assessment of such an opportunity.

I mean really. Fat people need lovin' too. I was happy to oblige a girl that openly confessed to insecurity and self-esteem issues and a general malaise that was prevalent in her life. Was I so wrong in giving someone like this a night to remember and perhaps smile back on? Naws I says. Perhaps anyone reading this who is quick to denounce the value of having a relationship with fatties will see that judging someone by physical appearances alone does not make for a person of integrity and worthy of much respect. There are slobs, and then there's everybody else. I dont think this girl meant to let herself get that large and she seemed somewhat remorseful of her condition which to me, is exactly the mindset I was expecting of her.

And thats that. The wonderful story of my making love to the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. Gawd, the most memorable thing I took from that experience was the sounds of flesh slapping. Harughgmmggpph *clears throat* its something that may haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

THWLAP. THWLAP. THWLAP.

well excuuuuuuuuse me Princess!

(ooops... I suck at the internet ) ------------------------>

wow, its only been ten years since my last post, I almost couldn't see this page with all the cobwebs covering it. *sprays pesticide on monitor*

all three (maybe four) of you are probably raising their devils horns in the air with great triumph, as should be. But for those that aren't, here is a transcript between my cousin and I (yes its sort of a cheap bribe). In this conversation I've had on ICQ, it can only be supposed that we are either a) completely delusional and need to be locked up or b) the most important philosophers since Socrates and Plato. We generally go off on existentialism, horny dolphins and FLYING ENERGY BEINGS!!!111

This all hapenned shortly after we both watched an analysis of NASA footage (2 parts) that some guy pointed out UFOs in and he brings up all these interesting ideas that it completely blew back the hair on our heads, except for the last part, that part sucked. I also felt my penis move, in a three-hunded sixty degree axis, that only happens when Im REALLY excited about something.

Uhm, the grade-school mangling of the English language is completely intentional. Also, he's Polish which makes him not nearly half as smart as I am. (sorry man, haha)

In case you feel ripped off and want a refund, here's tourettesguy, be sure to check out the M&M one. "let me tell you about a porcupine's balls, they're small and he don't give a SHIT!"

I know, its been a long while since that last post. Hopefully I'll start having the good sense to find something stupid to talk about and run over to the blog. Kind of like taking a sweaty dump if you will. Call it blogstipation. I was blogstipated. There, that feels better. *flushes the intraweb toilet*

Till next time...

my eyes bleed cathrode-rays...

showtime!!

so I've been sitting on my lazy unemployed ass (yes this is a good thing) for the past week working my way through an imposing stack of films I've rented and "borrowed" from the intranet.

I am going to do these quick and dirty:

Muhammed Ali: The Greatest Hits Collection (7.8/10)

was he the greatest? after watching this, I can't really tell. Sure he punk'd Forman with the rope-a-dope and kept his cool against a ridicuously hopped-up Joe Frazier, but is he the best boxer that ever lived? I'd have to say no. None of the three fights on this disc (Liston / Forman / Frazier) ended with Ali sending a dude for a nap on the canvas. The Liston fight was stopped because the guy looked like a bloody steak, Forman lost because he didnt put his gloves above his waist during his standing eight-count and the doc pulled Frazier out of the match. Was he the greatest? I think he's a bit overrated. Put Ali in with Rocky Marciano, Lennox Lewis or maybe even...





Nikolai Valuev.

..and lets see how far the rope-a-dope takes him there. I don't think a seven foot tall, 330lb guy called "The Beast from the East" is going to let someone like Ali keep all his teeth.



A Dirty Shame (2.2/10)



this movie just plain blows. Its like they gave a drunken, sexually-frustrated village idiot full reigns of a multi-million dollar film. Its about small town hicks who after they've had a concussion become sexualy ravaneous. I admit the plot sounded interesting, with Selma Blair sporting funbags larger than the tires on my truck, but dear God is this ever a stinker. Avoid at all costs. Not even Johnny Knoxville can save this wretched garbage.

This is also the perfect film for me to seperate the men from the boys when it comes to reviewers. For instance, Martin Scribbs writes: "A Dirty Shame, a very funny movie, overcomes its limitations by playing to director John Waters' strengths."

I plan on waiting for Martin Scribbs to show up at my door so I can kick his ass.


Fahrenheit 451 (2.7/10)



In a future, not too far away, we'll still be using rotary-dial telephones. Yeah, I can't believe Ray Bradbury gave some low-budgeted British production the thumbs up to adapt his book for the big screen. Most disappointing was seeing the "wall" screens which are supposed to be tvs that cover an entire wall. In the movie they're about the size of a postage stamp. And this is the future?

Plus you get bad British acting, props that look like they been purchased from the back room at Goodwill, and the look of the film reminded me of the awful Brit sitcoms we used to get on the public access network, "if it is no trouble, would you mind passing me a lump my good chap?" "why certainly, one lump or two?" "if it is no trouble for you, I would be most delighted in a single lump my jolly friend. Pip pip!"

Anyways, these are not the droids you've been looking for... next up...


Conan the Barbarian (8.6/10)



You can't go wrong with Ah-Nuld's portrayal of a slave rising up the ranks to become the most feared warrior of his time. This film works well with Arnie's heavy accent and "...the lam-en-ta-tat-tons of their women..." speech, well damn, that speech is just classic.

And what kind of self respecting male wouldn't want to nail hot vampire chicks, hack off the appendages of random people and become a king by his own hand? I'll tell you who wouldn't.







The End of Suburbia (8.3/10)



Time to break out the tinfoil hats...

Are we running out of oil? What would happen if suddenly oil was no longer a commodity that could be purchased? What impact would this have on the economy? On jobs? On transportation? Or more specifically, in the suburbs?

This is a fascinating "shock"omentary where the filmmakers try to get everyone to wet themselves with fear by the time the credits roll. I have to say, they do paint a very persuasive portrait of life after oil. Sure we'll be walking a lot more, have to work different jobs, restructure the retail sector, kill/cripple/maim whoever has a cornflake so we can feed our families, etc. But the big question (that wasn't answered to my satisfaction) is, will we run out of oil in our lifetimes?

While I'm not completely convinced there's a reason to panic, I do think a plan b should be set in motion. Also, if there is a great risk of us running out of oil (Hello China, whats that? you want even more oil?), then it would explain why the American government invaded Iraq. Maybe securing the oil refineries and having complete control over the region's exports is far more important than most people think. Its easy to paint their motives as being suspiciously arrogant, but maybe the US does have a good reason to kill thousands of innocent people :P

Total eye-opener. Watch this with your grandfather's pipe in your mouth.

next up:
Pet Semetary
Hostel
The Descent
Silent Hill

I need to make an important announcement...

balls.

that is all.

hibernation

finally got the layoff I've been waiting eight months for, yay! I'm freed from the machinations of big oil and its soul-crushing ilk. I can't express fully enough how it feels like I've been in prision for years and I'm released back into the wild. I mean you get the small cubicle thats supposed to be your room, you wake up and go to sleep at or near the same time each day, you see the same people more times than you see your own family/friends, you eat at a cafeteria with trays, and the smell and noise of the place becomes as natural to you as the whir of the furnance in your home.

I mean it just sucked.

Its a sad thing for me to see some random old guy at work pushing around a wheelbarrow, or sweeping up an area. I mean do these guys live meaningful lives? Do they enjoy what they do? How did they manage to survive this long doing manual labor? I ask questions like that constantly, and it really comes down to whoring your body and mind for money. It gives me new found respect for prostitutes, in that you do something unpleasant and CA-CHING! money in the bank. Are construction workers really that different? We don't get asked if we want it up the ass, or if we do group discounts, but we do whore ourselves out for profit. I truly do envy those that get up each morning with a smile and say "fuck, I can't WAIT to get to work today!". I had that feeling once before with my job as a hydrotester before the place got shutdown. It just felt like playing a videogame all day.

Still, just complaining about my job and work enviroment seems almost pointless. I'm lucky to have a job where I can work eight months out of the year and still make 40k. Or having a job where I'm shuffled from place to place, and meeting new people. A job where I can choose to either do next to nothing the entire day, or work my ass off if I so desire with few repercussions. In light of these perks, I guess my job isn't really that bad. But it feels like a last resort, a job that I do because I have no other options. I only have myself to blame for not looking at other possibilities out there.

Someday, my true destiny as a lifeguard on a nudist beach will assert itself.

So thats that. I've got a few 360 games to go through, books to read, stuff to pack and dozens of other little things to do that should keep me occupied during the unemployment stretch. And not to mention, spending some of that phat cash I earned.

Once again.



oh yeahhh

rising from the ashes

argh.. one more week of work left to go and then its time to sip pina coladas off my balcony for a month or two. Eight months of working out of town, in isolation, eleven days on, three (actually two) days off is finally coming to an end.

I must say, what the fuck?



I've never even heard of Nacho Libre but thats the coolest fucking idea ever. My gringo ass will be most pleased.

Anyone read up on Scientology? Thanks to Tom Cruise going apeshit on Oprah a while back, Scientology is in the spotlight after a long hiatus and it ain't pretty. I was first exposed to Dianetics at sixteen while rummaging through my dad's book stash and I flipped through a few pages, it got me hooked. For those of you who've read Dianetics, you'd know its pretty much the modern day Bible with like over 1,000 pages on how man can achieve perfection in his life. Dianetics was pretty much THE book that started the whole self-help book and tv phenonmeon, written by a man who previously published science fiction, Dianetics went on to make assloads of money and became a cult in its own right.

But whats interesting is that I've always held a naive view of Dianetics, when I read it, I didn't catch any sinister vibes, I thought it was an entertaining read with some seemingly well thought-out ideas. Little did I know that it was a malicious exploitation of the human condition, the yearning to improve ourselves and diminish our pains. L. Ron Hubbard is one evil fuck.

So today I came across this interview that was published in Penthouse (wtf, they have interviews?) and it just blew me away. Its an interview focusing on the son of Hubbard and his involvement within the organization and origin of Scientology.

It really speaks volumes about the guillibility of the masses and their desperate search for purpose in this life. Can we as human beings possibly be this disconnected to the world around us that we have to have someone tell us how to live our lives? I unfortunately have to agree that yes, we are that desperate. Look at how Hitler managed to persuade all of Germany to unite for a common goal, it takes a very methodical and ruthless person to become fixated in this mindset of accumulating power, no matter what the cost. What really boggles the mind, is how brutually effective propaganda and 'herd' mentalities are. Its a scary commentary on the human species to admit that when it comes down to it, our individuality and confidence in ourselves are often seriously compromised in the face of adversity, regardless of how irrational it is. And men like Hubbard and Hitler, have exploited this weakness in the human condition on a massive scale, with apparently little remorse for their actions.

It makes me sick.

I think organized religion is the most sloppy and haphazard way of achieving inner peace and acceptance of your place in the cosmos. Religion is a personal journey that is different for each person, and doesn't require that you turn your brain off and sing hymns every Sunday morning at church. Yes, we don't have to take any religion or doctrine at face value, no one religion can ever hold all the answers. And its very likely that no one will ever really know what the meaning of life is, or what awaits us after death.

Organized religion is like a box of puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled. Except that no one has all the pieces to fill out the 'big' picture. I think its up to the individual to ascertain which piece goes where into their OWN world view and not whatever delusion their peers or the majority supports.

Maybe the truly enlightened, are the ones that most ignore asking the big questions. Really, is the effort even worth it?

Life goes on.

the gods of rock are chanting my name...

For those of you familar with the magic known as "Guitar Hero", you may be interested in hearing that I have recently completed the game on the hard difficulty level. Meaning that I have only expert left to traverse before I can finally smash my axe into the floor and throw up the devil's horns in triumph.

I can't praise this game enough. On the expert difficulty, playing GH is almost exactly like real guitar. Granted you only have five buttons to press, but techniques like hammer-ons, pull-offs, power-chords and soloing all mimic a real guitar(check out 2:25) in ways that would make Angus Young cream his shorts.

Here's an amusing Classical Guitarist vs Metal Rocker sketch.



Hey, it could be worse, I'm glad I'm not one of these guys.

In other news, my job is winding down with massive layoffs. Unfortunately I am still unable to experience HiBeRnaTiON 06 as planned because apparently I'm too good of a worker to lay off just yet :P Why does God torture me so? I guess freezing outside in -32c weather is my destiny, and its certainly not fun having to go through six layers of clothing just to find my penis so I can take a leak.

And it looks like the Total Gym = Total Bust. As I have changed priorities. I am now eyeing a new guitar purchase, because to me, rocking is so much more important than having massive pecs that I can crush beer cans with.

Here is a picture of a prospective suitor. I can't wait for the honeymoon.

free as a bird

Eighteen freakin days. Thats how many days in a row I worked non-stop, in a small camp an hour north of Fort McMurray. And I gotta say its certainly given me pause for thought about the long-term aspect of it all. I can score myself nearly three months worth of rent by just working a seven-day week, which I think is a pretty damn good deal. I basically give up my body and mind for eighteen days to be used as the bitch puppet of a multinational corporation bent on supplying the unwashed masses with the liquefied, processed remains of ancient dinosaur bones. It all seems laughable in concept to me that we have yet to progress beyond a means of fuel that doesn't involve biological byproducts, but I digress.

I definitely do feel like Morgan Freeman in the Shawshank Redemption. I was almost tempted to apply for a job as bag boy at the local Sobeys, but then I realized that I already had a job, and I was just given a weekend pass instead. The only aspect of my job that is dissimilar to prison would be the lack of conjugal visits, I'm still waiting on a hot broad to spend a couple hours helping me thoroughly empty out the sausage pouch. And the small camp room, god, I think its actually smaller than a real prison cell. At least the toilet isn't in the middle of the room and it actually has a seat.

So I work with a lot of strange people (myself included) and there is much exposure to a wide variety of personalities and stereotypes that most people only see on their television sets. For instance, we've got the aging hippy who's fried his brains out on acid, got abducted by aliens and pees on the toilet seat (so his bathroom buddy says). The guy also has been a first-year apprentice for... over ten years. Apparently the many times he's been to school has resulted in him failing the course and thus, never advancing beyond the mere designation of a lowly first-year apprentice worker. Yes, Peter brings me much amusement and amazement at how such people can freely walk the Earth.

Aside from the joys of interacting with former Hells Angels members, barely-literate foreign workers, disillusioned grumpy old men and wife beaters my job has given me plenty to be thankful for. Okay.. wait I'm thinking.. I guess I'd have to say the money is damn fine, especially now that I've gotten a raise after kissing enough ass. The job also has given me back the appreciation of my free time. Coming home from work gives me about three to four hours to shave, shower, eat, watch a movie and take a massive shit. I then get up the next day at 6am and dedicate thirteen hours to the 'man' before I head back to do it all again, for eighteen straight days. Yeah, this is the life.

Sadly I must announce that HiBerNaTiON 06 will not be on schedule as planned. In the unplanned event of a massive labor shortage, I was unable to secure myself the expected pink slip as anticipated. I do however, concede that perhaps its for the best. I've been constantly avoiding the stress of working for so long, and not making much headway into personal progress that maybe the best solution is to just throw myself into it and grit my teeth. There are guys making over 100,000k/yr where I am, and I think its just downright retarded to pass up that kind of green just so I can stay at home and spooge all over the Xbox 360.

Hrmm.. well thats how its going lately, building up my empire piece by piece with bleeding hands and its something that has to be done. I apologize for the somber tone, as there really isn't much to get excited about, except of course, this:



Endorsed by Chuck Norris and a very hot Christy Brinkly, I now take a small step towards the complete enslavement of all humankind. The Total Gym(tm) is the means by which I will cause entire nations to tremble in fear at my ungodly pecs, yes, you know this is coming.

Prepare.

painfully prententious polish people pontificating pap

yay, over a month without a post, a NEW RECORD! actually this is pretty much par for the course, as lately I've been finding it hard to get the energy to post anything on here.

tons of new stuff has happenned, including the acquistion of GUITAR HERO which makes me silently shed teardrops of joy. New apartment, two and a half weeks off of work, the xbox 360, and of course xmas parties with the familia.

I have to say that no human being should ever have to endure the agony of being in the company of a group of excitable, passionate, friendly POLISH people that converse in their native language, especially when your vocabulary consists of swears and "where's the bathroom". I can't properly describe the sensation my brain feels when I'm asked to "sit down with us and have a beer!" among five others and then listening to them babble in what could have been Klingon for all I know. Seriously, if you ask a non-native speaker of your language to join your group, you show him/her a little courtesy by babbling in english for the time that they're present.

So I'm sitting on the couch, trying to drink my beer as fast as I can and my eyes are desperately searching for visual stimulation, but I had the choice of watching some fat polish chick on tv sing christmas carols or watch the blinking lights on the tree. Guess what option I chose? Yeah, that was the longest seven minutes of my life.

Still managed to survive, and now I'm gearing up for the big move. I'm somewhat surprised at all the junk I have here, I mean why exactly am I hanging onto a plush gnome that is holding a mug of beer in his hand? I've also found some tupperware that had a black greasy mass inside, obviously the remains of some long-forgotten scraps of nourishment that I've failed to consume. Or a dead alien, or Jimmy Hoffa.

This move can't come soon enough. I'll now be able to sleep in without having the damn laundry machine being turned on at 9am, god help me, I will get my revenge for that somehow.

Merry Christmas everyone.

...and its right where it belongs

NINE INCH .. FUCKING NAILS was every bit as awesome as I expected them to be. Having been a fan since Pretty Hate Machine (1992), it was a nice bit of closure to have finally seen them perform live in thirteen years.

Opening band, Death From Above 1979 was so-so, Queens of the Stone Age seemed a bit lackluster. But NIN? I was tempted to put an empty cup over my crotch to hide the huge erection I was trying to control. But I thought, fuck it, and I sat there, for two gloriously short hours listening to thirteen years of NIN with a large penis poking into my left eye.

God I wish it went on all night. Donald Rivers happilly assisted me in dumping a cup of beer onto Jerry's leg. I dont think giving a manly hug to a friend in the seat across from you while holding a beer, is a good idea. The idea is to do the quick head nod and go "sup", I must learn to control these homoerotic urges in times of drunken debauchery.

Terrible Lie was the highlight of the night. Now thats a fucking classic.


trent looking particulary morose

Look at that fat corporate douchebag. I hate him with every fiber of my being :)



In other stories, check out the amusing ancedotes of the AMAZING FleshLight product. Basically its a fake vagina disguised as a flashlight, yes, this is for those of you who are extremely bored. Still, hearing guys give a page long review of a hunk of rubber is fascinating in a surreal kind of way.

"I happily received my new "Fleshlight" this past Tuesday. Upon arriving home I opened the package with great anticipation"

For the record, I found the site by clicking on an ad on this page here. No, I do not personally need or want a FleshLight(tm), as I am perfectly content to simply continue on with my self-imposed vow of celibracy. Besides, nothing beats the touch of an under-inflated latex doll.

Adios.

Rock God

If there is any one game a man like me needs to own, its Guitar Hero. Check out the video clip where a couple of Angus Young wannabes rawk out to iron man.



tracklist
---------
Audioslave "Cochise"
Boston "More than a Feeling"
Bad Religion "Infected"
Black Sabbath "Iron Man"
Blue Oyster Cult "Godzilla"
David Bowie "Ziggy Stardust"
Burning Brides "Heart Full of Black"
Cream "Crossroads"
Deep Purple "Smoke on the Water"
The Donnas "Take It Off"
The Exies "Hey You"
Franz Ferdinand "Take Me Out"
Helmet "Unsung"
Incubus "Stellar"
Joan Jett and the Blackhearts "I Love Rock 'n' Roll"
Judas Priest "You Got Another Thing Comin"
Jimi Hendrix "Spanish Castle Magic"
Megadeth "Symphony of Destruction"
Motorhead "Ace Of Spades"
Pantera "Cowboys from Hell"
Ozzy Osbourne "Bark at the Moon"
Queen "Killer Queen"
Queens of the Stone Age "No One Knows"
The Ramones "I Wanna Be Sedated"
Red Hot Chili Peppers "Higher Ground"
Stevie Ray Vaughan "Texas Flood"
Sum 41 "Fat Lip"
White Zombie "Thunderkiss '65"
The Edgar Winter Group "Frankenstein"
ZZ Top "Sharp Dressed Man"
Acro-Brats "Call Out"
Anarchy Club "Behind the Mask"
Artillery "The Breaking Wheel"
Count Zero "Sail Your Ship By"
Freezepop "Get Ready 2 Rokk"
Honest Bob and the Factory-to-Dealer Incentives "Hey"
Made In Mexico "Farewell Myth"
Monkey Steals the Peach "Theme from Guitar Hero"
The Model Sons "The Story of My Love"
Shaimus "All of This"
The Bags "Caveman Rejoice"
Din "Fly on the Wall"
Drist "Decontrol"
The Slip "Even Rats"
The Upper Crust "Eureka! I Found Love"
Graveyard BBQ "Cheat on the Church"
Black Label Society "Fire It Up"

this game looks like tits, I must have it.

In other news, it appears that I will be playing tour guide for a French "model" when NIN comes to town on the 16th. Yes, I said a French model. Who barely knows english. This should be fun.

Not much to comment on, I've been trying to figure out how to profit from the Asian chicken flu crisis. Buy stock in 3M? Someone's gotta clue me in.

Over and out.

post not found

ugh, for the teeming masses (6) that check on the blog every so often, I've got to apologize for the lack of posts. Right now, my plan is to keep working my ass off until November where I get a week off for good behavior (NIN, yay).

things will come around eventually :P and yes, I still have people taking noisy dumps next to me in the bathroom stalls.

click me

best. movie. trailer. ever.