Excerpts from break-up letters to:
My ex-girlfriend who had the hysterectomy: "You have everything I ever wanted in a potential wife, except for a reproductive system."
My ex-girlfriend who had Multiple Personalities: "…and it is for all these reasons that I must break up with you, Cindy Lou, Tabitha, and Lubach from the planet Zorkon 5."
My ex-girlfriend the acrophobic: "I just can't be with a woman who is incapable of taking our relationship to new heights."
My ex-girlfriend the bulimic: "How do you think it feels to be with someone who constantly throws things up in your face?"
My ex-girlfriend with Borderline Personality Disorder: "I HATE YOU! NO WAIT, I LOVE YOU! I HATE YOU! I LOVE YOU!. NO WAIT! I FUCKING HATE YOU! WAIT, CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS? NEVER MIND, I HATE YOU! CALL ME?"
My ex-girlfriend the fecophiliac: "You only ever took interest in our relationship when the shit hit the fan…or the ceiling, or the wall, or the duvet."
My ex-girlfriend the hermaphrodite: "Go fuck yourself."
My ex-girlfriend who had Attention Deficit Disorder: "I mean come on! How could you treat me like that when all I ever did was respect….Did I deposit that money in the bank? I don't remember. What was I saying?"
YES I KNOW THOSE WERE TOTALLY LAME, AND BRIANNE IS PROBABLY ROLLING HER EYES. BUT HEY, I NEED A PLACE TO PUT ALL THE CRAP IN MY HEAD, AND MYSPACE SEEMS TO FOOT THE BILL.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Myspace blog from 4/21/08: Pigeon Forge
"Male bears wear hats!" and other observations made in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee
I just got back from my (much needed) week-long vacation in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Though not as exotic as say Costa Rica (ahem, Mark) or the Dominican Republic (ahem, Roman), it still provided me the opportunity to relax and enjoy spending quality time with my wife, Brianne. It also afforded me the opportunity to point out the various quirks of the Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg area. For those of you not familiar with Pigeon Forge, you may want to go to the following website and read a little bit about it, although my first observation may tell you all you need to know:
www.mypigeonforge.com
So here are my observations about my Pigeon Forge experience!
1) Pigeon Forge is almost exactly like Myrtle Beach, except instead of being on the beach it is in the mountains (the Great Smokey Mountains, to be specific), and instead of having a plethora of all you can eat seafood restaurants, you are inundated with pancake houses. Apparently the flapjack is the official food of the Great Smokey Mountains. I mean I like pancakes and all, but not so much that I would go to a restaurant devoted to them, unless it was IHOP, in which case I would go in college with some friends to drink coffee and smoke a pack of Parliaments.
2) The main parkway through Pigeon Forge (PF, from now on since I am finding writing out Pigeon Forge rather tedious) is congested as hell. For those of you from Northern VA, think about 495 during rush hour, except with way more Confederate flags and Johnny Rebel stickers on the vehicles.
3) Speaking of the vehicles: I think there is an unspoken contest going on between Tennessee residents in which they see how big of a lift kit they can have on their pickup trucks before they get pulled over by the police. I mean, some of these monstrosities looked like they belonged in an arena somewhere running over lines of cars. And what is with the 18-wheeler exhaust pipes inside the bed of these trucks? Dude, you are driving an F-150, not a Freightliner!
4) The black bear is apparently the official state animal of Tennessee, although good luck finding a single one. I would have thought that with all the information in our cabin about "Bear safety", and the special "bearproof" dumpsters outside our cabin that maybe I would have seen at least one bear! That alone would have made my trip! I mean, store after store after store had hundreds of figurines and shirts and mugs and toilet paper holders carved into bears. Where are the bears? Show me bears!
5) Apparently, Male bears wear hats. Specifically, they wear fishing hats. In every figurine with a male and female black bear, the male bear was always wearing a hat, I guess to allow me to figure out which one is the male. I guess the figurine maker assumes that if he/she didn't put a hat on one of the bears, we would automatically assume it was a gay bear couple. Maybe the PF Town Council got together and said: "We don't want nobody thinking we got queer bears here, so you better put fishin' hats on the male bears!" I think I will make a bear figurine with two bears both wearing hats, and witness the ensuing uproar.
6) PF apparently has a fairly significant Asian population. However, I only saw Asian women, most of whom appeared to be either Vietnamese or from Laos. I saw no Asian men. I have yet to see the appeal of PF to Asian women.
7) If you want a native Pigeon Forgean to be polite to you, make sure they are not from this country. The two friendliest locals I met on my trip were: a) the Middle Eastern gentleman I met at one store, who thanked me for my business, and b) the Korean lady at another store, who asked me where I was from, and what I had done so far. The local rednecks on the other hand...see observation 8.
8) You can't go to a gas station without being pestered by the local rednecks about sitting in on a timeshare lecture so I can get discount tickets to Dollywood. I was filling up our Explorer at a Pilot, and like the sideler from that one Seinfeld episode, this creepy redneck guy came up to me and asked me if I wanted discount tickets to Dixie Stampede or the Comedy Barn. I told him "No!". Not a minute later, a lady came up to me and asked me if I had been to Wonderworks yet, and that if I came to a lecture about a new condominium complex, I could get discounted tickets for any show! I just ignored her and didn't even look her in the eye. As I was getting into our vehicle, I said out loud "Can't I just get gas without being hassled by the locals??"
9) Speaking of the locals: The first place we went to when we got into PF was Kroger's, to get some groceries for the week. The guy who was bagging our groceries was this old guy named George, and George reeked of alcohol, and looked the part (Roman and Troy: think of Chinese Santa Claus guy, but thinner, no neon green flip-flops, and this guy could still keep his tongue in his mouth). My father in law asked how that guy could function at his job reeking of alcohol. I didn't give this guy another thought until the day we decided to go to the central bus station to catch one of the trolley's. I was coming out of the bathroom and who should be walking towards me but George. The scary part, he was wearing the same uniform as the trolley drivers. Great, watch us get George the Drunk as our driver. Thank God that didn't happen!
My last two observations come as a result of being present in PF during Rod Run 2008, in which people from around the country bring their classic cars and line them up along the parking lots on either side of the main Parkway. It was great, because I got to see all sorts of old cars that had been restored. I will be posting pictures of some of those cars in the next week or so. So on with the last two observations:
9) Spectators at the Rod Run will drive any ridiculous mode of transportation up and down the sidewalks just to avoid walking. I saw several fat men driving riding on what looked like a cooler with wheels and a steering wheel. And I don't know if they were rentals, but there were some old guys riding some funky looking bicycles. One guy was riding what looked like a girl's bike, because it was pink and had a banana seat on it. The sad part is the guy didn't look the least bit embarrassed.
10) Just because you drive a 1972 Camaro SS with a loud obnoxious engine in it doesn't give you the right to drive like a dumbass. Like I previously mentioned, the traffic on the Parkway was bumper to bumper. Any time some space opened up in front of one of these cars, the driver would rev his engine and burn rubber to advance up his lane, only to have to slam on his brakes two seconds later!
I had a great time on my vacation, but there were just some things that happened that made me laugh, and I had to share them with you!
I just got back from my (much needed) week-long vacation in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Though not as exotic as say Costa Rica (ahem, Mark) or the Dominican Republic (ahem, Roman), it still provided me the opportunity to relax and enjoy spending quality time with my wife, Brianne. It also afforded me the opportunity to point out the various quirks of the Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg area. For those of you not familiar with Pigeon Forge, you may want to go to the following website and read a little bit about it, although my first observation may tell you all you need to know:
www.mypigeonforge.com
So here are my observations about my Pigeon Forge experience!
1) Pigeon Forge is almost exactly like Myrtle Beach, except instead of being on the beach it is in the mountains (the Great Smokey Mountains, to be specific), and instead of having a plethora of all you can eat seafood restaurants, you are inundated with pancake houses. Apparently the flapjack is the official food of the Great Smokey Mountains. I mean I like pancakes and all, but not so much that I would go to a restaurant devoted to them, unless it was IHOP, in which case I would go in college with some friends to drink coffee and smoke a pack of Parliaments.
2) The main parkway through Pigeon Forge (PF, from now on since I am finding writing out Pigeon Forge rather tedious) is congested as hell. For those of you from Northern VA, think about 495 during rush hour, except with way more Confederate flags and Johnny Rebel stickers on the vehicles.
3) Speaking of the vehicles: I think there is an unspoken contest going on between Tennessee residents in which they see how big of a lift kit they can have on their pickup trucks before they get pulled over by the police. I mean, some of these monstrosities looked like they belonged in an arena somewhere running over lines of cars. And what is with the 18-wheeler exhaust pipes inside the bed of these trucks? Dude, you are driving an F-150, not a Freightliner!
4) The black bear is apparently the official state animal of Tennessee, although good luck finding a single one. I would have thought that with all the information in our cabin about "Bear safety", and the special "bearproof" dumpsters outside our cabin that maybe I would have seen at least one bear! That alone would have made my trip! I mean, store after store after store had hundreds of figurines and shirts and mugs and toilet paper holders carved into bears. Where are the bears? Show me bears!
5) Apparently, Male bears wear hats. Specifically, they wear fishing hats. In every figurine with a male and female black bear, the male bear was always wearing a hat, I guess to allow me to figure out which one is the male. I guess the figurine maker assumes that if he/she didn't put a hat on one of the bears, we would automatically assume it was a gay bear couple. Maybe the PF Town Council got together and said: "We don't want nobody thinking we got queer bears here, so you better put fishin' hats on the male bears!" I think I will make a bear figurine with two bears both wearing hats, and witness the ensuing uproar.
6) PF apparently has a fairly significant Asian population. However, I only saw Asian women, most of whom appeared to be either Vietnamese or from Laos. I saw no Asian men. I have yet to see the appeal of PF to Asian women.
7) If you want a native Pigeon Forgean to be polite to you, make sure they are not from this country. The two friendliest locals I met on my trip were: a) the Middle Eastern gentleman I met at one store, who thanked me for my business, and b) the Korean lady at another store, who asked me where I was from, and what I had done so far. The local rednecks on the other hand...see observation 8.
8) You can't go to a gas station without being pestered by the local rednecks about sitting in on a timeshare lecture so I can get discount tickets to Dollywood. I was filling up our Explorer at a Pilot, and like the sideler from that one Seinfeld episode, this creepy redneck guy came up to me and asked me if I wanted discount tickets to Dixie Stampede or the Comedy Barn. I told him "No!". Not a minute later, a lady came up to me and asked me if I had been to Wonderworks yet, and that if I came to a lecture about a new condominium complex, I could get discounted tickets for any show! I just ignored her and didn't even look her in the eye. As I was getting into our vehicle, I said out loud "Can't I just get gas without being hassled by the locals??"
9) Speaking of the locals: The first place we went to when we got into PF was Kroger's, to get some groceries for the week. The guy who was bagging our groceries was this old guy named George, and George reeked of alcohol, and looked the part (Roman and Troy: think of Chinese Santa Claus guy, but thinner, no neon green flip-flops, and this guy could still keep his tongue in his mouth). My father in law asked how that guy could function at his job reeking of alcohol. I didn't give this guy another thought until the day we decided to go to the central bus station to catch one of the trolley's. I was coming out of the bathroom and who should be walking towards me but George. The scary part, he was wearing the same uniform as the trolley drivers. Great, watch us get George the Drunk as our driver. Thank God that didn't happen!
My last two observations come as a result of being present in PF during Rod Run 2008, in which people from around the country bring their classic cars and line them up along the parking lots on either side of the main Parkway. It was great, because I got to see all sorts of old cars that had been restored. I will be posting pictures of some of those cars in the next week or so. So on with the last two observations:
9) Spectators at the Rod Run will drive any ridiculous mode of transportation up and down the sidewalks just to avoid walking. I saw several fat men driving riding on what looked like a cooler with wheels and a steering wheel. And I don't know if they were rentals, but there were some old guys riding some funky looking bicycles. One guy was riding what looked like a girl's bike, because it was pink and had a banana seat on it. The sad part is the guy didn't look the least bit embarrassed.
10) Just because you drive a 1972 Camaro SS with a loud obnoxious engine in it doesn't give you the right to drive like a dumbass. Like I previously mentioned, the traffic on the Parkway was bumper to bumper. Any time some space opened up in front of one of these cars, the driver would rev his engine and burn rubber to advance up his lane, only to have to slam on his brakes two seconds later!
I had a great time on my vacation, but there were just some things that happened that made me laugh, and I had to share them with you!
Myspace Blog from 9/11/08: If I had access to a blog on 9/11/01
If I had access to a Blog on 9/11/2001
Running Diary for September 11, 2001
7:00am: I am awake, thanks to the alarm clock I have had since I was 8-years old. Today is my 25th birthday! I have survived on this planet for a quarter of a century. A couple of friends have told me that whatever happens on your 25th birthday becomes a metaphor for what the rest of your life will be like. If that is the case, hopefully something great will happen! Yay! Now to take a shower!
7:30: Turned MTV X on. I love that channel. It is all hard rock and heavy metal videos! Good going MTV! Now don't do something stupid like replacing it with an all hip-hop video station. Anyways, I see the video for System of A Down's "Chop Suey". Great song, but the chorus perplexes me: "Trust in my self-righteous suicide, why cry when angels deserve to die". I am not sure what to make of that statement. It makes me think of terrorists or something. Oh well, better be getting to class!
8:00: I arrive to my Counseling Techniques class. We are critiquing each other's "fake counseling session" videos today, and giving each other feedback. Since these are our first videos, there is obviously a lot of room for improvement. Dr. Mullis is very good at pointing out our strengths as counselors and giving constructive criticism.
8:48: Dr. McKee, one of my other grad school professors runs in and turns the television onto the news. Apparently something has happened at the World Trade Center in New York, some kind of explosion. There is smoke bellowing from the North Tower. I wonder what happened.
8:49: My question is answered. A plane has crashed into the North Tower. How the heck does that happen? Incompetent pilot?
8:51: Now THAT question is answered. Reports are that the plane was hijacked by terrorists. "Trust in my self-righteous suicide, why cry when angels deserve to die" makes a lot more sense now.
9:03: Another plane crashes into the South Tower of the WTC. This one is actually caught on live television. Everyone in my class gasps, a couple of people have tears in their eyes. I lean over to my friend and say, "And today is my 25th birthday." My friend announces this to the whole class, who respond by saying, "Oh my God, I am so sorry", or something to that effect.
9:14: CBS cuts to a shot of President Asterisk, I mean Bush, in a classroom reading a book to some elementary school-aged children. Bush just has this blank look on his face, as if to say to himself "You mean, I should have taken that intelligence I received about terrorists plotting against us more seriously?"
9:15-9:37: Stunned silence in the classroom. A few of my classmates are tearing up a bit. We are all concerned about the well-being of the people who are still in the Towers. Though none of us say it, we all know that there were probably no survivors on the planes that were used to crash into the buildings.
9:37: The news cuts to Washington, where another plane has crashed into the Pentagon. I make some off-handed comment to the effect of "And I am sure that is COMPLETELY unrelated to the first two". My classmates laugh, seemingly in need for a quick respite from the sadness of the morning's events.
9:59: The South Tower collapses, which seems architecturally impossible. The plane crashed into the top fourth of the building, so I don't see how the whole building would have collapsed. But whatever. I hope there weren't a lot of people left in that building.
10:03: Yet another plane has crashed, this time about 80 miles outside of Pittsburgh, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. That seems random. Maybe the passengers on that plane didn't want to put up with the terrorists' shit, and they missed their target. This is horrible. I am witnessing death on a grand scale and all I can think about is watching the Challenger explode. I thought that was my generation's tragedy, but I was sorely mistaken, unfortunately.
10:05: CBS News Reporter Andrea Mitchell is reporting that it is believed that a terrorist mastermind named Osama Bin Laden is responsible for today's attacks. They show the latest picture they have of him. Yeah, he is either a terrorist mastermind or a member of the Middle Eastern version of ZZ Top.
10:28: The North Tower collapses, again seemingly impossible, unless aided by strategically located explosives, but that is just my opinion. It is like a scene from a movie where a car falls off a bridge and completely explodes upon impact at the bottom of the ravine. Impossible!
10:50: Class is over, not that we did anything related to counseling techniques, other than trying to console each other. The bad thing is, I have two more classes.
11:00: I arrive in my Marriage and Family Counseling Class. Dr. McKee states that he plans on conducting class as normal. I have no idea what was talked about, because I kept picturing in my mind what I just witnessed, and I cannot get that damn song out of my head: "Why cry when angels deserve to die?" I am sure my classmates are suffering a similar plight, minus the song.
12:15: Mercifully, class is over. Today, Dr. McKee sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher: "wa wa wa wa wa". I walk to my apartment to make some lunch and to turn the news on. My next class is at 2pm (Group Counseling). That will give me a good hour or so to catch up on what is going on.
12:30: I arrive at my apartment to eat some lunch and to watch the news (I am sure this will be all that is on for the next week). That Bin Laden guy's name keeps coming up as the prime suspect. Orrin Hatch says "this act has Bin Laden's signature all over it." I get pissed because I am more concerned about how many people were killed or who survived in this tragedy. Figure out who did this later! Fucking politicians!
1:40: I have to walk back to campus for my Group Counseling class.
2:00: I arrive at my Group Counseling class. We are currently doing mock group counseling sessions with volunteers from the Intro to Psychology classes. Of course, all the kids want to talk about is what is happening. I don't know if my co-facilitator and I were much help because we are in just as much shock as they are. But it was a good session.
3:15: Thank God class is over! I go home and the first thing that happens is my mother calls me and nervously wishes me a Happy Birthday. I am pretty depressed right now. My birthday is going to go down as one of the most tragic days in American history. I am sure hundreds of people died, because the news is telling us that not everyone got out in time. I can see it now: Every time I tell someone when my birthday is, I can see them saying, "Woah, that sucks man!"
4:00: My girlfriend Brianne arrives to keep me company. We are going to Sal's Italian restaurant to "celebrate" my birthday, and the fact that I turned 25 on the worst day in recent history. I am starting to think that the friends who told me that "whatever happens on my 25th birthday will indicate how the rest of my life will go" are full of shit, and have no idea what they are talking about. Brianne and I watch the news for an hour or so. There is no escaping this, and all I want to do is watch the news. That's probably the attitude every American with half a heart has right now.
5:30: Dinner at Sal's. Brianne and I both order our favorite: Tagliatelle alla Mozzarella. The food is good, but I just am not enjoying it very much, at least not as much as I usually do. Part of that is because I thought I could escape from the news for a couple of hours. But that was before I realized Sal's has televisions all over the place, and they were all turned to, you guessed it, the news.
7:30: I return home. I realize that my friend Jeremy is getting married this coming Saturday, and I am his best man. Hmmm! What a bad omen! I will say it here and now! I do not like Beth (Jeremy's fiancé) at all! She does not treat him right, she is the most negative person in the world, and Jeremy can do a hell of a lot better than her! I heard in the news that all the airports are closed, and probably will be for some time! My dad is supposed to come to the wedding, since he will be in Washington on business. But I don't think he will be going anywhere anytime soon. I wonder how many guests Jeremy has that are from out of town.
7:35: I turn the TV to ESPN, because that should provide me an escape, right? What the fuck? Even ESPN is covering this tragedy! Chris Berman is heading up the reporting. What kind of nickname will he come up with for the prime suspect, Osama "Garbage" Bin Laden? All sports events have been put on hold. I suppose we all do need to focus on this tragedy for awhile, let it soak on our brains for a couple of weeks before attempting to go about our lives.
7:40: Watching the news, what I find more depressing than the tragedy itself is the video of the children of some of the missing men and women who worked in the Towers. They show one family where the mother and three daughters are holding up pictures of their husband/father asking him to call them. They are not ready to accept the reality that their loved one has probably died for no reason, except that a bunch of Muslim Radicals thought they would receive a bunch of virgins if they crashed those planes into the Towers. It is only human nature to hold on to hope until the very end. I guess if I was in their shoes, I would be doing the same thing.
9:00: Brianne has left to go back to her apartment. I decided I just wanted to stay by myself and watch the news some more before going to bed. At this point in time, the news just keeps repeating the same information over and over again, indicating they have nothing new to report. It is dark out, anyways, and I imagine looking for survivors will have to stop for the night. So why don't I turn the TV off and listen to music or something? I can't turn it off, and I don't know why. Is it because this is happening on my birthday, or because the World Trade Center has now replaced the Challenger as my generation's tragedy?
11:00: I find myself falling asleep in front of the television. Tomorrow has to be a better day, it just has to be! As I doze in and out of consciousness I keep thinking about that song: "Trust in my self-righteous suicide." That fucking song!
Running Diary for September 11, 2001
7:00am: I am awake, thanks to the alarm clock I have had since I was 8-years old. Today is my 25th birthday! I have survived on this planet for a quarter of a century. A couple of friends have told me that whatever happens on your 25th birthday becomes a metaphor for what the rest of your life will be like. If that is the case, hopefully something great will happen! Yay! Now to take a shower!
7:30: Turned MTV X on. I love that channel. It is all hard rock and heavy metal videos! Good going MTV! Now don't do something stupid like replacing it with an all hip-hop video station. Anyways, I see the video for System of A Down's "Chop Suey". Great song, but the chorus perplexes me: "Trust in my self-righteous suicide, why cry when angels deserve to die". I am not sure what to make of that statement. It makes me think of terrorists or something. Oh well, better be getting to class!
8:00: I arrive to my Counseling Techniques class. We are critiquing each other's "fake counseling session" videos today, and giving each other feedback. Since these are our first videos, there is obviously a lot of room for improvement. Dr. Mullis is very good at pointing out our strengths as counselors and giving constructive criticism.
8:48: Dr. McKee, one of my other grad school professors runs in and turns the television onto the news. Apparently something has happened at the World Trade Center in New York, some kind of explosion. There is smoke bellowing from the North Tower. I wonder what happened.
8:49: My question is answered. A plane has crashed into the North Tower. How the heck does that happen? Incompetent pilot?
8:51: Now THAT question is answered. Reports are that the plane was hijacked by terrorists. "Trust in my self-righteous suicide, why cry when angels deserve to die" makes a lot more sense now.
9:03: Another plane crashes into the South Tower of the WTC. This one is actually caught on live television. Everyone in my class gasps, a couple of people have tears in their eyes. I lean over to my friend and say, "And today is my 25th birthday." My friend announces this to the whole class, who respond by saying, "Oh my God, I am so sorry", or something to that effect.
9:14: CBS cuts to a shot of President Asterisk, I mean Bush, in a classroom reading a book to some elementary school-aged children. Bush just has this blank look on his face, as if to say to himself "You mean, I should have taken that intelligence I received about terrorists plotting against us more seriously?"
9:15-9:37: Stunned silence in the classroom. A few of my classmates are tearing up a bit. We are all concerned about the well-being of the people who are still in the Towers. Though none of us say it, we all know that there were probably no survivors on the planes that were used to crash into the buildings.
9:37: The news cuts to Washington, where another plane has crashed into the Pentagon. I make some off-handed comment to the effect of "And I am sure that is COMPLETELY unrelated to the first two". My classmates laugh, seemingly in need for a quick respite from the sadness of the morning's events.
9:59: The South Tower collapses, which seems architecturally impossible. The plane crashed into the top fourth of the building, so I don't see how the whole building would have collapsed. But whatever. I hope there weren't a lot of people left in that building.
10:03: Yet another plane has crashed, this time about 80 miles outside of Pittsburgh, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. That seems random. Maybe the passengers on that plane didn't want to put up with the terrorists' shit, and they missed their target. This is horrible. I am witnessing death on a grand scale and all I can think about is watching the Challenger explode. I thought that was my generation's tragedy, but I was sorely mistaken, unfortunately.
10:05: CBS News Reporter Andrea Mitchell is reporting that it is believed that a terrorist mastermind named Osama Bin Laden is responsible for today's attacks. They show the latest picture they have of him. Yeah, he is either a terrorist mastermind or a member of the Middle Eastern version of ZZ Top.
10:28: The North Tower collapses, again seemingly impossible, unless aided by strategically located explosives, but that is just my opinion. It is like a scene from a movie where a car falls off a bridge and completely explodes upon impact at the bottom of the ravine. Impossible!
10:50: Class is over, not that we did anything related to counseling techniques, other than trying to console each other. The bad thing is, I have two more classes.
11:00: I arrive in my Marriage and Family Counseling Class. Dr. McKee states that he plans on conducting class as normal. I have no idea what was talked about, because I kept picturing in my mind what I just witnessed, and I cannot get that damn song out of my head: "Why cry when angels deserve to die?" I am sure my classmates are suffering a similar plight, minus the song.
12:15: Mercifully, class is over. Today, Dr. McKee sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher: "wa wa wa wa wa". I walk to my apartment to make some lunch and to turn the news on. My next class is at 2pm (Group Counseling). That will give me a good hour or so to catch up on what is going on.
12:30: I arrive at my apartment to eat some lunch and to watch the news (I am sure this will be all that is on for the next week). That Bin Laden guy's name keeps coming up as the prime suspect. Orrin Hatch says "this act has Bin Laden's signature all over it." I get pissed because I am more concerned about how many people were killed or who survived in this tragedy. Figure out who did this later! Fucking politicians!
1:40: I have to walk back to campus for my Group Counseling class.
2:00: I arrive at my Group Counseling class. We are currently doing mock group counseling sessions with volunteers from the Intro to Psychology classes. Of course, all the kids want to talk about is what is happening. I don't know if my co-facilitator and I were much help because we are in just as much shock as they are. But it was a good session.
3:15: Thank God class is over! I go home and the first thing that happens is my mother calls me and nervously wishes me a Happy Birthday. I am pretty depressed right now. My birthday is going to go down as one of the most tragic days in American history. I am sure hundreds of people died, because the news is telling us that not everyone got out in time. I can see it now: Every time I tell someone when my birthday is, I can see them saying, "Woah, that sucks man!"
4:00: My girlfriend Brianne arrives to keep me company. We are going to Sal's Italian restaurant to "celebrate" my birthday, and the fact that I turned 25 on the worst day in recent history. I am starting to think that the friends who told me that "whatever happens on my 25th birthday will indicate how the rest of my life will go" are full of shit, and have no idea what they are talking about. Brianne and I watch the news for an hour or so. There is no escaping this, and all I want to do is watch the news. That's probably the attitude every American with half a heart has right now.
5:30: Dinner at Sal's. Brianne and I both order our favorite: Tagliatelle alla Mozzarella. The food is good, but I just am not enjoying it very much, at least not as much as I usually do. Part of that is because I thought I could escape from the news for a couple of hours. But that was before I realized Sal's has televisions all over the place, and they were all turned to, you guessed it, the news.
7:30: I return home. I realize that my friend Jeremy is getting married this coming Saturday, and I am his best man. Hmmm! What a bad omen! I will say it here and now! I do not like Beth (Jeremy's fiancé) at all! She does not treat him right, she is the most negative person in the world, and Jeremy can do a hell of a lot better than her! I heard in the news that all the airports are closed, and probably will be for some time! My dad is supposed to come to the wedding, since he will be in Washington on business. But I don't think he will be going anywhere anytime soon. I wonder how many guests Jeremy has that are from out of town.
7:35: I turn the TV to ESPN, because that should provide me an escape, right? What the fuck? Even ESPN is covering this tragedy! Chris Berman is heading up the reporting. What kind of nickname will he come up with for the prime suspect, Osama "Garbage" Bin Laden? All sports events have been put on hold. I suppose we all do need to focus on this tragedy for awhile, let it soak on our brains for a couple of weeks before attempting to go about our lives.
7:40: Watching the news, what I find more depressing than the tragedy itself is the video of the children of some of the missing men and women who worked in the Towers. They show one family where the mother and three daughters are holding up pictures of their husband/father asking him to call them. They are not ready to accept the reality that their loved one has probably died for no reason, except that a bunch of Muslim Radicals thought they would receive a bunch of virgins if they crashed those planes into the Towers. It is only human nature to hold on to hope until the very end. I guess if I was in their shoes, I would be doing the same thing.
9:00: Brianne has left to go back to her apartment. I decided I just wanted to stay by myself and watch the news some more before going to bed. At this point in time, the news just keeps repeating the same information over and over again, indicating they have nothing new to report. It is dark out, anyways, and I imagine looking for survivors will have to stop for the night. So why don't I turn the TV off and listen to music or something? I can't turn it off, and I don't know why. Is it because this is happening on my birthday, or because the World Trade Center has now replaced the Challenger as my generation's tragedy?
11:00: I find myself falling asleep in front of the television. Tomorrow has to be a better day, it just has to be! As I doze in and out of consciousness I keep thinking about that song: "Trust in my self-righteous suicide." That fucking song!
Yes I'm sure Mary Berry doesn't live here!
The next time you move and have to get a new land line phone number, pray that you take over a number from someone who had their finances in order. It gets frustrating to no end when bill collectors, lawyers, and other such professionals call nonstop looking for Mary Berry, who I am guessing had our phone number before we did. She apparently has no money either, and hasn't paid a bill at least since August, when we moved into our home. So when one of these debt collectors calls and I inform them that they have the wrong number, they start asking my wife or I twenty questions to see if they can "trick" me into telling them how to get hold of Mary Berry. I feel like telling them that I would like to know as well so I can slap her face for not managing her finances better, thereby putting me under an invisible spotlight any time someone calls wanting their money. They ask me if I know the woman and when I tell them I do not, they seriously follow up with the question "Well, do you know how to reach her?" Are you effing serious? I just told you I don't know her, you Ph.D candidate!!!! The guy today, who was nicer than some of the others that have been, still asked "So this isn't Mary Berry's number?" I know they are just doing their job, but is grilling me really necessary? My wife and I have our finances in order, and after all the shit we have been through on behalf of Mary Berry, we are going to do our damndest to make sure they stay in order.
Mary Berry is probably not even in Virginia at this point in time. She probably had her identity changed and is probably a waitress at some run-down diner in the Arizona desert. Meanwhile, I am waiting for the day when some mafiosos from New Jersey come busting through our door looking for Mary. If that happens, I think I will have to start looking for her myself so we can have a conversation about personal finances.
Mary Berry is probably not even in Virginia at this point in time. She probably had her identity changed and is probably a waitress at some run-down diner in the Arizona desert. Meanwhile, I am waiting for the day when some mafiosos from New Jersey come busting through our door looking for Mary. If that happens, I think I will have to start looking for her myself so we can have a conversation about personal finances.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Quick thoughts for the day.
1) This morning my wife got upset at me for having put hot dog chili in a little Tupperware container, which left an orange-ish ring around the inside of it. I keep forgetting that many people, including my wife, treat their Tupperware like they are sacred cows. I apologized and then said to myself "If that is the biggest argument she and I have in our marriage, we are doing pretty damn good!"
2) I may have to concede defeat to my friend Keith, who told me not to get my hopes up when the Nationals were 20-15. He told me that he still expects that the Nats will only win 70 games or so this year. I thought he was crazy at the time. I mean, Keith is a guy who saw a pirate bear picture at the Virginia Beach Wyndham Hotel, and created a backstory for said bear, indicating that the bear is actually some drug-abusing, chronically suicidal emo kid who dresses up in a pirate bear costume and walks around Virginia Beach in 100 degree weather. So it was hard for me to take him seriously. But in the 13 games since their 20-15 start, the Nats are 4-9, their bats have gone silent, and the pitching has started to return to its 2009 form. The only hope I have now is that Stephen Strasburg brings a spark to the team when he is called up from AAA.
3) I have come to the conclusion that if you are a fairly attractive female high school teacher who hates her job, the easiest way to lose that job is to have sex with one of your male students. A few days ago, another story came out about a female teacher in Western New York State who performed oral sex on a 17-year old male student, and encouraged two 16-year old boys to have sex with her via texting. The reason why female teachers get caught so quickly when they have sex with an underage male student boils down to the nature of boys. What do you think the first thing a boy is going to do after having sex with a hot teacher??? He is going to brag about it to all his friends! That information will spread like wildfire at that point, and before you know it, it's two days later, and Miss Haskins is in jail and out of a job.
-Skippy
2) I may have to concede defeat to my friend Keith, who told me not to get my hopes up when the Nationals were 20-15. He told me that he still expects that the Nats will only win 70 games or so this year. I thought he was crazy at the time. I mean, Keith is a guy who saw a pirate bear picture at the Virginia Beach Wyndham Hotel, and created a backstory for said bear, indicating that the bear is actually some drug-abusing, chronically suicidal emo kid who dresses up in a pirate bear costume and walks around Virginia Beach in 100 degree weather. So it was hard for me to take him seriously. But in the 13 games since their 20-15 start, the Nats are 4-9, their bats have gone silent, and the pitching has started to return to its 2009 form. The only hope I have now is that Stephen Strasburg brings a spark to the team when he is called up from AAA.
3) I have come to the conclusion that if you are a fairly attractive female high school teacher who hates her job, the easiest way to lose that job is to have sex with one of your male students. A few days ago, another story came out about a female teacher in Western New York State who performed oral sex on a 17-year old male student, and encouraged two 16-year old boys to have sex with her via texting. The reason why female teachers get caught so quickly when they have sex with an underage male student boils down to the nature of boys. What do you think the first thing a boy is going to do after having sex with a hot teacher??? He is going to brag about it to all his friends! That information will spread like wildfire at that point, and before you know it, it's two days later, and Miss Haskins is in jail and out of a job.
-Skippy
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Schizoaffective Disorder and "Jesus is my Favorite Athlete".
I am on-call for Lynchburg right now. Unlike Rockbridge, being on-call in Lynchburg is a double-edged sword. On one hand, I hope I don't get called out so that I can just relax at home. However, by doing that, I only get paid the $5/hour to hold the pager. So for a 12-hour shift, I get a whopping 60 bucks. Whereas, if I get called out I make a lot more money per hour, but doing so forces me to give up relaxing at home.
I got called out around 9:00 this morning, which means I will stay in Lynchburg for the rest of my on-call shift, since that trip from BV to Lynchburg would get tiresome. First I had to go to the VICU at Virginia Baptist to do an "appropriateness for discharge" assessment. Then I had to go over to the ER to assess one of our frequent flyers, who becomes suicidal if the wind so much as changes directions. I had this at Rockbridge as well, these clients who are always in crisis, or so they think they are in crisis. I'm sorry, but wanting to change your SSDI payee because your current payee steals your money is not a crisis. Being suicidal because Ric Flair is no longer wrestling is not a crisis. Being severely depressed and angry because your neighbors complain about you watching your porno movies while listening to gospel music at the same time at loud volumes IS NOT A CRISIS! But I always have to remind myself, if it is a crisis to them, it is a crisis to me. The clients in the three examples I gave of supposed "non-crises" all had the same diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder, those most interesting of clients who couldn't choose between being Bipolar or Schizophrenic, so they exhibit symptoms and characteristics of both Disorders. I worked with one such client on an ongoing outpatient basis for close to two years, and I can honestly tell you it was one of the most gut-wrenching experiences ever. He would make some progress with anger management, and then all of the sudden have an outburst that landed him in a psychiatric hospital.
The thing I tell myself over and over again is that I love doing crisis work, and I have to continue to be patient with all clients, but especially the Schizoaffective ones. They have such a hard time establishing meaningful relationships and rarely have I met a Schizoaffective client who had a long-term girlfriend or boyfriend. The rewards come when you work intensely with a Schizoaffective client and they work hard and make some progress on one of their goals, and the smiling pride they show when you commend them for their efforts. That's what makes this work worthwhile!
So after I had finished up at the ER, I got some lunch and brought it back to the office. I turned on the TV and there was a poker tournament of some sort on ESPN. I am waiting for the day when poker gets more airtime than the NFL. That will be the end of civilization as we know it. Since poker is shown on ESPN, a sports network, little kids will probably think that poker is a sport. I await the day when I ask some 8-year old kid "So who's your favorite professional athlete, and he responds, "Chris Ferguson! You know, Jesus!". I will respond by saying, "I weep for the future."
I got called out around 9:00 this morning, which means I will stay in Lynchburg for the rest of my on-call shift, since that trip from BV to Lynchburg would get tiresome. First I had to go to the VICU at Virginia Baptist to do an "appropriateness for discharge" assessment. Then I had to go over to the ER to assess one of our frequent flyers, who becomes suicidal if the wind so much as changes directions. I had this at Rockbridge as well, these clients who are always in crisis, or so they think they are in crisis. I'm sorry, but wanting to change your SSDI payee because your current payee steals your money is not a crisis. Being suicidal because Ric Flair is no longer wrestling is not a crisis. Being severely depressed and angry because your neighbors complain about you watching your porno movies while listening to gospel music at the same time at loud volumes IS NOT A CRISIS! But I always have to remind myself, if it is a crisis to them, it is a crisis to me. The clients in the three examples I gave of supposed "non-crises" all had the same diagnosis of Schizoaffective Disorder, those most interesting of clients who couldn't choose between being Bipolar or Schizophrenic, so they exhibit symptoms and characteristics of both Disorders. I worked with one such client on an ongoing outpatient basis for close to two years, and I can honestly tell you it was one of the most gut-wrenching experiences ever. He would make some progress with anger management, and then all of the sudden have an outburst that landed him in a psychiatric hospital.
The thing I tell myself over and over again is that I love doing crisis work, and I have to continue to be patient with all clients, but especially the Schizoaffective ones. They have such a hard time establishing meaningful relationships and rarely have I met a Schizoaffective client who had a long-term girlfriend or boyfriend. The rewards come when you work intensely with a Schizoaffective client and they work hard and make some progress on one of their goals, and the smiling pride they show when you commend them for their efforts. That's what makes this work worthwhile!
So after I had finished up at the ER, I got some lunch and brought it back to the office. I turned on the TV and there was a poker tournament of some sort on ESPN. I am waiting for the day when poker gets more airtime than the NFL. That will be the end of civilization as we know it. Since poker is shown on ESPN, a sports network, little kids will probably think that poker is a sport. I await the day when I ask some 8-year old kid "So who's your favorite professional athlete, and he responds, "Chris Ferguson! You know, Jesus!". I will respond by saying, "I weep for the future."
Thursday, May 20, 2010
After a long day of ECOs in Bedford...
Some one must have tainted the water supply in Bedford County. I went to the ER in Bedford for one ECO, and three others showed up. For those of you who don't know, an ECO (Emergency Custody Order) is a legal document that allows the police to take a person who is in an acute mental health crisis into custody for four hours to allow the Crisis Clinician (me!) to do an assessment to determine if said person needs to be hospitalized against their will, in which case a Temporary Detention Order (TDO) is issued. Needless to say, yesterday was crazy busy for my coworker and I, and there were so many cops in the ER, you would have thought it was a crime scene.
So I get back to our office in Lynchburg at 11:30pm, having been in Bedford since 2:00. Since my normal shift is Tuesday-Thursday from noon to midnight, my drive home consists primarily of dodging deer and other creatures of the night whilst listening to heavy metal at a reasonably loud level to keep me alert. Last night, my selection was Fear Factory's new album "Mechanize", a monster of an album! I got to thinking: I have listened to that album about 12 times now, and for the most part I have the tune to each track memorized. Except for one song, "Oxidizer". I don't know why, but I cannot remember how the song goes when I try to spontaneously remember it. So while I was driving home, I started wondering if the fact that I own so many (500+) CDs with thousands and thousands of songs, has my brain started running out of capacity to remember new songs? It frustrates me (for some stupid reason, I know) that I have all of the other tracks on "Mechanize" memorized, but not this ONE song!
I decided the only solution to my dilemma is that I somehow have to start forgetting the tunes to songs that are a waste of space in my brain. I don't know, something like losing the memory of some stupid Ween song from the 90's, like "Reggaejunkiejew" or radio hits from the same era, such as "Macarena". Fuck that song! And while we are at it, let's forget all of today's top 40 hits that my wife listens to on K92, like that "Tick Tock" song by the chick who brushes her teeth with a bottle of Jack, while picking out her clothes clothes (Actually, this one won't be forgotten until my wife takes it off as her cell phone ringtone).
Something's gotta give though. I need to clear space in my brain to remember the songs I want to remember by extracting and burning the ones I wish to forget.
So the above was the internal conversation I had with myself on the way home from work last night. Anything to stay awake!
So I get back to our office in Lynchburg at 11:30pm, having been in Bedford since 2:00. Since my normal shift is Tuesday-Thursday from noon to midnight, my drive home consists primarily of dodging deer and other creatures of the night whilst listening to heavy metal at a reasonably loud level to keep me alert. Last night, my selection was Fear Factory's new album "Mechanize", a monster of an album! I got to thinking: I have listened to that album about 12 times now, and for the most part I have the tune to each track memorized. Except for one song, "Oxidizer". I don't know why, but I cannot remember how the song goes when I try to spontaneously remember it. So while I was driving home, I started wondering if the fact that I own so many (500+) CDs with thousands and thousands of songs, has my brain started running out of capacity to remember new songs? It frustrates me (for some stupid reason, I know) that I have all of the other tracks on "Mechanize" memorized, but not this ONE song!
I decided the only solution to my dilemma is that I somehow have to start forgetting the tunes to songs that are a waste of space in my brain. I don't know, something like losing the memory of some stupid Ween song from the 90's, like "Reggaejunkiejew" or radio hits from the same era, such as "Macarena". Fuck that song! And while we are at it, let's forget all of today's top 40 hits that my wife listens to on K92, like that "Tick Tock" song by the chick who brushes her teeth with a bottle of Jack, while picking out her clothes clothes (Actually, this one won't be forgotten until my wife takes it off as her cell phone ringtone).
Something's gotta give though. I need to clear space in my brain to remember the songs I want to remember by extracting and burning the ones I wish to forget.
So the above was the internal conversation I had with myself on the way home from work last night. Anything to stay awake!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Quick thought
I was just clicking on the "Next Blog" button to see what other kinds of people have blogs here. What else is one to do while at the ER waiting to hear from Poplar Springs Hospital to see if they will take my Bipolar/Borderline, overdosing client. Based on my perusal of the other blogs, it looks like it is primarily Stay-at-home moms who compare national brand products to their store-brand counterparts, and meth-abusing emo kids dawning pirate bear costumes at Virginia Beach. I guess I fit somewhere in between the two. Okay, bye now!
Back to Their Old Ways???
I know the MLB season is 162 games and six months long. Therefore, it is probably WAAAAAAAYYYY to early to start panicking about the Nationals' current four-game losing streak. However, for the sake of argument, are the Nats returning to their losing ways? Was their once 20-15 record too good to be true after all? It's not like I was expecting them to go to the playoffs, unless they squeaked in somehow as the Wild Card. All I ask is that they actually had a decent record this year! They have the lineup to win: Ryan Zimmerman, Josh Willingham, Nyjer Morgan, and Adam Dunn, to name a few. The question with them has always been pitching and defense. But this year, they were pitching decently, and the defense had been much improved (the Nats are on pace to obliterate the number of "Web Gem" appearances they had last season). But in the past four games, pitchers have given up big innings, and the defense has gone back to the 59-103 mentality of not making plays that should be made. But the main reason I am panicking slightly is because before now, the Nats had not lost more than two consecutive games this entire season. Additionally, they hadn't lost a series in almost two months; they have either taken 2 of three, or split a four-game series.
Maybe this four-game skid is nothing, and I am concerned for no reason at all. Had this been the (effing) Yankees, a four-game losing streak would certainly be no reason for concern. But because it is the Nationals, a franchise with a history of ineptitude dating back to their days as the Montreal Expos, a four-game skid triggers that panic response quicker than you can say "Felipe Alou". I am sure Nats Manager Jim Riggleman hasn't pushed the panic button yet, and for good reason! Next month, probably June 8th, will be the MLB debut of one Stephen Strasburg, who is supposed to be the next "Great" Pitcher. Everyone is hoping that Strasburg will be the Prodigal Son the Natstown has been waiting for. No pressure, Stevie!
So maybe I should just hold my breath a little bit longer and hope that the Nats return to their winning ways tonight with *cringes* John Lannan on the mound. I need a sign that tells me it is time to panic, something like Rob Dibble getting more and more intoxicated during games from drinking glass after glass of Bourbon on the Rocks. When that starts happening again, I will know it's time to start figuring out who the Nats should take with the first pick of next year's draft!
Maybe this four-game skid is nothing, and I am concerned for no reason at all. Had this been the (effing) Yankees, a four-game losing streak would certainly be no reason for concern. But because it is the Nationals, a franchise with a history of ineptitude dating back to their days as the Montreal Expos, a four-game skid triggers that panic response quicker than you can say "Felipe Alou". I am sure Nats Manager Jim Riggleman hasn't pushed the panic button yet, and for good reason! Next month, probably June 8th, will be the MLB debut of one Stephen Strasburg, who is supposed to be the next "Great" Pitcher. Everyone is hoping that Strasburg will be the Prodigal Son the Natstown has been waiting for. No pressure, Stevie!
So maybe I should just hold my breath a little bit longer and hope that the Nats return to their winning ways tonight with *cringes* John Lannan on the mound. I need a sign that tells me it is time to panic, something like Rob Dibble getting more and more intoxicated during games from drinking glass after glass of Bourbon on the Rocks. When that starts happening again, I will know it's time to start figuring out who the Nats should take with the first pick of next year's draft!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Welcome to my life!
I have been fighting this my whole life. Before now, I figured that every idiot with a computer, and a history of dating Personality-Disordered psychiatric nurses, were the ones who really needed a blog. I figured that people like that have much more interesting lives than I do. And they are probably right! I am married, have a full-time job (which will probably the subject of many future blogs--HIT IT, DADDY! HIT IT!), and I am a homeowner. I have thousands and thousands of dollars in debt. In other words, I am in the same boat as everyone else from my generation.
To be honest, I expect this blog to be a half-ass commitment on my part. My followers, if I have any, should not get upset if no new material appears for weeks, or even months. That is because I am "full-ass" committed to the more important aspects of my life: my wife, my job, my family and friends, and Virginia Tech football, the Washington Redskins, the Washington Nationals, and the Charlotte Bobcats. Yes, I am a sports fanatic! I am still trying to digest the idea that the Nationals are actually decent this year, and that Rob Dibble (their color commentator) hasn't been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning yet this season. All this, and Stephen Strasburg is still at AAA Syracuse.
I will probably post some old blogs I posted on my Myspace account (the soon to be deleted Myspace account) for posterity purposes. After that, I will start posting new stuff periodically, predominantly for my own entertainment. So allow me to officially welcome you to my blog. I hope you enjoy it!
To be honest, I expect this blog to be a half-ass commitment on my part. My followers, if I have any, should not get upset if no new material appears for weeks, or even months. That is because I am "full-ass" committed to the more important aspects of my life: my wife, my job, my family and friends, and Virginia Tech football, the Washington Redskins, the Washington Nationals, and the Charlotte Bobcats. Yes, I am a sports fanatic! I am still trying to digest the idea that the Nationals are actually decent this year, and that Rob Dibble (their color commentator) hasn't been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning yet this season. All this, and Stephen Strasburg is still at AAA Syracuse.
I will probably post some old blogs I posted on my Myspace account (the soon to be deleted Myspace account) for posterity purposes. After that, I will start posting new stuff periodically, predominantly for my own entertainment. So allow me to officially welcome you to my blog. I hope you enjoy it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)