Sunday, January 31, 2010

Reason #26 Why My Life Is Random

Dear Diary:

Yesterday, I met up with some friends and had dinner, a few laughs, and a fun conversation. We met up at a buddy's apartment out in the DC suburbs, and I braves the wintry weather and shitty roads to make the trek because, well, I wanted to see them (and I think they wanted to see me because I cooked).

After making a fairly simple dinner of chicken sandwiches on Italian bread with pesto mayonnaise, avocado, sliced tomato, romaine lettuce, and Havarti, with some seasoned oven fries, we drank some wine, ate some brownies (which I also made and brought over), and I was on my merry way.

The drive was pretty crappy. The roads sucked. The wind was howling, and people that were driving did not know how to drive in the weather.

Tip #45 when driving in snow: When the road are slick, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!

Anyway, I took the GW Parkway as a shortcut. Mistake number one. The GW wasn't plowed well, and the road was slick and since it has a lot of turns, probably not the smartest thing to do.

Mistake number 2 was scratching my nose when it is cold and dry out. Why was this a mistake you ask? Well it's because it unleashed a torrent of blood out of my nose. Now, bloody noses, in the winter, are something that I have become accustomed to getting and dealing with. However, uncontrollable bloody noses while driving, in the dark, on a bad road, with snow everywhere, is NOT, I repeat NOT, something that I have become accustomed to dealing with.

So, there I was, driving, with one hand cupping my nose so I wouldn't get blood everywhere, and the other hand driving, while trying to remember where the fuck I had napkins in the car. And I remembered they were in the glove box, but, in order to get them, I had to remove my hand covering my nose, and when I did, blood went everywhere.

So now I am driving, covered in blood, and frantically getting the napkins out, while trying to maneuver my car so I didn't end up in the fucking Potomac or the in the woods on the other side. I managed to stuff a napkin up my nose, and headed to a gas station where I usually fill up.

When I got there, I took out the napkin and I was again, covered in blood, except now the blood was also dripping on the concrete. The attendant had locked the doors, so I went up to the window, looking like I had just partied with the Manson Family. He kindly let me in and told me to go to the bathroom. (By the way, blood on concrete in the winter looks like something out of the movies. BRIGHT RED. It is kind of cool in retrospect)

Now, a little trick to stopping a bloody nose is to wad up paper and stuff it under your upper lip. The pressure stops the bleeding apparently. And this is what I did, while also stuffing paper towels up my nostril so that while the blood flow was abating, I wouldn't get more blood on me. When I came out of the bathroom, the attendant, a nice Indian man in his early fifties, then asked me how I got the bloody nose, and proceeded to tell me what the doctor used to do for him when he got them when he was younger. I told him I was ok, and bought some Skoal (yeah yeah, don't want to hear it), and headed home.

When I got home, the combination of the paper in the upper lip, and the paper towel up the nostril had stopped the bleeding. I saw my neighbors, and hopefully I didn't look like I just murdered someone.

When I got inside, I looked in the mirror and my face and clothes were covered in blood. And I am doing laundry as we speak (OxiClean does wonders by the way).

Monday, January 18, 2010

I'm A Mac

Dear Diary:

So, this morning, while I was over at Girl 7's place (yes, I am still dating the same woman), I talked to my contractor who said he had to drop off some tools at my house so I had to run home. When I get home, I turned on my computer to check to my E-mail, and wouldn't you know it....

The damn thing crapped out on me. And I am not just saying it crapped out so that I had an excuse to drop money on a new computer. I pressed the button, and it made a weird sound, and beeped twice, and that is that. The screen wont even light up, and I cannot get to the prompt to run a disk recovery.

So, I decided to say, "to hell with it," and went shopping.

Now, I have thought about getting a Mac for some time now because let's be honest, they are just better machines. They do not have all those thousands of useless programs that a PC comes with that you spend countless hours deleting, and in the process of course accidentally delete something important. And for the sake of honestly, I mean seriously, they are just fucking cooler than a PC can ever dream of being. They are machines with attitude and style, and are surprisingly easy to use.

So, since I get a discount because of who I work for, I went to the Apple store, and broke my Mac cherry with a brand new MacBook Pro with a 15in display. I am still getting used to how everything works, but from the first day, I can tell that I am going to like this thing (and I better like it for the amount of cash I dropped on it).

So, as of this day forward, I'm a Mac, not a PC.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Day 1

Dear Diary:

"Dude, what the fuck is with this Day 1 horse shit? You have been divorced for a while, what are you starting now?"

This is what you might say.


And of course I say it in exactly that way with exactly that intensity just before I grab you by your junk and throw you into a tree, but only because I love you like that, fucker.

Yes all ye faithful masses that stood by and read my inglorious bullshit over the last year or so, I am finally doing in! I am quitting chewing tobacco (right after I do this...ha, kidding).

The reason I am quitting is not because of any sudden bolt of lightening that struck me like, "Um, you are spitting brown shit all over the place and your spit cups stink," or, "Your gums are receding," or, "Hey, you are getting cancer for Christmas! Woohooooo." No, rather, I am quitting a much easier way: I just ran out of the stuff.

This morning I had my very last dip at 8am. I will not dip again (unless I get divorced again, and then fuck, all bets are off. I could end up marrying a hooker in Tijuana if I have to go through that shit again).

I quit for a very long time before, and I did it cold turkey before. The reason I started again was to relieve the stress that I was dealing with, but, I will say that once I put my mind to it the last time, it was easy not buying another tin again. I just do not do it.

I do however go through a lot of chewing gum, and place said chewing gum between my lip and gums. I find this rather amusing, and yet pretty fucking pathetic at the same time. This is not like I am having ghost pains of a lost limb for fuck's sake. It's chewing tobacco!

(On a side note, if you have gotten this far and realized I am all over the place it is because usually I would have my third dip of the day in and I am a bit on edge, so cut me some slack or I will remove your nipples with a chainsaw)

(On another side note, I am not violent right now, and I am laughing hysterically at the chainsaw comment and cannot believe some of the off the wall shit that is flying through my head. This is what withdrawals do, but at least I am not shitting the bed like a smack addict)

Now, as far as the math goes, a can of Skoal in DC costs about $6 now. In VA, I was paying $7.25 for two cans, and I was going through about 1.5 cans a day. So, that's almost double what I was paying in VA, and with the off day I would have every once in a while, and counting weekends, lets just say that I would easily go through at least ten cans a week. At $6 a can, that is $60 a week, multiplied by weeks in a year, and I come up with the grand total of me spending roughly $3,120 this year on nicotine if I bought it all at the same store in DC.

$3,120 could be better spent on a new fence, or covering half of the payment for the new deck, or a trip to Europe, or a personal trainer for like a year or the single greatest grill in the entire city. See what I mean? Why the hell would I spit out (literally) over $3,000? I cannot think of a good reason, so, that means I am not going to do it.

Besides, I will not have to hide shit when women come over to my house, and that's really the greatest single reason of them all right?

Or am I quitting just because I am too lazy to go to the store and too lazy that I do not want to throw the shit away when I am done with it?

Eh, time will tell I guess.

Thursday, January 14, 2010


Dear Diary:

Someone read my blog and thought of this image as a reflection of who I am. I find it interesting, and somewhat truthful.

I also find it somewhat scary because I do not see it myself.

Do I actually have the world at my fingertips? If so, why the fuck didn't I get the memo? Why wasn't I on the conference call?

Maybe it's because enough is never enough. There always has to be a next step. There always has to be something more to life than what it is right now. There is that drive to move forward, to grow, to be better, to succeed, to challenge....

To win.

So, maybe I have the world at my fingertips, but, like the man in the picture, maybe I am just bored with it all.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010


Dear Diary:

I am still alive. I just have nothing to say right now that would make any sense whatsoever.

So, I will keep my mouth shut until my brain figures out what it wants to unleash upon the world through glorious words.