Thursday, February 25, 2010

Interesting Night

So I was sick of being on the computer. I needed to get up and do something, so I went to Walmart to grab some toilet paper and milk. As I was walking into the store, there was a gentleman standing outside, smoking a cigarette. I decided to give him a cool, casual nod of acknowledgment on my way in, but when I looked up to do so, he was looking down at a piece of paper in his hand, so I just went on my way.

After a few minutes of carefully price matching toilet paper brands (12 double rolls for $5.97 or 24 standard rolls for $6.07?) and then snatching up a half gallon of 2% ($1.87), I strolled gently up to the cash register and bribed the Walmart cashier into letting me steal everything I was carrying.

As I skipped merrily into the bitter freezing cold, the gentleman from before walked up to me and said, "Hey man, I need some help."

In my head I said, "Oh shit, I'm getting mugged. Just what I need." I steeled my balls, balled my fists of steel, and gave him a steely gaze then said, "Sup dude, whatchya need?"

He asked if I could give him a ride to Wichita. The person that drove him from Wichita to good old El Dorado left him there because he refused to give the driver a sexual favor.

I said, "Eh, why not? That's my car."

So we got in, and I drove him to Wichita. He called the guy who basically kidnapped him and said, "Hey man, Imma call the police on yo ass." Then he turned to me and said, "How do you hang up with this phone? That one? No, uh, that one, yeah, there we go."

I asked him where we were going and he said, "Oh, on Broadway, down by the Central Business District."

And I thought, "Oh shit, I'm getting mugged. That's just what I need."

We had a pleasant conversation and I dropped him off at a motel in Wichita. When we stopped, I looked around for his friends who would inevitably rob me and possibly shoot me. He asked me what I wanted in return for the ride. I said, huh? He said, "What do I owe you?" and I said, "Oh, I just wanted a blow job."

And he gave me the most amazing look in the world. It was like, I could see the words behind his eyes, saying, "That is just what I fuckin' need." I honestly couldn't keep a straight face after seeing that look in his eyes. I laughed, then said, "Ha, man, I'm just messing with you. I don't want anything."

So he shook my hand and we both bid each other safe journeys and I drove home. The end.

As best I can tell, this is what happened to him (We'll call him Tony): Tony was at a party with some friends in Wichita, probably drinking a little, and when it came time to head out, he got a ride from someone there that he didn't really know. The guy drove Tony to El Dorado and told him he had to give him a blow job if he wanted a ride back. Tony said, "hell no, I'll just get a ride from one of my friends. Let me borrow your phone." So he called his friend gave the phone back and got out of the car, then wrote down the license plate number. When Tony got into Walmart, he called his friend back on the payphone and got the caller ID number from the kidnapper. A few minutes later, I showed up and gave him a ride home. Tony told me he would report the incident to the police, but if he met the kidnapper before the police caught him, he would "knock him out."

An Interesting Night

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Coolest Dream

During my ritualistic eight-hour sleep cycle, I envisioned a series of images that played out in succession to form which came to me in the sense of a moving picture. I believe the archaic term is "movie-film".

In this Mental Film of sorts, I saw myself with BRUCE LEE, brought back by the power of SCIENCE. We traveled together to avoid slaughter by the GOOSE CORPORATION, who wanted BRUCE dead. Since Bruce and I did not want him DEAD, we decided to be totally BADASS and HIDE.

There was a CHICK in this vision as well, and she was BRUCE'S new girlfriend, cause I guess he was no longer interested in LINDA LEE CALDWELL. She's OLD now.

ANYWAY, after a few intense scenes of running from GOOSE AGENTS, we decided to CAMP OUT in a luxurious hotel to avoid being recognized. UNFORTUNATELY, BRUCE'S newfound LOVE was captured and KILLED off screen.

BRUCE taught me a cool JEET KUNE DO move, and explained that the BASICS of all martial arts are ALL YOU NEED, because you can BUILD from there and KICK ASS by being like WATER. (I still recall this attack post-consciousness that he demonstrated on me and can replicate it.)

At some point, we flew through a DESERT RAVINE on a BIPLANE. Then stole a FERRARI. Unfortunately, that EPIC CHASE SCENE was too much for my BRAIN to handle, and I promptly FORGOT it.

So then BRUCE and I infiltrated a WALMART, to buy some PUTTY STUFF to try and make a cast of his REANIMATED FACE for SOME REASON. I warned him not to buy any cause the GOOSE AGENTS might have POISONED it.

We left WALMART, and sat down to talk. BRUCE asked me, "What do you want to do with YOUR LIFE." I told him, "I want to be special forces. Like, military, or SWAT." To which he replied, "Special forces?" and I said, "Yeah, but my martial arts skills aren't up to par." And I was afraid to ASK HIM to TRAIN me. Then my ALARM CLOCK woke me up.

Man, Bruce Lee.

Thursday, February 4, 2010


I've declared the month Frugal February, or possibly Parsimoniuary: The month of frugality. To start it off right, I spent $188 on groceries just now which had better last until March, or so help me I'll just quit the whole eating thing. Groceries are for chumps, fool.

This month I want to really buckle down and save some money. I think I've gotten a little carried away with the extra cash I have on hand these days since I moved and paid off my car, and as a result have grossly over-indulged in eating out and going to the theater. I love going to the theater in Wichita, but it costs at least 12 bucks a visit, since I usually pay for Rachel, and that's the matinee cost, which is hard for me to get to since I sleep all day, so we end up paying 9 each.

And then we have to buy dinner afterwards or before or whatever, and that's anywhere from 6 to 30 dollars, depending on how fancy we want it.

And dare I go into my book buying sprees? I have somewhere around twenty new books laying around and not getting read, because I buy lots of--

Video games. My PS3 died again, and Sony wouldn't fix it for free (they wanted 180 dollars), so I fixed it on my own for $35. In the meantime, I totalled up how much I've invested just in video games. Over 2k. Just in PS3 games and accessories. I don't even want to think about how much I payed for the gamecube and PS2 and PC games sitting here on my shelf.

But I don't regret any of it. The games make a good hobby, and it's good socialization with a couple people I know in real life yet can't see regularly. I just need to cool it and pay off my credit card, then get a security fund and start really saving for the future and an abundance of artillery for the 2012 apocalypse. Cause when the Illuminati come knocking at my door, I want to be the guy with the bigger gun so I can blow his brains out, asking questions later, of course.

*sigh* I've had a hankering for a little debate mischief with a dude who posted the most ridiculously idiotic anti-gun-control diatribe on his facebook wall. However, after I psychoanalyzed his desire for destruction due to his parent's divorce and his ensuing struggle with uncontrollable circumstances and the following love for ensuring his dominance over all things smaller than him, then it just became too sad to try and bring up. Poor guy.

I quit my Lexapro about 3 weeks ago. Maybe 4 now. Same thing happened to me this time as last; I've been freaking out. Best way to explain it is, when I take the drug, whatever the reason (this last time to try and regulate my sleeping habits), my mind becomes conditioned to handling stimuli in a certain way. Impulses get redirected and though you can't really see it on the outside, my persona changes just a little on the inside.

So when the drug is gone, the stimuli hits me and I instinctively react in a certain way, have an emotional response, and then get the opportunity to interpret the stimuli more objectively. The trouble is, that objectivity is sometimes influenced by the hormones that were released because of the emotional response.

For example, I wrote a short piece on my other blog, a writing exercise where two characters resolve a conflict. I asked Rachel how it was and she said it "was a little first-drafty."

Now, I wouldn't call it my finest work, but I was happy with it. It wasn't a first draft, but it was a single-sitting piece. I went over it about three times in an hour and called it good.

The stimuli, her comment "first-drafty" hit me like a truck and really upset me. So I had this stress reaction, the hormones flowed and I got pissy. For a minute or two, I couldn't think of a positive thing to say about her and I thought about trashing her work as revenge. But then, that instinctual reaction waned and I could calm down and take a step outside of myself and say, "Look, she didn't mean anything harsh. She just said it could use some work. You like improving your writing, don't you? Yeah. Then calm down and talk to her about it."

Before I went on the drug, this wouldn't have been an issue. During my time on the drug, this wouldn't have been an issue. Three weeks after quitting it? Yeah, it's an issue. Everything is an issue. I've been a major rollercoaster of emotion lately, experiencing the whole range: Ecstacy, joy, contentment, boredom, anger, depression, sometimes all of them in a short period of time. It's been rough, but I think I'm moving up. Shopping tonight seemed to make me feel like I'm not doing so poorly after all.