Sensitive

Chuck: If you could go back in time to prevent the Holocaust, would you?

Larry: No.

Chuck: Are you kidding me? 6 million people died and you wouldn't try to stop it?

Larry: Ok then, I would.

Chuck: Really? How would you do it? One man against an army of Nazis? You wouldn't stand a chance!

Larry: What the hell do you want from me?

Sunday

I'm in Starbucks again. The same Starbucks that I spoke of yesterday. The retard behind the counter poured me some weak-ass coffee. The reason being, and I saw it coming, that he started it brewing and poured my cup shortly thereafter, which makes for a weak cup of coffee. I guess I'll get a refill. They're playing music in the background today… thank God.

I didn't do a Goddamn thing yesterday. I went back home after coffee and I watched TV and/or messed around on the internet for the remainder of the day. At one point I took an hour-long nap. At another point I ate an extra large pizza from Papa Johns. It was topped with tomatos and black olives. After the first two slices I began dumping crushed red peppers on it. I figured I needed to experience some pain while doing such a dastardly deed.

I watched the movie "Hulk" during yesterday's sloth-fest. It wasn't terrible. Ok, it was terrible.

I can't wait to take a dump… exercise my demons. I can feel the fires burning. I guess that was just a fart. I'm dirty. I haven't taken a shower since Friday morning. I like what I'm wearing. I live in such a small world. There is so much I don't know and I like that.

Saturday

I just yanked a bagel from my apartment complex and carried it in my coat pocket to Starbucks, where I am now eating it. It's pretty good, too. I think I'm on to something here.

Writing may be as good as talking- perhaps better. I've been a tad frustrated lately when I hang around by myself because I have no release. The only way I could think of to get release was to strike up a conversation with someone. That is all well and good, but sometimes that can be painful to initiate. Now that I've started writing again, I'm able to find release, and it puts me in such a mental state that I wouldn't feel the hunger pains of social interaction. Yes, I think I may be on to something here.

There aren't many people here. There are never many people at this Starbucks. I don't exactly know why, but it can't help to have some of the most sour, ungrateful and mean-looking employees working here. There is an older couple sitting to my left. I bet they're staying at the hotel Magnolia, which makes up for the vast majority of the building that houses this particular Starbucks. They were talking but now they've stopped. I think they were arguing a few minutes ago.

A crazy homeless man just walked in, swearing at some figment of his imagination. He set his dufflebag down below the table by the window facing Commerce street. The older couple are definitely staying at this hotel, as I was able to conclude from what she just said- "I'm going up to the room to get some Tylenol."

The crazy homeless man is busy rifling through his dufflebag. I don't think he ever got any coffee or anything. He must be seeking shelter.

This Starbucks should be really cool but it isn't. I don't know exactly what's missing. One thing that is bothering me is that there is no background music. This makes for an eerie backdrop of noise. It also makes the locale seem less alive.

The Crazy Homeless man just walked by and muttered "Tall motherfucker…" under his breath. I don't know if he was referring to me. After all, I am of modest height; but then again, he is crazy. It turns out he did get something. It looks like a Grande-sized drink and some sort of crumbly pastry. He drinks his coffee without a lid. In between sips he rubs his face violently with his hands. Yep, crazy.

As time passes I feel the urge to find a bathroom. The coffee is beginning to take form in my digestive system, or my intestines, err whatever. Luckily I live close to here. I should make this my official Starbucks, but I really don't like the people that work here.

Climbers

I hate climbers.

Crap Shoot

It's been in the news lately that blogging can get you fired- especially if you vent about your company, boss, and/or coworkers. Well, I'm going to throw caution to the wind and really let my feelings out...

My manager's really been riding my ass lately. "Old Lady Griswold" - I call her, even though she's only 34 and her last name is Perkins. She get's so upset over the smallest things- like when I poured ketchup into the deep-fat-fryer, or how I show up 15-20 minutes late for my shifts, or that time when I poured Mustard into the deep-fat-fryer. She calls me out in front of my colleagues and in front of customers. I swear, she has no tact. One time, when she caught me reading magazines in the deep freeze, she flipped! She actually threw a fork at me. I think she was trying to kill me. Since I am a pacifist, I didn't fight back- instead I just showed Carl (the busboy) some of the naked pictures I took of her when we dated a few years back.

I forgot to mention that I had dated her for 5 months in 2003. She actually got me this job. But soon after we started working together our relationship started to fall apart. She claimed that I hit on some of the female customers and that I was disrespectful to her position in the restaurant just because I was her boyfriend. It's not that I wanted special treatment from her in the workplace, but I think she was extra hard on me just because she didn't want the other employees to think she was favoring me. When I finally ended our relationship she broke down in tears and begged me not to dump her...but she came to terms with it pretty well- especially after she found out that I had been boinking the new hostess, Wanda. I just hope she never thinks to tell Wanda's fiance about it- because that dude is huge and has anger problems. I think he could kill me.

I think our relationship was doomed from the beginning because she was so much older than me. She thought that she could boss me around and keep me from cheating on her. Well guess what? I'm my own man. Nobody tells me what to do. Oooh speaking of which I have to be at work in 5 minutes... shit.

alarming

Finished another day. Worthless. I have no desire to see anyone for a while. I need a good dose of alone time. Sudden broad social activity has invaded my familiarity with solitude. Sudden social activity- awkward and somehow more isolating. I just can't see the good in things right now. I don't know what my problem is. I need a good solid beating.

temp job

It's come to my attention that I could be tried as an adult if I were ever to be prosecuted for some reason. I don't feel like an adult. I feel like a teenager. When I was a teenager I felt like a little kid. I've got reverse alzheimer's disease. .. and erectile dysfunction. Wait, scratch that last one, my erectile is working again.

I dislike the term "Crush" as in "I have a 'crush' on so-and-so." It just sounds so girly. I guess that makes it ok for girls to use it in their everyday speech. So very tired.

West Bound with my Strikes

Uhhhh, Hello. This is Sal Melello from the Mellelo Coffe Company out by Costco, and I was just returning your call. I heard you were interested in working on weekends up at our downtown store. Well, it just so happens that I can't use anybody else there right nooowwww. However, I could use someone to work at the Library Stand on weekends. We just opened a few months ago and we're still working out the kinks, but I need a few more people to get on board as business picks up this winter. So, if you're interested, just give me a call back here at the Central Point store or stop in on Tuesday at the City Library. I'll be there from 8:00AM til 6:ooPM. Thaaaannnnks.

paranoia

I am under the impression that right now, as I type this, there are two or more people laughing at me or making jokes at my expense. Is this irrational? Maybe. But what if it's true? What if I'm the butt of jokes? If I go along thinking that everything's fine, and that no one is poking fun at me, then that will just make things worse. They'll laugh harder and longer and I'll still be clueless. Someday the massive joke conspiracy against me will be exposed- which, in turn, will cause my untimely death. Death from humiliation.

Screenplay

Rachel: (Smug) Well Hello... I thought you were never coming back.

Mark: (Apologetic) I thought so too. Rachel, I've been a fool... A fool for leaving you.

Rachel: So now you expect me to forgive you for everything you've done just because you walked through that door and apologized?

Mark: (Confused) Well, I uh-

Rachel: (Angry) No, Mark. I'm not letting you back in. This will continue to happen and I can't take that. I don't think you will EVER change.

Mark: (Even more confused) But Darlin'... I HAVE changed. I realized a few things out on the road. I needed some time to clear my head- to figure a few things out.

Rachel: You know what? I don't CARE! You had your chance, and you WASTED it. I won't let you destroy whats left of my life. I need to move on.

Mark: (Explodes with rage) FINE, BITCH! I tried goddamnit. I tried to fix things. You'll be sorry! (Slams the door as he leaves)

Rachel: (Distraught- In between sobbing) What have I done?

.....to be continued...

YMCA

There are several characters at the YMCA that really get on my nerves. First and foremost on my list is the old guy who wears tiny little spandex shorts. He is there, without fail, everytime I go. He runs around the track as fast as his feeble old legs will take him. He has a really high pitched voice- tainted by a ridiculous southern accent. The only reason I know this is because every once in a while my mp3 player will run low on batteries and leave me naked to the sounds of the gym.

My greatest problem with this guy, of course, is the fact that he wears tiny little spandex shorts. They are essentially briefs. If you ever watched WWF wrestling back in its heyday- Hulk Hogan, Rowdy Roddy Piper, Junkyard Dog, etc... you would recognize his shorts as being "Wrestlers' Undies". This is completely unacceptable. Everytime I see him I convince myself a little more to hate him.

Second on my list is a crippled guy who I think might be a trainer of some sort. He rolls around in a go-cart and gets up every now and then to hobble around and get in someone's face to tell them how to lift weights properly. He is a large man with a buzz-cut. He wears glasses and most days he wears really high socks of different color, green on one side, red on the other. In one arm he has a crutch with a forearm brace that he uses to support himself as he hobbles around. His legs are crippled- specifically the right one (I think). I often wonder if he once was a successful bodybuilder who was tragically crushed in some accident. But if you ever hear him talk or interact with people, you might guess he has some sort of crippling disease (he sounds borderline retarded). Why is this guy on my shitlist? Again, he's always there, and you know what they say, "Familiarity breeds contempt." Also, one time I was using the leg press machine and he came up and scolded me for not letting people get on in between sets during peak hours. It really pissed me off for some reason.

Finally (actually there are more but for this entry I will only discuss 3) there is the lady that walks on the good treadmill. This lady has an infant daughter (or son) whom she drops off at the little daycare facility inside the YMCA before she proceeds to hog the good treadmill. The worst thing of all is that she WALKS on it. No running, occaisionally a slight jog, but that is very rare. Normally this would only make me moderately angry, but seeing as there is only ONE treadmill of this type in the entire complex, it really annoys me. She reminds me of the red-haired girl from "Sex in the City." She is fatter and uglier, but just as snooty and self-important as the character in the show. Just looking at this lady makes me tingle with hate.

There. I feel better now.

Nobody Loves me but my Mother

...and sometimes I think she could be jiving too.

I don't want to see "Ocean's Twelve"

Am I the only person who doesn't like Julia Roberts, George Clooney, and Matt Damon? I saw "Ocean's 11", and it was fine. It was unnessecarily stylish and narcissistic, but it was entertaining. But this was at a time (a year or so ago) when grossly overcasted heist movies weren't the standard.

Nowadays it's all heist movies. Slick hiest movies. Slick hiest movies with not just one big-time blockbuster star, but 4 or 5 or 10. They're all pretty much the same, too. Right down to the "Crazy Twist" at the end. Even the twist is completely predictable. Ooooh there's a double cross! Uh OH! But Clooney had a trick up his sleeve.. Marvelous! Give me a MFing break.

Up Yours Hollywood!

I Give Up

Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, Children of all ages.... It's official. I give up.

After years and years of trying- putting out more than a modest effort in most everything I do, I've finally realized that it's futile, pointless, and without meaning. From now on I will live a meek, dull, and joyless life without the highs and lows that come from excitement and adventure. My path henceforth will be straight, narrow, flat, and dry.

So good luck in all of your future endeavors and perhaps I'll see you on the other side.

Love,

Mustainefan

I Think I'm a Big Man

Looking around I see nothing but softies... People who can't hack it. Although I'm not really sure what "It" is, I'm sure we can all agree that not being able to hack "It" is a bad thing. Everyone around me is weak and buckle at even the slightest external pressure. I think I'm a big man.
I maintain a reckless sense of self confidence that sets me above my peers. Is your job really stressful right now? Are you being asked to do too much at the workplace? I bet I could handle it just fine. The holiday season is coming up... will you be able to afford all of the Christmas presents that you're obligated to buy? I can guarantee you that no one on my Christmas list is going to be disappointed.

Why am I better than you? It's all attitude, baby...

Awkward Non-Sexual Relationships

Awkward, non-sexual relationships are like a disease. Not a disease like rabies or breast cancer, but more like a disease of the mind...Alzheimer's if you will. They cripple you- and, over time, you deteriorate into a blathering fool who can't tell up from down, right from left, sweet from sour. They're addictive...and destructive.

We're all familiar with the stereotypical male-female relationship in which one party (usually the male) is using the other for sex or sexual favors. This happens all the time, and for the most part, as a society, we're OK with it.

The awkward non-sexual relationship has a similar setup- a standard male-female relationship, with one party using the other... But this time it's often the female using the male for "Non-sex", or "companionship" as you might guess.

The awkward non-sexual relationship starts off like a normal relationship might. And for the first few "non-dates" you might think to yourself, "This is going somewhere." Your non-dates consist of very wholesome activities, such as playing tennis, going bowling, watching movies, playing

board games and (even though you might not care to admit it) going on picnics. But as a normal relationship progresses from there, the awkward non-sexual relationship just festers...more and more board games, lame romantic comedies, and before you know it, even the thought of picnic food makes you sick to your stomach.

Now at this point the average reader might be thinking to him/herself... "What's wrong with going to movies and picnics? That sounds fun." The problem, my friend, is that an awkward non-sexual relationship monopolizes your time. That's where the "Awkward" part comes in.

You can easily have a non-sexual relationship and not feel the ill effects of an AWKWARD non-sexual relationship. The difference is the frequency of your outings. In a plain non-sexual relationship you don't see each other but maybe once or twice a week. Awkwardness is created by the persistence of time. The more and more time you spend together, the more comfortable you get. In turn, you start to think that sexual activities are fair game. And when it turns out you're wrong, you get frustrated.

Thus far it would seem that the awkward non-sexual relationship is only awkward and frustrating from the male point of view. This is definitely NOT the case. A lot of girls out there are stuck with deadbeat male friends who won't give it up. My powerful insight leads me to believe that there are two mutually exclusive sources for this- One, the dude is not attracted to the girl (i.e. she is a fat girl) or Two, he is a gayrod.

"OK, mustainefan, so now I know all about awkward non-sexual relationships, so what should I do?"
The answer is simple, my friend...CUT IT OFF NOW! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP IT. You'll thank me later...

Thoughts for the Day

Let's see...whats in the news today...

Well, it looks like Liza Minelli is in trouble.....AGAIN! It appears that she is being sued for sexual harassment for damages totaling $100 million. Her former chauffer/bodyguard allegedly was forced to engage in sexual relations with the singer. And if that weren't enough, she allegedly beat him during extended periods of drunken rage. I hope he wins, too, because it will be hard to find another bodyguard gig once the word gets out that Liza Minelli kicked his ass.

Hmmm...what else....

I had a dream last night that I was back on the farm, and we (pops and I) were trying to load a bull into a livestock trailer in order to take it to the auction out in Central Point. The trailer that came to our house was this huge semi with giant wheels. It was so big, in fact, that I didn't think the bull would be able to get up there... While I was trying to think of a way to get the bull into the trailer, I woke from the dream and I really had to go to the bathroom.

Cram Session

	"Move into the light, my son..."
...Said the kindly old man.
	I wake up thirty years later. "I've come for your babies, maam."

I'm sick of fat girls

I've been thinking a lot lately. I have been trying to find the source of my complete lack of motivation and my loss of love for my fellow human being. I'm becoming more and more apathetic and have developed some real nasty anti-social tendencies. I've looked deep within my soul to see if there's something I'm missing. Did my parents deprive me of love and reassurance? Did they give me enough hugs? Nonsense! I was the recipient of a very loving childhood so that cannot be the source. It must be a current malady that takes away my will. As of today (and the recent past) I have not been engaging in the healthiest of activities... Perhaps I spend too much time alone, perhaps I watch too much TV, maybe I don't get out enough, it's even possible that I live in the wrong city. But given all of these externalities I think I've discovered a common theme that gives rise to my discontent... I'm sick of Fat Girls.

Fat Girls on the streets, Fat Girls at work, Fat Girls in restaurants, Fat Girls in bars, Fat Girls in my neighborhood (or so I hypothesize- I haven't really met too many of my neighbors)...so much fat. They walk around like nothing's wrong and then they smile at you like they think they have a chance of being your friend. I cannot bear to even look them in the face. It drains my power.

So often I hear a fat girl make rude remarks about thin girls... "That girl must throw up after every meal" or "Her family must have been too poor to feed her well" or "What a stupid, skinny bitch!" Their claim is that being thin is unnatural. Bullshit. Eating like a pig is unnatural. Exhibiting absolutely zero self-restraint is unnatural. Not engaging in physical activity is unnatural. Eating nothing but cheese and white bread is unnatural. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that one person can behave like someone else and expect to maintain a similar body type. Different people have to do different things. Some have to work harder than others. But the bottom line is- you can control it. I know, I used to be a fat guy.

Also, if you've ever been around a fat girl, I bet you've heard a million excuses for why they never exercise, or why they eat all the wrong foods... "I'm too busy" "I love queso too much" "I'm always too tired at the end of the day" "I'll start next week" You'll start nothing. All you do is talk. Talk talk talk talk. Shut your face.

I see all these fat girls everyday and they outnumber the thin girls 6 to 1. And the fact that they're fat makes the ratio look even worse. I have no reason to try and impress a fat girl, so consequently my motivation to dress nice, bathe, brush my teeth, get haircuts, and to engage in any other form of personal hygeine goes right down the drain. I've lost all hope.

My Saturday Night

"Dude, she's taken, but hey, no hard feelings, right? Here, have a shot on me..."

"Oh hi, my name is Kari... Yes I do love Phil Collins, I think he's great- in fact, my boyfriend and I just saw him in concert last month... You should meet some of my friends..."

"Hiiiiiiii Greg... do you like Chuy's? We just LOVE their Queso! HEY, we should go there next week..."

Necessity is the mother of invention