25.7.06

I was Robbie Williams and I forgot my song?

Last night I awoke at 1:00 a.m., not long after I had initially fallen asleep.

Now, I rarely remember my dreams. However, I am remembering them with greater frequency as I advance in days and years. Last night I was Robbie Williams, English PoP Singer. I have never heard a Robbie Williams song in my life. Why was I Robbie Williams? Anyway, I show up to this high school like ampitheater to do a show, a small show. The type of show like a junior high talent show or small town fund raiser.

I show up with Posh Spice, or Vicky as I call her and then it starts to get really weird. I am hanging out back stage and this is the point where I realize that I am not me, but rather Robbie Williams. The organizers tell me that I will be singing "Such and Such song" of mine of which I have no recollection of, nor any idea how to sing. They tell me that I go on in 2 hours. I start to freak out and Vicky is totally no help, just as she seems that she would not be. I tell her that I have to get out of there when guess who magically appears...Donald Sutherland.

Sutherland, of all people, calms me down. I mean, listen to the guys voice. Anyone that can make me feel like buying O.J. can get me to calm down. He says "hell yes, let's get out of here, we can fix this, we just need some time."

So Sutherland, Posh, and Me, me, but really Robbie Williams head off in the station wagon and end up at TJ MAXX. I know. SO we go in and try to find a CD of the song, so that I can figure the song out and successfully sing this ditty at the talent show, fundraiser, whatever. Except that Sutherland keeps putting on items of clothing whilst the security officer is watching him blatantly burgle the store of its wares. I buy the CD, Sutherland is wearing a hat, vest, and scarf, all of which he has not paid for, and walks right out of the store. Vicky...well, she just kind of follows us out. The security guard manhandles Sutherland, yelling "hey, you have to stay here" and "you can't just walk out with this stuff."

This is when Sutherland pulls out his piece and starts waiving the gun in the security guards face. W.T.F. I know. So we get in the car and start speeding down the roadway, listening to Robbie Williams, ME, back to the gig. Vicky is not saying much, Sutherland is calmly giving tips on how to execute the song with grace during my performance, and I have relaxed realizing that Sutherland has saved, Robby's, MY, gig.

That is when I woke up, freaked out that I was Robby Williams.............

So, I never, ever have listened to Robbie Williams and have not seen a film with Donald Sutherland in a great while. Can anyone explain this dream to me. I have never had a dream where I was someone else. What could have triggered this?

Dude, I am freaked out a little bit.

Wow. So I am off to find a connection between Robbie, Beckham, any Sutherland, Posh, and myself. wish me luck.

18.7.06

Pulled Ham, not Pulled Pork; + the numbers support viewership; and the demise of a course!

Since I have spoken to you, the viewer, last several things have transpired. As one would suspect that things have always and will continue to transpire this is no new concept. However, I say this in the sense of things worth mentioning have transpired rather than merely the prosaic.

My friend and class mate destroyed a vase that I purchased whilst (my wife and cousin will appreciate this) on holiday in Costa Rica. I predicted that this event would occur, with what has been described as unparalled prescience by another friend and classmate. I told "the breaker" a week prior to the "breaking" that he should closely maintain his bony elbows as to prevent the destruction of the vase that would happen a week later. Thank heavens we purchased two vases or we would be Costa Rican vaseless. I was not horribly upset, but mildly somber. It was more of a slow cooking anger. I think that henceforth I shall refer to this variety of anger as "crock pot pissed." Anyway, I was supposed to be studying with these fellas and ended up answering flash cards during the relatively fruitless process of re-assembling this clay item with both crazy and gorilla glues which cleary, upon viewing this vase, did not work as I had intended it would within my minds eye. The "breaker" assured me, more for the alleviation of his guilt than for my edification, that the vase looked almost as good as it had pre-disintegration.

SIDEBAR: Think of the word disintegration for a moment. Integration is 1 : the act or process or an instance of integrating : as a : incorporation as equals into society or an organization of individuals of different groups (as races) b : coordination of mental processes into a normal effective personality or with the individual's environment
2 a : the operation of finding a function whose differential is known b : the operation of solving a differential equation.

However, Disintegration is the blowing into smithereens of some item into a state of complete destruction.

Obviously the vase was not disintegrated because we reassembled many small pieces in something that more or less resembled the original piece, but not really.

Anyway, I should have been studying and this is what I did. Then, the other study buddy and I quizzed each other with more of these surprising and fascinatingly entertaining educational flashcards. I then went to futbol practice in the stiffling 98 degree heat where only 6 fellas showed up. 6 guys. W.T.F. It is hot, but what the F? happened to the love of the game? I was straight up P.O.ed. We played 3 on 3 until my body felt chilled and tingly. Cleary not a good sensation when the whether is hot enough for cities to promulgate warnings to monitor the elderly and the young.

Moving on, I came home and dined at a rib shack favorite of mine with the wife and Non-Breaker study buddy. Delicious and insiteful. We spoke about how we aren't scenesters and how delighted we were all by this fact. It must cost an awful lot of money to go "out" all of the time just so people will think that you go "out" all of the time. If this makes sense than listen to this one. I am an internal scenester. This is why my wife thinks that I am so fucking cool, and I her. WE STAY IN ALL THE TIME SO THAT PEOPLE KNOW THAT WE STAY IN ALL OF THE TIME. soooooo COOL. Anyway, things were starting to look up right?

I had gotten over the broken vase and my growing feeling that I may be underprepared for this stupid damn test that I had to take on Monday.

Sunday we woke up quite early to get breakfast before my first futbol game in a long time, a long time. Well, the first proper game in a long time. We had a wonderful, well, pretty good breakfast. The conversation is always good when I dine with my wife. I think when I dine with her, I am distracted by her good stuff and then rate the edibles perhaps with a higher regard than I should. Despite this breakfast was good. I then suited up for my game. Butterflies a little, but they disappear once I start. I was fucking rocking it. I am a defensive fortress and it takes about 5 minutes for whatever team I am playing with to say "[my name here] starts back center and comes out only for death or severe injury. He is an animal and we are glad that he is on our team. He will stop a ball with his crotch, face, knee, etc." Well guess what happens? 7 minutes before the half, fighting dispicable heat and an opposing team full of dickheads, I make a fast break and POP!

You know when you are watching a game and you see a player succumb to his own body and you watch in slow motion as it looks like an invisible monster is attacking a players body parts. You know what I mean? When the guy takes off and you see him fall because those invisible hands crush an invisible 2 x 4 into the back of his thigh. He drops and rolls still moved by the momentum he gained before diving. Well that happened to me for the first time in a long while. Usually I stand up and shake it off, but this pain was deep in my right hamstring. It felt like a bowling ball dipped in honey and rolled in broken glass was fighting its way out of my thigh from within and it fucking hurt, FUCKING hurt. I gave the hand signal for subbing out and looked like a one legged California Raisin doing that stupid dance where they move their hands around each other hobbling to "I heard it through the grape vine" with a stupid look on my face.

I hurt like a mo-fo, but being not only proud but thinking if I use the leg it will hurt less later I wrapped my thigh in a role of sports tape and went back out for the rest of the game. YOu know what? I was damn proud to do that and I felt a sense of self respect and gratification that I don't think I have felt in about 2 years. I have felt as though I have met little milestones and small measurables I have set for myself. I was proud of my 'B' in a difficult law school class. I was happy when my wife loved her Christmas present and I knew that she really was. But to have a team of 11 strangers that I met online and began to play futbol with look at me, knowing I was in severe pain, and see me wrap my leg and limp back out to that field and say "Damn, that is a hard mother," well that was just a palpable sweetness that I could taste and smell.........

And then I went to school to study. How anticlimactic! Anyway, after things were seemingly on the upswing, a proverbial punch to the balls.

Let us review the score.

Broken vase, impending final, the job that doesn't pay which leads to the running out of hard currency, and the recent hamstring injury that could rob me of my sweetness on the field VS. the great wife, the mild euphoria from almost winning the game, and the thought that the course is nearing end.

So, I study at school and bring the "breaker" and the other study buddy home to review for several more hours on the Sunday before the final. We review as I look for my power cable to my laptop. Where is the power cable to my laptop? Have you seen the power cable to my laptop? Have YOU?

WIFE: "No, I have not seen it. Where did you have it last?"
Me: "You know I love you right?"
WIFE: "Of course, I love you too."
Me: "Well, with that in mind, If I knew the last place I had it, why the hell would I ask you?"
WIFE: "You don't have to be an asshole you know."
Me: "Whatever, SORRY"
____

Me: "How about you study buddy?"
Study Buddy: "fuck you dude! Why don't you check "breakers" bag, he breaks shit and loses his shit all of the time, maybe he has it."
Me: "Fair enough, you don't have to be an asshole you know."
Study Buddy: "fuck you."
Me: "OK... dick" [under my breath]

Me: "How about you, is it in your bag?"
Breaker: "What?"
Me: "Forget it."

Anyway, I can't find the thing. I knew I had it at school, but thought it was in the house. It was in none of the usual places and so I call school. They don't know where it is.

Add this to my ass and thigh on fire and I am getting pretty P.O.ed. Needless to say it is now Tuesday. Again, I should be doing work but am not. I have since 1) taken the final, upon which I hope I did not shit the bed; 2) found my cable with the assistance of the wonderful Mary at the library of my school. I told her that I loved her and that her thouroughness had rejuvinated my hopes for humanity and saved me 79.95 in cold, hard, U.S. curreny, excluding opportunity cost and shipping; 3) realized that my hamstring injury is much better than I had hoped, as if I had torn muscle it would look as described by a teammate, as if "a bull had rammed its head into my ass,"; and finally, have gotten an 180 gram vinyl double pack record as a temporary sign of good faith by the "breaker" who feels more guilty than he should and is also having his mother, the wonderful woman that she is, purchase us something grand and ethnic from Egypt to replace the Costa Rican vase. Word up.

Final Score. GOOD. Leg is healing, class is done, broken item replaced, cable found, 80 dollars saved, "breaker's" guilt alleviated, I am attending a Chicago Fire Futbol game in lieu of practice which will force me to work on strategy whilst resting my leg, and I saw a friend that I have not seen in some months on the train last night.

I know that this has something to do with those lucky pennies that I found.

HECK YEAH.

I will talk to you loyal readers again in the near future.
I hope my cousin has her baby soon. She is patient, but this is ridiculous.
I will have pizza with my wife tonight.
I can ride my bike in the interim to strengthen my injury.

All is well with the world and 42 people have read my blog thus far. I think it is my wife just refreshing my page to make me feel good.
If you stop in leave a message for me.

Therefore,

11.7.06

Working without pay only works if you give a shit!

I am anonymous. I wish to remain anonymous.

I am like most people in this world...essentially anonymous.

Get on the web and it's like advertising all of your faults, emotions, sentiments, etc. to the world. One big fat, self-incriminating broadcast. Sure, you are purveying your finest and purest of thoughts, unadulterated and honest. I appreciate this. My employers, past, present, and future may not. I don't really care what those people think. They, however, do care what I think, and how I act, and how I represent them as an organizational entity.

Remember your mother smacking the shit out of you in the middle of a shopping mall for acting like a huge twat. It's not because you were acting like a huge twat. You got wacked for acting like a huge twat next to her and therefore, for making her look like a huge twat that has no control over her spoiled, rotten, and uncontrollable brat. A poor reflection on the management skills of the organizational entity. This is the analogy. Fitting I think. So this is where we begin today, with anonymity.

ZINEDINE ZIDANE.

Not anonymous. Anything but. This man is still a class act in my book. Zinedine Zidane did to Marco Materazzi what I would have done. However, Zidane exercised self restraint. You do not see Coach Raymond Domenach chastizing his player. You do not see Jaque Chirac chastizing his countryman. You do not see the likes of Makelele, Thuram, Ribery, Henry, and the rest of Zidane's brothers blaming the loss on Zidane. THE ITALIANS DID NOT WIN THE 2006 WORLD CUP. THE FRENCH MERELY LOST. PENALTY KICKS ARE SHITE, and no one likes to see a game end this way. Moving on. Had that been me on the pitch, I would not have abided by the FIFA rules of the game. Zidane did. He did not employ the use of his hands to exact cold revenge on the Materazzi. He used his head. I too have been red carded. Upon 70 minutes or so of continuous rough play, disrespect, and the acte finalment of some words spoke regarding my mother I grab an opposing player by the head, gripping a white knuckled hand full of hair and pulled that cheating and lying bastards face into my other hand. The ball was at the opposite end of the pitch. The lying and cheating bastards bloodied face kissed the moist grass. The official pulled his red card from his pocket and placed the card in my face. Unacceptable? Certainly. Excusable? Only by some. Deserved? Absolutely.

When I did this, when I committed that foul, I knew the repurcussions. Perhaps Zidane, blinded by a momentary overtaking of blind fury did not fully understand such repurcussions. Perhaps it was a mistake to commit such a foul with ten minutes left of overtime. Let me direct the following statements to all of the other people out there with their opinions. I will say only this. Maybe it was a mistake, but it was Zidane's to make. His countrymen, his national leader, his coach, and most certainly his family stick by him. For you, it is none of your business. Eric Wynalda, the writers and editors at "Le Monde," Giorgio Chinaglia, and the rest of the World, I don't think that you need me, some anonymous person, of anonymous age and education to tell you that "it was not you on the pitch, head butting a potentially facist in a moment of rage," so kindly keep your comments to yourself. Zinedine has enough to live with. Maybe he regrets his act, maybe he doesn't. That is for him to live with, not you.

That is my first complaint of this week.

Moving on.

I had a wonderful weekend. Full of wine, sport, cinema, conversation, and grand gastronomic fare. Well, I guess not all of the food was that grand. But much of what was consumed was quite delicious. Two Cheese flights, curried and pan seared scallops, grilled lamb loin, honey and cumin cubed chicken, garbanzo and spinich pasta, grape leaves and hummous. Simply delicious. Dined with the wife, had futbol practice, saw and excellent animated film based on a Phillip K. Dick novel. Just enjoyable the entire time. So why don't more people do these types of things. Why can't we have good conversation with other people like I do with my wife. People only want to take about the mundane and the vulgar. Aggravating. Despite all of this I am completely happy at present.

Here is a valid complaint. I will take this to the ombusman/person, my apologies. I have an examination on Monday. I have read every assignment, and missed only two classes. I have put the work in. I will study diligently for the entire week so that I can, with any hope in addition to my hard work, reap what I have sown. There are those among us, out there, that are our doctors, lawyers, dentists, psychologists, butchers, train conductors etc, that do not study like I do. Which is to say that many study perhaps more efficient that I. Others do nothing. They simply do nothing. They fly by night, get the materials for the examination and sweep on past me, doing less work and finally surpass my scores through back door dealings. I don't know how these people acquire these materials and I don't know what they do with all of the time that they are not studying. I know where you think this complaint is going... but you are incorrect. I am upset with myself for allowing them to get to me. I am not upset with them. I am not upset with these people because I know more than them. I am more fit and qualified than most of the people to be a practioner in whatever vocation or challenge I am posed against them in. Do you understand what I am saying. I put the work in to put the work in. For the sake of the experience. I may perform worse then them on the examination. I may be seen as a lesser competitor. When the wind has blown and the debris has settled. I feel whole. I am a complete human being. I have survived the experience and have grown as a result of that experience. I care not how I rank in comparison with those people. I have reached a point in my life where I can honestly say that I, in more instances than not, do not compare myself to others. There will always be those both greater and lesser than I based on a multitude of measurables. I, however, am confident in saying that I am improving. I, inside my mind and body, am improving and becoming a more complete human being. GO ME!

Oh, yes. DO you know something? I am upset about relationships. They just don't seem to be working out for a host of my friends as of late. Is it the alignment of the planets? Are we do for a total solar eclipse in the near future. IS the planet swinging off orbit? I am concerned about these people. I think that they have done some things, subconsciously, that may have jeopardized their relationships. These people are good people and they deserve second chances. They have recognized that they scrabled their priorities and are sincerely penitent. I hope the best for these people. One a woman, the other a man. If I could put them together, I would. I think that they, in another life, would be a great couple. I sincerely empathize with M y S. They feel like they are too old to be messing around with such sloppy relationship woes. You are never to old for anything unless you are dead. Important to recognize.

OH. YOU know what puts me into a tizzy. People who constantly tell you that they want to hang out with you, but never call. Fuck them. I don't mean that. Yes I do. But don't worry. I will get over it. Tomorrow...Not Fuck you.

Saw a couple of severely balance challenged people on the train this morning. Train, not like the Orient Express or the Hiram Bingham to Machu but rather the Chicago EL, or the Tube if you are ignorant and hail from across the pond. So, this dude, parallel to the front of the train must be completely devoid of any knowledge of physics. This is a sad fact. After all, physics is the science of life. Perhaps he is the walking dead. He didn't seem starved for human brains so perhaps there is some other rational excuse. So, anyway. The train moves forward, rapidly. If you stand with your feet shoulder width apart, perpendicular to the front of the train, it is as if you were standing in your living room, feet two feet apart and had your friend push you in the chest. Do you know what would happen? That is right. You would fall flat on your dumb ass. You ride a train as if you were on a snowboard, skateboard, etc. You can almost ride the train in this manner without holding on to the multitude of metal handles provided by the architects of the train cars. Bend the knees a little to absorb the shock. More bend in the front as you travel, less bend in the front as you stop. Lock the opposite leg of the direction you are traveling and voila!!!! No spills, no mess, no interference into the personal space of others. I am going to explain this to those folks in the very near future. Someone could get hurt.

Speaking of HURT. Have you all seen the "Elephant Man" starring Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt as John Merrick, in real life Joseph Merrick. This is the story of a man horribly disfigured by a disease which causes him to have bone disfigurement, elephantitis, unable to use certain body parts, etc. Mr. Merrick, in the beginning of the film is found by the good Doctor, Anthony Hopkins, at a side show. The Doctor, rescuing Mr. Merrick from this side show life soon feels that he has just displaced Mr. Merrick from one side show to another, that of the medical commmunity. After a short time the Doctor finds that Mr. Merrick is not mentally deficient, but merely deformed. This is a great story of the power of friendship and that books should certainly not be judged by their covers. I like to think that I would be able to see past such deformities to find the beauty inside another human being. I think that I could. I have done it before, but one never knows.

The line from this film that is most striking is when Mr. Merrick accidentally knocks over a child and is pursued through the train station only to be disroped and have all of his deformities shown to the riotous and unreasonable public. He shouts to them in despair, fear, and anger that "I am not an animal, I am a human being."

Very poignant in today's climate of xenophobia and paranoia.

Speaking of Paranoia. This film that I spoke of earlier, the Phillip K. Dick novel. That is a true display of paranoia gracefully conveyed by the artist to those with a mind open enough to appreciate the medium and style with which Dick offers up this story. The film, almost always less fulfilling than the book, was quite good. There seemed to be some in the audience, which was quite mixed, that were on some mind altering substances. They laughed at times when only a psychedelic causes an inside joke to force a conspicous and collective laugh. The real pinch in this case is that if you have not read this book of technology, drugs, law enforcement, conspiracy, and the ultimate dementia, then you don't know how the story ends, and this particular story does not end well my friend. So these junkies are slowly declining into a likely near vegetative state or just outright death. The film seemed to glorify this drug use, which clearly, the book did not. So I hope that those kids weren't tripping out because the common ending of the book and the film was Phillip K. Dicks dedication to his friends who have been lost or severely impaired due to drug use, listing the names followed by one of four potential fates. Those names were followed by either a DECEASED, PERMANENT PSYCHOSIS, PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE, or PERMANENT LIVER DAMAGE. Not a message to have the mind soak up during a trip. Hope they are OK...


Well, it seems, children, that I have run out of time for this broadcast. Hope to have the counter up soon when I get to a terminal that will allow me to modify cookie settings.

Until then...Auf Wiedersehen. Oh, that reminds me. Heidi is on tomorrow. SWEEEEET!

5.7.06

so what I was trying to say

So anyway, from the last post, what I was trying to say is that I know two little fellows who are so smart and got it going on. One kid is 3 years old and the other 2. They are so cool and smart and have such great parents that you just hate to see other children who don't have the means. Therefore, their parents, if they cannot take care of these children should not have children. Not these kids though, and certainly not their parents. If you cannot devote the time and resources to raising great kids, don't have them. That is it.