At Jeremy's "Beat the Heat with Meat and Alcohol" shindig, I had a great time.
We had beer. And Hamburgers. And hot dogs.
Mrs. Gunz loves hot dogs.
When she asked me to get a hot dog, the last time, there were none on the grill. I asked Jeremy if there were anymore hot dogs, and he dutifully (as the host of the party) threw on some hot dogs. I set off to deliver the news. Her response?
"Are you back without a hot dog?"
15 September 2007
14 September 2007
This one is for Jeremy
The video embedded below contains adult content, poop references, and overall poor taste. However, when I saw it, I could not help but to think that this was Jeremy (Jerry, Jeremy, coincidence? I think not.) during his sophomore year of high school.
Not Safe for Work. Viewer Discretion is advised.
/Do you like to skateboard?
Not Safe for Work. Viewer Discretion is advised.
/Do you like to skateboard?
12 September 2007
A Little Bit of Clarity
My brother-in-law has just completed his 15th annual "I'm not dead award" appearance, and with this year, he begins his first year of high school.
I've done more than my share of reminiscing lately, but it's such a trip to remember things, only because they're better than when they actually happened.
I was young, but I knew things. I figured out in middle school what Simon has now realized... a full 8 years before your average human being figures it out. It makes him miserable now, but he'll see. He'll understand one day that it is the path to enlightenment.
My wife stifled her own laughter as he realized his conclusion, which she repeated to me in confidence.
"I don't see the point of getting up in the morning. It's like, I get up, I go to school, I come home, I do homework, I sleep, I get up and go to school all over again. Then I'll go to college, and after college, I'll be at a job, and it's always the same thing."
See, my brother-in-law has got an easy life. As frugal as his parents are, he doesn't understand that supporting yourself these days means becoming a slave to the economy, and the only pleasure we can get out of not blowing our brains out and instead living our near automatic lives, is becoming a consumer and buying some really cool shit. Or for some of us, having lots of children.
So they can have cool shit.
Or you could live with your parents until you're 50 and they die. Whatever. Then you'd sound like this kid:
I've done more than my share of reminiscing lately, but it's such a trip to remember things, only because they're better than when they actually happened.
I was young, but I knew things. I figured out in middle school what Simon has now realized... a full 8 years before your average human being figures it out. It makes him miserable now, but he'll see. He'll understand one day that it is the path to enlightenment.
My wife stifled her own laughter as he realized his conclusion, which she repeated to me in confidence.
"I don't see the point of getting up in the morning. It's like, I get up, I go to school, I come home, I do homework, I sleep, I get up and go to school all over again. Then I'll go to college, and after college, I'll be at a job, and it's always the same thing."
See, my brother-in-law has got an easy life. As frugal as his parents are, he doesn't understand that supporting yourself these days means becoming a slave to the economy, and the only pleasure we can get out of not blowing our brains out and instead living our near automatic lives, is becoming a consumer and buying some really cool shit. Or for some of us, having lots of children.
So they can have cool shit.
Or you could live with your parents until you're 50 and they die. Whatever. Then you'd sound like this kid:
11 September 2007
I Used to be so Popular
As my traffic dwindles slowly to a close, I realize that the only thrill out of making my two mnspeak appearances were that someone I didn't know was reading my posts.
That said, I had given thought recently to closing this project down, but the truth is, I like it too much. People I don't know still read this occasionally, though I do get the random weekly hit looking for some incest porn.
I enjoy having an outlet for these things.
On to the show:
My high school years were a veritable crapshoot. On one day, I felt like the coolest person alive, on others, like no one even knew I existed. It was a pseudo-depression in a bi-polar sense, and we all went thru it.
The problem is, while I wasn't a "popular kid", I was still friends with the popular kids. I never had people over, and the few people who finally did purchase enough rewards points to catch even a sighted glimpse of my humble abode were rarely allowed inside.
Between this, and my random stints and strong friendships with members of the gothic and gay cliques in high school, I became a sort of mysterious figure. Never had I really been skinny, nor terribly fat, my peers were always intimidated by the seemingly limitless bounds my weight training teacher who conjure for his entertainment. (On more than one occasion he threatened me with an F if I didn't "push my limits", these days, that'd get you sued.)
Football players and computer geeks alike would venture to the weight room at the end of the week to see what my max was in the bench press. (280, by the way, before the class was over for the semester. I still hold the sophomore bench press record there.)
This kind of notoriety really set me apart from everyone. Between that, being in drama, the math team, the chamber choir, and a video production virtuoso, no one really knew what to make of me. So, I was popular in some classes and shunned in others.
But then I had my group of outcasts. My best friends. People who thru thick and thin would always be there. Would support me in failure and tell me that I deserved each success. Who did not care what accolades I had except that they were MY accolades, and that they believed they deserved recognition.
These same friends... I've made no attempt to contact during the last 6 years, until now. And I don't know where to start.
Some friend I turned out to be.
Garr... Clarkie... If you're out there. I'm looking for you.
That said, I had given thought recently to closing this project down, but the truth is, I like it too much. People I don't know still read this occasionally, though I do get the random weekly hit looking for some incest porn.
I enjoy having an outlet for these things.
On to the show:
My high school years were a veritable crapshoot. On one day, I felt like the coolest person alive, on others, like no one even knew I existed. It was a pseudo-depression in a bi-polar sense, and we all went thru it.
The problem is, while I wasn't a "popular kid", I was still friends with the popular kids. I never had people over, and the few people who finally did purchase enough rewards points to catch even a sighted glimpse of my humble abode were rarely allowed inside.
Between this, and my random stints and strong friendships with members of the gothic and gay cliques in high school, I became a sort of mysterious figure. Never had I really been skinny, nor terribly fat, my peers were always intimidated by the seemingly limitless bounds my weight training teacher who conjure for his entertainment. (On more than one occasion he threatened me with an F if I didn't "push my limits", these days, that'd get you sued.)
Football players and computer geeks alike would venture to the weight room at the end of the week to see what my max was in the bench press. (280, by the way, before the class was over for the semester. I still hold the sophomore bench press record there.)
This kind of notoriety really set me apart from everyone. Between that, being in drama, the math team, the chamber choir, and a video production virtuoso, no one really knew what to make of me. So, I was popular in some classes and shunned in others.
But then I had my group of outcasts. My best friends. People who thru thick and thin would always be there. Would support me in failure and tell me that I deserved each success. Who did not care what accolades I had except that they were MY accolades, and that they believed they deserved recognition.
These same friends... I've made no attempt to contact during the last 6 years, until now. And I don't know where to start.
Some friend I turned out to be.
Garr... Clarkie... If you're out there. I'm looking for you.
The Duality of Man
I want everything.
I want an easy life, and a beautiful struggle.
I want happiness and tragedy.
I want to fit in, but not be part of the crowd.
I want to do everything, but I still want to learn.
I want to earn everything, but I want it given to me.
This is why we're never happy. This is why we always should be.
I want an easy life, and a beautiful struggle.
I want happiness and tragedy.
I want to fit in, but not be part of the crowd.
I want to do everything, but I still want to learn.
I want to earn everything, but I want it given to me.
This is why we're never happy. This is why we always should be.
10 September 2007
A now a break from our regularly scheduled programming
I go back and read this blog and it's all very interesting to me.
It has evolved beyond me. It's a part of my ego, the need to be better than myself.
I can admit descent however.
Things I can't do as well as I used to. I used to sing. Some would say better than your average human.
Things I never could do. I never could act.
Things I'll never be.
And I'm still a kid at heart, sort of. My parents think I was deprived of childhood too early. Not in the "grow up, you have to run the house now, we're divorced sense" but the "you can't sleep over, you can't play contact sports and you can't go out with your friends" sense. I did the later ones a few times. I would have been an incredible football player.
I might have even gone to some small school on a partial or full scholarship for it. That's irony.
Because of the way my life panned out, I have a small addiction to escapism.
Actually, it's not even escapism. Just the option to find it.
Instant gratification and all that.
I buy a lot of games. And I apologize to my wife for that fact. It's money, I know. And I should stop. I'm trying.
At least it's not stamp collecting.
It has evolved beyond me. It's a part of my ego, the need to be better than myself.
I can admit descent however.
Things I can't do as well as I used to. I used to sing. Some would say better than your average human.
Things I never could do. I never could act.
Things I'll never be.
And I'm still a kid at heart, sort of. My parents think I was deprived of childhood too early. Not in the "grow up, you have to run the house now, we're divorced sense" but the "you can't sleep over, you can't play contact sports and you can't go out with your friends" sense. I did the later ones a few times. I would have been an incredible football player.
I might have even gone to some small school on a partial or full scholarship for it. That's irony.
Because of the way my life panned out, I have a small addiction to escapism.
Actually, it's not even escapism. Just the option to find it.
Instant gratification and all that.
I buy a lot of games. And I apologize to my wife for that fact. It's money, I know. And I should stop. I'm trying.
At least it's not stamp collecting.
09 September 2007
Not sure where you've been
A short one today:
During a quick outing to Sam's Club, I happened to walk past a woman yelling at her child. This happens a lot in my life, but one thing she said irked me.
"I didn't raise you to be a pain in the ass."
I hate it when parents say that. Yes, you did.
You may not know it, but you did. Are your kids under 15? You're wholly responsible for what a pain in the ass they are. You're in denial.
Two steps:
1) Whup his ass. Sure, you go to jail for that sort of thing these days, but we need to bring this limited form of corporal punishment back. Our kids NEED it.
2) Put the fear of YOU in them. I turned out pretty good, and I did my fair share of stupid shit, but when it came down to it, I was more afraid of disappointing my father than I was being called a chicken.
Another piece of advice: If your kids are incapable of behaving themselves when they're out and about, leave them at home. Find someone to watch them. Your husband didn't want to be there, I can tell by the look on his face. The threat of getting another "I didn't raise you to be a..." lecture isn't kidding anyone.
Especially not your offspring.
During a quick outing to Sam's Club, I happened to walk past a woman yelling at her child. This happens a lot in my life, but one thing she said irked me.
"I didn't raise you to be a pain in the ass."
I hate it when parents say that. Yes, you did.
You may not know it, but you did. Are your kids under 15? You're wholly responsible for what a pain in the ass they are. You're in denial.
Two steps:
1) Whup his ass. Sure, you go to jail for that sort of thing these days, but we need to bring this limited form of corporal punishment back. Our kids NEED it.
2) Put the fear of YOU in them. I turned out pretty good, and I did my fair share of stupid shit, but when it came down to it, I was more afraid of disappointing my father than I was being called a chicken.
Another piece of advice: If your kids are incapable of behaving themselves when they're out and about, leave them at home. Find someone to watch them. Your husband didn't want to be there, I can tell by the look on his face. The threat of getting another "I didn't raise you to be a..." lecture isn't kidding anyone.
Especially not your offspring.
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