Merry New Year?

Hey folks. Thought I'd drop a quick note to thank everyone for their readership and comments. I cannot relate to you enough how I appreciate all of you coming out and reading my pedestrian writing. Its been an interesting year, to say the least. Many ups and downs. Bottomline is, I survived and became a stronger man through it all. I hope everyone will continue coming by The Brain Dump in 2006. One of my resolutions is to Be More Funny, so hopefully you might get a chuckle out of a post or three.

All that said, PhD Girl is coming back into town today (3 days early!), so I'll be, how do you say, incommunicado? Hells. Yeah.

So with that, I bid you all a Happy New Year, Shogatsu, Ano Viejo, or whatever else one might celebrate to hail the turn of the Gregorian calendar!

Boys Will Be Boys

So last Thursday, I agreed to watch my sister's two boys while she finished up some shopping. Joseph is the middle child, age 4, and Luke is the youngest, age 2. Sissy drops them off and quickly makes her exit. I'm pretty sure I heard a cackling, stupid mothe...mrumble...foolish man, coming from my sister as she ran back to her minivan. I shrug and turn my attention to the boys, one of which has found my X-Box, the other one, shoulder deep in my box of Cookie Crisp. Quickly gauging priorities, I set Jojo up on the X-Box with his favorite game, The Hulk. Once the older boy is situated, I deal with the budding mayhem that is a 2 year old trying desperately to fit his entire head into a box of cereal. As I take the box away, I'm punched in the nuts. Once the nausea subsides, I explain to Luke that I just wanted to put it in a bowl for him. I don't believe he cared at this point, as he had now moved on to crawling into Kiko's crate and locking himself in. (side note: Kiko was at the vet, thank God). Jojo catches wind of what's going on and decides that keeping his brother in the crate is infinitely more fun than causing virtual carnage on the widescreen as The Hulk. This is funny until Luke starts crying and punches his older brother in the nuts. Now I have two crying boys to pacify. I'm pretty sure I feel the follicles in my head actually constrict as 9 grey hairs develop.

I quickly take control of the situation by waving shiny things above my head. Everyone knows that boys, no matter the age, are fixated on shiny things and...

...ooo, a nickel on the floor...

...uh, where was I? Oh yes, so now that I have their attention, I determine that a movie would be the best way to keep their attention. Joseph wants Shrek, so Shrek it is. Halfway through the movie, Luke disappears. As does the box of Cookie Crisp. Fearing that he has somehow managed to crawl inside the box, eat all the cereal from inside out, and cause an implosion on the level of a collapsing black hole, I frantically search for the boy. I find him minutes later behind the trashcan, cereal box in one hand, used coffee filter in the other, mouth full of grinds with the biggest shit-eating grin I've ever seen. I wrestle all foreign objects away from Luke, who repays my kindness with another punch in the nuts. I'm beginning to see a pattern develop.

I make my way back to Jojo. He's the sweet one. As I sit down and watch the movie with him, he nestles into my arm, looks up at me with the kindest eyes and says, Uncle Sethro, why do you always break up with girls? After about 13, 14 minutes of incredulous silence, I tell him to mind his own fucking business. He says ok and goes back to watching Shrek. Whew.

By this time, I can tell that Luke is fading into toddler-naptime-oblivion, yet he is fighting it tooth and nail. I ask him if he wants to go upstairs and lay on my bed. His response is a hard right jab in the, you guessed it, nuts. I tell him that if he does that one more time, he's going to Timeout. He looks at me and says, No. You're going to Timeout. I laugh hysterically. Then get punched in the nuts again. I snatch the litte shit up in my arms and take him into my spare room where I have some empty boxes. I place him inside one of the big boxes, and he can barely see over the top of the box.

I look at him and say, You are to never punch a man in his nuts unless he threatens your life, steals your woman, or is David Hasslehoff. Do you understand that? He nods. Now, do you want to come out of Timeout and finish watching Shrek, or do you want to stay in here where deadly Box Spiders will crawl into your ears? He motions towards the living room, and I pick him up. We enjoy the afternoon, nutsack-pain free.

We round out the afternoon playing cars and eating cheese. I also teach Jojo to call his brother by his nickname, Terd Ferguson. Laughter ensues after every mention of the name, which just drives Jojo into a verbal lather of, TerdFergusonTerdFergusonTerdFergusonTerdFerguson.

Sissy arrives looking pale and haggard after a day of Christmas shopping. I am bright and refreshed, albeit a little swollen in the testicular region. I believe she expected both the situations and our countenances to be reversed. I laugh. She mockingly laughs back, and collects the boys. I get hugs and kisses, and tell the boys they can come over any time. As they leave, I hear Joseph tell my sister, Guess what Luke's new name is? I proudly smile, knowing that I've made a difference.

Note the diabolically crafty visage from the Nut Puncher in the background

The (Holiday) Weekend Recap 12.28.05

Friday
Well, like a couple of idiots (read: men), Steve America and I braved the mall for some Last Minute Christmas Shopping™. Steve ended up breaking a little girl's arm because she wouldn't get out of our way, but honestly, the little bitch should've known better. Team America doesn't play when it comes to Last Minute Christmas Shopping™. That said, and not to be outdone, the elderly whore who tried to cut Steve off while on line at New York and Co. should step the fuck back if she thinks I won't choke a bitch with their own oxygen cord. After laughing at mall security as they wondered how to deal with us, we finally wrapped up and made our exit.

Mr. America insisted that Wings 'n Beer™ were in order, so we headed to MacGregor. Enjoyed said Wings 'n Beer™.

Remainder of the evening consisted of playing, Goddammit, Stop Biting Me!, with Kiko, and chatting on the phone with PhD Girl (who is in New Orleans for the holidays).

Saturday
Well, Saturday is essentially my Christmas day since all I have is my family, and we happen to do our Family Dinner and Gift Exchange™ on Christmas Eve. So, like any good man does, I finish wrapping presents about 3 minutes before I walk out the door. Meh, who the fuck am I kidding...I didn't finish. Mom received her present in a lovely holiday Bed, Bath, and Beyond bag. She didn't seem to mind, however.

Arrive at my Sissy's house and am immediately accosted by the niece and nephews. The youngest, Luke, whom I affectionately have nicknamed, Terd Ferguson, decides to recreate a scene from one of the Rocky movies, using my package as a speed bag. That was fun. Anyway, we enjoy some holiday grub and open presents. I get some nice things, but I'm more excited that Jojo, my sister's middle child, takes me aside and tells me, Uncle Sethro, my favorite present is the Batman you got me. Hey...quit looking at me. I'm not crying, I just have something in my fucking eye. *grumble* Damn kids.

Came home and did nothing.

Sunday
Christmas Day! Immediately wish that PhD Girl wasn't out of town, and instead was there with me. I call and wish her a Merry Christmas.

Ho, ho, ho, bitches...

I drive back over to my Sissy's to see what the kids received from Santa. I'm greeted by an outpouring of toys. Hot Wheels Cars, Bratz Dolls, GI Joe Figures, Star Wars Lightsabers, Nintendo DS's, Barbie Karaoke Machines, Spiderman Fuirniture, Lego's, Coloring Books. Honestly the list is too enormous to document here...I'm pretty sure that if I did attempt to list everything, then tried to publish, Blogspot would give me some, Your Post Is Too Fucking Big error. Anyway, it was fun, even though I was transmogrified from Uncle Sethro to The Guy Who Opens Toys™. Seriously, I was literally bombarded with, OPEN MINE NEXT!, about a hundred times. I will say this. Hasbro, Playskool, Mattel, Bandai, and Fisher-Price can all suck my left nut. Has anyone tried to open toys these days? One really needs wire cutters, a Makita cordless drill, six vials of Hydrochloric acid, and a couple sticks of TNT to effectively get into the toy packaging in order to remove the doll, action figure, or miscellanous trinket. I got the fuck out of there before I was tasked with putting shit together.

The rest of the afternoon and evening consisted of taking Puppy Bear on a walk and chatting again with PhD Girl. If nothing else, it was a relaxing holiday weekend.

Speaking of PhD Girl, I'm still hesitant to talk too much about it on The Brain Dump. I can say with certainty that I haven't felt quite this way about someone before, given the short amount of time we've known each other. I am very much diving in head first, guard down, and not only do I like it, I can't get enough. Heartbreak be damned. And all that shit.

Peace on Earth, good will towards men, and get crunk on New Year's Eve.

Lates.

I Just Want Your Extra Time And Your...Kiss

I wasn't kissing her, I was whispering in her mouth.

~Chico Marx

I believe that kissing is a lost art. In my recent singledom, I've noticed that I've either become a snob when it comes to smooches, or women just don't know how to kiss anymore. I mean, we're not talking rocket science here, and most women have enough experience in kissing that they should know what to do. For fuck's sake, I've been with women who were holy terrors in the sack, but who had no idea what to do when it came to the osculatory arts.

Are we talking laziness here? Do women just not care if they are good kissers? I can't believe this is the case. I have to think that women take great care in their kissing styles. Perhaps they've received shit advice from their pecking partners? Or maybe its just that their male counterparts have been horrible kissers, and they've adapted? Kissing evolution? Meh.

I guess I am just being highbrow when it comes to kissing. That said, there's more to kissing than a little tonsil wrasslin' and tongue sucking. Fuck it. Maybe I just need to teach a class. A little marketing; a late night television promo, perchance. I'll be the Tony Little of kissing. Shit, who could turn down becoming a master of the osculatory arts for FOUR low payments of only $19.95? I'll see if my people can contact an out-of-work actress to serve as my spokeswoman or maybe even hostess for the TV spot. I'm going to shoot for Kristy Swanson, but I have a feeling I'll be stuck with goddamned Cheryl Tiegs or some such.

Now that my high horse has been ridden thoroughly, I'll acknowledge that I could potentially be wrong about all this, and that kissing styles are all relative. That everyone likes what they like, so that's what they do. However, if that's the case, I figure that I need to start practicing my tongue fucking, because ol' Sethro missed the memo where that particular practice rose to the top of the arousal charts.


Editor's Note: Scratch all that clowning on Cheryl Tiegs shit. I'd do her 50 year old GILF ass in a country minute.

Singin' In The Rain, And Other Tales Of Witticism

*Apparently, North Carolina rain contains some sort of methamphetamine for dogs. Everytime that we get precipitation here, Kiko goes absolutely ass-crazy.

Let me set this up for you faithful readers. Kiko is normally a very calm puppy. Great temperment, and for a pup, listens very well. Sure, she can be an obstinate little shit from time to time, but what puppy isn't? When its potty time, I can normally let her outside, no leash. She'll do her business and when I call, she'll come back most of the time. If she doesn't come back right away, I can always entice her with a treat.

Now, this all changes when it rains. Normally calm, obedient Puppy Bear turns into a goddamed werewolf, directly off a fresh kill. Attacking everything that moves, including some things that do not move, like leaves or trees. She becomes fascinated with the hill behind the house, leading down to the road, tantalized by the cars below and how she could potentially eat them. Her territorial area quintuples in size, encompassing neighboring decks, patios, landscaped natural areas, and a large portion of Central America.

This lycanthropic transformation can be dealt with in three different ways. One, I can let her roam for a bit, call for her to come inside every 2 minutes, and hope she doesn't come back with a Pirelli in her mouth. This keeps me dry for the most part, but I become insanely worried about where she's going and what she's doing. Two, I can take her on a leash and walk her around the yard until she does her business. This means I get soaked. To the bone. I have found out that Kiko will shit when she's good and ready to shit. Not before. Three, I can let her out and then try to find her when she takes off. This not only concerns me, as in scenario #1, but it also leaves me soaked to the core, as in scenario #2. Not favorable. Here's the clencher. Invariably, if I choose options #2 or #3, I will step in dog shit. This is not a might, maybe, perhaps, possibly, potentially, feasibly, conceivably, perchance, reasonably, or even God willing. It is a fucking given that I'm stepping in dog shit. Umbrellas don't work. Ponchos are too much of a pain in the ass. Meh...maybe I should just put up a fence.

*I saw King Kong last night with PhD Girl. Beautifully crafted movie. Phenomenal screenplay. CGI continues to get better and better, and the emotion that they invoke in Mr. Kong is amazing. Its a a bit bewildering that you leave the theater empathizing with a computer generated gorilla. I have to say that Naomi Watts is more than a little breathtaking as actress, Ann Darrow, with Adrian Brody and Jack Black turning in solid performances. . A little long in spots, but a masterpiece of modern cinenema, nonetheless. Peter Jackson rocks my nuts. So does PhD Girl.

*The antibiotics are still wreaking havoc on Kiko. This morning, she vomited a squirrel, a sweetgum tree, a bottle of Geritol, and a set of fuzzy dice. In some sort of grey-green distillation. Anyone know a good carpet cleaning company in the Triangle area?

*Is there a more annoying song on the radio than Laffy Taffy by D4L? It literally makes me want to strangle myself with an ethernet cable. Or razor wire, whatever's closest.

The Weekend Recap 12.19.05

Holiday Festivities!

Friday
Dad's birthday, so I offer to take him out to dinner...his choice. What's he pick? Outback. WTF? Dad. C'mon now. Outback Steakhouse? I mean, its not bad, but its Outback. Regardless, we arrive and saddle up to the bar while waiting on a table. In honor of Early Happy Hour™, I have a Blue Moon or three.

Now, my parents live in rural North Carolina (what one might call the heart of Steve America's constituency). And I'll preface this with the note that I'm a pretty simple guy. I have few prejudices because I remember from whence I came. But I gotta tell ya, heading out to eat in rural North Carolina is a veritable treat for the senses. In North Carolina, you have to understand that once one is 15 miles removed from any major population center, every man will a) hunt and fish, b) love NASCAR to the point at which he becomes violently aggressive at the mention of another driver and/or car manufacturer's name, and c) call every other male in his general vicinity, Bo, Cuh, or Good. The only requirement on the womenfolk is to have a hair style that is, at minimum, 4 years out of style. For the record, I grew up in rural NC, and partake in watching a NASCAR race or two each year.

Don't fuck with Tony Stewart, else you'll get punched in the mouth. Hard.

Anywho, it was good fun. A chuckle was had by all, and people watching continues to be one of my favorite pasttimes.

Back home to play with Puppy Bear and close out the night.

Saturday
Drop Kiko off at the puppy boarding house, then travel to do the Extended Family Christmas Gift Exchange And BBQ Luncheon™. Now I have an interesting and dichotomous separation in the dynamics that is the two sides of my family.

My Mom's side are as country as they come. My grandfather, Papaw, is a grizzled WWII tank driver. At 77, you can always find him with a chaw of tobacco in his mouth, reading a Robert Ludlum spy novel, and would just as soon cuss you out as look at you. My grandmother, Mamaw, is a coutry gal with a heart of gold and the quickest wit this side of the Appalachains. Not to mention, she cannot be killed by conventional means. Since 1996, she has suffered 3 strokes, countless mini-strokes, 3 types of cancer, liver disease, a broken hip, a broken foot, dementia, and a heart attack. And she's in better spirits and just as good health as she's ever been.

My Dad's side of the family is full of conservative, fundamentalist Christians. My grandfather on that side, Pop, is ex-Navy, and has little patience for anything outside what is important to him. He's a brusque man and as honery as they come, but he's still Pop. He's mellowed over the years, taking care of his ladyfriend of the past 10 years, who has terminal cancer. The rest of that extended family is an eccentric cast of characters, including my Aunt Pauline, who despite hailing from Dallas, NC, believes herself to be a 1950's Hollywood starlet, a cantakerous, senile Uncle Bubba who still thinks I'm 16, and a cousin who refuses to speak to me because I'm divorced.

All that said, it was great seeing everyone.

I returned home that evening and prepared for a date. We'll call her PhD Girl. The date was fantastic. Better than I could've hoped for. I honestly don't want to say too much, for fear of what I'm calling, The Blog Jinx™. I'll just say that I have been impatiently waiting on seeing her again tonight.

I will say that I did sleep alone.

Sunday
I went to go pick up Baby Girl from the kennel and I had a surprise when I arrived. It seems that the little dominating princess got into a scuffle. And not just any scuffle. My 35 pound ball of fur scrapped with a 120 pound Alaskan Malamute. We'll just say that the Malamute won this round, since Kiko had to take a trip to the vet for a puncture wound. I'll have to have a talk with her before the next trip to a kennel, on how to avoid getting shanked in the Yard. The funny thing is, the owner of the boarding kennel said that Kiko had the other dog on it's back and had him thoroughly dominated, but that the Malamute got scared and bit her defensively before she had a chance to separate them. I guess little Kiko can't be the Alpha Bitch with everyone. At least not while she's as small as she is now. Of course, when she gets to her full 85 pound weight, we might be singing a different tune. That said, she's doing fine. It wasn't deep wound, but the antibiotics made her groggy and a little nauseous, so I had to follow her around the house with paper towels and carpet cleaner.

After Kiko's traumatic weekend, I cancelled my plans for that evening to stay with her. We hung out, Daddy and Baby Girl, watching football and eating nachos.

The Panthers won, the Colts lost. I was really rooting for Indianapolis to go undefeated. I think Tony Dungy is a helluva coach, and seems like a man with excellent character. Still, they have a damn good shot at the Super Bowl.

Relaxed the rest of the evening. It was nice to enjoy some tranquility. The evening chat with PhD Girl wasn't so bad either. Heh.

And The Award For Fucktard Of The Year Goes To...

...this guy. A-fucking-mazing.

The video is kinda grainy, but essentially, the guy tries to take a flaming shot, and ends up literally wearing and breathing fire.

I can't stop laughing at his buddy who tries to douse the fire with his beer!

All that said, I'm surprised I didn't try this in college.

The Weekend Recap 12.12.05

Friday
You know, one of my favorite things in life has become Early Happy Hour™ on Friday's with Steve America. We chat about sports, women, beer, food, women, babies, puppies, and women. This particular Early Happy Hour™, Steve announced his candidacy for Governer. All you North Mexilinians be sure to get to the polls next November! Also, checks can be made payable to the America for Governer Campaign Fund, however, we prefer cash money.

Anyway, Steve and I down many beers and we wrap up around 9ish. I head back to let the Puppy Bear out of her condo, and then drive over to one of the local Irish pubs, where Diane Mandy is working. I had told her earlier that I would stop in for a drink, and I'm a man of my word.

I arrive and Diane greets me, then introduces me to her friends. I find out they work with her. Which also means they work at the same company my ex-wife works for. Its an afterthought really, but I feel like one of those Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon moments is just waiting to happen. We all chat a little, and Diane goes back to work, checking on us occasionally. Her friends are really great and easy to talk to, however, I have a hard time taking my eyes off of Diane whenever she visits the table.

So I'm going to pause here to monologue for a moment. I've made it apparent to my blog readers and to Diane herself that I think she is very attractive. However, I have sworn off any sort of pursuit of her right now. There are dynamics in the situation that lend themselves to my non-pursuit. Her current involvement with someone is high on the list. The fact that she is a fellow blogger and oft-times reader of The Brain Dump is farther down on the list, but still of note. That said, I will not change my outpouring of inane ramblings, or find myself filtering my thoughts. She understands that.

Now, all that aside, I still find myself thinking not so nice thoughts when she's around, and the beer makes it that much more difficult to control myself. Things are said, a touch here or there, but I make it through the night with my oath, and my reticence, intact. Much to my dichotomous chagrin and gratification. I think I'm destined to be conflicted.

On the drive home, I go through a DWI checkpoint. Fun!

Saturday
Woof. I feel like ass, and I didn't even have all that much to drink. I sure as shit didn't feel like having my face licked at 7:30am by puppy tongue.

I attempt to do some Christmas shopping. Three people were seriously wounded by me in the parking lot of Best Buy because the mob-like conditions warranted the action (ie. they looked at me funny, and I was in no mood to be trifled with). I vow never to go Christmas shopping in the month of December on a weekend day.

Upon returning from my day of shopping hell, I decide that a Dude Night™ is in order. Take-out sushi, Guinness, and two movies. The first movie is The Dukes of Hazzard. Unless you only want to see Jessica Simpson looking hot in her 15 minute cameo, don't bother renting this masterpiece of modern cinema. I honestly thought the teaming of Seann William Scott and Johnny Knoxville would be hilarious, but it was pretty fucking ho-hum. The next movie was considerably better. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the film that spawned the now infamous Aniston-Pitt-Jolie scandalous affair rumors and subsequent divorce, was entertaining. Funny with enough action scenes to satiate my desire for mayhem. Of course, I'm certain that I sprang a woody every time that Jolie made an appearance onscreen, so that helped.

Sunday
I'm due for another Slice of Heaven Sunday™. I haven't had one in awhile.

You know, sometimes one has the best intentions of doing something highly productive, like go for a nice, long run, only to have those plans change at the last minute. Mere moments before I'm about to change to run, Mom calls. New car, come over, ride with me to Target. I hadn't seen the parents in awhile, so I figured, what the hell.

Errands were run and the rest of the evening was spent cleaning and working through some emails. I did watch Grey's Anatomy, which again was good. After the show ended, I half-expected FOF to text me, but the phone was silent. With that thought, I continued to wonder if I had made a mistake, or if I should give her another chance. I wondered again if I was even ready for anything more than a casual thing. Since I was tired and my brain hurt, the decision was made to think about it at another time.

Vote America In 2006!

Friday night, after some deliberation and many Blue Moon's, it was decided that my good pal, Steve America would announce his candidacy for Governer of the great state of North Mexilina. I will be handling Mr. America's campaign, as his Campaign Manager Extraordinaire.

Like the great president, Abraham Lincoln, we will be running under the banner of the Whig party, believing both the Democratic and Republican parties far too entrenched in their partisan politics. We feel that the people will identify with with the core fundamentals of the party, as well as the platform on which Mr. America is running. That platform is built on improvement in the quality of life for the people of North Mexilina. Things like year round football and college basketball. Free beer and wings at every bar between the hours of 4pm and 11pm. Legalized prostitution. Repealing the antiquated practice of making shirts and shoes mandatory in public establishments. Oh, Mr. America is also promising to abolish state income tax and eliminating unemployment by bringing in new jobs, but that's sort of beside the point. Our campaign will be appeal to the simpl...erm, the common man, as well as the the middle class and those pompously rich assholes. But mostly just the common man.

Because our campaign will be grassroots, we will be basing our headquarters in the heart of our constituency, Angier, North Mexilina. We plan on visiting every county, city, and township in our great state.

Steve America will shake hands with every man in North Mexilina, providing they wash their hands with Lava brand soap. And have a 50-spot in said hands.

Steve America will call on every business in North Mexilina where the expectation is to be showered with campaign contributions. Especially Phillip-Morris, where we plan to make a multi-million dollar deal for donations in exchange for turning a blind eye to the distribution of cigarettes within our state's schools. Wait, did I say that out loud? Haha! I was just kidding. Yes...just kidding.

Steve America will visit the hospital to kiss every baby born in North Mexilina. He will also kiss the mothers of said babies (attractiveness dependent, of course).

(artist's rendition)

Steve America will provide a Sony PSP for every child in the households that vote for him. (note: contingent on donations of Sony PSP's made to the campaign by the Sony Corporation of America)

Remember, a vote for Steve America is a vote for Truth, Justice, The American Way, Apple Pie, Mom, Cheerios, Oral Sex, and Hungry Man Buttermilk Buscuits. And Oral Sex. Not necessarily in that order.

Coasting

Monday night, Diane Mandy and I laughed at my fortune from the Vietnamese restuarant.

When you begin to coast, you're on the downgrade.

I looked at it and thought, what the fuck does that mean?

When you begin to coast, you're on the downgrade.

I now know. FOF and I broke up tonight. We had planned to have dinner this evening and just hang out a bit since she's been out of town this week. After dinner, we began discussing what she said on that Tuesday night phone call, and the status of our relationship after she asked if she could spend the night and I failed to answer her. In the following dialogue, I noted that over the last two weeks, I had tried to analyze what my feelings were, in hopes that we could coast along until I figured things out.

When you begin to coast, you're on the downgrade.

Amazing how vividly poignant that statement is now. I was coasting, in hopes of realizing how I truly felt, and all the while, I was on that downgrade. I was in that point of the relationship promontory where I had crested the summit and was now headed towards the base in a manner that precluded any chance for an about face ascent.

She took everything about as well as I could've hoped. I keep wondering if I made a mistake. I feel in my heart that I did not, but my mind, which continues to review FOF's near perfect criteria as a girlfriend, makes me speculatively hesitant to feel 100% behind this decision. Hell, she said herself that sometimes two people can meet all the relevant checks and requirements, but one could still not feel that allure needed to drive a relationship. She is smart and honest with herself, but I know that doesn't lessen her heartbreak. She will deal with this and be fine, so I know that I need to refrain from beating myself up. Sometimes, being single isn't very fun at all.

I guess it could be worse. Kiko could've pissed her crate while FOF and I were talking. Wait, that did happen. Can't really think of a more suitable scenario to parallel the night.

When you begin to coast, you're on the downgrade.

Hopefully, I can find another path up to the zenith of these treacherous slopes.

Seduction Style

I believe I'm now the master at pilfering other people's blogs. I prefer burglaring, but I'll make do with bloglering (that's my new word for stealing ideas from other bloggers).

Oh, just to note, I bloglarized this from Diane Mandy's blog. Thanks, Diane!

Your Seduction Style: Siren / Rake

You possess an unbridled sensuality that appeals to many. The minute you meet anyone, you can make the crave you almost immediately. You give others the chance to lose control with you... spiraling into carnal bliss. A dangerous lover, you both fascinate and scare those you attract.

What Is Your Seduction Style?

Ravings Of A Madman

*I received a phone call last night from a drunk and crying FOF. She knows things are not good and she is doing her damndest to try and convince me that she's worth more of a chance. Not only am I confused and conflicted, I hate myself for making someone feel this way.

*I am jonesing for the two movies coming out this week and next. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, as well as King Kong. Especially keep an eye on the Peter Jackson remake....there is already talk of Oscars.

*My back is killing me. Trips to the chiropractor are theraputic but not remediative.

*Paulette Padgett just emailed me, and promised to get me Cialis and Levitra for just $3.99 a tab! How cool is that?! Thanks, Paulette!!

*The Puppy Bear and I are going to training this Saturday. She needs it. The words, obstinate little shit come to mind.

Meeting of the Blogs

I wish you well and so I take my leave,
I pray you know me when we meet again.

-Bill Shakespeare

So last night, I'm chatting on IM with Diane Mandy and she mentions Pho soup. I happen to love Pho, so I suggest we meet and partake of this Vietnamese specialty. She foolishly agrees and the game is afoot. We rendezvous at the restaurant, exchange meetings and greetings and have a seat. For her readers and the curious alike, I'll just state for the record that while she is just as attractive as her photo (if not more-so), she is taller than I thought she'd be. As well, she has great hair and gorgeous eyes. For fear of sounding like a silly school boy, I'll forego any real discussion of how I couldn't look at her eyes too long, lest I be mesmerized by her gaze. As usual, I digress. We order and chat about blogs, relationships, work, and really, just life in general.

Its funny. I happen to think my life is agonizingly boring, and that thought is made abundantly clear as I'm listening to some of Diane's stories about her father's restaurant or some of her dates. I think that perhaps Diane is right, in that we are our toughest critics. Very recently, I've looked at everything that I do, everything that I am, with an overly discerning eye. My writing; vapid and conventional. My body; porcine. My visage; asperous. My dating life; mundane. My work; anesthetic and uninspired. My life; pedestrian.

Though I'm definitely beginning to wonder when my writing became so tangetial and parenthetic.

I will have to say that there was one thing about Ms. Mandy that stood out to me. And honestly, people just don't do enough of this. She looks in your eyes when she speaks and when she listens. She engages you, and that is an excellent quality in a person.

Anyway, we wrap up, as I have to get home to let the Pup Tart out of her crate...erm, I mean condo (as noted by Diane, my little lady, Kiko, is deserving of much more than her little home being called a crate!). Despite my protestations, she pays for dinner, and we receive our fortune cookies.

Confucious say: When you begin to coast, you're on the downgrade. Uh...what? Why do I always get the fucked up fortunes? Sheesh.

All in all, it was really great to meet another blogger here in NC, especially one as charming as Diane. I wonder if we can call this the first NC Blogger Gathering?

You Think You Know Me?

Just because my new favorite past-time is stealing ideas from Finy's blog.

TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF - The Survey
Name:	Sethro
Birthday:	August 12, 1971
Birthplace:	North Carolina
Current Location:	North Carolina
Eye Color:	Greenish-Greyish Hazel
Hair Color:	Light Brown
Height:	6' 1"
Right Handed or Left Handed:	Right, but I like to think of myself as amphibious
Your Heritage:	Irish-English-German-Cherokee Mutt
The Shoes You Wore Today:	Kenneth Cole Black Lace-ups
Your Weakness:	Women
Your Fears:	Clowns. And Failure
Your Perfect Pizza:	Pepperoni, Sausage, and Meatball from Dom's
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year:	Be more funny
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger:	;)
Thoughts First Waking Up:	I don't want to get up
Your Best Physical Feature:	Eyes
Your Bedtime:	Whenever I get sleepy
Your Most Missed Memory:	I forgot
Pepsi or Coke:	Cheerwine or Sundrop. NC, HOLLA!
MacDonalds or Burger King:	BK until they started those creepy King commercials
Single or Group Dates:	Single
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:	Meh...Sweet tea or Green tea
Chocolate or Vanilla:	Vanilla
Cappuccino or Coffee:	Coffee
Do you Smoke:	Only when I want one
Do you Swear:	Are you fucking kidding me? You're goddamned right I swear
Do you Sing:	Poorly
Do you Shower Daily:	Sometimes twice a day
Have you Been in Love:	Unfortunately
Do you want to go to College:	Yes. I want to be the creepy old guy that hits on the co-eds
Do you want to get Married:	Again? I dunno yet
Do you belive in yourself:	I don't know what the fuck "belive" means
Do you get Motion Sickness:	No. Except on carousels
Do you think you are Attractive:	Not right now. Goddamned PMS!
Are you a Health Freak:	Sometimes. I gotta balance the pure hell I put into my body
Do you get along with your Parents:	Yup
Do you like Thunderstorms:	Hell ya!
Do you play an Instrument:	The Pan Flute, just like Zamfir
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol:	Hahahahahahahaha!!
In the past month have you Smoked:	Smoked what?
In the past month have you been on Drugs:	Yes. Pseudoephedrine rocks!
In the past month have you gone on a Date:	Too many
In the past month have you gone to a Mall:	UGH!
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:	Not a whole box
In the past month have you eaten Sushi:	I'Yes. Oh, wait, you said "Sushi". Yes.
In the past month have you been on Stage:	No, I have stage-fright
In the past month have you been Dumped:	No
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:	No, much to my chagrin
In the past month have you Stolen Anything:	I steal glances at beautiful women every day
Ever been Drunk:	Hahahahahahahaha!! Who wrote this shit?
Ever been called a Tease:	Yes
Ever been Beaten up:	Only if you count that troop of Girl Scouts
Ever Shoplifted:	Yes
How do you want to Die:	Guns a blazin'
What do you want to be when you Grow Up:	I don't ever want to grow up
What country would you most like to Visit:	Austria! G'day, mate!
In a Boy/Girl..
Favourite Eye Color:	Green
Favourite Hair Color:	Black
Short or Long Hair:	Short
Height:	5' 4"
Weight:	105
Best Clothing Style:	Hot
Number of Drugs I have taken:	Me or her?
Number of CDs I own:	433
Number of Piercings:	0
Number of Tattoos:	1
Number of things in my Past I Regret:	2
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

The Weekend Recap 12.05.05

Friday
I have a date with FOF. She had asked me to go to her company Christmas party and I agreed. I met a few of her co-workers and her boss and his wife. The boss is actually a good guy and we get along famously. We have several drinks and an excellent dinner, then FOF and I head back to my house. Once there she strikes up a conversation about how she believes I feel about her. I'm pretty shocked because she pegs me like no one else has ever pegged me. I mean, I usually get the, I just can't figure you out, speech from most women...you know, playing the silent, mysterious type. So what did she say? How about this: I think you believe that you've reached your limit on how you feel about me. I feel like we were walking along, progressing the relationship, and while I kept walking, you stopped somewhere along the way. But I'm not going to stop trying to woo you, and I don't want you to give up on us just yet. I'm a little speechless. She leaves a short time later to house-sit for a friend.

Saturday
Christmas shopping. Ugh. I don't normally have an issue with shopping. But dealing with all those people makes me want to put a butterknife through someone's temple.

Uneventful night. Just a little relaxation.

Sunday
Figured I'd cut to the chase and get to all the good introspection. FOF comes over a little after lunchtime and we head to the mall so that I can pick up a present for my sister. Afterwards, we go see Walk the Line, the Johnny Cash biopic.

Let me just have an aside here for a moment, and say that this was an amazing movie. Joaquin Phoenix's portrayal is fantastic, eeriely so. I highly recommend.

During the ride back to my house, we're both quiet. She's obviously perceptive to have pegged me like she did on Friday night, so she knows that something isn't right. FOF leaves shortly after we arrive to give me some space. Its probably a good thing, because I really didn't want to be around anyone at that time.

I don't know what it all means outside of believing that this relationship isn't going to go very far. There is something missing. She has nearly everything I'm looking for in a partner. Looks, smarts, humor, great sex. Hell, even Kiko likes her. We are missing that chemistry however. Or more to the point, I am. I am virtually passionless in this relationship. I have fun with her, and we share some good laughs, but at the end of the day, I know that this isn't someone that I want to be with long term.

I'm pretty perceptive in knowing whether a relationship is or isn't going somewhere. I've always been fairly quick to end one if I felt it was a short term thing. Its easy to look back on the women that I've had strong feelings for, and note how I felt during those times. I thought about that last night, and the melancholy set in. That there could be a woman who meets all the girlfriend criteria and she's right in front of me, but for some reason, I'm just not that into her. I don't believe I'm being guarded. I know there is nothing wrong with her. I know that I'm ready for a relationship, but I keep waiting to be overwhelmed by someone. I want to be knocked off my feet. *sigh* Perhaps I'm fooling myself, and I really am an immovable object. That no one will be able to knock me off my feet.

I know I sound like a whiny little shit. I guess I'm just a little frustrated because I don't remember things being this wierd. Anyone got a valium? 'Cuz this whole breaking up part is the worst.

Attention: ALL NC BLOGGERS!!

Ok folks...a fellow blogger and myself are going to try and put together an NC Bloggers Party. I'm putting out the call for all NC bloggers to contact me. You can reach me by posting a comment below, or by emailing me here:

sethro@nc.rr.com

C'mon people...

Let me hear from you!!

C'mon People!

I'm still looking for those South Park avatars from the following people:

VP of Dior
Datingirl
First Date Chick
Stolie
Anonymous City Girl
Steve America (SUBMITTED)
Jamy (SUBMITTED)
Diane Mandy (SUBMITTED)
Carrie (SUBMITTED)

Anyone else I missed? Let's go people! Get those avatars to me at sethro@nc.rr.com

ADDENDUM: Here are some easy to follow instructions to save.

*With the avatar in full view on your screen, hit Shift+PrntScrn.
*Open Microsoft Paint in Start Menu>Accessories>Paint.
*Go to Edit, and mouse down to Paste.
*Use the Select tool to drag over the selected image.
*With the image selected, go to Edit, and mouse down to Copy.
*Open a new image, go to Edit, and mouse down to Paste.
*Voila! Save image as a JPG.