One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others . . . Right?!

I happened to see a picture of my ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend today (thank you, Myspace) and it got me thinking...

You ever see the guys who went out with your girl before you and the ones going out with her after and wonder to yourself: am I that ugly?

The new guy is a round-faced fella with soupy eyes that seem to have the slightest touch of Down's and the kind of facial hair a child would use to try to buy beer... while the last guy was a chubby character with a vaguely "Friar Tuck" haircut and the kinda look in his eyes that, in a cartoon, would say "vacancy."

Now, I admit that I have the self confidence of a crippled rape victim, but how the hell am I part of this fraternity?!

Was I fatter when we met? Did I look like I'm in danger of swallowing my own tongue?! Maybe it seemed like "socks THEN shoes" would confuse me for a minute?

I should have known this was gonna be a problem early-on when we were talking about what celebrities we thought were hot.

I started the conversation by saying how I'd cure cancer, AIDs and boredom to get Kira Knightly... and she followed it with raves about the hotness of Tom Green, the old man from the Six Flags commercials and the kid from "Mask."

Which would make anyone wonder: if that's who she thought was hot, was that the league she thought I was in?

Countless sleepless nights later, I realized that if the girl you're with starts telling you how she's RELAXED to a picture of the Predator... just get the hell out.

One way or the other it's GUARANTEED to be heartache.

I'm In A Garden State of Mind

"Where ya from?"   
 
For some of us, that question is right up there with "have you ever been audited before" and "do you know how old she ACTUALLY is?" for the scariest thing that you can be asked.   
 
Being from New Jersey, that question is especially awful because its always followed by any combination of the following:
 
a.) What exit?!
 
b.) Smug laughter

and my favorite
 
c.) Oh... That explains it.
 
Like all states, New Jersey has a slogan to attract tourists - a slogan that they recently decided to update.  So, they hired an ad agency, spent millions of dollars, and this is what they got back:

"New Jersey: Give It A Shot."

The state had to tell them that they weren't gonna be able to use the slogan because it was TOO NEGATIVE!   
 
You know the state you're from is fucked-up if the people you hired to tell everyone how great it is decide that the best thing to do is open with something self deprecating.   
 
What did that slogan beat-out?!  "New Jersey: It's probably not as bad as you think" or "New Jersey: Because You Cant Afford to Go Somewhere Nice"?

What else could these people have come-up with?  

"New Jersey: The Garden State…  because it smells like manure.”

"New Jersey: the radioactive state.”

"New Jersey: Hey, we got rid of the gay Governor!”
 
After nixing the proposed slogan, the state opened it up to an online poll, which is always a great idea.  The site received 62,000 submissions, but 61,000 of them were "New Jersey: Fuhget-about-it."   
 
On the plus-side, it's better than West Virgina's new slogan: "Come to West Virgina - Birthplace of Sister Fuckin."

Would you like LOGIC with that?

It's been a while since I updated this, but rather than go into that, I want to get into what it is that shook me out of my lethargy. Yesterday, I saw something that was at once completely insane, but sadly, made all the sense in the world…

I saw this:

That’s right… I’ll post it again incase you didn’t look at it for long enough…

As I went to McDonalds yesterday to continue the worlds slowest suicide, that image hit me like a ton of bricks. I can get a MEDIUM serving of fries at McDonalds for $1.00… I can get a LARGE serving of fries for $1.64…

So far, so good and I'm getting hungry!

But, being the cheap-fuck that I am, I wonder what a SMALL serving of fries will cost me…

My brain is programmed to read a number that is SMALLER than the price next to the MEDIUM because, well, it should be. But what do I see..?

Just another example of everything that’s wrong with America today.

I understand cooperate strategies and the importance of properly positioning your products in the market place… but it shouldn’t cost McDonalds 9 cents MORE to make A SMALLER SERVING of FRIES!!!

I know that they wanted to be able to say, “hey we started the Dollar Menu craze, and even though everyone else copied us, were doing it again! At McDonalds, our Dollar Fries aren’t a small like the other guys – ours are a MEDUIUM!!!”

That I can dig! I’m not anti-corporations or anything… but in that multi-national corporation of a zillion people, not one of them took the time to see if it made sense in the real world?

Not one person said, “hey – I don’t want to seem like an ass-hole here, but shouldn’t our SMALLEST serving of fries have the SMALEST PRICE!??”

All people do is follow their formulas at this point and what ever that focus-grouped formula tells them to do they just DO. There is no critical thinking! No one just uses common sense! You're not input from the individual anymore!

Stay tuned to this blog to find out why this kinda thinking is what killed music radio, movies and my sex-drive...

Id write about it now, but I know a deal when I see one, and my Dollars worth of fries aren’t gonna eat themselves.

Home Sweet Homeless

Recently, I relocated to Raleigh, North Carolina. I don't care what you may or may not read in future posts at some of my friends blogs, it's not a bad place. As a matter of fact, it's the state capital!

Living here hasn't been a big adjustment, but I have noticed one thing that is very different in this city: the homeless people.

The homeless people I'm used to seeing (or stepping over) on the streets of the Big Apple don't do much. For the most part, whether its winter, spring, summer or fall, they put on every item of clothing they own and spend the day laying around in their own filth, securely in the city's gutters.

But in Raleigh, the homeless people are a little different. They are constantly in motion! If you've ever been here, you know what I mean: for people with out jobs, homes and any real responsibilities, they have a lot of shit to do.

Not only does being homeless around here seem to involve an awful lot of walking around, I think that they are also required to do that homeless limp-up-to-you-and-start-ever-interaction-with-"I-don't-mean-to-bother-you..."

As soon as they say it, I just want to blurt out "too late!" but, for a lot of reasons, I don't.

Yes, ONE of the reasons I don't shoot my mouth off is because I'm a pussy... But, even if they aren't crazy, they are homeless. Killing me could only improve their housing situation!

As you can probably imagine, by the time they've excused their interruption and gotten to asking for money, the shitty thoughts rattling around in my head make me feel pretty bad about myself... so I make the person that I'm with give them money.

Last time, after I guilted my brother into giving the man a dollar, I noticed that my brother told the guy to have a good day, and the man vehemently promised that he would.

Which I thought was weird, and a little self-important on my brother's part... For God's sake, it was a fuckin dollar! It's not like this guy's whole day is gonna be changed by this act of philanthropy.

"Well, I was getting ready to let another homeless guy fuck me in the ass to feed the drug addiction that's supposed to help me cope with these soul-crushing feelings of loneliness, but now - that's unnecessary! I've got this crispy new dollar to keep me company!"

I started thinking about the things it would take for this guy to really have a good day, and I'm pretty sure it would involve helping him re-acquire a place to live, some sense of purpose and his self-respect. Last time I checked, it's gonna be very hard to do all of that on a dollar.

But, on the plus side... this guy is homeless in Raleigh. I'm sure he's too busy to think about all of that stuff.

Chix With Stix

Since I love hockey, but I don't love any job that would pay me enough to afford cable TV, I have to watch any hockey that is on around me... even if it's hockey players that bleed with-out being cut.

Now, it's no real surprise that when I've excitedly asked people if they've seen any of the Olympic women's ice hockey the look at me like I just asked if their cat needed a blow job... but they don't know what they are missing! (In women's hockey, I mean.)

I'm man enough to admit that I sat around a hotel the first weekend of the Olympics and watched some chix hockey - and I am glad I did. Otherwise, I would have missed the opportunity to see the Canadian women's team route Italy's women 16-0.

That's right - sixteen to nothing. That's a beating that rivals what Kobe Bryant's dick will do to the inside of a white girl's vagina.

Not only did Canada shut Italy out, but they did it while scoring a record setting sixteen goals. I know that Italy isn't a big hockey country and Canada is, but 16-0 is still simply humiliating.

That's not just walking-out-of-the-bathroom-with-toilet-paper-on-your-shoe humiliation, either.

That's worse than the kind of humiliation that usually happens in a dungeon from a woman who's first name is 'Mistress'. That's the kind of humiliation that you usually have to pay a stranger for, because even if it turns you on, something in your spouse's head limits them from treating you that way.

That's letting-a-fat-hooker-shit-in-your-mouth-while-your-high-school-classmates-point-laugh-and-throw-up kind of humiliation. I don't want to spoil any future installments of this blog, but but trust me: that is humiliation.

Usually after a big win like that there is a little bit of a drop-off in the next game. It's only natural that after you score 4 games worth of goals that you would be less productive the next day...

But not Canada! Those women then went on to score 7 unanswered goals in the 1st period of a game they eventually won 12-0.

How do these other teams keep skating?

The Italian goalie had to get up sixteen times with the goal light on behind her!! The next day Russian goalie did it seven times in the first 20 minutes!

At what point does someone say, "okay Canada, we get it. Over two games you are winning 28 to NOTHING! We give up - hockey is your sport!!"

After Canada's rape of the Italian team, the Canadians were nice enough to say how much they admired the hearts of team Italy. (No mention was made of their admiration of team Italy's talent, but it was a nice gesture.)

Canada is nothing if not a gracious winner. They were even nice enough to have dinner with Italy after the big win... As a matter of fact, Canada was so nice that when the Italian women asked for autographs - they signed them!

Yes, you read that correctly: the Italian team was beaten so badly that they wanted the signatures of the women who did it to them.

With self esteem that low, I don't know why there aren't more Italian girls in porn.

Getting autographs from Canada after they pulled your pants down in front of the whole world and gave you the Justin Volpe Treatment would be like going out for some drinks with friends and getting a 7 iron in the the jaw that knocks all of your teeth... Then, after scraping yourself off the floor, you find the guy who laid you out and complement him of his incredible swing. Its just nuts.

Watching the two games I felt bad for both teams, but I think that my heart went out a little more to the Italian team. Seeing them suffer such a ridiculous defeat I just kept thinking that when this embarrassment ends, they are still gonna be a team of full of women covered in back hair.

After having a few days to digest all of this I decided that things probably went they way they were supposed to, because if anyone is gonna get a beating, it should be a woman with a moustache.

Sorry, Charlie

Recently I had the good fortune to go to the legendary comedy club Charlie Goodnight's in Raleigh, NC for a showcase in front of the head of casting at Mtv, and I'd like to walk you through some of this eye opening experience. It all started off innocently enough when I got a call from the person asked to organize a stand-up show for the Mtv'ers to watch.

Now, I know you're not supposed to get too excited about theses things, but the guy tells me that he's got something that I'd be "prefect for! It's for Mtv and they want young and sarcastic..."

Again, I know you're not supposed to get excited about these things, but for god's sake, I have the look of a 16 year old, the attention span of a 4 year old and the viciousness of an 80-year-old amputee. I AM perfect for Mtv.

So, the day of the big audition comes and I get to town about 9 hours before I need to because I am an overzealous fuck. I decide to go for a walk around town to kill some of the 500 plus minutes between me and the stage.

As I'm walking along, listening to my iPod, I come upon a TV news crew setting up a camera. I try not to get in the way of their shot, but as I try to stay out of the camera's way, the newsman asks if he can talk to me for a minute!

I'm sure whatever they want I wont be right for it, but I agree to talk to him anyway.

He points at my headphones and asks if that's an iPod that I'm listening to, and proudly I show him that it is.

Now, if you don't know - I L O V E my iPod. So, when this guy asked to talk about my iPod, I was in heaven.

I start off by telling him that if I had to chose between my iPod and an iron lung, I'd keep the iPod. I go on to say that I love the iPod more than I love about half of the members of my family... and I'm killing! The news guy and the camera guy are laughing up a storm.

As we were wrapping up, the cameraman asked if I would hold up the iPod so they could get a shot of it. I hold it up near my face like a spokes-model and then to top of my hilarious performance, I lean in and give it a little kiss.

Nearly wiping tears from their eyes, the guys thank me and I continue on my way...

Now, I know you're not supposed to get excited about theses things, but I am feeling pretty good about myself.

All I could think was that I was a natural! I was funny! And, I came out here for a TV audition!

I know this is just a little news thing, this trip already got me on tv!

The sun is shining... I’ve got a little bounce in my step... And for once, I'm just a little bit ahead in the game. I'm feeling good, so I decide to stop and get a drink.

I look at all the shakes and sodas but decide on some bottled water.

I figure that maybe today is the day I really start to get my shit together. I'm gonna ease back on the garbage and start drinking more water... maybe I'll even start to exercise a little bit.

Today should be the start of a new Ray Wagner.

Time passes like a montage from a Sam Raimi film, and finally the Mtv people get to the club. I end-up helping them get lights and set them up in a special room where they will actually audition the comics they like once their set is over.

I offer to stand in front of the camera as they adjust the lights, and as I stand there I continue to be my normal, entertaining self. I'm just shooting the shit while they’re making their adjustments and I've got both the head of casting and her assistant laughing.

I had on a dark jacket that was screwing them up, so they ask me to take it off... which I do with a funny little strip tease that culminates with me tossing the clothing at the camera, which the assistant is really laughing at.

The casting person wants to know what she missed, so I do it again and she's eating it up. She even mentions how well I take direction, and even though I know you’re not supposed to get excited about theses things, I'm thinking that I have at least made a good impression on them.

Now, if this was a movie, there would be a subtle shift to some ominous music as she notices that my t-shirt reads "Great Blacks in Wax Museum" with a rather quizzical look on her face.

I mention that I'm a big fan of wax museums, (which I am,) but I don’t feel like they're on board with me. So, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I say that I thought the shirt was appropriate because they were burying Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's widow today... A line that was about as well received as an offer to baby-sit from Tommy Lee.

After a nanosecond of awkwardness, the lights are all set-up and food for her and her assistant is ordered. The casting person asks what else there is to do here in Raleigh and I say, "oh, I’m not really sure - I’m not from around here."

To which she replies "oh... you're one of the comedians?"

In the movie, this is where the outright scary music would kick-in.

The casting person IMEDIATELY starts the backtracking by saying that just because she likes someone as a person, that doesn’t mean that they're gonna be right for the part, ya know.

Now, I know that you're not supposed to get excited about these things, so I'm okay.

Time passes and the show gets under way.

The crowd is really dead. They are not an easy laugh, but the Mtv people aren’t here to judge laughs, they just want to see the look and attitude of the performer.

When the comics finish their act and get off stage it's my friend's wife's job to act as the liaison for Mtv. If Mtv liked you and wants to see more, she says that they want you to go upstairs and talk to them on tape. If they don't need to see more of you then she just thanks you for coming to the show.

The first guy on stage is in his late 30's and the casting call was for someone in their mid 20's. They are looking to cast for a show that is all attitude and commentary, of which he does none of in his act. Before the show I was talking to him and he mentioned that he drove more than 12 hours just to prove to himself he didn’t have a chance in the world to get this... and I'll be damned if my friends wife doesn’t say, "hey - they'd like to talk to you upstairs."

I couldn't believe it! I have to say I was a little surprised, and I know that you're not supposed to get excited about theses things - but this is encouraging.

A few more comics go, and even though the laughs are limited, it seems like everyone is going upstairs!

Now, I have the good fortune of following a guy that was young, had tons of energy, a real confident air about him, and also happened to be the only person all night that the crowd really loved. As people are still slapping their knees and catching their breaths, I take the stage.

Now, I don’t want to say that I had a bad set, but I will say that the highlight came about halfway though my time. After getting very limited laughter from the once-again decidedly stiff crowd, I blurted out that the last time I saw something this tight it was between an 11 year-old girl's legs.

As you can probably tell, the word 'highlight' was used there with a generous amount of sarcasm. Even if it wasn’t, as I pointed out, the little burst of life came in the middle of my set. That's the place that every comedian and comedy fan knows is the last place on earth you want to peak. Peaking in the middle not only shows you don’t know that the most important thing is to finish big, but it also let’s everyone know that you don’t know the other most important thing is to open strong.

Now, if the lack of success with the audience wasn't enough of a referendum, I was obligated to walk over to my friend’s wife... A women who's put me up in her house... A women I've shared meals with... A women who has been endlessly kind to me... and put her in a position where she has to look me in the eye and say, "hey - thanks for coming."

Without any thought to what I was saying (or doing,) reflexively I say "nothin', huh?" And end-up putting this poor soul in the position of elaborating on her previous statement!

"No, they are not interested."

I don’t know if it was the racially insensitive t-shirt, I don't know if it was because during my act I was talking faster than a guy who just got caught cheating, I'm not sure if it was my reference to a child's vagina or if it was just because I have the complexion of Edgar Winter… but whatever the reason, Mtv couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

I decided to mope around the club for a little while longer and watch some comics that were good, some that were not, some that were good looking, and some that looked like shit. As I watched every other comic go upstairs, (with the exception of the one comic that I invited to the show,) I learned exactly WHY you aren't supposed to get too excited about this stuff.

* * * * *

Bottle of water out the fuckin' window, I also learned that like any other fat-girl does when they're upset, in the middle of the night I decided it was a good time to stop and stuffed my fat, depressed face with all the greasiest garbage that city could pull out of a deep fryer.

A great P.S. to this story would be to find out that the iPod piece didn't feature me or that no one taped it... once I get confirmation of whatever the last insult is to be added to my injury, I'll post it here.

An even better P.S. would be that I had a heart attack and died driving home in the middle of the night, clutching my bacon cheese-burger or orange-sherbet-and-pure-lard milkshake, but apparently, much like Mtv, God also wants nothing to do with me.

Something Old, Something New...

First of all, if you haven't taken the opportunity to read Guest Blog: Water Globes Are For Assholes, you really need to. In that epic work of fiction my own girlfriend calls me names, rapes the truth worse than an Oliver Stone film all while providing the starting point for this entry.

Now, if you're like me, reading lies scratches your eye-balls like sand paper. Therefore, I will save you the trouble of unnecessary cornea scraping by only re-printing the bare minimum of eye ruining words here...

Any man with a girlfriend/wife/picture of a female knows that when J. K. Lying writes I admit I did make him wait [...] so I could put on my makeup... but it was 5 mins max! it is an old fashioned, bold faced, lie.

Whats worse, any woman with more than 10 or 11 minutes of experience with men should know that we'd rather have you walk around with a face that looks like it was bounced off of Tito Ortiz's fist than to waste one second waiting around.

Another passage I enjoyed was, right after a series of dreamed up events, including a bunch of uncalled for attacks and insults directed at me, Lie-a Angelue claims that all I could muster up was, look[ing] up like [I] might of thought someone was speaking to [me] and [saying], "what? Were you talking to me?"

Now I'm a lot of awful things, (see: any other blog on here) but I am attentive to a fault!

Before someone would write this kind of profanity laced tirade you'd have to think I was sodomizing her with the water globe!

Of course, you'd be wrong, but I can see where you'd think it. Especially when she closes that part of the story by saying, U G H, I FUCKING HATE YOU!

At this point you'd probably move from thinking I was attacking her with the water globe to WISHING I was.

Another brilliant piece of fiction from Patricia Lieswell is when she says I don't even let him know that I'm irritated...

For your information, ladies, we always know when you're irritated. We just pretend not to know or understand why because thats the best way to get you off of our backs.

We're not saying that you've put on weight or anything, but carrying you there does get tiring after a while.

Speaking of my laziness, the fact of the matter here is this: I wanted to get all of the shopping done online! Its 2005! We can point and click our way to happiness, which is exactly what I told her i wanted to do.

For a little bit of context, she notes that a stranger's child wanted to play with the game, his mother had to point out it must not be an easy game because "... he was working on it when we walked by 30 mins ago."

Well, as much of a liar as my girlfriend is, when she's right - she's right. But, in the end, A N Y time wasted she brought on herself. As far as I know, theres no "Water Globe" online.

I think you get the point... Instead of disputing her entry word by word, I'd rather just invite you to join us for her next (equally factual) Guest Blog: Peter Pan Just Stole My Wallet.

Gift buying experience aside, the wedding was wonderful.

My brother and his new bride are both Marines, so the held it at Camp Lejune in North Carolina. This was the first time I had been to a wedding at a Marine Base, and it was great. It was also the first time I saw a wedding favor that you had to pull a pin out of to use.

The wedding cake was delicious, and also marked the first time I ate anything shaped like a machine gun.

It wasn't without its problems, though. It was the only wedding where I saw someone ask if there was anything they could do to help, and they got deployed to Iraq.

The worst problem came during my toast. My brother interrupted it which was bad because my brain automatically went into "deal-with-the-heckler" mode.

It's all a little merky, but I know I was at a point in my speech where I was joking about where the bridal party was gonna have the after party... my brother said that he wasn't interested in hearing about the location of an after-party that he wasn't going to... and I pointed out that was because the woman in the white dress next to him was sitting on his after party...

It gets REALLY hazy after that, but I remember waking up with the distinct impression that the bride's father had never really heard his daughter's body referred to like that.

Guest Blog:WATER GLOBES ARE FOR ASSHOLES!

For a while I’ve been toying with the idea of letting other people do my work for me. Ok, honestly, its been my life’s work. (Isn’t that rich with irony?)

Maybe I'd have less work to do if I could just stay on topic…

Anyway, for a while I’ve been wanting to get other people to write something here and for the first time I’m proud to say that I’ve tricked someone into doing just that! I have given the It’s Better Than Nothing forum fully to my girlfriend. She has concocted an interesting (if not factually accurate) glimpse of life with yours truly...

A glimpse that I will have to refute in a future blog, but before I can shine the light of truth on her story, we must let the yellow journalism begin!

Rays brother Chris is getting married in a couple of weeks and of course Ray’s not sure what he wants to get him for a gift. I find out that they’re registered at Bed Bath and Beyond and go online to try to pick out some stuff. Ray says he has an $80.00 budget. Ok - fine. Whatever. So I find some things that I think may be nice and on Saturday when we have some free time we decide to go to the store and get the stuff.

Now I admit I did make him wait in the car when we got there so I could put on my makeup... but it was 5 mins max! We get in the store and neither one of us has ever been there before so were just piddling around and we find a massager that Ray tries to kill me with as soon as I turn around. But I kinda liked it, not the killing, the massaging part ( hint, hint, hint)

So anyways, we find a sales girl and get her to print us the wedding registry so we can be sure to get the right stuff. As we’re browsing, Ray sees some sort of ball with water in it that has a golf tee and golf ball inside of it. Now the point is to try to get the golf ball to sit on the tee, but it’s a lil’ difficult because there’s water pushing the ball all over the place. Ray is immediately mesmerized. You would have thought he just saw Natalie Portman naked.

I’m not too worried that he’s playing with it cause it surely can’t be that hard, its like a $20.00 toy. The girl brings me the list and I tell Ray I’m going to look for the blender since we’re near that stuff anyways. He gives me a lil uh huh, without ever even lifting his head. At this point I’m still not too terribly concerned because I figure there’s no way its going to take him much longer; it can’t possibly!

After a good 10 minutes of me searching for the blender and still no Ray beside me, I go back to where I left him. Sure enough there’s my baby messing with a fucking water golf ball game. I pull my self together and since I’m the best, I don’t even let him know that I’m irritated. I calmly ask, hey baby do think you could try to help me find this blender, they all look the same to me?

3 mins later still no answer, or even a look of acknowledgment, im getting to be a bit perturbed. After all this gift isn’t even for MY family. I tell my self to take a deep breath and try to be happy that he’s found something to hold his attention for more than 5 seconds. After all that’s a great achievement for him.

I decide its not worth it to try to ask again as he apparently is not listening. I slowly turn around and begin to go back to continue my search for the blender.

As I walk away I hear a little boy ask Ray if he can take a turn, the lil boy’s mom says, “oh sweetheart, don’t ruin the mans fun with the water globe. And anyways, its probably too hard for you, because HE was working on it when we walked by 30 mins ago.”

I shake my head, and remind myself that he’s super good in bed.

After tearing apart the entire kitchen department, I finally find the blender the Jetson’s used and throw it in the cart.

I begin to make the dreaded walk back to where I know Ray will inevitably be standing. Im already preparing myself for how this conversation is going to work. I have all my bases covered and know there’s nothing he can say that’s going to give him the upper hand.

I walk right up to him and say, well I’ve got it. Now we just have to get a few more things and it will add to the $80.00 you want to spend. He does at least acknowledge my existence this time and says cool, but look at how close I am to getting the ball to sit on the tee.

Are you fucking kidding me, I scream back?

But baby, I have to finish, I’ve almost got it to sit on there perfectly so many times. I’m so close. I have too. I NEED too. And he goes back to working on his globe.

I now realize that trying to be nice is not going to work. If you don’t put that piece of shit down, here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to turn around, walk out the door, get I’m my car, and drive away! I’m positive that will get his attention. He looks up like he might of thought someone was speaking to him and says, “what? Were you talking to me?”

U G H, I FUCKING HATE YOU!

Then, of all things to say, he says, lets make a deal.

What the fuck are you talking about, were not on the game show network! A deal? Right… What the hell type of nonsense is about to come out of his mouth? This better be good!

”You can go buy whatever you want for Chris and Kate, until I finish with this game.”

WELL, that does shake things up a bit! If there is ONE thing Ray knows about me, its that I like to spend money he doesn’t have.

Ok, you’ve got a deal. The next time I go back and have a cart full of misc bullshit he will definitely come to his senses and he’ll be ready to go.

I’d say about 35 mins passes, and I’ve now got enough stuff to decorate the entire bathroom, and a different scented candle for each day of the year.

Well, this should do the trick.

I walk over with my head held high, and let him know I’ll meet him at the register. I see him out of the corner of my eye, he looks up and kinda gasps.

Huh, that’s what you get, I smirk to myself.

”But, ah, uh.... I was just kidding… I didn’t r e a l l y want you to go
buy stuff till I finished.”

Too damn bad, ‘cause that’s sure as shit what you told me to do.

”But, I don’t have enough money for all of this.”

Well I don’t know what you want me to do? You told me to go shop, what’s a girl to do? And let me also remind you that I was invited to this wedding as ‘and guest’, so trust me when I say I feel like I went above and beyond what was necessary.

”FUCK!......FINE, well how much is all this shit?”

I don’t have a clue, I didn’t look at prices.

”But, I can’t go over $80.00.”

Well too bad you didn’t make that part of your lil deal! Maybe if you wouldn’t have been playing with a watery ball of shit all day, you wouldn’t be in this lil predicament.

”I have to take some of this back, there’s no way I can buy all of this.”

Ugh, fine, fine , fine, go put a few things back and meet me in the line. I can’t believe I’m going to let you get away with this, just know that you owe me big time. You know maybe, a little purse, by um, what’s that designer I like?... oh yeah, GUCCI.

I go get in line behind 8 sets of customers, holy shit, I’m going to be her forever. But, at least it’ll give him plenty of time to put back the stuff and get here to pay for this crap.

Lum, dum, de, de, dum, la, do, de, da, fa, la, la, ok, this is taking F O R
E V E R!

Finally, I’m at the register, but where the hell is Ray, there’s no way he’s still putting stuff back. Ugh, I have to get out of line like a fucking moron, and go find him. I walk to the bathroom dept and figure he got stuck trying to find where to put things in the right spot. No, no Ray to be found. I walk through the whole store, until I think I see him, but no, it can’t be, he is not really hiding in a corner playing that globe game.

Holy shit, he is, what the fuck?!

RAY, what the hell are you doing, I waited in line for 25 mins and got to the checkout counter and had to leave the line ‘cause you weren’t there! Ugh, and you didn’t even put the stuff away! I can’t stand you. Im fucking leaving, and if you want a ride out of here, you need to carry your ass, now!

But, Heather.......

NOW!

But I’ve almost got it, just one more minute. Pleeeeaaaasseee.

AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Heather is a beautiful, loving (if not delusional) mother, girlfriend and Bank employee.

Down With a Sickness

I'm sick.

I hate it.

Is there anything worse than being sick?

I don't know why, but it always seems like a cold causes guys to fall apart harder than girls do. I'm not even dying, but for some reason every man from Adam to yours truly just feels like the common cold is a perfectly valid reason to just sit down and give up on life.

You can't help it. Being sick makes you think crazy things... which I kinda don't mind because at least for those precious few days a year I have a valid reason to wonder why I don't simply throw myself off a very tall building so I don't accidentally fall off one.

Another problem i have with being sick is that it interferes with my almost compulsive need for consistency. The fact that one second you feel like you've been hit and then backed over and then hit again by a steamroller when the next second you feel like you can probably bench press more weight right now that any man woman or child on earth really gets to me.

And for some reason, when I get sick, my extra large forehead feels like it has some sort of muscles in it. I don't mean the kinda muscles that are required to create my nearly limitless combination of disapproving and irritated scowls, but something else. Like a muscle that just wants to reach out of the right side of my forehead and shove something.

I know I still have muscles because i can feel them atrophying... well, if you can call them muscles. They feel more like globs of pudding. Its not that my muscles feel like they aren't there, there is defiantly some kind of mass where my biceps and triceps should be, but it is also definite that the mass is 100% without use.

I might as well wrap skin around cotton candy.

Being sick also sux because you spend so much time feeling light headed... but it's not only your head. Its like being light-bodied which is similar to being in a prison of lethargy.

As you can see, it's very hard to be funny when you're sick.

I think I'm gonna go and either float away or implode - but what I'm NOT gonna do is reread this. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that the only thing more annoying than being sick is being well and having to listen to someone else bitch about not feeling well...

But in the off chance that I do accidentally go back and read this, I'll say this to myself:

Fuck you, Ray.

Doesn't 3 = 8?

I don't know about your town, but where I live we are overrun with Dale Earnhardt stickers. We've got all kinds: the regular little 3s, the 3s with the little wings on them and even the giant number 3s.

But lately I've also noticed that the 3 sticker isn't enough... people also seem to be compelled to have the Dale Junior "8" sticker as well. Isn't it pretty much a given that if you liked Dale Sr you like Dale Jr? The kid's Dad died a tragic death right in front of the nations eyes! Who'd even have it in them to root against the kid?

I just cant see that there are that many people saying, "sure, I loved Dale Sr, but that Dale Jr is a real fuckin prick! As much as I loved his Dad, I hate him!"

For God's sake, Dale Junior is this generations John-John!

I think it's just because people simply can't do enough to show their love for that Dale Earnhardt.

I even saw a guy in my town who has his car decked out in the full Dale Earnhardt regalia. It's a black Nascar-lookin thing with a giant 3 on each door, the advertising stickers, I mean EVERYTHING! I wouldn't be surprised if the guy gets in the thing through the window wearing the jumpsuit and helmet to drive it around. For all I know, he even grew the mustache!

Mustache and jumpsuit or not, this is maybe the craziest thing I've ever seen. Sure, this is taking that idea of wearing the team jersey or even the whole uniform 1 step further - but that's not even what makes it so crazy...

Didn't Dale Earnhardt die in a car wreck?!

Maybe it's just me, but I'd be scared shitless to drive that car near any kinda wall. I'm not saying I'm superstitious, but I'm pretty sure that's what people mean when they say some one is tempting fate.

That car makes about as much sense as going sailing on a replica of the Titanic.

I'd like to further illustrate my point, but I have to cut this entry short. My friend just finished inflating our life size model of the Hindenburg, and we have a date with a field in New Jersey.