And now, it's time for...

Non-Cognitive Thoughts Strung Together For No Other Reason Than To Update My Online Journal!

Or, as I like to call it, Blogging.

At some point during the day today, a persistant headache that has lasted since Friday about 2:00pm finally broke. I'm not sure what did it or why, but it's gone. Yay.

Ever notice that when you have a really bad headache / toothache / muscle ache / what-have-you, while it's going on, all you can think about is how wonderful life would be if this stupid pain would just subside? You think about how much more productive you'll be and how much your quality-of-living would improve. And then, when it's gone, all those thoughts of jubiliation and relief just somehow disappear and life goes on as it did before you experienced your pain, like it never occured in the first place. And then, later on, when you have yet another pain of that nature, all you can think about is how the last time, you squandered the opportunity to celebrate in the absence of the pain and this time - THIS TIME - you'll make darn sure to enjoy life to it's fullest once this blasted hurt goes away. And of course, it eventually does and of course, you go on with life as usual. Ever notice that? Yeah, me neither.

I am excited about The Mars Volta. Which, in some sort of Latin, means The War Time, since Mars was the god of war and Volta means "time". Interesting, huh??? I figured that out all on my own.

This band is pretty darned nifty, and I'm excited about new music for the first time in at least a few years. I even went back and listened to some At The Drive-In, since that's the band that these guys come from, and that stuff isn't too bad either. However, the other band spanwed from ATDI, Sparta, sucks pretty badly. It's not hard to see where the real talents in ATDI were, and it definitely wasn't with those Emo fags in Sparta.

Eat it, Sparta. And Emo folk, you can eat it, too. Because you both suck. And I hate you.

Um.. let's see. I've covered my daily life, I've covered the music I'm listening to - and I even added an opinion about it - And I've demeaned a sub-culture. So, what's left for me to do to successfully "blog?"

Current reading list? Okay: I'm re-reading "The Chronicles of Amber" by Roger Zelany, and I'm oh-so addicted. I also just finished George Carlin's "When Will Jesus Pass The Pork Chops?" Pretty disappointing - there were a few choice passages, but the rest was merely brain droppings.

Hmm... I guess I should also bitch about a celebrity, so Fred Durst, your penis is small.

Oh, and about the Oscars last night: I can't believe that (insert your own basic post-Oscar observance / issue / contention here)!!!!

You'll have to do it for me, because I don't watch that shit and couldn't possibly care any less about any sort of award show whatsoever (with the notable exception of the Source and Vibe awards, simply because I truly enjoy watching ultimate fighting at it's finest).

And lastly, for my blogging attempt, I have to add my mood. So:

Current Mood: Bloggy.

There, I've done it. I've blogged. Yip.


It's interesting what getting back into the gym does to you.

If you've never been to the gym before, it's a completely different dynamic than going BACK to the gym after spending some time there in the past. The first time you ever go to a gym, you're nervous and anxious because you don't really know what to expect. Will the exercises be hard? Will people laugh at you? Will you look like a dork when you overestimate / underestimate the weights for your machine? Will people laugh at you? Will it hurt tomorrow? Will people laugh at you? So on and so forth. It's quite daunting.

However, going BACK to the gym, you already know the answers to those questions (shortcut for cheaters: the answer is "yes" to all of them) - and that makes it 10x harder to get your ass back in that building and do what you know you're supposed to be doing.

But once you're back into the swing of things, it's really a great feeling.

Ok, actually, it's not. You become immediately aware of all the junk you've been shoveling into your gullet the past few weeks / months / years, you feel guilty for not getting back in there sooner, you feel even MORE guilty for ever leaving in the first place, and you feel ridiculous as you move the pin on the weight stack from the high numbers you remember lifting to a much lower number so that your arms and legs don't fall off and run away in protest.

But after all that, it's great.


I've been thinking much lately on the prospect of buying a new vehicle, and much to my own chagrin, I've pretty much settled on an SUV. I've been browsing online at the various car shopping sites, checking out the pluses and minuses of various models, but one is sticking out in my mind - the Toyota 4Runner (limited edition). Why?

Because one is sticking out of the front of the Starbucks where I am writing.

Yep, the very same Starbucks what saw a teenage hoodlum toss a cinderblock through one of it's gigantic front-facing plate glass windows is now in need of a few more sheets of glass, because a gigantic Toyota SUV thought it was too good to use the front door.

I'm not sure of the backstory, really, but from what I could gather from the resulting insanity that followed the truck plowing backwards into the store, apparently the driver was a 15 year old a few weeks into her learner's permit, out on a driving lesson with her father. The two were here for whatever reason, and when they decided to head home, she asked if she could drive. He agreed, she hopped into the driver's seat, buckled up (I know because that's the one thing he keeps praising her on), started the car, and applied just a wee bit too much pressure on the accelerator. Luckily, the spot the vehicle was parked in was directly across from the windows looking out from the "bar" area, elsewise there would have been a conversation with the owner of this franchise a lot like "Hey, you got SUV in my Starbucks!" "No, YOU got Starbucks in my SUV!" and then the 2 would take a lick of their respective products and smile innocently, resulting in some new abominable dessert / engineering fad.

And remarkably, the vehicle has taken very little damage. It's a hearty, robust vehicle and, given my predilection for gently nudging various objects such as fire hydrants and billboards and fence posts with my car, I think the 4Runner just might do me fine.

Can't say the same for a Starbucks franchise, though. Looks like the bar area's going to be closed for repairs for a little while. Again.

On a side note, I picked the WORST DAY EVER to leave my phone at home to keep it from distracting me so I could write.

Anyway, that's my Sunday. How's yours?


I've done a fair amount of research into the subject, and I do believe that I have found the exact formula one should follow in order to become famous in any field.

Thus, I present to you the offical ten step guide on how to become famous.

1) Suck.
2) Know someone or be related to someone who knows someone who is a producer or publisher.
3 - 10) Repeat steps 1 and 2 over and over. Just keep sucking and knowing the right people, and whammo - FAME IS YOURS.


I think it's definitely best if I don't go into my whole "Why I hate Valentine's Day" thing, because I'm sure the last thing you really want to read about is yet another guy's thoughts about how overblown and utterly distasteful the thought of a single day dedicated to showing affection really is. I am QUITE positive that you've heard enough about how people - especially those who claim to love one another - would go out of their way to be abnormally affectionate and doting on this one day simply because the calendar and Hallmark have dictated that you should. And I won't even get started on the fact that expelling your emotionally barren words of faith, hope, charity and love upon your partner just one day out of the year absolutely and utterly cheapens anything else you'd say or do the rest of the year.

And God help me if I mention the fact that you should show your spouse / partner / mate an exceptional amount of affection and proof of committment every single goddamn day of your life, or if I begin to delve into the subject of shitbag men using this one day as some sort of emotional white-out to make up for the other 364 days of the year that they treat their mates like dog poopies.

Nope. Not gonna do it this year.