Don't you walk out on me, Self-esteem...

This has been the worst week in the history of weeks. I've had retarded car trouble with my new car that required shop time and me taking a day off work. I almost ran over a pot-belly pig in the city limits of the hillbilly town I work in. Work has me really stressed out. I can't sleep.

The other day I was at a meeting of area clergy. I was in line to fix a plate for lunch and this 739-year-old lady in front of me dropped her napkin. I picked it up for her so she wouldn't turn to dust or possibly die when she tried. She said, "Oh...I'm getting old." I responded with something like, "nah...you're not old." You know, the obvious lie. It was kind of awkward after I said that, so I followed it up with some small-talk. I said, "wow. I'm pretty sleepy. I need a nap when I get back to the office." This old fucking bitch turns to me and says, "you know why you're tired? It's because you're carrying all that extra weight on you." What weight? My gigantic dong? That's what I should have said to that old lady. Old people piss me off. She's a representative of a church, too. A church in a certain hyphenated town down the road from me.

Now I have a question. My second attempt at pathetic internet romance has seemingly fizzled out. It was all bacon and no sizzle. I'm not real sure if I used phrase right, but I heard it the other day and thought it was awesome. Anyway, she asked me about myself, so in my next message I wrote the novel that is the life of me, omitting bad shit and things that make me sound weird. So it wasn't that long, I guess. I'd say three solid paragraphs of greatness. I checked it today and there was a message from her. I thought it might be good, but given the way my week was going, I didn't have my hopes up. Good thing, too. Here's what she sent. Keep in mind that I just wrote quite a bit about myself and asked her questions about her.

"I went to (college we went to) for interior design, but I might be making a career change soon. Yeah, we might know some of the same people... (town college is in) is pretty tiny.
Well, sorry to keep this short but I've gotta run. Hope you have a great Halloween!"

I just got blown off, huh? Be honest. I've reached a new level of pathetic. I've also got a hunch that she doesn't care about my Halloween. She doesn't care about my Halloween at all.

Some things, good and bad

My stomach is killing me. I don't really know why. For the last hour or so I've been playing a deadly game of Russian roulette that I like to call, "is it fart, is it turd?" I'm three for three so far, but I have a feeling that bullet may be there the next time around.

I worked about 30 more hours than I got paid for this week. I really like my job, but these 70+ hour weeks are going to get old eventually. I think it's going to interfere with mini-Thanksgiving, too. I wanted to go to Nac soon, but I don't know when I'll be able to. I need a weekend away from here.

My mom bought me some Halloween peeps today. I do love peeps with their marshmallow and sugary goodness. My mom's a nice lady sometimes. It's really a shame that I'm going to have to put her in a home soon.

I miss people. This town kinda blows. I miss watching football and talking shit with a bunch of people while I eat a gigantic basket of assorted fried awesomeness. I guess this is what happens when you grow up, huh?

Now for a little sad news. My little raccoon has been acting weird the last few days. I thought it was maybe because it was getting cold outside, so I filled his raccoon house with hay. I called a vet Friday from work and asked if they looked at wild animals. They said they didn't unless I had a permit for it. I found out a permit costs more than I was willing to pay for an animal that hates me. Saturday when I fed him, he was moving kinda slow and didn't eat much of his food. When I fed him Sunday morning, he wouldn't even come out of his house. When I went to check on him Sunday afternoon, he was dead. Kinda sucks after I saved him from the dogs and all that. He seemed fine Thursday, but I guess he got sick sometime after that. I buried him by my pet duck that died when I was 8. He's tipping over God's trash cans now.

I took another shot at the internet dating thing. I actually made a legit profile with my correct age and all that. I messaged one person and she actually replied. Turns out we went to the same college at the same time. She asked me what my relationship was like with my family. I told her that I come from a small family, but we're pretty close-knit (which isn't 100% true, but it's not exactly a lie.) Then I told her that I still live pretty close to my mom. I figured that covered all my bases. If things go bad for whatever reason, I'm done. I know they say that when one door closes, another opens. For me, when one door closes, my fingers are usually in that little space between the door and the wall, so I'm just going to leave it alone. It'll just be another thing I've failed at like dieting or trying to tone down my awesomeness. I directed her to my myspace page so she could see a picture. Hindsight being what it is, I probably should have changed the picture away from my "drunken, double gun" photo. While we're on the subject, if you haven't added me on myspace, why don't you go ahead and do that. I'd like to pad my friend stats before she sees it so I seem cool. Not that I need it, but yeah...I need it.

I hate the fact that I've seen more than one episode of "Shot of Love with Tila Tequila," but she's on there. Damn reality shows and their one hot girl that makes me watch. Anybody who knows me knows that she fits my "dream woman" look. She even has facial accessories. I love those. Too bad it wasn't a scar. I'll stop before I sound creepy. How did Tila get her own show? I didn't know they could find 20 people (outside of Kenny's family) who wanted to fuck a chihuahua.

Steelers won. Boosh.

That's about all I have. Hope everybody has a great Monday. Not really.

Aww, my fallback is gone (or is it?)

Picture it, a young me in my junior year in high school. I was with Josh and Greg at a church none of us went to after a football game one Friday night for some "don't drink and do bad stuff" churchy kinda thing. I'm not sure why we were there. I think maybe Greg was trying to bang some girl from that town. I can use that as the reason I was a lot of places in high school, and for the most part, it'd be accurate.

Anyway, I met this girl there. Kinda weird how we met. She initially wanted to date one of my friends and thought I'd be a good go-between. She realized he was a huge douche later on and we stayed friends. She was the first girl that I thought really "got" me. She didn't question the weird. It was great. Well, it was great until I realized it was a relationship without any of the fun stuff. She briefly dated (and slept with...ugh) my arch enemy and I think his brother. But, by God, when you're fat and desperate it takes a lot more than a black/hispanic dong to stand in the way of true love. She was a little off, too. I didn't mind, though. The only thing I didn't really care for was the fact that she'd occasionally drop the kids off at he pool while she was on the phone with me. Incase you don't catch my drift, I'm talking about pooping. It was a little weird, but who am I? The Pope? I also got the feeling that none of my friends really liked her. Most of my friends are assholes, so that wasn't much of an issue either.

We were all set to go to my senior prom, but then she said something really shitty about some friends of mine. I got pretty pissed and decided to "go a different direction" with my prom date. Turns out that sometimes beggars can be choosers. Who knew? She cried, I felt like shit. Not a great day. We had a really long talk, and during that talk she said probably the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me in the history of my life. That includes the time the guy at Burger King said, "Oh, I'm sorry sir. You only ordered one whopper? I put two in the bag and we can't take it back after we touch it. Just keep it." Ha...I'm sure you all know that last thing never happened 'cause when have I ever ordered just one Whopper? After she said the super nice thing to me, she said, "listen, three-hole punch version of db, if we're both still single at 30, we should get together. You know, just so we aren't lonely." Oh, maybe I forgot to mention she was pretty fucking crazy and possibly had some emotional issues and mental problems. Part of my attraction to her? Definitely. I likes 'em crazy and with little to no self-esteem. Mmm.

I went off to college and so did she. I almost forgot about her during that first semester, which mostly consisted Cory and I saying, "dude...we're in college," about once ever five minutes. It's a big accomplishment for two degenerate fucktards such as ourselves.

I ran into her at Best Buy once. We talked for awhile and exchanged email addresses and phone numbers. We seem to talk pretty solidly for about a week each year since then. I got a random text message from her about three years ago when I lived in that town where I went to college. It said, "I guess our deal is off. I'm engaged."

Three months later, the guy she was engaged to had an aneurysm (and not the Nirvana kind) burst in his head and he died in his sleep. She was pretty fucked up about it (obviously) and she called me. We kept in touch over the next few months, and after about seven months went by, she sent me another text that said, "We're still on for that 30 thing, right? I'm sending you a picture." I got it and holy shit she was hot. Ha. Sucker. She turned out to be super hot and I was a fat piece of shit. Joke's on her. That's when I made preparations for my time machine to take me to the future when I'm 30 (and hopefully not dead) so she could mouthify my wang (stole that from a movie, but I can't remember which.)

I can't really remember what happened after that. We lost touch until today. Today I was cleaning out a desk at work that I was thinking about moving into my office. I found an old paper and just glanced at the front page. She was on it from back in her high school days. It was probably about the time we met. I did that weird reminiscing thing where you kinda sit there with the retarded kid smirk on your face as you slowly shake your head back and forth while you look at the picture and read the caption. "I wonder what she's up to these days," I thought.

I got home tonight and there was a message on my computer. It was from her of all people. It said, "My mom said you were the new editor at the paper. Congratulations." Actually she spelled congratulations wrong, but why quote her as a dumbass? I messaged her back and asked her what she'd been up to and all that small talk bullshit. She then said, "Well, since you're there now, maybe you can tell me how much it costs to put a wedding announcement in the paper. I'm getting married in November!" "Oh wow. Congratulations," I replied.
"Thanks. I guess our 30 year thing is off again, huh?" "Yeah, I guess it is," I said as I flipped to the dog-eared page in the "A" section of my "Big Book O' Bad Shit to Wish Upon People."

E-jected: a new low

Oh I'm sorry. I was under the impression that women were looking for smart, funny guys. Guess I was wrong. I'm kidding. I gues she sensed the fat through the internet. That's how fat I've become. Women can tell by the way I write, I guess. It probably had something to do with my fingers smashing multiple keys at once.

I'm kidding. I know I'm great at almost everything ever. It just sucks that the stupid site shows me that she actually read it. Maybe she's just taking her time to craft a response that equals mine. Jeez...if that's the case, I'll never hear from her. Or maybe my description of myself/hobbies/all that stuff made me sound like a huge douche. I probably shouldn't have put "like Chris Farley, but with more sweat," in there. Oh well. Her loss or whatever you say when you try to pretend you didn't just get kicked in the e-balls.

And thus ends my internet dating experience forever. I shall put this up there with my other short-lived endeavors. Playing the bass, for one. Yeah, those were an awesome couple of days. They mostly consisted of me saying, "Cory, CORY, that sounded like Schism, huh? No? How about this time?" That might have lasted longer, but my amp was politely stolen by a black guy. I'm not saying there's a correlation between him being black and stealing my amp, but I'm also not NOT saying it.

This would have fucked with the old DB's head. Not now, though. I don't really care all that much. Does that mean I've grown up? No. It just means I'm slightly less of a douche than I was before. And that's all any of us can ask for.

I'm an idiot

I've decided to ignore the sound advice of everyone and do what I was planning on doing all along. That damn impulsiveness again. I'll let you know how it goes. The compatability test was fucking retarded. I probably failed. Why the fuck does it matter whether or not I like scary movies? I'm also changing my password for my yahoo email account. I apologize to all of you who were using my fantasy football stat tracker. Maybe you cheap asses will have to buy it yourselves?

Ok, this site is ridiculous. I'm not sure I want to be apart of a place that sends a warning message that says my profile is "to" short.

Writing that was pretty difficult. I think I started off sounding like a pretentious cockbag, but after that I wove a tale of textual suavity the likes of which I'm sure she (or the world) has never seen. Oh and lies. Plenty of those. Like Michael's suggestion about how I shouldn't mention video games and pretend to be active and not a fat couch log.

It's not so bad being 30 (or possibly 29. I'm not so great at the math.) I explained how I wasn't really 30 and why I said I was. Creepy? Probably. Is that new to me? Not a bit.

Well, it's 3:30 and I have to be at work at 7, so I should probably sleep. You all have a good day, ya hear?

WRITE IT FOR ME

So this is like chapter 4 of the patheticness that is my life. I can't think of anything good to write about myself for a possible profile thingy. Not that I'm writing one of those. Just saying, though. If I did decide to write one, I can't think of anything to write. I keep coming up with "a fat Drew Carey." Something tells me that's not going to be the flower to the ladies' bee. Also, I keep writing "flower to your bee."

So write it for me. It'll be fun. I'm not really expecting anything serious due to the jackass to non jackass ratio here. Also, I've gotta find a new site. The one I've been looking at is um...yeah. Here's a little from a profile I just saw. "i'm overweight big time and if you got a problem, don't bother contacting me. i'm in a wheelchair due to my spine deteriating." Is she Campbell's soup 'cause that sounds mmm...mmmm...good. Ooh. I just made that last part up. Let's use that.

Stuff

One last thing on the internet dating idea. I saw a profile that "appealed" to me. The only downside is that she's only looking for people closer to her age (32.) So here's my plan: I'm going to lie. I'm not that far from 30. What's five years? Am I going to be any more mature in five years. I highly doubt it. I can see myself still watching Jimmy Neutron five years from now barring it going off the air. And why would it? It's a great show. What negative things could come from me lying on an interent dating profile to try to trick a woman into thinking I'm interesting? Nothing I can see.

In "you can't make this up" news, the game between Arkansas and Auburn earlier today featured three quarterbacks. B. Cox for Auburn and C. Dick and R. Johnson for Arkansas. Cox, a Dick and a Johnson all in the same place at the same time. Surprisingly, it wasn't Kenny's mom's butthole.

Compromise

I've been thinking about the internet thing and I've decided to hold off a few months. In about four or five, I should be out of here. And who knows what could happen between now and then. I also didn't realize that living with my mom was that big of a deal. I know it's weird, but I didn't know it was that weird. It's free rent, people. We don't even talk when we see each other usually.

Ok. Enough of that. Today was kind of awesome. I found out the temp girl that works at the office is a vegetarian. Being the fat lover of all things beef/pork/fish/poultry, I decided to give her a hard time about it. I've never really understood vegetarians. She got all offensive when I asked her why she chose to be a vegetarian. She gave me this bullshit, "I don't eat anything that walks, swims or flies," speech. I said, "Wow...that really rules out ducks then, huh?" She wasn't amused. Then she followed that up with something about how animals have a soul and she can't eat anything with a soul...except boneless, skinless chicken breasts. That's when I decided she was dumb. Hypocrites are neat.

I'm having problems typing on my PC now. I use an ass-backwards Mac at work all day. Macs are ridiculous. It's like having a standard and automatic car only the standard has a bunch of extra steps to do everything and you have to drag your gas tank to the trash to open it.

Thanks for everybody's comments on the internet post. PN, welcome back. I've known some people who didn't survive missing me for so long. You're safe now, PN. You're safe now.

Michael, you need to not be such a downer. You just wait until you need my advice on something I'm an expert at. You know. That day will come when you ask something about what the best brand of frozen taquito to buy is. Who's going to be there to say negative stuff? This guy. Also if you need to know anything about ending sentences with prepositions.

Laurie, I like how you stuck the backhanded compliment in there. Second, not every woman is into the Adonis type. Well, those ladies will be out of luck in this case. This reminds me of a college conversation. "Dude, you might have a chance. She's not really into looks." And obviously she wasn't. Shazam? Shazam.

Rev, dude...you're pretty lucky they didn't have these about 28 years ago. You might have never been.

Yep, that's me.

I need feedback.

How weird are internet dating sites? How much would you look down on me if I signed up for one? This is normal these days, right? Here's the deal: I don't live in a great area for meeting new people. Anybody from here can back me up on that. There's not really a central gathering place here. There are a couple of bars, I guess, but I'm not going to find a Rachel McAdams in one of these places. I'm not even looking for a Rachel McAdams. I'm just saying. I mean, I'm aiming pretty low these days. The last girl that horrible shot me down and obviously didn't recognize the greatness that is me, well, she was like a 4. I'm being generous there. She's the one that started dating that guy who thought the word "fond" meant hate. Yeah. Ok, she was like a 3. Still being generous.

And I know I don't need somebody, but it'd be nice, I think. And people are always saying stuff like, "it's not that great," blah, blah, blah. I think that's crap, for the most part. Everybody I know that is in a relationship always seems happier more of the time than not. And I'm not saying I want to get married tomorrow or anything. I'm just tired of hanging out with dudes all the time. No offense, guys.

Here's where the internet thing comes into play. I'm sure there are girls on there looking for the same thing. If it becomes more from there, then that's great. If not, that's cool too. And the internet thing is just impersonal enough to work for me. I'm cool after the ice is broken. I think I'm even a little E-charming. It's just the real life first impressions that I suck at. Being bad at first impressions and being in an area where there just aren't a lot of single, attractive girls is a bad combination. I'm like a shitty farmer trying to grow stuff in the desert. (Bad analogies are sexy, right?)

I think I'm in a good place personally for this sort of thing now. I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. The self-esteem is starting to slowly trickle back. The self-worth is there. I don't want to drive my car into a tree nearly as much. I don't want to end up being that guy. I watched two episodes of the Pickup Artist (gayest show ever, by the way.) I'm a basement shy of being that dude who starts every conversation with girls by saying, "did you guys see that fight down there? Yeah, it was two girls fighting over some guy named George." I don't wanna be the fat guy cliche. I'm tired of playing video games all the time. I'm a great guy probably. I'm taking better care of myself (or at least I plan to.) I'm even thinking about going back to church (after football season. I'm only human. I still don't understand why God made the NFL so damn successful and on Sunday if He wanted me to go to church.) Look at all that. I'm a fucking catch, no? Did I mention that I still live with my mom? Huh? Caaaaaaaaatch!

So give me some feedback on the internet thing. Is it weird? Not weird? Stuff like that. Michael, isn't this your area of expertise? I know it isn't college football. Ha!

And I swear to God if anybody comes on here and gives me some bullshit about how I shouldn't rely on other people to make me happy, I'll hunt them down and cave their head in with a tire iron and eat what comes out. Kidding, kidding (but seriously...I'll do that.)

And for your information, Anna, I could open like a billion sets if I wanted to. And yes, those were sarcastic italics.

If this post didn't make sense, I apologize. I was watching Wedding Crashers for the 963rd time. That's probably where the Rachel McAdams reference came from. And that girl was more like a 2-2.5, but that's ok because I wrote it in tiny letters.

I'm no genius. I'm just a man (who happens to be a genius.)

Mark my words: Notre Dame wins this week against UCLA.


Michael said...
You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Notre Dame 20 UCLA 6.

Pointless end of the week stuff that not many people read because they have real lives that don't involve my blog

I enjoy pudding, but I'm not too fond of the cups it comes in. I had a thought earlier about how it'd be great if pudding was like a hand fruit. Isn't that what they are called? Hand fruits? Like apples and stuff? It would still have the same puddingy consistency, but it wouldn't get on your hands...and you'd bite like an apple. Think of how great that'd be. Pretty great, no?

Who the fuck is watching Kid Nation? Pedophiles? That's the dumbest show ever. I don't want to see kids deal with real life situations. That's stupid. I want to see them deal with cool stuff like fire and maybe bears. That would be a pretty sweet show.

After watching an ebay commercial earlier, I realized I've never held anything above my head in triumph. I really need to get on that.

Can you guys do me a favor? Can you have a great weekend? Hmm? Can you do that for me? I love most of you. A few I'm still undecided on.

Unflappable

So yesterday, my happiness kinda hit a wall. And by wall, I mean truck. And by happiness, I mean me. I'm not 100% sure who was at fault, but for the sake of this blog, I'm gonna go ahead and say he was. My poor car. Ripped off the front bumper and messed up the front end a little bit. Nothing major, though. It still drives. I look like a hillbilly driving around with no bumper, but now I actually fit in around here. This car is like my baby, though. I don't mean in the loving way. I mean in the "I tossed it in the dumpster when I was in my early teens and now it's found its way back to me and wants to be a family," kind of way. Basically, I'm stuck with it. I ran that analogy by my mom earlier and she got mad at me. Kinda makes me wonder if I struck a nerve. Maybe I have a dumpster brother/sister somewhere. Sucks for them if I'm the one they ended up keeping.

Michael, I'm gonna need you to not be in SB this weekend, ok? Actually, I don't even know if it's a home game for them. Touchdown Jesus needs to work his magic if it is. It's getting to be pretty pathetic. I'm still going with my prediction that ND beats UCLA. I couldn't bet ND to win straight up, though. Something about them being 20-point underdogs or something.

I know this is going to make me sound like an idiot, but the words I want to go with my tattoo are inspired by a Tool song. It's this song. I don't want to get all weird on you and say that this song "changed my life," but I've probably listened to this song more than any other (except maybe Mr. Brightside...that's another post for another day.) There's a message in there that really stuck with me and kept me from taking a bath with the toaster. It's kind of hard to explain the whole thing where people can understand it. Not saying you're idiots or anything, but I haven't fully figured out how to explain it. It's one of those things that might just make sense to me. Like an omelet made out of spaghetti-os and sour cream. It has to do with where I was and where I am, how inner weirdness effects outward appearance and how some things appear to be normal and fine, but are really kinda fucked up underneath. And also how all that stuff is ok, and (CLICHE ALERT) you never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Darkest before the dawn, and all that good stuff. Here's the basis for the idea again. I'm thinking black and gray with the maybe a dark blue or dark green for the irises. Not sure about the words, though. There are only going to be two. I might take the Rev's suggestion and make a new tattoo out of the words. Also taking his advice on where to get it. I'm thinking the inside of my left bicept. I'll have to not work out for awhile, though. I don't want the needle to break when it hits the STEEL. That's right, ladies.

I want to wish a happy belated birthday to my good friend, Amanda. It's just belated on here. I don't want to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm pretty awesome at remembering birthdays (except Julie...sorry.) And also an on time birthday to my pal, "Anna." For a present, I will allow you both to send me boob pics. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I believe you both are in your mid 20s? *wink*

Weird...

I don't want to turn into one of those blogs. You know the ones. The ones that are always rainbows and butterflies (Yeah, I quoted Maroon 5. Wanna fight about it?) But wow...I feel great. A special person in my life once told me that nobody is going to be happy with me until I'm happy with myself. Well, I think I'm there. And I don't mean "special" like "means a lot to me." I mean it in more the helmet wearing way. My paper forgot to turn in my direct deposit information, so I got my check two days late. I'm still happy. My radiator apparently has a crack in it. I'm not sure what that means other than it's bad. Still good, though. My boss told me today that since I've been working so much to just take Wednesday off. I love taking days off! You know what else is awesome? I haven't even made up and excuse to not go to work yet. No fake stomach virus for this guy.

I've decided that for my tattoo, I'm either going two words or no words at all. I think I'm going with English words, too. The words coupled with the eyeball tattoo won't make any sense to anybody regardless of what language they are in.

Welp...I took a pain pill for no reason and I'm kinda sleepy. You kids have a great day, ya hear?
Mark my words: Notre Dame wins this week against UCLA. I'm dumping the rest of my sports gambling money on them. Should be great odds.