Haircut

So I'm not the old guy in the previous post. I'm there... in the way back to the left. This is me.

Or at least a couple of weeks ago. Good God I needed a haircut! Good God! And what's up with the face... I think someone told me to bite down.

So I went and got a haircut. Some crazy cool Asian guy cut my hair. As I entered the barbershop, it being empty of customers, the two barbers were reading a newspaper in the mysterious language of chinese letters and symbols. There's probably a name for that alphabet, some word that I should know. But the guy sat me down, and three broken english words later, started cutting my hair. I don't believe either spoke much English as not a word was spoken thereafter. There's nothing wrong with that, but I thought it funny that their nametags read "Jeff" and "James."

I've had people cut my hair in five minutes, which I'm fine with as long as it looks good. This guy spent forty silent minutes circling my head, my hair getting shorter and shorter by fractions of an inch with each revolution. At one point I thought maybe I was suppose to stop him when I liked it... that he'd keep going until there was nothing left to cut. But he stopped eventually, my hair being shorter than I think it has been in six years. Check me out.

Oooo... Tiff finagled a little before and after action. These are pictures a la my first haircut ever pictures - minus the tears and the green bench/brickwall backdrop. My Mom will appreciate it. And the haircut.

Anyways, after the forty minute haircut, Jeff spent five minutes massaging my shoulders. It caught me off guard, but man-o-man did it feel good. I was wondering if I would pay extra for it, or the long haircut... if maybe instead of a classic barbershop, I had walked into some asian salon. I started looking around for a Mrs. Jeff dressed in traditional Japenese opera garb carrying tea or saki in some sort of bamboo tray. But alas, there was no such lady, and the final bill was just 12 dollars. And the Bull Run Barbershop earned another customer.

Hume Day

Tiff had her first art show last weekend. She sells photography and greeting cards. It went very well for a first show, hampered a bit by rain. There was a lot of encouraging feedback, and we are both excited to keep going with it. Next stop... Markham, VA's AppleFest.

This picture makes Tiff look very young and me look very old.

Note the beautiful and ingenious use of black wire crates. I can't take credit for the idea, but the tower is all mine. I've got big plans for using them in future shows.

Fashionably Fashionable

Opposite curiosity in the dictionary, is the word cummerbund. I always thought it was cumberbund, like it made it cumbersome to breathe, like a male corset. But it's not. It's cummerbund, almost with a forced lisp. No wonder fashion has a shortage of straight men.

Tiff and I have gotten into Project Runway. It began through Netflix, but as I mentioned we recently got cable. Cable is a devil of a device, especially OnDemand. We opted for a crazy deal on a big package, rather than the basic, unspoken, package that gives you ten channels. It was a few extra dollars a month, but we decided getting the Bravo channel, home of Project Runway, made it worth it. After getting cable, all the channels always play the same things over and over. Bravo is perhaps the worst of the bunch, always playing Project Runway. Always. There's a marathon every afternoon. Between that and their other hit, Queer Eye, it seems Bravo has a shortage of straight men.

Or maybe every other channel has a shortage of gay men.

Anyways, it's a great show. It makes me realize that I have no sense of fashion, but I work nights, occassionally with bleach, so who cares. It also makes me wonder what sort of craziness I would dress people up in if I were a designer. I'm thinking the time is right for the casual cummerbund. I'll start out with the piano cummerbund.

I Could Do Hindu...

I'll follow the theme of the last few posts: So I'm in the middle of Life of Pi - who knew I was such a reader. It's an odd little story that has been slow going partly because I've been all-sorts-of sick this week and partly because curiosity keeps getting the better of me. (I just stopped to look up the word curiosity; I'm pretty sure I know how to spell the word ironic.) I've stopped a couple of times to learn about Hinduism.

I'll sum up my take on Hinduism by saying it has a lot of great ideas, but loses points for all the big words. I remember a brother-in-law once saying that he'd probably be Hindu if it weren't for all the gods, but not me, I'm okay with all the gods. I'm okay with the Brahman, the karma, the dharma... but once you bring in words like mahabharata and upanishad, what you are trying to say quickly takes a back seat to enjoying the struggle of pronouncing the words.

The book is getting interesting though... I'm trying to figure out what happened to the cat.

My Superpowers are Tingling

My superpowers are increasing. It probably is related to my zen-like low-stress stance on most everything except tire pressure - which freaks me out - but I'm becoming more and more attuned to the world around me.

On Sunday, for instance, I got as this week's briefcase to work, The Lovely Bones, which I knew nothing about but had heard good things. It's a pretty good book, where in the first few lines the narrator is abducted and killed. And then yesterday, as I was going to the mechanic to check my tire pressure, "Elliot in the Morning," the best radio personality out there, does this long bit about Johnny Gosch, a kid abducted in 1982 who was the first kid on a milk carton. It's a crazy story involving some great conspiracy theories, including Republican sex parties and Jeff Gannon is Johnny Gosch's witness protection name. Elliot generally steers clear of anything controversial, but got to talking about it because the mother received photos of her son as a boy last week, turning them over to police on... Sunday. CNN broke the story.

I don't get CNN as I don't have cable, which leads me to the second case of my superpowers. It happened yesterday afternoon, right after I woke up. My girlfriend and I were talking about ordering cable, a luxury we haven't had in 2 and a half years of bunny-year-rotation-frustration living together. We actually called a few days ago to order it only to be put on hold for forty minutes; we hung up and watched a movie. As I was resenting the idea of being put on hold again, someone knocked on our door. She was selling cable. In 2 and a half years we have not seen a single door-to-door salesman, and she was selling cable. She'll install it this afternoon.

Now I can watch CNN when I hear the Jeff Gannon has come down with the bird flu. Or more importantly I can switch from ABC to NBC without swearing at a rain cloud. Maybe this will add to my zen-like low stress, increasing my superpowers. If nothing else I can just watch a lot of TV.

Giving to Charity

This weekend I gave a fortune to charity.

Every now and then at stoplights, there will be some crazy old guy with a fez hat on walking slowly from car to car with a large tin can in hand. I don't think they have to ask any more, people just give them money. They must be making a fortune, but I'm not too sure what the Shriners do with all that money. My guess is they blow it all on Cristal and cavier... the shriners be pimpin' all over the world.

With the exception of homeless signposts, the curbside collector is almost always these pastey old while guys with tassels on their head, so imagine my surprise when stopped at a light, I see a young, hatless, thirty-something, walking car to car with a giant rubber boot in hand. Instinctively, I started rolling up the window... for me this is the ultimate show of passive aggression. It not only is a polite signal that I will not be donating my money, it also affords me to freely say and think what I truly think of them. "Leave me alone, you walking traffic cone!" In my passive aggressive mind, I'd be shaking my fist emphatically.

My girlfriend, however, as I've said before, is full of surprises. She reached for her purse and began to search through it. With no bills in sight, she dumped, I'm going to say about, 40 cents of pennies and nickles into my hand. My mind automatically jumped to my change jar and my future llama - in my hand I held a virtual fortune. Before I could protest, however, her hand dove into the center console and returned with a fistful of change, doubling my stack. As Tiff picked out the non-change - life-saver, bottlecap, pen top - the top of a giant rubber boot appeared out my window full to the brim with dollars, lots and lots of dollars. I dutifully deposited my handful of loose change. "Every bit helps," the man's voice projected into my ear, as my heart sank with every muted clank of coin falling in his giant rubber boot. It will take months for me to collect that much change.

But wait. What else fell? Something had caught my eye. I turned to Tiff, she said, "I left a fortune for them" - we've had many a chinese fortune cookie in our days. "We gave a fortune to charity," she said getting her own joke.

***Like all good charity stories end: Please visit www.mda.org to learn more... I think that's what they were collecting for...

Oh Dear

I lost my point in that last post; let's start with the same line: So again, I haven't written anything for awhile now. This could become a bad habit. ... see but that's just not true anymore, I just wrote that other one.

I've spent all my writing time as reading time. That reminds me, I used to work with a fifth-grader. I followed her around school for two months. For two months, I was a fifth-grader, quietly attending class. At the end of each day, they had a school-wide quiet time, known as D.E.A.R., Drop Everything and Read. This pertained to students and teachers alike. Parents not participating were scolded by office workers, who all had their noses in their books, unwilling to assist them pick up their child early. The principal had a big rocking chair in the entryway that she always used. I spent the time writing. I'm such a rebel. Usually, I wrote about the equal importance, in my mind, of writing, not just reading... that as a child I did not enjoy reading until I discovered that I enjoyed writing. But sadly D.E.A.W. just doesn't have the same ring to it as D.E.A.R, thus my bubble bursted.

Again I'm off track. I'm reading a memoir. The Tender Bar. Strange enough, I actually bought it... at a grocery store no less. It was the only thing I bought. It's a pretty good book. It has, however, led me to a few conclusions. Most importantly, I was coddled as a child. Oh sure, I could point to this or that and say 'Oh Poor Me,' but the bottom line is that my childhood involved no great ordeals, no great singular character building struggle that shapes who I am. 'Oh no... I didn't get DuckTales for Nintendo one year for Christmas, Poor Me.' I'm not saying that I would redo my life, looking for trouble, but what stories do I have, where's the drama? Where's the heartbreak? Where's the climax? ... I'm still trying to figure that out in the book - the last few pages I'm holding out on... Where's my memoir?

I mainly just think it would be cool to be in a barfight.

I've also realized further by this book that some people re destined for some things. For me, it may be greatness, but whatever it is, it won't land in your lap unexpectedly. If luck favors the prepared, than destiny favors the determined. A great part of the book, one of many that struck me:

...I told him I was giving up.
"That would be a mistake," he said.
"Why?"
I gave him an opening to to say I had talent. He didn't. He said
simply, "because giving up is always a mistake."

I find the book oddly inspiring. Odd because if some people are truly destined for something, then why did I buy a book I had never heard of. I'm not even sure why I was in the grocery store. But part of me wants to drop everything and read, while part of me wants to drop everything and write. A big part of me, however, just wants to drop everything and play NCAA Football '05.

Oh Yes

Again I haven't written anything for awhile now. This could become a bad habit.

I have had thoughts of what to write about. Oh yes, great thoughts of small events intertwining beautifully with meaningless facts, proving my incredibly high level of being. Oh yes, if the world includes reincarnation, I am surely nearing nirvana. Oh yes.

To catch you up to speed, wikipedia has an insanely long entry on Springfield, home of the Simpsons. As a fan, it is pretty fun to read through... even though I only recognized every other reference or so. The last half of the entry, trying to locate Springfield, is a bit much, showing that wikipedia, in all it's greatness, is written primarily by dorks with too much time on their hands.

Something else of note, I listen to iTunes a lot nowadays; it makes a nice background for a good game of Scrabble. It's also nice because it collects all the songs that my girlfriend and I download off myspace.com, a site which with all it's negative press, still has many great aspects... like spying. Anyways, iTunes classifies a Beck song we got as 'Christian gangsta rap'. This is the first time I've ever seen, or even considered using the... is 'Christian' an adjective? ... using 'Christian' to describe gangsta rap. I always assumed 'gangsta rap' carried its own description.

Surprise, Surprise

So I've been trying to come up with something to say about this past weekend:

Talking to a coworker today, someone with whom I've worked with for a year and a half now, I learned that in the late '60's he played football for the Dallas Cowboys. It's crazy how much I just don't know about people. Everyone's always surprising me.

After three and a half years, my girlfriend still surprises me. Who knew she loves Aggravation, the mindlessly, frustratingly fun marble game, and that she kicks ass at Scrabble, a new part of our daily schedule that has an increasingly lopsided record... I'd say I'm batting around .300.

Sometimes I even surprise myself. This past weekend, for instance, I went with Tiff to church. I've gone with her a few times in the past, but admittedly, I was always trying to win points with her family and was promised a home-cooked feast of a meal. This weekend my motives were no different, and instead of a Sunday morning passing by, there were two days of 'Praise Jesus'ing. It was the annual ketochtin, a big celebration of sorts... I'm not sure what they are celebrating... with preachers coming from across the country converging in a middle-school auditorium in Warrenton, VA.

By the end of it, I heard my share of crazy stuff from the preacher's pulpit. The Sistine Chapel is apparently blasphemous. I think this preacher believes yelling to be more effective, perhaps more divine. Let's see, Sally Jesse Raphael struggles to understand that Jews for Jesus simply have Jesus in their hearts. There was a lot about predestination, which growing up Catholic, was interesting at first, but by the time the fourth preacher started to tackle the subject, I had told myself that I'm not too sure I agree. Maybe, by the end of it, I just started to wonder whether or not I was part of the specially chosen 'elect.' Dammit if I'm not.

But then the food. There's so much good food. And there's all these old ladies, all dressed up with shoulderpads and bright colors cooing over each other's dishes, particularly the desserts, while their husbands shake hands and talk... there is a definite lack of young people. And everybody eats. Everybody gets seconds, most get thirds, a few... well, I got fourths. I was so surprised, in a way, by all the old people and how they were all so happy. And they all seemed so happy to see Tiff and me... young people. They were all just really nice... well, I stayed clear of the preachers though.

Anyways, in the end, I'm not a convert, but I do respect it. Plus, I wouldn't mind seeing some of those old guys more often. This one guy Louis... he was awesome, like a different breed of person.

Let me end though with this, after a lengthy, and enthralling, story from my coworker about getting hurt and quitting football, I had to ask what Dallas's legendary coach Tom Landry was like. "A great man," he said walking towards the exit, his shift being over. "He used to say, 'It's important to believe, it's important to worship. It doesn't matter who or what your god is, as long as you believe in something.'" I don't know much about the guy, but it's surprising that that's the line said from a guy of his coach, one of the greatest football coaches of all time.

That's all I got... hopefully you can see what I was trying to do there. Maybe.

It's in the Game

A while ago I discovered the 'buy used' option at Amazon.com. Last Friday, I bought a used video game across the street at EB Games. NCAA Football '05, it's a lot of fun. I've built my own college football team. Go UDuff!! It was $4, that's four dollars. Today Madden '07 goes on sale for $60, that's sixty dollars. Last Friday, you could pay $5 to reserve your copy. For those unfamiliar with the world of video football, my NCAA football is the college version to Madden's NFL format. They're made by the same company, EA Games, that makes the Sims2, which Tiff plays, as does Zach Braff.

The Madden series, and NCAA series, are the creme de la creme of video games. They come out with a new and improved version every year. While the gameplay only varies slightly from year to year, I guess the teams change a bit as players in real life get traded or improve or whatnot. As for the graphics, they're already pretty damn good. But all in all the game changes so little that it's hard to discern a difference. I mention all this not just to say, yet again, that I am far superior to common man by saving some $50 dollars, but to add that people are confusing.

Each year this game grows in sales; last year sales topped $100 million dollars in the first week, and $250 million total. When I first heard this last year, I would have commented about the changing face of entertainment; today I just have to say 'what the hell?' In order to reach $250 million dollars, people must be buying a game that they - pretty much - already own. I just don't get it. Although this year's does have a guy named D'Brickashaw Ferguson.

Anyways, like I said, NCAA Football '05 is a lot of fun. I think I like it more than my Madden '05 game. Perhaps I confuse myself... but I'm still saying I'm superior.

Is this our Third Coincidence?

Yesterday, in a meeting at work - I work in a juvenile shelter - we learned about what to do in emergency situations. First off, in the event that I'm taken hostage, I lose all rights as an employee, which I'm not too happy about. I'll tell you right now, if there's a two-week standoff at work where I'm a hostage, I'm clocking it. All that time is going towards a nice vacation.

But then we learned about what to do if one of our clients/residents comes down with avian flu. It's a day later and I honestly couldn't tell you what to do if such an event occurs. I wasn't paying close attention; I was too busy realizing my superhuman powers.

Two days ago, I mentioned bird flu in passing - I had to look it up to make sure the term 'bird flu' was still acceptable because it had been so long since I had heard anything about it. Then twenty four hours later, it appeared in my life, not once, but twice.

Superhuman power, or just strange coincidence? Well, let's just say I'm not afraid to be taken hostage.

UPDATE: So I write most of these, like this one, at night and just type them up when I get the chance. This morning before knowing what I wrote about, Tiff said in conversation, "If that were my superhuman power I'd be pissed." We were talking about the show Due South... the guy knows what people are typing just by listening to them type. Anyways, just another example of my super predicting powers... of the mundane events and comments.

Bird Flu Drug

Strange timing on this. I had to link it. Something about a more effective bird flu drug. Again, I don't find it too interesting. This is the first time I've seen anything about it in months, though and it's the same day I mention it. Weird. I guess there goes my waterfalls and unicorns.

It's a Hot one

So I picked up The Hot Zone at work the other day. I'm a slow a reader so it will take me a few more days to get through it, but it's a crazy book. It's all real accounts about viruses, that when they get you, they really get you.

I was struck by this one part about this guy from the CDC who first photographed and named Ebola, a nasty little virus that kills nine out of ten of its victims. When asked if he ever worries about a world-wide plague, he stated, 'A virus can be useful to a species by thinning it out.'

Now when I read this, my first thought was something like, this guy scares me. He really scares me, given that he works for the Center for Disease Control. Control. He's supposed to be controlling the disease, not thinning us out. But then I got to thinking, what if there was such an event. What if there was an airborne Ebola, perhaps like the Bird Flu, which I'm reluctant to learn about. ...mainly because it just doesn't sound scary. It sounds more like something out of a South Park episode. 'Oh no, Kenny, the birds are sneezing.' Plus, the mental image of that is kinda cute.

But nine out of 10 people gone, that's a lot of people. Or even just one out of three like the bubonic plague in Europe. The CDC guy makes it sound almost like a good thing, (the first third of) the book makes it sound inevitable, but what would it be like? Would life go on as normal? How would it affect everyday life? I mean, would it affect the economy? Would there still be poor people or powerful people or political people? Would there still be crime and manipulation and exploitation and greed? Would there still be stupidity? After it peaked and passed, would there still be hunger, thirst, pain, suffering? Would there still be war, wealth, poverty, or religion?

While the answer is probably a single yes, what if it did create some strange utopia where every one was treated equally and every one was important because every one survived? What if the Georgia Guidestones are right? What if they are a sign from some greater society and we need to 'Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature'? Many smart people say that forest fires are a good thing for forests... what if a disease is our forest fire? No wonder it's called the Hot Zone. And good thing I have health insurance.

This is probably why I'm such a slow reader, I start thinking on a tangent and pretty soon I'm running around naked in some utopian paradise with waterfalls and unicorns. Oh... I would definitely be the tenth person.

Lately

I'm not too sure what I've been up to lately, but I'm going to have to get back on track and start blogging with some regularity... my tip jar's going to keep collecting dust if I continue slacking. he-hemmm... rattle, rattle, rattle.

Today's Potatoes are from Rigby, Idaho.

As I've said before with this whole anti-soda thing I'm on... it's not the first time that I've given up something. Similar to my McDonald's experience, I've said before, 'I will no longer eat at chain restaurants,' which I've come to realize is just a silly thing to say. While it has cut back on how much I eat at the chain restaurants, sometimes I just feel like eatin good in the neighborhood. I only mention it because my motives were, or are, a little different.

I like the idea of not giving into the big guy, supporting the locals and the unique community culture, even if my community is spelled M-A-N-A-S-S-something-something. So along with my girlfriend, I started venturing to some local spots with mixed experiences, including a hairball in Tiff's straw. The pizza places quickly got nixed. A couple of bar/restaurants got the axe for differing reasons; common to most though, I watch a lot of TV, why would I watch TV at a restaurant? Why would I watch 30 TV's, while I listen to the radio. One we stopped going to because we discovered their famous monte cristos could easily be matched at home... and by 'we' I mean Tiffany. And anything foreign draws comparisons to the time we had dove at an El Salvadorean restaurant. ... Give peace a chance... or maybe you are what you eat. I don't know.

But I do know we found two places that we like, and that's about all we ever go to anymore. They're both becoming chains though which leads me to say that my original declaration was a little silly. They're local, but they are both growing. The first is Five Guys Burgers and Fries. I'm convinced one of the guys is named Yahweh, it's hands down the best food ever in all the world, and if you do it right, it's cheaper than McDonald's. And it's all natural... 'Today's Potatoes are from Rigby, Idaho,' they always have a big sign that says where their potatoes grew up, and then their walls are lined with bags of potatoes. Unfortunatly it's not set up like a restaurant, so the atmosphere kind of sucks, but the food... mmm. Anyways, from time to time we go to Foster's, another hamburger place. It has really good food just so long as you've never been to Five Guys, man-o-man, I'm hungry. It's also right next to the train station and in downtown, which is fun.

Like I said though they are both expanding. More power to them. I say that I don't like chains, but I would love it if they continued to grow and were found in all sorts of places. Holy cow, Five Guys is building right near where I grew up! That's a bit of a let down. Oh well, like I said, it was a silly thing to say.

Working for the Weekend

I saw my sister Ann and her kids a week ago now. It was great seeing them. I don't see them enough. It was the last three days of my vacation, and it was the last days of their vacation as well. She made a comment at some point that's been rattling around in my brain. It went something like, ' Yeah, vacations are great, but it's also great getting back to work where, you know, you have responsibilities... and people rely on you...' She has a big important job.

I'm not saying my job isn't important, but I know for a fact that my 'office,' the shelter, would not skip a beat if I went on extended vacation. I know this because staff come and go with the tides, or the stages of the moon, or... you get the idea.

And hey, it's not a bash on the shelter, it's just the way it's set up. It has to be. It has it's reasons. But it does make me wonder if my job is the right job for me. I've been thinking about it for awhile, but now I have new words to play with, like 'do I have important responsibilities? Do people rely on me? Am I happy to be working?' I think I could easily make a strong argument for a resounding yes!; yes, they do!; yes, I am important! yes! But I think it's more about my perception of my job, what my gut is telling me. And my gut's not happy.

My girlfriend says I'm just a discontent individual, which would normally be a strange thing for a girlfriend to be saying. But she says I'm just not happy, and that I'll never be content with my job because I'll never figure out what I truly want. She's so cute when she's analytical.

Here's what I want: I want it to feel good to go to work. I want to be excited to come back from vacation. I want to be part of something grand. I want to lead. ... I want to feel good about my job.

So, anyways, payday just passed and my vacation time is adding up fast, which feels great. Now I just have to figure out where I truly want to go, Mediterranean? New Zealand? Cross Country? Maybe St. Lucia.

Buying and Denying

So this isn't the first time that I've tried giving up something... oh no. I saw Super Size Me. I read Fast Food Nation. That's right, I gave up McDonald's. For awhile at least; well, I had the obligatory last meal. That was one McGriddle I'll never forget. But I didn't eat there for a long time. The thing is though... here's the thing, like soda, sometimes it just tastes good, like there is some piece of your soul that just requires fast food from time to time. They are disgustingly evil though, with their smiling clown of a spokesman.

A Chipotle opened up across the street. Chipotle offers a whole lot of really good food, and it always finds a hole in my soul. However, I recently discovered Chipotle is equally evil. They are owned by the Golden Arches. So I haven't eaten there in awhile.

It all makes sense financially, but I don't understand why the Chipotle people would want to sell out to McDonald's of all places. It seems like they had a good thing going. Why sell it if it's working? It just doesn't make sense to me. Maybe it does, but it seems like the girly way to go about it. That's one more strike against them, girly Chipotle.

I ran into a similar problem in the stock market. I'm not much of an investor, but I finally found something that I really liked, that I hope to see continue and flourish, that I was excited to invest (a few dollars) in... Focus Features. It's a movie studio. In many ways, it would make for a pretty lame investment, but in many others it makes complete sense. I watch a lot of movies and I usually like the ones by Focus Features. So I look into it. Focus Features, it turns out, is owned by NBC, which is a bit of a buzzkill. But I rationalize it, start thinking about buying into NBC, which is much bigger and therefore much less fun, but it turns out that NBC is owned by General Electric, the only company to be listed in the S&P 500 for the entire existence of the S&P 500. That turned me off quicker than a popcorn fart on a dry day.

By the way, since about two months ago when both JDSU and Capstone Technologies tanked, I haven't paid much attention to the stock market. Whatever happened to JDSU being bought out at like 6 dollars a share? Although I'm not sure by whom, maybe it was McDonald's, but I doubt it.

A Growing Butt Hole

My pants are ripping. It sucks, I just got them two months ago... wait, August... three months ago, but still. It sucks. I liked those pants.

A Little White Lie

That last post made me think of something. I told a coworker a couple of weeks ago, right before my magnificent vacation with my beautiful girlfriend, as I was drinking a half-sized can of Shasta cola, that it was the first soda I had had in months, and the caffeine was making my act silly. It was a complete lie. Not only was it a lie, but it was a lie that served no purpose. I just said it to hear myself say it.

It reminds me of my sister. She told this story once about talking to a customer; I hope it's okay if I share. The guy took a pen out to write something down, and my sister, as she tells it, just goes on and on about how his pen reminds her of her favorite pen, her 'lucky pen' as she claimed to have called it and how she lost that lucky pen, and oohhh... it was a good pen. Anyways, she doesn't have a lucky pen. Although she may now, that story was from a long time ago. For all I know though, it never happened... I mean it is a story about lying to someone, maybe she made it all up.

I could see that happening. I daydream a much more exciting life than I actually lead, so sometimes I'll try to pass it off as reality. For instance, one time very early in my relationship with my girlfriend, she sent me to 7-Eleven for candybars - I'll admit the conversation probably went something like this:

Tiff: Hey, can you get me something to drink while you're up.
Me: Okay, twist my arm, I'll go get some candy, maybe some ice cream too.

I eat a lot of ice cream. Anyways, there was a cop at the 7-Eleven and I had a headlight out in my car. So, I imagined this whole scenario where the cop followed me out of the store and then we both got in our cars and he tailed me the whole wayhome, in the end deciding not to pull me over because I'm such a good driver, but now my car was marked by the police and I would have to drive extra carefully from now on. A bit extreme perhaps, but as I drove back the story replayed in my head over and over, becoming more and more real. By the time I returned to my girlfriend, I had all but convinced myself it was true, and, wearing it on my face, I told her that I had been tailed by a cop. She believed me; she was worried for me... for days

On a Friday I told her the truth... "Yeah, that never happened..." I think that time she just laughed and rolled her eyes. Since then I've learned she doesn't quite like that... I'm always learning.

My Soda-less Crusade

I've given up soda. I'm three days into it. All I can say is that I laugh at people who just drink the recommended 8 glasses of water a day; I think I drink at least 3 gallons a day. I'm a bit of an over-achiever. Okay that may be a bit of a stretch, but it's strange how much I find myself drinking. I usually had one, maybe two, sometimes three sodas a day, and now I carry a glass of water with me wherever I go... I'm becoming one of those people.

And 8 glasses a day is a lot of water. You really have to try to drink 8 glasses a day, but I think I got it covered... and then some. In fact, I think I might be peeing 8 glasses a day.

Anyways, it hopefully won't be too terribly tough, but wish me luck.