Welcome to Pantsylvania

Not so good with touching and/or feelings

2009-10-08T13:23:00.002-05:00

I guess my last post was pretty dark, but I was in a pretty dark mood, so it makes sense. What I didn't realize was that anybody still stopped by this broken-down exit to Hickville on the Information Superhighway. (Did I just invent that phrase? Certainly I'm the first!)

Anyway, Chase and Daniel Dale-Grogan took me out to lunch today and they were...concerned. It was an odd look on them, mostly because I thought they were bastard people, not given to emotions. But that's why I like them, because I, too, am a bastard person.

I realize of course that both of these men are fathers, or at least both have hot wives who convinced them they were fathers. (Ha ha! Infidelity!) And of course they have feelings and emotions and empathy. They both have kids to worry about. And hot wives. You have to feel ways about things to have a hot wife. (I have a hot wife and I like to feel my way around her things if you...OK, I'll shut up.)

So they said they were worried about me, which is nice, but I'm not someone who can really deal with my emotions with other people very well, so I played it off. Truthfully, I'm feel much less awful for the most part, and I don't think they need to worry about me. But they do, and I'm glad to have friends who care.

Of course my playing it off makes me seem like an asshole, but I honestly don't know how to talk about feelings with my friends. I haven't had a friend that I could talk to like that since high school. Vulnerability is hard to show to people who you have befriended because of their skill at mercilessly mocking others. You don't start palling around with the hangman and start babbling about your long, luxurious neck.

So, guys, thank you for your concern. Sorry I'm not good at accepting empathy from people. I also suck at taking compliments, but that's less apparent, because I never do anything well enough for people to try. (Self-deprecating humor, if you couldn't tell, is where my strength lies.)

Still, if anybody sees a job out there that's perfect for me, let me know. My job now is better than it was, but I'm glad to explore options that include leaving here and doing something I like.

Ugh.

2009-09-24T14:50:00.002-05:00

So, I have a job which doesn't allow a lot of personal creativity. Or, at least, the kind of personal creativity they want is not the kind I have to give.

I have another job in which I am to write about myself or other random topics, but in a humorous fashion. That's not a problem for me, but sometimes, I have non-humorous things to say.

(A third job, which will start whenever somebody over there decides to make it start, has nothing to do with anything, which is why it's in parenthesis.)

At this point, I'm pretty sure anybody who read this blog is long gone, which is fine. I just really need to talk and this seems like as good a place as any.

I feel like shit. I don't know if I don't like my job or if my job doesn't like me or what's going on, but I can't seem to do anything right lately. My boss has assigned me to a new boss, which is a great feeling. And of course my new boss answers to my old boss, so I really have two bosses, both of which want me to tell them everything, which kind of begs the question, why not just have one of you?

Anyway, my confidence is at an all-time low. A recent project was given and then taken away from me. Nobody seems willing to talk to me about anything, which is worrisome. And when people do talk to me, it's that kind of slow, overly enunciated speech that lets me know that they think I'm an idiot.

When I come up with an idea and they like it, I'm told to do it. And then they come back to me about it like I must have forgotten and have no idea how to do the thing I suggested doing in the first place. If I ask for advice, I'm a moron. If I don't ask for advice, I'm told to give updates, and then they take the updates as if I was asking for advice and I'm a moron again.

This place is so goddamn lonely. I would talk about my problems, which people ask about, but when I do, they immediately decide that they want to talk about themselves or about anything else at all.

I'm at the point where I can't help but think they're sending a message and that the message is, "We made a mistake hiring you. We will probably be firing you if there are another round of layoffs. You could save us all a lot of trouble by going somewhere else and ruining things there."

Problem is, I've been here less than two years. My experience level is nowhere near what I need it to be to find a better job and the market is such that I'd be lucky to find a job that's a step down.

I find myself dreading coming in to work every morning, which is exactly how I felt at the last job before I left. And when every comment and signal coming from my superiors is, "Why did we ever hire you, you piece of crap?" it's hard to muster any enthusiasm for the day. Which then gives them an excuse to say that the problem is my attitude.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't and I'm so close to not giving a damn anyway that I don't know what to do.

There's my brain dump, imaginary audience. Sorry to make you wade through it.

The Continuing Battle Against Morbid Obesity

2009-06-25T09:14:00.002-05:00

I'm trying to lose weight again. I got really fat late last year and I'm slowly getting rid of some of it. My waist certainly feels thinner, and Dr. Wife has been kind enough to tell me she can see the difference.

But progress is hard to maintain, and I'm living proof. Getting thinner (and doing so in a healthy manner) doesn't always stick. And just knowing that has me worried, because while I feel like I'm doing well now, I don't know how long it will last.

One of my biggest problems, in this endeavor as well as in my life generally, is that I tend to focus on the negatives. I can't eat that food I like. I don't want to drag myself to the gym every night. I don't feel like I'll ever get where I want to be.

So I'm trying to focus on the good stuff and there is a lot of good stuff. Heart burn and acid reflux are totally gone, no matter how spicy the foods I eat. My clothes fit better (or are too big, in some cases). I have more energy. I sleep better. I wake up better. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I don't want to go to the gym and I do anyway.

Still, it's hard to stay positive, if only because the positives seem like they should be baseline and not some goal. And maybe they will be, if I can keep at it long enough. I just don't know if I'll stick with it this time. I worry that if I fail, I won't be able to convince myself to try again.

Yeah, this one isn't funny. I just realized that.

Miss me?

2009-06-02T13:56:00.001-05:00

Try here: http://blog.newsok.com/lookatokc/

Commencing Radio Silence

2009-04-22T08:47:00.000-05:00

Now.

Welcome to Hell

2009-04-21T12:21:00.003-05:00

So, I guess all that good fortune that was coming my way was just to build me up for a big fall. The new column...Yay! The new horoscopes job (that the guy who offered it to me has not yet called to confirm, so it probably won't happen)...Yay!

But there is a...Boo! coming, of course. I might lose my job, my real job, the one that pays for everything, sometime this month. Not just me, of course. Other people might lose their jobs too, but I might be in a group -- composed of me+other people -- who don't have jobs anymore.

And that is a thing I would call stressful. I mean, I get stressed normally. But this seems to be a greater level of stressfulness than I was previously acquainted with. And that sucks.

The worst part is, all my friends who just went through this are people who, you know, just went through this. And because my wait until knowing my fate is a paltry week and a half and theirs was two months, I really can't bitch about it. But I keep going anyway!

Europe is, temporarily at least, off the table. As are any other expenditures that aren't completely necessary. Milk, I will still buy. Watches and televisions, not so much. Chicago is still happening, because it has already been paid for and it's a work thing anyway. But until I know for sure about my job, there will be no joy in Muddville, which is what people call my cubicle.

Seacrest ort.

It has to come from somewhere, right?

2009-04-07T15:09:00.003-05:00

So, I'm listening to NPR on the way to work this morning, because I guess I like to yell at my radio. Certainly there can't be any other reason, at least not these days, because that is what happens every morning when I listen to NPR.

This morning the talk was about changes to the military budget. A bunch of projects -- some in Oklahoma -- are being cut because, you know, we don't need them. A cannon we can't use? Check. Planes that aren't good at what need them for? Check. All of this at the behest of our President, Barack Obama.

Shockingly, some Republicans disagree. Sen. Jim Inhofe (R-Tarded) can't believe they would cancel plans for a cannon that is no good for fighting the insurgency, even though that's the only kind of war we're fighting anymore.

And the Sen. Mary Fallin (R-Dumbass) says, "We have to keep developing new military options, but NOT AT THE EXPENSE OF THE OLD OPTIONS." Which is why she is putting forth legislation for the military to train with catapults, daggers and maces.

Guess what "fiscally responsible conservatives," you say all the time how you'd like for us to be able to spend on luxuries like feeding the hungry, treating the infirm and teaching the ignorant (like that Jesus-feller is always preaching), but, you know, not at the expense of not building more weapons that we aren't using anymore.

It's not like ending the F-22 is it for air superiority. We're building the goddamn F-35, already. Oh, but this is about jobs, huh? Well, I guess you could have voted for the President's bill to create jobs, but then you'd be siding with the Democrats, and we can't have that.

God, I am getting pissed off all over again. I just can't believe this is the shit our politicians spout. "Lower taxes. Less spending. Except don't cut spending on a thing we're not using. Also, spend more on new weapons. But less spending. I'm sure we can cut something minor like education and we'll be fine."

Yup, because we're doing so fucking great right now.

Journalism is Messed Up

2009-04-06T13:02:00.002-05:00

When I left my job at The Daily Newspaper For This Area, I kind of wondered if I would ever work for a newspaper ever again. After all, I was leaving for a reason. Lots of reasons. Some of them were money reasons and some of them were "this job finds a way to take up more of my time while making me increasingly miserable" things.

Anyway, I sold out. I took the money. I went to the dark side.

It didn't take long for me to start working at newspaper(s) again. In fact, I wonder if I write more for them now than I did when I worked there. It seems like every month, I have even more work from them. And the weirdest thing is, they don't mind paying me now all the money they didn't want to give me then.

Now newspapers all over the country are failing and I can't see why everybody is so shocked. I mean, outside of the newspaper industry, nobody seems to care about newspapers. Even the idea that all the people are online is absurd, though a lot of readers have moved in that direction. The truth is, lots of people just don't read the news or watch it on TV or give a shit about what is going on. At all.

Which is why I don't really write news. They have reporters for that. I write horoscopes (and maybe more horoscopes, if The Daily Newspaper For This Area agrees to my monetary demands) and feature articles about things they never would have let me write when I actually worked for a newspaper full-time.

I'm starting to think that the reason all these plum assignments go to people outside the industry -- people who sold out and left -- is because the people who are still at the papers think the people who left must be smarter than those who stayed.

It's ridiculous, of course. Plenty of smart people work at newspapers. Why they haven't left, I don't know. I'm sure some people still suffer from "integrity" and "scruples." But when it all comes crashing down, they'll find new and better jobs, the kinds with set hours and responsibilities. And I will have to find a new way to pad my paycheck than writing horoscopes and stories about eating varmints.

*This post was written in response to Dr. Wife complaining that I haven't updated my blog. So nyeah.

The Nerd-pocalypse Approaches

2009-02-23T09:30:00.002-06:00

I didn't order any comics last month. That was the first time in...years, I guess. Faithfully, every month prior, I would dig through the Previews catalog and figure out what I wanted and order.

It was an expensive habit and one, more and more, that disappointed.

Well, I went on the site where I usually placed my order the other day to see what was still coming. (Comics are ordered a full two months in advance, you see.) And that's when I realized how close the end really was.

Comic books have a tendency to come out late -- especially big event comics -- but the list of what's on the way has shrunk a lot. I have three issues of Amazing Spider-Man (which publishes three times a month) remaining and the latest book in the Scott Pilgrim series (which I recommend for anyone).

I suppose there will be some comics that don't ship by the end of the month -- some have been on there a lot longer than others -- and they'll come later on. The death-rattle of my addiction, I guess.

But I wonder if I'll really miss it that much. They are just stories, after all, and some of them suck pretty bad. But some of them are great and I know I'll be back, months after the fact, to pick up some trades or hardcover collections.

It just seems weird, to me, if no one else, that my last big box of comics will be here in a week or so. What kind of geek will I be without comics? A TV geek? That seems more likely than the computer geek (which requires some degree of learning) or a lit geek (ditto) or a movie geek (who needs time to go see movies).

Maybe I'm already a food geek. I guess that'll have to do.

I want a car like I want a burrito...

2009-02-05T11:12:00.002-06:00

simple and with a set price.

We will be picking up our new car on Friday or Saturday -- whenever they get those ridiculous, god-awful pimp rims off there and put on some night boring aluminum alloy wheels -- and I think I got a decent deal.

I've never bought a car before and the thought of negotiating had me pretty anxious. As argumentative as I can sometimes be, I don't actually enjoy confrontation. Lucky for me, the Internet helps ease confrontation with competition. Basically, I had dealers from Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Kansas and Nebraska fighting to sell me the same car.

My needs were not simple, but I guess they weren't that hard to meet. I wanted a dark gray Camry with vehicle stability control and aluminum wheels. An iPod interface would have been a nice bonus.

And because I knew what I wanted, I really wondered why car buying has to be like it is. Why could I not just go on the Toyota Website and order up my car? Why do I have to go through dealers and negotiate just to get the product I want? And why are the prices so divergent?

When I go to Flying Burrito or Moe's or wherever, you stand in line, you choose what kind of food you want and you customize. Here's what I deem car dealers should do:

What kind of car do you want? = What kind of burrito would you like?
Which model? = Regular chicken or fajita chicken?
What color would you like? = What kind of tortilla?
What options do you want? = Sour cream, nacho cheese, guacamole?

I can't go into a restaurant and debate what a burrito is worth. It's not like I begrudge them making a profit, but just figure out how much you have to make and let people decide. I just don't understand why we have to negotiate when their price is set in stone.

Anyway, I'm glad I'm getting a car that doesn't smoke. And I'm glad I didn't pay too much (thank you, Consumer Reports!). I just wish the whole process was easier, because I'm sure someday -- hopefully a long time from now -- I'll have to make another purchase like this, and I'd prefer that it doesn't suck.

21

2009-02-02T20:47:00.000-06:00

Eight Days a Week

2009-01-21T11:17:00.002-06:00

I expect to be a pretty harried parent, because that's the way all parents are. Kids require a lot of extra work which tends to take up a lot of extra time.

This worries me, because I already feel pretty harried. (Not pretty hairy, though, because outside of my carpethead and caterpillar eyebrows, I'm not terribly hirsute.)

Dr. Wife is back to working days, which is great, but she doesn't get home until 8:30 p.m. That's a million times better than when she used to get home after midnight, but it's still pretty late. I'm trying to be better about exercising, because that seems like the thing to do to be less fat. That dovetails nicely with my efforts to eat better, which takes a little bit more time than my previous "shove whatever is nearby and tastes good in your mouth" diet.

(The combined exercise/eating right plan is actually working a little bit. I'll tell you later.)

With the computer and the expected purchase of a new(ish) car and our impending trip to Europe, we are also in need of some cash money, so I'm increasing my freelancing load substantially.

Which is to say, I am really tired. In order to get to work on time, I need to leave the house pretty early, which means I need to wake up early, which means I need to go to bed by about 10 p.m. When I don't, shit starts hitting various fans and air-conditioners and pregnant ladies practicing Lamaze.

But my commute home takes at least 30 minutes, then I change and go to the gym, then I come home and try to fix dinner, making some time for my freelance work, then I try to spend an hour and a half of quality time with Dr. Wife before I have to retire for the evening.

I guess this doesn't so much have a point other than, "Poor me, I'm so busy, I wish life was easier and I didn't have to work so much to have the things I want, which are much nicer than I probably deserve anyway and the things I take for granted are already beyond the reach of many in our own country."

Or, shorter, WHIIIIINE.

Begin feeling no pity for me......now.

This is the end...four-color friend, the end.

2009-01-13T14:19:00.002-06:00

When I was 13 or 14, I went to Dr. Kerl to get braces put on my teeth (as opposed to my legs) and I would visit him every few months over the next two years. The braces were not pleasant, but my visits with Dr. Kerl were, mostly because he was an over-grown child and I was a growing child.

He told me something that stuck with me for a long time. He said, "You can only be young once, but you can be immature all your life."

To say I've lived by those words would give short shrift to the other words I've lived by, or tried to live by, but it's not too much to say that I felt a certain validation from that axiom as the years progressed.

The things my parents did were not the things I had to do. My idea of a grown up and theirs could be different, and so it didn't matter that lawn care or church or college basketball were not so all-important to me. I could be an adult and still watch cartoons and still read comic books and still laugh as peurile jokes.

Well, a few things have happened lately that change the way I think about my immaturity. For one, my car is bellowing that lovely blue and white smoke every time I start it up -- which is both embarrassing and, I'm sure, environmentally unsound. Dr. Wife has decided that we need a new (to us, anyway) car.

Though it had the good decency not to smoke and shudder when I started it up, our beloved G5 iMac -- about 4 or so years old -- has bitten the dust. Repairing it would be costly to the point of ridiculousness. Not having a computer is less of an option, especially since I use it to freelance occasionally. So we got a new one. It'll be here soon. Hopefully the capacitors in the new iMacs aren't like the old ones, or we'll be dealing with the same crap in a few years.

And then there's Europe. I've always had a problem with Europe, sitting over there, all smug and cultured, with their "history." But my biggest problem with Europe right now is that Dr. Wife is uncontrollably in love with Europe. She has been talking about going to Europe, taking me to Europe, showing me around Europe for more than 5 years. Next month, we'll have been married 5 years. She want to go to Europe. She needs to go to Europe.

EUROPE!

While the computer was an immediate concern and the car a short-term future concern, one might imagine that Europe is one that could be put on the backburner while all of this other crap gets sorted. But that's not the way things are. We want to have kids at some point and Europe is kind of our last stop before getting on the Parental Parkway and driving that sumbitch for the next couple of decades.

"Why not have a kid, THEN go to Europe?"

Why don't you shut up? If we have a kid, we'll also be poor because having a kid makes you poor. And then we'd have to find somebody to take the kid for a week, which would be easy if my parents or her parents were dead, but both sets are alive and together and will fight with knives in the street to get time with a grandchild. I'm not wasting that on Europe. That will happen when I go to jail.

So I'm growing up, or trying to. The first axe fell on comic books. I'd already cut back pretty far on buying DVDs and CDs and clothes that weren't deeply, deeply discounted. It was time to get to something I used to think of as necessary. But comics aren't necessary. They're an extravagance -- one I cannot afford if I plan on getting a computer and a car and taking my poor wife to Europe so she can finally enjoy being married to me for a week before I drag her home to domestic hell for the rest of her life.

I might pick up a couple of books, still, but I'm leaning more towards cold turkey, really. And if, years down the line, I suddenly have money again, I can go back and buy the collections and read those in one sitting, as I'd prefer to do now. Hell, I'm sure in a few years, they'll all be available in an easy-to-swallow caplet.

Goodbye Spider-Man and Blue Beetle. Goodbye Invincible and Jonah Hex. So long and good luck, Manhunter, Luke Cage and Booster Gold. You guys were cool, sort of. I'll miss seeing you every month, but I'd miss all the things I would get to see if I kept you around even more.

A New Diet...That Actually Works!

2009-01-06T10:06:00.002-06:00

I'm trying to be good. I'm not very good at it, but I'm trying. And the reason is this: every time I don't follow through with a diet, I end up even fatter. This time, I topped out at 260-plus. (Granted, I was kind of eating poorly with purpose, but that's no excuse.)

The first thing that happens when you decide to get healthy is that your TV magically transforms all advertisements into restaurant ads. One day you're eating a burger, drinking a shake and thinking about buying a Save-a-Blade, the next you're eating carrots and broccoli and every commercial is for burgers and shakes.

The second thing that happens is all those stories about diets that you ignore start bugging you. The Grapefruit Diet! South Beach! Nutrisystem! Part of you wonders, of course, if there's anything to this crap. The rest of you wonders how bad it would be to eat some tacos.

Well, I actually found a great diet that is helping me lose weight and feel better. Are you ready? Can you handle this? It's called "eat more vegetables and fruits and not as much crap you know is bad for you and then try to exercise at least a couple of days a week." And it works!

Here's how:

First, buy some vegetables and fruits. I suggest you get the ones you like and will eat. For me, that's cherry tomatoes, apples, oranges, broccoli, squash, green beans, peas and carrots. Then, you eat them -- about seven servings a day.

Next, instead of laying on the couch all the time watching TV, only lay on the couch most of the time watching TV. The rest of the time, do something else. Like the dishes, or taking a walk. Or, combine the two, and join a gym with TVs on the exercise equipment.

Finally, keep doing those first two things, forever. You need to keep buying vegetables and fruits and eating them. Same with the exercise thing. And -- miraculously -- you'll be healthier.

Crazy, right?

Holiday Cheers and Jeers

2008-12-29T10:24:00.002-06:00

I don't know about you guys, but when I think about hard-hitting journalism, in-depth think pieces and the highest quality writing on the planet, I think about TV Guide.

And so, in an homage to their brilliant "Cheers and Jeers" section, here are my own thoughts on the mostly concluded holiday season of aught-eight.

Cheers to Dr. Wife, who once again put me to shame in the gift-giving category. Not only did she buy presents for everybody on Earth and some in other dimensions, they were all well-chosen gifts. My own big present -- the Unicorn Magnum Pepper Grinder -- would seem boring to anybody else on the planet, except for me. I cannot tell you how unironically excited I am to cook chili using that pepper grinder. I want to season chicken RIGHT NOW.

Jeers to the "War on Christmas" meme that keeps getting brought up every year. Yeah. America hates Christmas. It's that exact hatred that makes us put everything else on hold for at least two weeks to shop, wrap, decorate, cook, make travel plans and hang out with our families. Just because Christmas doesn't mean the same thing to us as it does to you doesn't mean we hate Christmas. It just means we hate you. ("You" in this case is Bill O'Reilly.)

Cheers to my mother-in-law, who makes everything perfect through sheer force of will. Did everybody want to go bowling? No. Did we have a great time? Yes. Did everybody want to go back to her house and play "Do You Know Your Family", game show style? No. Did we all end up loving it? Yes. Thank God she's on the side of the angels (God and angels both being fictional), because if she was evil, she'd be the cutest Hitler EVER.

Jeers to random millionaires for not finding me and giving me enough money to live comfortably on for the rest of my life. I was really counting on you guys to keep me from having to head back to work.

Cheers to my friends, for making time for me amid the holiday confusion and stress. I loved seeing Big Time and Rita, Brit and Chris, Nate and Jen and the rest of you lovable losers.

Jeers to Dr. Pants, for not making time to go to a kick-ass party at Bob's house Saturday night, largely because of the aforementioned game show/bowling night. I wanted to be there. I wish I had been there. I regret not being there.

OK, so how was everybody else's Christmas?

Hah-bumbug

2008-12-24T09:05:00.004-06:00

I am not the target audience for Christmas.

There are plenty of things that are aimed squarely at me. Primetime TV shows with smart writing and attractive women - check. Steakhouses featuring dry-aged beef - check. The music of Fountains of Wayne - check.

But I am not in the Christmas demographic. I do not strongly identify with Christianity as a religion, for one thing, though I think it's safe to say that Christmas has become a pretty secular holiday in America.

Very few parts of me are childlike, any more, and there are doctors working on that problem. As such, I do not find myself giddy to the point of delirium, as children are, at the prospect of opening Christmas presents.

I am also not a parent, which I understand plays a big part in re-discovering the joy of Christmas. I'm sure this also has something to do with why my parents and in-laws are chomping at the bit for some hot Pants-on-Wife procreation action, as they would like to re-re-discover the holiday as grandparents.

Also, true to my Grinchly nature, I just don't like Christmas decorations or Christmas music or the way the entire world around me tends to seize up when Christmas approaches. For instance, I would like to go to the grocery store this evening, but I know what it will be like -- crowded, pushy and insane.

The one things going for me on Christmas is that I am a consumer, but a guilty one. I love buying new things, but I feel bad about it, because I don't really need most of the stuff I buy. Christmas is nice, because I get the joy of buying while feeling less guilty about it since I'm giving it away to friends and family.

And I know that's not the true meaning of Christmas -- at least it's not the true meaning people keep trying to shove down my throat -- but I like giving and receiving presents. I'm sure that makes me a bad person, but I don't care. For all the bother of Christmas, with crazy people going even crazier and that awful music and the forced merriment, giving gifts is the saving grace of this time of year.

Keep it to yourselves, racists.

2008-12-20T15:42:00.002-06:00

Here's the thing: I don't mind buying a hamburger from a racist. If those are your beliefs, I think you're dead wrong, but I guess you have a right to be totally, totally incorrect about that.

That said, restaurant owners, I don't want to know if you're a racist. Will I buy a burger from you? Yes. Will I go out of my way to eat at your establishment when there are other burger joints who can keep it to themselves? No.

I went into Little Mike's Hamburgers with for lunch with Dr. Wife and found it the equivalent of walking into an old racist's e-mail account. I was going to say my Dad's e-mail, but he's not actually racist, or capable of using e-mail.

Regardless, past the annoying EIGHT PAGES of "Why it's good to be a Sooner" somebody printed out and taped to the wall, there were "jokes" about Muslims and Democrats and shit like that. You know, the kind of thing your relative you don't really get along with that well might forward to you if they're completely ignorant of your tolerance toward different religions, nationalities and political views.

It was a good burger. No doubt. But I will drive a few miles farther to the Charcoal Oven next time or cross the street to go to Johnnie's or buy the beef and cook my own damn burger before I go in there again. Why? Because shut the fuck up and make me a burger, that's why.

People don't like Hollywood stars espousing their political beliefs? Fine. Don't go see their movies, don't buy the issue of People with them on the cover, tell people you think they're jackasses. But you don't get to bitch and moan about Susan Sarandon or Sean Penn and then put up a bunch of racist crap and expect to get away with it.

They have a broader audience, which means more people can get pissed at them. As for me, I'm pissed at the jackasses at Little Mike's Hamburgers, because I don't need to know that you hate "ragheads" (stay classy, America!) when I want a burger. I just want a burger and if you want me to buy it from you, keep your retarded thoughts in your retarded head. Since you can't, I'm sure I can find someone who can keep their trap shut and make my burger just as well.

Nothing to dream about.

2008-12-10T09:10:00.002-06:00

So I've had this dilemma for a while and I thought you all could help me out with it. I have no dreams.

Well, OK, that's only kind of true. I'm sure I dream. I know I've woken up and have had dreams. Those are not the dreams I'm talking about.

When I was younger, I would have ideas -- goals, hopes, fantasies -- that would speed me off to the People's Republic of Sleepyland (formerly Slumbertonia). I would lay my head down on the pillow, close my eyes and imagine I was a superhero or a famous writer or a spy or a lottery winner.

As I grew older, I found that my dreams needed to be rooted more and more in reality. Which is to say, I cannot dream of being a superhero or a spy any longer. And, since I don't have an idea in my head that could be used as fodder for a book (or even a short story), the famous writer one is out, too.

Lottery winner is easier, but it requires me to actually purchase a lottery ticket. Silly? Of course, but I cannot dream of winning the lottery unless I have an actual chance -- however slim -- of winning the lottery.

And this is my greatest fear about "growing up." My hopes for the future are so limited because, I think, all of my potential is gone. There's no more "someday I'm gonna" because someday is today. I am technically a man. I done went to college for my book-learnin'. I have a very limited skill set and I'm doing one of two or three jobs that use those skills.

So I don't dream anymore. I watch TV or read comic books until my eyes start closing involuntarily and I have to pass out. I used to look forward to sleep as a time when my imagination could run wild. Now I look forward to sleep because it's cold in my house and I'm too cheap to turn up the heater very much.

By the by, I'm not saying I have nothing to live for or nothing to look forward to. My life is pretty great, except for the bits that aren't, and Dr. Wife has basically threatened me with death if we don't go to Europe next year. But there's nothing fantastic lurking at the edge of my consciousness. I'm too worried about now to dream about then and I don't know what kind of then to dream about anyway.

Calm, Kool, Collected and the Gang

2008-12-01T13:58:00.003-06:00

Here's the thing about Christmas, especially for a guy who doesn't have any firmly held religious beliefs (unless you count the firmly held belief that most religions are bullshit) -- there's still a ton of stress.

Some of it is the usual family stress, like holding my tongue without outright lying to my deeply religious parents, which is amplified around time periods in which Jesus was supposed to be born/died/resurrected/invented the light bulb.

Then there's the problem with making time. If friends come to town, which I love, I want to see them as much as they would like to be seen. Some have their own family commitments (and time issues, etc.) and some don't, but balancing my fairly normal schedule and Dr. Wife's ever-changing roller coaster schedule and making sure we're around for friends isn't always easy.

And stress has an odd effect on me. I think, though I'm sure Dr. Wife could dispute this, that I get kind of calm during these events. And I do that because, in my experience, getting worked up almost never gets shit done. Sitting down, making a list and going through it methodically, however, turns up results.

So I'm trying to be calm right now. I'm trying not to worry too much about my ailing grandmother or my parents' new found inability to make any plans on their own or my sneaking suspicion that I'm not buying the right gifts for my lady or my family or my friends or that I'm going to be dead broke by the time Dec. 15 comes around.

Oh, yeah, and I'm going on a diet. For work. Which will be the subject of a video. (If you want to read more about that, go to my work blog. If you want to know where that is, tell me, and I'll tell you.)

It's the most wonderful expensive time of the year

2008-11-13T15:20:00.002-06:00

I am considering giving up friendships. And possibly family-ships. All these ships are getting expensive.

You: "Oh, great, it's time for Ol' Pants to start bitching about being broke all the time again! It must be (checks watch) five whole minutes since the last time!"

Me: "Why are you being such an asshole?"

You: "Maybe because you're so worked up about how much presents cost that you're positing ending our friendship so you don't have to buy them for me, totally skipping over the fact that, if anyone was going to end this friendship, it would be me."

Me: "Oh, that is just like you. Suddenly I'm the needy friend. Thanks. That makes me want to keep this friendship going. That doesn't make me take the above joke a little more seriously."

You: "Fuck you."

Me: "No, fuck you!"

...

Ahem. Sorry about that. My inner-outer monologues tend to get heated. Of course I'm not actually going to end any friendships over the cost of presents. Hell, if I had more money, I'd buy my friends better stuff. As it is, I feel bad that I'm spending what seems like a large chunk of my meager income for what turns out to be pretty crappy presents.

And I'm sorry if money has come up too much as a topic. Listen, if I was single, dateless and horny, I'm sure money wouldn't come up so much. But I'm married, old and cheap, so you're either going to a) listen to my money woes, b) listen to my medical woes or c) smarten up and stop listening altogether.

Hell, at least my friends are easier to buy for than my family. Is there anything more telling about our relationships with our parents than the relative hardship of finding something decent for them for Christmas? I love my parents. I love my brother and his wife. But do I know them? I mean, enough to know of things they want that they don't have? Sadly, no.

Worse still, it's become apparent that the things I like are definitely not the things they like. So my natural inclination to buy them DVDs of old TV shows they like, because that's something I like, is wrong. My parents don't watch DVDs. They hardly like what's on TV now, but they watch it because it's on. If they had to get up and put a disc in, possibly missing "breaking news," they'd never watch TV.

No, my friends are easy. And not just in a slutty way. They have hobbies and interests that we talk about. I know the stuff they're into. Believe me, if I had any taste, shopping for my wife would be a breeze. Awesome purses? Cool sweaters? Fancy yarn? All things she loves. I couldn't pick them out to save my life, but there you go. At least I can throw a dart in the right direction.

And my brother and sister-in-law? I have NO clue. None. They buy whatever they want. They buy DVDs even I would be embarrassed to own, and I have eight copies of "Snatch" and former USA Up All Night favorites "H.O.T.S."

No, I really have no clue what to get them for Christmas. Nor do I have the money to get it for them. Well, at least I love little baby Jesus and OH MY GOD I THINK I HATE CHRISTMAS.

You: "Fuck you."

Me: "OK, that's enough."

Kurt Vonnegut: 1922-2007

2007-04-12T10:17:00.000-05:00

Kurt Vonnegut Jr. was a friend to me in dark times and one of the main impetuses behind my career as a writer. I don't claim to be a scholar on his work or a writer of any skill like his, but I loved the man.

He died Wednesday and now I'm thinking about how early and often he's impacted my life. I met "Cat's Cradle" when I was in high school and it wasn't long before I'd collected second-hand copies of most of his books.

Even now, when I go into a used bookstore, I stop to see if maybe there's something I've missed, some treasure I haven't read, a lesson not yet learned.

I get chills, literally, thinking of his impact on me. Though we never met - he came late to a dinner we were supposed to attend - I got to see him speak once. He pissed off a lot of the pro-war crowd here in Hillbillyland, USA, and I fucking loved it.

Ask me my favorite book and I will not hesitate. "Mother Night" is, hands down, the king.

"Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be."

I have tried to live by those words. I'm sure I've shamed him, because I suck, but there you go.

Now it's time to drink and think and read and sleep. I will miss you, Kurt Vonnegut, and I worry that no other voices will ever speak to me like you did again.

This bad idea brought to you by Mac's Snacks

2007-05-08T13:20:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been faced with a decision and immediately known what the wrong choice was? I have. It was just today...

I remember it like it was yesterday, but slightly better. I had a dollar and the will to survive. The machine in front of me presented so many choices and I was rattled. No need to lie -- the machine could smell it on me and I felt it in the heels of my shoes, where hate and flatulence comes from.

Maybe, but chocolate was too sweet for me at that moment. Some sort of chip? But what kind?

I panicked. No one was around, but it still felt like there was a line behind me, possibly because my ass has gotten a lot bigger, possibly because I was spending dollars at snack dispensing machines like the one before me.

It's a vicious cycle. Like a bicycle, but much more vicious and slightly less bi-curious.

All I knew was that the Mac's Red Hot Pork Skins were completely wrong. No, no, no...I'd have to get something else.

That's when I looked down and saw the pork rinds falling from their third-floor shelf into the waiting bin. Had I done that?

Yes. God yes. I saw the wrong choice and I took it without thinking. It's like I'm an 8-year-old or a Republican.

Like the Phoenix...Sex Tape Derby #1

2007-06-26T10:37:00.000-05:00

Torah Spelling suggested it and Chase "Philly Chasesteak" McInerney gave it his gooey blessing and so, the game that swept America a few years ago before everybody got bored with it and stopped, is back

Sex Tape Derby posits a basic question. Two people. Two sex tapes. Which do you choose to watch and why? Answer in the comments and may God have Mercy on your Soul.

1. The Cell Life

Recently released prisoner Paris Hilton

- or -

Soon-to-be jailbird Nicole Richie?

2. Big Guys

Also jail-bound Rotundarian Tom Sizemore

- or -

"Still Standing" actor Marc Addy, who should be imprisoned for that shitty sitcom?

I Read a Book!

2007-07-06T10:32:00.000-05:00

So, yeah. I did. It was good. I liked it anyway. Who knows if you will? Maybe you could read it and find out.

It's called "Soon I Will Be Invincible" by Austin Grossman and it's pretty funny. Granted, the humor is definitely skewed in my direction, as a huge comic book nerd, but I thought it was well-written and didn't drag.

Anyway, you can sign up to join the superhero team the Champions here (as well as learn about the book and whatever). I did it. And I'm really, really cool. My mom told me.

Sex Tape Derby 2: Hulking Behemoths Edition

2007-07-09T09:59:00.001-05:00

Time for another round of Sex Tape Derby. The rules are simple. Imagine a sex tape had been made starring a celebrity/public figure/action figure -- which would you rather watch and why? (Also, the headlines aren't working. Don't ask me why.)

1. More than meets the eye.

Classic Optimus Prime, or

New-fangled Optimus Prime

2. Feuding fat-asses.

Possible presidential contender Fred Thompson, or

Confirmed cheeseburger enthusiast Michael Moore