I'm Not As Fucked As You Think

Here I lie, 2007 behind me, 2008 ahead. As bad as it's been, it's really not been that bad. I've somehow gained a sort of weird confidence that I've never had before. When I'm afraid I'm not really that afraid. When I'm sad I'm not really that sad anymore. I've had just about enough of me and I'm sure the rest of you have too. I'm getting angry about things. Passionate. I kind of want to punch some people in their mouths. I'm no longer interested in coming to terms with the idea of securing a livelihood. A career, a family. Those used to be things I wanted that seemed unattainable. Now I just don't want them. Talk to me when I'm 40. Those are the things that hold you down. In 2008 I will do what I want. I will move to Chicago, but I don't know if I'll hang around there. I can go anywhere. I can trick anybody into giving me a job anywhere I want one. I'll take their money and quit, do it again somewhere else. Why haven't I been doing this? It's so easy. I'll spend every cent I ever make and, like the song, die penniless and alone. And it will probably be great.

This is my last post in this blog. I'm self-censoring because of some of the people who are reading it. That's no fun. Don't worry, though. If you're wondering why I wouldn't want you to read this then it's not you. I'm sure I'll start up a new blog (with a name not nearly as great as this one) sometime soon and if you have an interest I'm sure I'll make it obvious to you where it is located. Now I Wanna Be You Blog, though, is officially kaput. Thanks for reading.

Once Again, Fuck American Apparel

Seriously.

The Worst Year of My Life

I'm calling it - 2007 has been the worst year of my life. It's official. And it started with such sweet promise. Let's recap, vaguely.

DELETED

I got about half way through the list and decided I shouldn't post such a thing. You don't care and I should be moving on. Anyway, it's been a rough one. Here I am, though, blogging away. This is my life. This is what I do. Even when I greatly improve it, assuming I do, it's still going to be the same thing, right? This is why I told Eric to sign me up for a year of eHarmony for Christmas because, really... what the fuck else am I going to do? I have to at least try to get a girlfriend in 2008, right? I've never really tried such a thing, but it's time, homie. Kiss me, Little Juan. I would be good with a girlfriend. I doubt anyone believes this, but it's true.

2008 has to be great. It has to. I will move, which is the wild card since I'll be getting some serious lonesome in the City on the Make, but it will be better than this and it will surely be better than Columbia based on the movie theaters alone. I will just need to make some friends. I can do that if I allow myself to talk to strangers. I can convince people to like me quickly as long as I pick the right people. Others don't realize I'm cool for several weeks/months, unfortunately. So that will be some kind of adventure in it's own right. I'm probably going to go to the Insub. Fest in June which will be cool. And if Eric's living in Maryland I'll get to stay with him. And I get to go to Alaska for Eric's wedding in August which will also be awesome. Just one of those things murders every good thing that's happened to me this year. Well, maybe not everything, but a lot of the good things that happened this year are immediately connected to really shitty things, so that's no fun. I think I had hoped that losing weight would be more fun than it is. It's not fun, it's boring. I don't think any girls are going to want to fuck me more at, say, 180 than they would want to at 240. I'm too weird looking, regardless. I do feel healthier, though. I can run around and stuff pretty easily. I'll be in good sprinting-away-from-muggers-shape, maybe.

So, even though it's only October, I want to offer up a big fuck you to 2007, death, social anxiety, chronic depression, and New York City. You've all been a dagger in my guts for the past ten months. I've taken it from all different directions multiple times from each and everyone of you. Leave me alone already.

A Shocking Realization

Last weekend I smoked illegal drugs because I felt like it. I rarely feel like such a thing, but I felt like it last weekend so I partook. All was well for a while and then I got this horrible stomach pain than crippled me throughout the rest of the night and into the early morning. I thought those illegal drugs were to blame. How wrong I was.

Guacamole is my enemy. Even though I like the taste of it, I have been rendered a crying freak in the fetal position on the bathroom floor by the fucked up shit it does to my stomach. I cannot eat it without getting violently ill. The last time I puked was because of the evil guac. And I puked like nine times that night.

Guacamole is made from avocado. Less than an hour before I broke the law I, fool that I am, ordered an avocado chicken burger from Ruby Tuesday's with a Jones' Cream Soda. Cream soda has been known to give me headaches and hurt my stomach, but I like it so I don't care. Avocado has been known to put me in some of the worst physical pain I've ever felt. What the fuck was I thinking? Why did it take me until today to figure this out. And I thought it was the drugs fault. The drugs helped! I would have felt way worse were it not for wonderful, delicious, illegal drugs.

In other last weekend news, I think someone punched me in the face. Eric's fiance Heather is my number one suspect. I allegedly went to sleep on the concrete floor of Bobby's garage (face first) and then Heather allegedly dragged me from the garage into Bobby's living room and put me to bed on the couch. I have no memory of any of that. I just remember the crying. Assuming she did manage that, which is crazy if true, something tells me she probably saw an opportunity to punch me in the face and went for it. My jaw is in a lot of pain. Something happened to it. I didn't start noticing it until Monday, though, which is when I started feeling hungover meaning I was drunk all day Sunday as well.

Oh, debauchery. I once knew you well. Sadly, though, we are too far apart to ever be close again. I am 26-years-old and I blacked out from drinking. That hasn't happened since before I even turned 21. For shame, me. For shame.

Doggystyle

An issue has arisen in regard to my trip to Columbia this weekend. I forgot that I have to take care of the dog. Hmm... I'm not sure what to do about that. I'm hoping that maybe my neighbor will come over and feed him and let him out. I would consider bringing him with me but I almost wonder if that wouldn't be more traumatic for him than just leaving him here for two days, something I can't do unless someone comes over to let him out. Stupid Dillard.

I got my camera for 50 dollars less than I was willing to spend and 30 dollars less than the lowest sale price I had found. AND I got the black one instead of the all silver, which was the style I preferred. Yay for me! Unfortunately, I can't think of anything to take pictures of. The "Child Molesters, Lesbians, and Gays" sign has been replaced by a "For Sale" sign by the neighbors, so that's no good. I'm going to take the damn thing with me everywhere I go, though, so surely I'll find something to photograph. Here's that tree I was bragging about a few posts ago:



Hopefully I'll get lots of debaucherous photos of drug abuse and kinky sex acts, possibly involving a small dog, this weekend.

Goliath Wasn't No King

As part of my new living well regiment, I've been drinking half a gallon of water a day. Eva Mendes drinks a gallon a day and claims it makes her skin glow. I'm working my way to a gallon. I've been peeing a lot.

It's cold out there on my bike. I need some gloves. Where can I buy some cool gloves?

Today I was asked if I was single. I kind of scoffed and said, "What do you think?" She said something along the lines of, "How the hell should I know? I don't know you from Samson." I said, "Well, I'm no Samson." She said, "Well, Goliath then." I said, "Well, I'm no king, either." She said, "Goliath wasn't no king, he was a giant!" I said, "Oh, I thought you were referencing David, who killed Goliath and later went on to become a king since my name is David." She looked at me and said, "No."

I need to learn how to have a conversation with a person. Living well requires quality communication.

I Live in Well

I'm plotting revenge against someone who... well, let's keep it at someone. And since living well is the best revenge according to some random-ass clergyman poet, I'm going to start living well, motherfuckas. I'm going to be healthy. I'm going to... uh... I don't know what. How do you "live well"? Maybe I should work on my appearance. I would like to be pleasant to look at. Maybe it will help me trick some girl into kissing me. So, how do I go about being attractive? Should I start paying more than 13 dollars for a haircut? Maybe. I'm totally balding now. It's fucking bullshit. I hate haircuts. Do you think a 20 dollar job would help me, though? What about a 50 dollars job? FUCK! That's alotta dough for my thinning dome pubes. I don't know. I need help. I need a life coach. No more running half miles! A full mile or nothing! No more listening to Neil Young's "Only Love Can Break Your Heart" on repeat all night (after tonight, that is). No more diet cheating. I bought fucking crackers to snack on today. Healthy ones! They say "garden" in the title. Gotta get good looking eating crackers!

It's Fucking On

It's fucking on. I am NOT going to let this get to me. When this gets me down I'm going to get angry and then I'm going to run until I puke and then I will feel better. I've got to get down to my fighting weight. It's time to fight. I'm not fucking around anymore. It's time to move. It's time to get lost in a big, scary city where I know no one so I can focus on less painful depressing things. I will not find an excuse to stay in Missouri. I will not cater to second thoughts or other people's wishes. I will not waste any money. I will not allow myself to fuck anything up ever again. That's it. It's fucking on. Oh, and I might need to quit all social networking websites.

Speaking of not wasting money, I ordered this today:



A camera and a computer are in my pre-move budget, though, so it's okay. Sort of. And I bought it with money I won gambling and wiping mold off of my dead grandparent's furniture, so it was sort of extra. Not really. I'm feeling guilty about buying it, but it will be okay. Now I can post pictures of the things I look at every day for the two people who read this blog. Wait until you see this oak tree in the backyard. It's something.

I'm about halfway pissed off at all of my supposed friends who don't want a fucking Happy Holidays card from me. Jon, you're excluded from that group. A true friend is Jon. Fuck the rest of you people, assuming the two other people who asked for one don't read this blog (which I am assuming).

I can't wait for tomorrow so I can start looking forward to the end of the week so a new week will start and I can start looking forward to the end of it. We've got to get to 2008 on the double. I need that shit.

Hey, does anyone want to smoke some drugs? I need to. It's time for me to do that. Let me know if you'll let me do drugs with you. Thanks.

If You Don't Know What I Mean Then You'd Better Look Out

I went from being in a pretty decent mood to feeling like I'm going to vomit depressing sayings all over chest in a sort of vomit-covered magnetic poetry way in a matter of seconds. I feel terrible. God, this sucks. I don't want to have to get up in the morning. I will never get to sleep tonight, I'll just toss around. Fuck. This is so fucking stupid. I'm angry at myself for feeling this way. All I want to do is lay on the floor and drink. That's terrible. I don't want to feel like this.

Baby Wants to Fuck Blue Velvet

Thursday I went to St. Louis with Eric. We had plans to do lots of nice things that normal people do, like go to the science center, the zoo, and maybe even tour the brewery if I couldn't convince him to take me to the botanical gardens. Needless to say, we ended up at a casino. I won 100 bucks gambling with Eric's money! That was cool. Eric won 800 dollars, 500 of it on one spin of the roulette wheel. Fuck all of that science garden shit, we got free money instead! Then we went to Zia's on The Hill and ate. It was romantic. Then we went and saw King of Kong, one of the best movies of the year. I had so much fun watching it. Billy Fucking Mitchell. That guy needs his butt kicked. After the movie we picked Heather up from the airport. We weren't even late I don't think. Maybe we were.

Friday I went to Kansas because I was forced. I spent most of my time there wiping mold off of my dead grandparent's furniture. It was a good time. My mom only threw a five pound metal pipe on my big toe once and my dad only spoke to me like I'm a deaf dog ten times. I did get to talk to my aunt about movies, though, which I like to do. She always recommends movies I've never heard of. Apparently The Weight of Water is really good. I reminded her of how she let me watch Blue Velvet when I was ten or so. My mom would have sent me to Christian school had she known what I was watching, despite the fact that she was probably in the next room when I did so. My aunt is cool.

Anyway, here I am this morning. Alive after a busy four days. I'm feeling fairly okay these days because I'm finally starting to piece together how and when I'm going to move. That's also somewhat scary, but moving to a large city by myself is a lot less scary than staying here. I made it through Blue Velvet when I was ten; I can handle anything.