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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon

I used to do a lot of playing around when I was in college. I'm not sure what contributed to my limitless appeal, though. Some might say it's charm. Others, a huge shovel. Either way, I've never had a fear of meeting women. If you like me, great; if not I'll buy your drink anyway. And I won't even spit in it (unless you're that bitch Kathy).

For a two year period between my last serious relationship and when I met my wayward wife (I'm not sure what to call her right now, so that's the best I could come up with) I did an obscene amount of horizontal shuffling. Granted, not all of it was horizontal, but you get the point. Anyway, given my promiscuity, I always wondered if this day would come. Today I received a letter in the mail from a woman I used to "date" in the late '80s.

As I recall, Angie was a really fun girl: outgoing, funny, athletic, and smart. Among other things. I'd always wondered what happened to her. If memory serves she was going to law school or something. I don't know why we never took it further than we did; I mean, once you've seen each other's orgasm face, there's not much left untold, right? But we just drifted apart and eventually lost touch all together. Until today.

Today I trotted out to my mailbox, careful to avoid the fucking fire ant hills that my lawn seems to be sprouting like a teenager produces pimples. Among the credit card offers, just below Ed McMahon's promise that I may have already won $10,000,000 I saw it. The "letter."

I don't recall most of the contents because not long after the ubiquitous "I've tried to write this letter a million times" blah blah blah, there was this:

"We have a son together."

I was stunned. I still am. Another son? Damn, life is changing for me this year in ways I never thought possible. My wife has left me, my brother-slash-roommate has married a girl half his age and now they're expecting a new child, my daughter convinced me that rats make good pets, and now this: I have a second son.

My head swirled with questions. Where is he? Why didn't she tell me before now? What's his name? Does he want to see me? When can I see him? Holy shit, another son! Could he really be mine? I mean, how can I be sure? She could be just yanking my chain for child support. Although.... since I've been monogamous for 17 years, that would make the kid almost the age of majority, so if she's looking for child support now, she's one really crappy attorney, isn't she? What does he look like? Wait, maybe she included a picture.

I rummaged through the envelope and sure enough, there were pictures included. As I thumbed through them, looking for any similarity to myself, I ran across one of him and his mother that settled the boy's paternity once and for all.

Yep, he's mine. No question about it.


Thursday, September 20, 2007

Kids, Stay Off the Drugs!

You know how psychoanalysts believe that what we dream is indicative of the events we're currently experiencing? Well, keep that in mind as we continue.

I've had a recurring dream for years (I'd say, oh, maybe two or three times a year, thanks for asking) that I'm in college, it's the last day of finals, and I just then realized that I'm due to take the final exam in a class I'd forgotten I was even enrolled in. But in the dream I know that taking the final is unavoidable so I'm pittin' out about having to show up just to crash and burn horribly.

I've actually had this dream even when I was in college, which would explain why I was almost obsessive about committing my schedule to memory each semester. I believe this dream suggests I'm worried that I've done or forgotten something that will come back to bite me in the ass and I won't be able to avoid it; like sleeping with that witch Kathy in college or voting Republican in '92.

Then there's the dream in which I'm trying to get somewhere (chase someone, flee someone/thing, display my cat-like reflexes, etc) but no matter how much force I direct at my muscles I move like the air around me is as thick as molasses. So I'm forced to claw and grip the ground with my hands as I try to force myself forward. I suppose this one means I need to watch less TV and exercise more.

Last week, however, I had a dream I don't recall ever having before. And yeah, I do remember virtually all my dreams, so there. Like I said, I don't recall ever having a dream like this and I don't know what the hell it means.

It's dark. I'm chasing some guy in a, remarkably, molasses-free environment when we finally meet face to face for the epic kung-fu battle a la 70's martial arts movie. We're fighting in the courtyard of my undergraduate Alma Matter, but instead of being in Reno, it's perched on a leveled-off hilltop overlooking the southern end of the Las Vegas strip. I distinctly recall pausing in the fight (mentally, anyway) to ponder why my old university is somehow suddenly on the top of a mountain in Vegas that didn't used to be there.

Sensing I was going to ultimately kick his ass, my adversary turned to run, then... sudden scene change!

It's still dark. I'm still on my old university hilltop in Vegas. Me and my Lycra-suited side kick, Sonja, are fighting to keep pace with a stray dog who's running about the grounds. No, I don't know what kind of dog and it's not germane to the story, so focus. And yes, she does look hot in Lycra; we both do thankyouverymuch. What is germane, and frankly really freaking weird, is that every time this dog barks a vampire pops out of his butt. Well, not "pop" really, more like "oozes." And the only way we can stop them from emerging totally is to force feed a white pill to the dog just as the vampire begins to emerge.

Me: Sonja, get him!

Sonja: I'm trying dickwad (that's her pet name for me)

Dog: WOOF!

Me: Aw crap there's another one! Quick! Get the pill get the pill!

Sonja: [prying his jaws open, dropping in the pill, then holding it shut like she just dropped a grenade in there] Swallow you stupid mutt!

Me: Isn't that what your boyfriend says during sex?

Sonja: Watch it, doorknob, or you can do this yourself.

Me [looking at the dog's butt]: OK, it's back inside. Let's find something to muzzle him with.

Sonja: Hey, that's what your girlfriend says to me when you start talking.

Me: Har har

While trying to find something to keep the dog from barking, Sonja slips.

Me: Don't let go don't let go... aw dammit!

Dog: WOOF! grrrr WOOF!

Me: Dammit, the second one popped the first out all the way and he's prairie dogging again! You get the pill, I'll take care of the spawn!

So Sonja's struggling with this dog, trying to feed it pills to keep it from crapping out any more vampires, and I'm attempting to deal with the one that escaped the dog's ass.

Now I ask you, what the hell does that dream mean?


Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Hare Today, Gone Tomorrow

Norb: Yeah, Jen and I were going to go to the event but I'm going alone.

Me: How come?

Norb: Jen's rabbit is sick.

Me: Um.... rabbit?

Norb: Yeah, we have a pet rabbit and it's been a bit ill lately. We took it to the vet and she's on the mend, but Jen wants to keep and eye on her in case she takes a turn for the worse.

Me: But you're going to go without here huh?

Norb: Sure, it should be fun. Besides, I have to go. It was supposed to be a couples event so I'll just have to give her regards to everyone.

Me: Oh, this is too perfect!

Norb: Huh? What's so perfect?

Me: Well think about it. When people ask you where Jen is, you can say "oh, she'd couldn't come. She had to watch her hare." [followed by much snickering...by me].

Norb: You moron.

(And I never even got to mention that if things didn't go well, they'd then be able to claim the "rabbit done died.")


Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Born to be Wiii-iiild!

So what does a guy, facing a 3-day weekend...

With no kids to guide into adulthood...

Do with himself?

Not that you perv.

No, he rents one of these*:

Then he drives here:

To watch these

At this event! (what did you think those were? Locusts?)

At said event these guys are playing:

Who go by the name:

Where said guy hopes to maybe run into one some of these:

And really hopes she doesn't look like this in the morning!

I mean, it is Batfest after all.


And how does a guy who's had a weekend such as this wake up for work Tuesday morning?

  • Sore
  • Sunburned
  • Slightly hungover
  • More than slightly tattooed

*No, the spill underneath isn't from the bike; it was there before the bike was.


- The Number of People Stunned by My Mediocrity