There Is A Plan…

I don’t know what it is, but I’m supposed to believe it exists, so I will.

I didn’t get the Ellen Gig, so we’ll see what’s next. That’s where this introspective look at life is coming from.

Apparently this job was not in the cards and has nothing to do with my future, so I’m writing it off as one more “No” before I hear a “Yes.”

Supposedly as I stated above, the universe has a plan for me and it’s not my place to question or judge it. I just need to hang on for the ride and try to enjoy the ups and learn from the downs.

This is much easier to accept since I’ve got that contract work through GoTv. I’ve been asked to cover two more shifts this next week and you don’t hear me complaining. Money is money and I have to confess, the job is kind of interesting. I’m learning some new software and how to edit different types of segments that you see in the news and on entertainment television. I’ve learned a lot actually and I can see why things are done the way they are.

The best part about the freelance bit is that I’m not stuck in one department. Last week was entertainment. This week is the news. Next week, maybe sports or humor. So I’ll get to diversify quite a bit and gain a lot of new skills.

I’m not saying there hasn’t been disappointment from not getting the Ellen gig. Of course I was bummed, but I bounced back faster this time because it was not a make it or break it opportunity. I just need to keep reminding myself that there is a bigger plan for me and I need to keep my mind open for those opportunities that will help me find the proper path.


The funny thing is I wonder if the path in my mind and the intended path are the same. I want to make movies, but will I discover something that is just as satisfying and bring me as much happiness as that creative endeavor? I don’t know, but I’ll find out. That’s the way life works.


Oh, yeah. July 27th equaled 22 months clean and sober. Take that you doubting bitches.

An Open Letter…

To the sexually ambiguous person who goes to my gym.

Dear He/She,

I have seen you at the gm twice now and I feel there are some things you could do that would keep myself, and others from looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

One: If you are a male, cut your hair. Your features are soft and feminine. They are nice features and if you are a male, you would be called a, ”pretty boy” which is not a bad thing. As a matter of fact, I bet it is easier for a pretty boy to get laid than it is an average joe like myself. There are men in this world who can get away with long hair. You sir/madam are not one of them.

Two: If you are a male, I’d recommend a sock in the crotch when you are wearing those tight shorts. This would keep the big bear guy who was using the treadmill next to me from making statements like, “Check out the bug fucker.” Or, “When did the Ken doll start working out?” These are very unoriginal lines, but I can see the comparison to the Ken doll with that odd flat panel on the front of your shorts. If you decide that you are a he, stuff and fluff.

Three: If you are a woman, I would consider wearing a stuffed bra. This works in the same way, but in the opposite direction of the crotch stuffing. I know you think that the tight sports bra top is sexy, but it can’t be sexy if we the viewers are unable to tell if we’re supposed to be attracted or not. See, confusion doesn’t make people interested in you, only interested at you.

Four: This is the biggie. Consult a makeup artist. If you are a male, drop it all together. Ziggy Stardust has left the planet and only Johnny Depp can get away with wearing makeup and look like a stud. If you are a female, it is important to understand that two different shades of eye shadow are a real faux pas. Unless on course you wear green eye shadow and the other eye had been punched. That is the only exception to green and purple that I can think of. Also… It’s a gym for fuck sake! You shouldn't need makeup!

Please look at this letter as creative criticism and not a swipe at you as a person. Unless, you get off on being insulted. Then sir or madam, consider this the glove across the face.

Sincerely,

John

Snoopum’s Return

Unfortunately, the title is a little misleading. I went down to San Diego this weekend with Y7 and met up with Schu and company, good times were had by all. The plan was to check out Comic Con today, but Y7 and myself decided that it was a giant pain in the ass and decided to bail back to the heat stroke that is Los Angeles.

So, I was hoping to get several Scoop Snoopum stories, which would have been a lot of fun for you, my dear readers. Alas there is nothing. I’ll see if I can track down something fun for y’all this weekend.

I did take some pictures though, so I share them with you now.

Enjoy.


Is this man:
a) sleeping
b) homeless
c) a zombie!!


Our Balcony at the Double Tree in San Diego.


Artsy fartsy bottle shot. Notice the pretentious sepia tone. That’s what makes you know it’s important.


Y7 is all business when it comes to tracking down leads for Snoop's stories.


I used the special "Miami Vice" filter on this one.


BOOBIES!!!! (these appeared in "Naked Gun")

Harper And The Girls

Harper.

No, not the movie staring Paul Newman, a good flick though.

No not the Author of, To Kill A Mocking Bird, but related.

No, not the Valley P.T.A., never watched it.

It’s the name of my new niece. Harper was born at five a.m. this morning to my sister Janene and her husband Joe. This is her second child and I hate to admit it, but I still haven’t met the first one. I’m a bad uncle. Another thing I hate to admit, is I don’t know their last name… Wait, I think its Delesandro. I’ll get back to you on that.

I believe Harper was named after the author Harper Lee, my sister's favorite book. Again, I'll get back to you on that.


Anyway, I want to send out a heart felt congratulations to them and the family. All of my love and support, I wish you nothing but happiness. I think it’s wonderful that she has gone the way of creating a loving caring family. She has decided to attempt to break the chain of dysfunctionalism that has flowed in our bloodline for many generations. I never had the guts to do it and I am proud of her and the steps she has taken.

True, there are no guarantees in life, but she has taken the risk and I applaud it.


The Girls

Another event is taking place this weekend that I want to send my love to… No, not Comic Con. But to Amy and Inge who are getting married this weekend.


Yes those are two female names, which is good, because they are both women. Even though in the eyes of the state and a very sad America, they cannot be recognized legally as married, they are having an official ceremony this weekend for family and friends. Amy is one of the greatest people I know and they were both very supportive of me as I struggled to overcome my alcohol and addiction issues. They didn’t have to give me a second chance, but they did and I owe them a debt of gratitude for it.

I wish you both a long and happy relationship. All of my love and good thoughts go out to you.

John

Back In The Game, Baby

I have spent most of today looking over what I can sell. The bank account is getting incredibly low and that feeling of living on the street anxiety had crept back into the skull.



Then at 4:56 PDT, I received an email. To quote: Are you available to work the rest f this week and next week?

Hm, let me think… Yeah, I think I am free.

So I’ll be trained and cutting segments for the next eight work days. That’s fuckin’ great! I won’t have to start selling anything off yet and I’ll make enough money in those few days to keep me floating for another month. Plus it could lead to more work with them and that’s not a bad thing.

Is it a dream job? No, but I’ll be an editor and that ain’t half bad.

It’s funny how that works. It always seems that I have to get down to my last few dollars before the universe decides to send some credit my way. How very Job. (That’s a biblical reference, pronounced Jobe.)

I’ve been granted a reprieve from the gutter. Or worse, living in Hemet.

Bullets Baby Bullets

So I’m back on the job wagon again. Move ‘em out little doggies.

I had yet another interview on Friday for the Ellen Show. I’d be overseeing the website. It is actually a lot more fun sounding than that. There is a lot of creative input needed in the job and I’d be dealing with the writers and producers of the show on securing material. That’s pretty cool.


The interview went fine, it was really a meet and greet with the Production Manager. He explained what the job was and how all of my many skills that I have learned over the years would be beneficial to the position. Weird how that works out? Years of hodgepodge on jobs here and there, from the internet to film to administrative all come together in a job that would not only pay well, but be an exciting and creative challenge.

If you can’t tell, I really want the gig. Not because I need a job, but the more I’ve found out about it, the more exciting it gets. It’s not exactly an industry job, but at the same time it is. Plus I’m getting an opportunity to put all of those years of internet bitterness behind me.

There was a time when I hated all things on line. This is due to a real screwing I received on a project that should have been cutting edge and turned into one of the biggest flops of my life. That’s saying a lot from a guy who has flopped more times than Raggedy Andy on a rollercoaster.

So as the interview was coming to a close, Chris the Production Manager said he had a homework assignment. He was asking all applicants to put together a kind of pitch. It was to detail what worked and didn’t work about the site, what type of creative ideas I might bring to it and all that jazz. These would then be looked over and if liked, a meeting would be set up with the Executive Producers o the 24th.

Now here’s where I get a little fuzzy. I’m going to do this research, which I’d actually already done, and write it down for them to look over. Hand over my own intellectual property that they could then use, even if they didn’t hire me. It sounds a little fishy, but I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt and hope that they look at it as more of an audition piece.

So I spent Friday night and part of Saturday putting something together. I sent it out to a few friends for input and reworked parts.

The biggest pain in the ass was technical. I had to figure out how to put in bullet points. Not just bullet points, but different kinds; numbers, letters, roman numerals, the works. I’ve done a simple bullet point before, but never this complex and my skills with Word are, shall we say, minimal.

It grew quite frustrating; the only thing I can liken it to is being a teenager and trying to figure out how to put a condom on. I tried this way and that way and kept getting pissed as the bullet points launched off my dick and across the room.


Finally I had a hunch and figured it out. It was quite exciting. So I finished the draft and have now sent it back out for critique. I hate this waiting shit. But, I think it’s pretty solid and should get me back in the room to meet with the Executive Producers. I’ll find out sometime this week if I get the second interview, then I’ll go in and nail it.

Fingers crossed, I’ll get a gig and not realize I learned how to put a condom on just to get fucked in the ass.

P.S. did you know hodgepodge was one word? Neither did I.

My New Friend

I know what you’re thinking. “Good for John. He’s getting out and meeting people.”

I’ll be up front and say that I really don’t have a new friend… I have an acquaintance. Fine, it was a guy who passed me in the street, but we bonded in only the way brothers can.

I was out walking, as I am prone to do when I realize I have no life. I usually wait until the evening when it’s cooled off and the percentage of back sweat can be minimized. I popped into Best Buy to look at DVD’s I can’t afford, which really sucks because it’s Best Buy for christ sake! I should be able to afford that place. Alas I left empty handed.

So I’m walking down Santa Monica in hopes of rolling a bum for some cash when a guy on a bicycle passes, looks right at me and shouts, “This seat makes may balls hurt!”

(Note: For those who have never ridden a bicycle or those who lack male testicles, there has yet to be a seat made that doesn’t cause duress on the sack.)

I glanced down as he passed and it was one of those old school wide leather seats with those cone shaped springs underneath it for shocks. Well at first I really didn’t know how to respond. This is not your usual "lets bond" comment. Usually there is an introduction followed by small talk before you reach the, “Let me tell you something really personal about myself” stage. Not this guy. He was into sharing his problems and seeking advice.

As he sped away, it struck me. I could help this guy out. “Stand up!” I shouted out just before he turned the corner ahead of us. So he stood up in the pedals. Seconds after disappearing around the corner, I heard his yelp of gratitude. “YEEEAAHHHHH! Thanks, man!”

When I reached the corner, I looked down the street to see the guy standing up, pedaling away, pleased as punch.

For a brief moment, we had connected. He asked for help and help was delivered. If that’s not true friendship, I don’t know what is.

I should have asked if he knew where I could find a decent job. Damn.

Take It Off

Yesterday was Air G’s Birthday. He turned 32 so that’s not bad.

As part of the celebration, we went to the Seven Veils strip club. If you don’t know it, it’s the club they show for Kevin Dillon’s credit in the opening of Entourage. It’s also about three blocks from where I live. I’ve passed by several times, but never gone in. I’m all for strip clubs, I’ve spent my share of time in them and have unloaded plenty of cash. I once even rented out the V.I.P. room an entire night. That’s a story for another time.

So we go in last night and right off the bat I know it’s a full nude show. This is easy to figure out because no one is served alcohol. All of the patrons were drinking soda or bottled water. Also there was a naked lady swinging around the pole. Big hint.


I won’t say that I have become disinterested in the clubs, but I see them with different eyes now. I used to enjoy the exploitation, the breasts in the face, the lap dances, but times change. Now it’s more about performance. What they wear, how they dance, costume design, etcetera.

Two of the dancers stuck out in my mind after leaving. The first one, we all considered the best one of the night. She was tall, thin, gorgeous, and had moves, but there was something else. She had a level of class about her. She walked well in the shoes and didn’t look like she might fall at any second. Her outfits were close to being normal. They weren’t stripper clothes, but rather tight regular t-shirts and skirts. She could have gone out in the street dressed like that and it added o the allure. Plus she looked like she enjoyed herself. She had an energy and vigor that made everything she did seem like fun. Plus the second time she came out, she was wearing glasses and it gave it the whole sexy librarian, hot for teacher thing.

The second one was the crazy chic. When I say crazy, I mean watching her dance was nothing but an interpretive way of saying, “I have issues.” Her teeth were also a giveaway that she was a user of some type of drug/s. She was called Eleckta, my guess, not her real name. I didn’t ask to see her I.D. She went nuts on stage. She simulated doggy style on a guy, rubbed her crotch on anything that resembled a face and worked the pole like crazy. I give her major props for her pole work, it was like some Russian circus performer spinning and climbing and dropping within an inch of hitting her head. It was very impressive stuff. Now here’s the tough part, for me. She crawls over to our group and picks up two of the sodas that we have been drinking. They are in clear plastic cups. She puts one cup over each breast and leans up to shake them around. The cola swishes and tumbles over her tits. She leans down and removes the cups, so as not to spill any, then moves on to her next bit.


How do you tip for that? She has just done something that is imaginative and not really the normal thing, but she has also just ruined eight dollars worth of soda. I looked back down at the coke and it was foggy from baby powder and tit sweat. Now I need to give her money for that? Admittedly, I have downed pretty much any liquid in my life, but I think this is where I draw the line.

I ended up giving her two bucks for the effort, but in my head I only gave her a 3 out of a potential 10 points.

So what have I learned? Fewer psychos and more librarians are needed in my life.

Oh, Well

I promised to be honest when I started this thing, so here I am being honest. This doesn’t make for the most entertaining entries all the time, but what the hell.

I was looking forward to the day when I could say, “I’m employed!!” I though that day was coming soon. I have been waiting for a callback on a gig that seemed pretty open and shut… Guess not.

Driving home from playing videogames with Aaron, my phone began its goofy chirp. (My ring tone is the communicator from the Star Trek T.V. series. NERD!!) I check out the I.D. and it says, “Unknown”. This is the sign that it’s him, the guy who is helping me find work. I don’t believe in answering the phone while driving, but this is very different. Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, who isn’t.


Sure enough, it’s him. We chit chat for a bit and I’m informed that the job has gone to someone inside the company. The person knew the place and the job inside out, blah, blah, blah. I can’t blame them, they hired the best person for the job. I just didn’t know they were talking to other people. It sounded like I was the only candidate.

So I was fine with it at first, no big whoop, lets move on. Then later last night the bummed out phase hit. Now what? What the hell am I gonna do?

I’ve had to turn down three opportunities up in the Bay Area. I kept getting contacted by this woman from school who showed some of my work to folks and they wanted me to talk about working for them. Shit! Have I screwed up yet again? Is it my mission in life to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time? If that’s the case, shouldn’t a Budweiser truck have struck me down by now? (See, it’s ironic because I’m an alcoholic.)

It’s not all over, and I hang onto that with every fiber of my being. There is another opening in the web department and I have a considerable amount of experience and would be good for the job. I’ve been doing my research and figured out I can do it. It’s not my first choice. I came here to get involved in production and web ain’t exactly film or T.V.

As a matter of fact all my web work was intended to help get me into movies. It helped a little. I got to go to a film festival and even won an award. It’s all crap, but it was something.

So I pick myself up, dust myself off and keep on going. It doesn’t make the pain any easier to swallow, it just means I have to keep on keeping on. Giving up is silly. If you believe in something, I mean really believe in something, you move forward no matter how much the ego is bruised or the dreams dashed by outsiders. They don’t know me or what I am capable of. I do and that’s what is most important.

For a pick me up, maybe I’ll see if I can download a Tricorder sound.

NERD!!!!!

Look Who's Calling Back

Last Monday, I called an old girlfriend to chat about some stuff. This wasn’t one of those High Fidelity calls to see where our relationship went wrong, quite the opposite. It seems our lives have taken very different paths since we were together. She has gotten into holistic medicines, meditation, spiritual, guidance and all those sorts of things.

I’m not one to practice these types of things, but I do believe they can work and take them seriously. I’ll crack jokes about them as well, especially the people who are a little too into it and feel it can fix everything in their life. This is something that can happen to anybody no matter what it is they find peace in. I know several alcoholics who are so into the program, that they have basically lost all social skills unless discussing A.A. related topics. It’s kind of sad really.

Anyway, She was out of town and I left a message about my moods recently as well as my smoking and other challenges I’ve been facing. I asked if she’d be willing to talk about some exercises I might try, books to recommend that could help me find some balance in myself.

I hung up and pretty much figured I’d never hear from her. We had recently sent a few emails back and forth offering apologies and amends and I figured that would be enough. Just because you have forgiven someone, doesn’t mean you want to carry on a conversation with him or her, ya know.

Surprise, surprise I get a call from her on Friday afternoon. We talked for about an hour and a half and it was a really good conversation. She even told me that she has a lot of fondness for our past relationship. That was incredible. I tend to focus on all the ugly shit I did and she has chosen to remember the good stuff. She told me how brilliant and funny I am and that I will always be a special person to her. I almost choked up at that point. But hey, I’m a man so I don’t do things like that. I waited until the call was over to let a few tears run.

We discussed my situation and she recommended a few books to read, and some herbs to look into trying. She mentioned the smoking was probably helping my system going a little haywire from time to time and gave some advice on ways of quitting that as well.

We laughed and had a good old time. She’s just gotten engaged to this guy she’s been seeing for a few years and has been living with for the last year and a half. Here’s the point where you’d think I’d feel something rotten inside. Where the Rob Gordon would come out and I’d throw some kind of fit. Nothing like that happened. As a matter of fact I was overcome with happiness.


I was always concerned that I had screwed her up so bad that she’d never be able to truly commit to anyone ever again. I had caused some major emotional damage when we were dating and for some people, that could be the end of it. She came back stronger and better than ever. She did a lot of work on herself and found a person inside that is really impressive to talk to. I think she’s a great woman and it sounds like she has a good head on her shoulders.

We talked about getting together the next time she is down in L.A. and I’ll get to meet the fiancé, which I find exciting. Funny how life works sometimes, isn’t it? The last person you expect to ever talk to you again ends up being one of the people who reaches out to help. It makes me feel that humanity has a shot.


Thank you Megan. You made an ex feel good about life for a while.

What's Under Your Shirt

I was going to write about my crazy family, but then I realized it’s not as crazy as much as it is sick. So I’ve moved on to my own vanity.

My weight loss has reached a new high. I’m officially 22 pounds lighter than when I started. It has started to slow up a bit, but I’m hoping that it is because I’m putting on muscle as I continue to drop lbs. I’m thinking positive on this one.

I’ve officially started reaching that ugly stage. See, the way my body loses weight is one part at a time. Weird right? It starts in my face and neck. I go from looking like a cherub to that sexy chiseled features god you admire oh, so much. Just joking, I never look like a cherub.

Now the fun part starts. I first notice weight loss in my right love handle. That side of my body flattens out while I still have the goof roll on the left side. Then it moves across my back and into the left side where it finally balances out and I stop pulling to the left when I walk. In the past I’ve never really gotten past this stage. Somewhere in here I give up and maintain the weight or go on a fast food/doughnut/ice cream eating rampage.

The weight continues to compartmentalize itself and has moved to the top of my stomach. Naturally, I start to get this odd roll around the entire base of my torso. I’ve started to look like I have an inner tube just above my waist. If this were flood season, I’d be grateful, but it’s not, so I wear extremely large shirts. Actually, I’ve always worn big shirts because of my issues with my body. Plus it’s easier to hide stuff when I shoplift. Again, just joking. I don’t shoplift; I use a gun and flat out rob places.

So for the next few weeks, I’m inner tube man. I’m thinking of painting it and hanging out on the beach some day soon. It would look a little odd, since I’m so hairy it would appear the tube was made of fur. As we know, that’d just piss off PETA and all hip-hop artists would have to buy their girlfriends chinchilla inner tubes.

See, I am not only a chisel-faced god, but have a lot of influence in the hip-hop community. I’m the guy who invented the word, Yo. Check it out at Wikipedia. And if it’s not there… add it.

Open Mic Night

So I performed at Open Mic Night at the world famous Laugh Factory...

AND I KICKED ASS!!!!


Just kidding. I bombed something awful.

I wasn’t the worst, so I had that going for me. My biggest problem was that the guy before me kicked ass. I mean he was funny and polished and really had it together. I put my piece together this morning and was trying to refine it while walking there. Not the best idea.

It wasn’t embarrassing or humiliating. It was actually kind of fun. I stood on the same stage that Bill Hicks stood on. That’s pretty damn cool. I’d do it again if I took the time to put something good together. I’m too lazy and have bigger things to worry about before I attempt that.

So I’m not banking on Stand-Up stardom. It’s kind of too bad. Had I started back when I was 18 I might have been good. I didn’t feel any fear when I was up there and I did get a couple of chuckle. They were purposeful too. Laughed with me, not laughed at me.

There was one guy who was so-so and he sat behind me the entire time and mumbled how bad everyone was under his breath. I didn’t realize until I got up there that you could actually hear him. So I got to hear his grumble the entire time I was up there. Not exactly supportive, but hey, it’s a cutthroat business. He probably was doing it on purpose to trip people up. It worked.

My favorite part was I got near the end and realized I didn’t have a solid conclusion. I should have considered that. So I just ended with, “I got nothing, thank you ladies and gentlemen.” I received the very supportive clap for the retarded kid.

Yeah, fine. I’ll do it again. Now I know what I need to do, so I can screw it up in a completely different way.

Good night Ladies and gentlemen. Don’t forget to tip your waitresses.

21 And Still Going

Today is my 21st B-day, sort of. That is I have been clean and sober 21 months today. This is nothing monumental; it’s like turning 27 years old. No one really gives a shit. But I like to acknowledge these days; because it’s that much further along I have come.

My two-year anniversary will be neat, but (knock on wood) my 13th year anniversary will be the big celebration. I will have officially been sober longer than I had been drinking.


I wish I could sit here today and promise to all the people that care about me that I’ve beaten this thing. That I’ll never drink again. But I can’t do that. I’ve been in rooms where a person was clean and sober for 23 years and went back out. This is a one day at a time program and that’s how I treat it.

There is one thing that I can promise and it was Jason Mewes who got me onto it.

For those who don’t know Jason Mewes, he’s Jay from all the Kevin Smith films. On Mr. Smith’s blog, he has a wonderful and honest series called, “Me and my shadow”. It was about his entire relationship with Mewes and Mewes struggles with addiction. It is a real look at an outsider dealing with his friend’s descent and rebirth. I learned a lot about how others must have felt when dealing with me.

One of the last entries is a video Jason made and gave to Smith on Christmas after finally cleaning up. It’s honest and emotional and really is a man who has overcome several demons. Jason makes a promise and it’s the same promise that I make to all my friends, families and supporters out there.

I promise I will never lie about these things again. I have lied and cheated and made a bunch of empty promises that caused a lot of pain to a lot of people. It is not something that I want and it is something I will no longer do. I promise never to lie to you again.

True, it may be painful at times and scary for me to speak up. But I’ll do it.

I want to say thank you to everyone who has supported me through all of this and for those who have stepped away and cannot, I completely understand and respect your position.

Peace.

Bombed Out

So I went to take this Photoshop test and another one for this editing program called Vegas. It’s for a job at a place called Go TV networks. They create video content for cell phones. I have zero interest in that type of thing, but it’s editing and the wife of a friend works there, so she hooked me up.

Long story short, I failed miserably. The first few Photoshop projects went fine, but then there was one where I had to type some text. This should be a very simple process, but I couldn’t get the damn text tool to work. I tried everything I knew and I still couldn’t get the thing working. ( I came home and tried it. It worked no problem, damn.)

I sat there for a few minutes and looked around the office. A cube farm on the third floor of some modern bland building. There was very little noise and the conversation that could be heard was dull. I realized I didn’t want the job. I don’t think I could enjoy it. I’d go nuts with the lack of activity and the product I’d be helping produce.

Is it because I’m lazy? Is it because I want to fail and end up living on the street? It’s possible, I do feel like giving up quite a bit. All of my past experience has basically penned me as a failure. So why should I keep on fighting. It’s that thing in me that doesn’t want me to give up, but it’s also that part of me that feels he’s owed something. My past should give me the points to land something big.

It’s like that Jim Croce song, “Workin’ At The Carwash Blues”. Never heard of it? Basically I should be further along than I am and deserve to be. But I need to start low and work my way up. I need to gain skills and trust. I know, I know, I’m just being impatient.


This is one job lost. Not my life. I’ll miss out on several before I land something. Maybe I’ll like it, maybe not. I just need to keep trying.

To quote Batman begins, “Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Man I wish I were a crime fighter in a costume. I hear they have great medical and dental.

Did You Hear A Ring? I Thought I Heard A Ring.

So I’ve got a shot at a job and all I’m doing now is waiting to talk to the guy. It seems pretty solid, as I’ve mentioned earlier, but no call yet. I know you’re saying, “Give it up. If they haven’t called yet, they aren’t going to call.” Not entirely true.

The whole process for this job has been a hurry up and wait type of scenario. Initial contact took about two weeks and the original lunch was rescheduled twice. The guy who has been looking into hiring me is a very busy guy. He’s overworked and probably underpaid for his duties. Not only that, but he’s a really cool guy. Honest, helpful and a movie lover, which is always a good thing to me. He’s more than just the casual movie watcher. He and I had a long discussion on Orson Welles and discussed several other classic films. I didn’t get a sense of his liking of foreign films, but hopefully that will be a conversation for another lunch.


The way it has been happening is I call and get his message service. Usually I get a call back the next day and just a quick update that things a trucking along, but it’s hectic and we’ll talk more about it in a couple of days. So call him to remind him.

Things there are crazy. They have all sorts of new equipment coming in and are still seeking budget approval on certain items. There is also a lot of restructuring so they can bring in more employees to alleviate some of the workload. I fall under the more employees’ category.

We chatted very briefly on Tuesday morning when he was off to a budget meeting and said he’d be back in touch. So far nothing. I’m a little worried, but not panicking. I’m more or less really impatient. I want to get to work. It has been over a year since I’ve held a real job. I don’t count working at the movie theater because a narcoleptic penguin with a wooden flipper could pull that job off. (I’m into penguin references since I saw a bit on t.v. last week.)

The best part is I’m afraid of leaving the house. He’ll call my cell phone, but I don’t want to be walking down Sunset when the call comes in. Heavy traffic and trying to hold a conversation don’t mix. I also enjoy going out to the movies, which is tough because I have to shut the phone off during the film and I’m afraid of missing the call. I’ve been risking it to go to the gym and every time I’m done, there is a message waiting. I get all twitchy and check it. It’s always from a friend or family member calling to check in.

“Noooooo.” I scream to the heavens in my best James Earl Jones impression.

Now it’s the weekend and I have to wait until Monday when this thumb twiddling purgatory can begin all over again. At least I can go out of the house with ease.

And like the dumb shit boring ass cliché goes… No news is good news.

Or translated for The Great Space Coaster fans, “There’s no news like Gary Gnus.”

My Cycle

I was told that when I cleaned up I would have a cycle. This is comparable to pre-menstruation. A time of emotional ups and downs that occur about seven days before my sobriety date and possibly seven days after the date. I’m one of the lucky ones. It only happens before.

My sobriety date is the 27th of each month. I finally cleaned up on September 27th of 2004. This was after several false starts and a five-month period of sobriety after rehab and four day relapse from hell.

I appreciate my relapse, because it tough me that sobriety is my responsibility and it was a harsh reminder of what it’s like to be out there. In the four short days of my relapse, I went through everything I had done and felt in my 12 years of drinking and drugging. So it’s a good for me when I feel like giving up.

Anywho, I’ve been feeling a little nuts today. There are mitigating factors that are playing into it as well, but they are stronger because of the time of month. So what do I do about it?

I went walking, I went jogging, I bought comics, I did my grocery shopping, and I still feel antsy. I should go out again, but it feels pretty futile so I just sit around listening to music and fumbling with words.

It’s a real struggle to go out on days like this, I’m pretty glad that I forced myself to go out as much as I have.


So what do I do about it? I just let it take its course. It will fade usually in about a day or two. With my job situation being what it is, it may last a little longer. The twiddling thumbs waiting for the phone to ring gets a little unnerving. People call to check in and I nearly go ballistic because my hope is it’s the job.

I’m thinking at this point I’ve got about a 90% shot. Not a guarantee, but solid odds. It’s just about playing phone tag and getting that few minutes to see if things will work out. Check in, but don’t push. If it doesn’t work out, I’m back to square one. Thrilling. My bank account is starting to wheeze and sputter.

That’s life. Take it as it comes and play it as it lays. Time passes and moods change, but damn they are tough to get through sometimes.


No, the picture has no significance. I typed in, "feeling antsy" on Google images and this one popped up. Kinda odd.

Committed

I was sifting the internet on what I call Homoerotic Wednesday and stumbled across this on You Tube.

If these guys aren't committed to the skit, then I don't know what commitment is.

Watch it all the way through... trust me.




Wow!!

Sitting Down For Stand Up

So as I am one funny mofo, I’ve decided to give stand-up comedy a try. Not as any sort of career move, but just to see how I like it. We all know that nobody sees more pussy than a stand-up comic. That’s sarcasm. See, I even know comedic terminology, I’m a genius.

Going to that fantastic piece of technology known as the home computer I was able to find via internet an open mic night at The Laugh Factory. So I went down this evening to check it out. See what the competition looked like.

Comedy can be ugly and I was a witness to this medusa tonight. I was subjected to, “White guys do this and black guys do this” jokes. I felt like I was in a time machine back to the eighties. The closest thing to current was a, “Cheney shot a guy in the face” and a, “Anybody ever watch Pimp My Ride”. I was crossing my fingers for an American Gladiator joke, but alas nothing.

One guy was trying to do a Stephen Wright style of routine. He was officially the night’s biggest failure. He was physically hissed off the stage. Ouch. I was chuckling because his idea was interesting, but the delivery and timing were atrocious. I usually don’t cover my eyes when watching stuff. I actually covered my face in embarrassment for him.
There was no personality up on that stage, just the idea of what comedy is supposed to sound like. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The last guy was an Asian kid who got up and ranted about how much he hated his mother for three and a half minutes. It would have been brilliant if he had really planned the angry character instead of performing public therapy. I know you’re saying, maybe he was playing a character. No, you can tell the difference.

So to put my money where my mouth is, I’m going to give it a shot next Tuesday. Will I be funny? Doubtful, but I’ll at least try. It’s got to be a bitch to be up there hoping that people think you’re as funny as you think you are. Luckily I know I’m not as funny as I think I am, so I’ve got that going for me.

Here are the rules.

1. It must be G rated. That’s tough for me since I have the mouth of a longshoreman. I’m guessing, I’ve never actually met one.
2. It can only last three minutes. At that mark a red light goes on and you have ten seconds. After ten seconds everyone starts waving and screaming at you to get off.

FAQ

Will I do it more than once? Maybe, I’ll see how round one goes.

Can you go? No. They tape it, so I’ll try to get a copy to upload for complete public humiliation.

Why are you doing this? Because I’m to out of shape to climb Everest.

What’s your routine going to be about? No idea. If you know of something that I do that is funny, let me know. Nudity is non-applicable, so my puppet show is out. I also do a great bit where I pull a feather out of my ass, also not applicable.

What are you going to wear? T-shirt and Jeans.

What is your style going to be like? Whatever I am. I’m not going to be a character or a rip off of someone else. I’ll just be me, which is a rip off of a lot of different people.


Let’s roll some dice and see what comes up.

Ex Marks The Spot

The knife has twisted. My heart has fallen. My gut is clenched and I want to cry, but I can’t.

My ex-girlfriend has started dating again. I knew it was going to happen. I knew when we split it was going to happen for both of us. We’d both start seeing other people.

I wonder if I had beaten her to the punch if I’d feel as bad. Of course I wouldn’t. I’d be, “Hey, glad to see you’re going on with your life.”

So I’m basically feeling like a total loser right now. All that is popping into my head is the time she told be I was a loser and then quickly revoked it because it was said out of anger. But part of me feels it’s what she really thinks.

I have been trying to do things differently this time. Trying to remain friends and not go off the handle like I used to in the past. The actions that I feel like taking are different then the actions I am taking. It doesn’t curb the pain, but at least I know I’m not making it worse than it is.

I’ve been told to let it go. That’s a phrase that people always tell you when you’re in pain or angry at something, “Let it go.” Is there a secret to this? Is there a switch that you flip and a door opens inside and it’s let go?

I want her to be happy, but of course there is that part that says, “I want you to be happy with me.”

And to let you know, I am not a loser. I have fucked up plenty in my life, but if you can say you haven’t you’re a liar. All right, I’ve fucked up a little more than average and I’ve caused more pain and suffering than I should have, but I’ll accept responsibility for that. Yeah I did it and I’m the one who has to live with it. Every day I think about things I’ve done and say, “fuck, what an idiot.”

Have I learned from it? Sure. Does it make living with my actions easier? Sometimes, but not always.

One friend told me that ex means just that EX. Two hash marks that block that person from your life. You don’t need to have anything more to do with them. Take ‘em off the Christmas card list.

It is something that I would like to do, but can’t. I don’t want to let go of a person who has meant so much to me. She is someone who helped me and stood by me when I was at my lowest point in life. I honestly believe that if it wasn’t for her support and love I’d be dead or insane today. That is an honest reply and not some reactionary emotion to my current state.

But life is what it is. I have no control over it. I was told in A.A. that the only things I have control over are my attitude and my outlook. So I’ll work on that for a while.

This pain has been brought to you by, Moxie Elixir.











When you really want to eat shit… try Moxie.

The Mystery Of Toilet Paper

I have this weird thing where I keep track of toilet paper usage.

I used to live with three women and I was the one who always bought the TP. Every so often one of the girls would bring home a roll they had liberated from work and acted like they were doing there part, but they knew it was bullshit. I took it as a token that at least they understood we went through a lot of toilet paper.

So now I have a male roommate and I figure the TP thing isn’t going to be as big of a deal. I go out and pick up a 24 pack uber huge rolls that should get us through a month.

It’s been a week and a half and we are down to the last quarter of a roll. What the fuck is up with that? Where is all the TP going?

This is a very OCD thing to futz over, but I can’t help wondering. I did a roll count a couple of days a go and within twenty-four hours, two rolls of TP had been used.

It is weird, right? I’m not being some TP nazi wanting to control the distribution of each sheet, am I?

Anyway, I come home tonight and the roomie has gone to work. I go into the bathroom to take a leak and there is about a half a roll of TP in the toilet. I’m not exaggerating this. It was a thick layer of toilet paper about an inch and a half deep acting like a crust to the water in the bowl. Idiot that I am, I try to flush it and make a bigger mess. So I strategically figure out how to hold back amounts of the paper with the plunger, allowing only small amounts to be flushed away t a time without causing a clog. It took somewhere between 10 to 15 flushes to get it all down.

So why? Why does he use so much paper? Does he make one of those ass gaskets to sit on everytime he uses the toilet? Doe he mummify his hand to wipe his ass? Does her jerk off and blow a quart every time he ejaculates? I thought he might use the cardboard tube to stroke his dick and then uses the entire roll to clean up. A little twisted, but hey, it’s a hole.

Plus, this is a mystery that will never be solved. I’m not going to ask why he uses a truckload of TP o a daily basis. That’s his life, not mine and I need to respect that..

Out of this bizarre observation I’m pondering some scientific experiment where I can mark the levels of paper used each day and then graph it. Days he works versus nonworking days, weekdays versus weekends, nights vs. days, etcetera.

I really need a hobby.