Legends of the Fall and Bret Michaels

There are only two movies ever made that crack my super manly shell and make me almost tear up. The first, and I'm not ashamed to say that I almost cry every single time, is Rudy. That's the greatest movie of all time possibly. Notre Dame makes me cry now, but in a different way. I blame a certain blog reader. Seems like the Irish weren't having a problem with winning until he got there. Hmmm.

The second movie is Legends of the Fall. I watched it a little while ago. It's a great movie. The part that always gets me is when Aiden Quinn shoots the sheriff (but not the deputy) at the end to save Tristan (Brad Pitt) and his dad (Anthony Hopkins.) Then Anthony Hopkins, who had a stroke and had previously been mad at him, limps up to him and gives him a hug. Gets me every time. Another great part of that movie is at the end when Brad Pitt dies. That's how I want to go out. It's pretty much the manliest way possible. He dies stabbing a bear. When I say that I want to die stabbing a bear, I mean actually stabbing a bear and not that euphemism I use for when I have sex with Kenny's mom.

The last episode of Rock of Love with Bret Michaels was on tonight. He chose the adorable Jess instead of Heather, the dude with the penis. That was a pretty obvious choice, I thought. It's like choosing between a diamond and a piece of what may or may not be poop. After watching this show, I don't hate Bret Michaels as much as I did before. He does try to be a little too philosophical and says the word "soul" too much. Nobody is perfect, though. I guess that's why they say that eeeeeeeeeevery roooooooose has it's thorn. Somebody said that, anyway. I think it was Ratt. I'm happy things worked out for Bret. Seeing things work out for somebody, well...I guess you could say it gives me somethin' to believe in. I was going to carry that Poison song title joke out a little farther, but those are the only two I know. I've heard that the happy couple is registered at the Headband Outlet. I really hope things work out for those crazy kids. If nothing else, it made Bret Michaels relevant for another couple of minutes. God bless 'em. Knowing VH1, though, there's probably already a sequel and two spin-offs in the works. I'm still waiting for Rock of Love with Ann Wilson. Not to watch it, but to audition for it. Sexy.

An aye for an eye

Yep...that title was the gayest thing I've ever written. Anyway, my super creepy question that I was mulling over was whether or not to ask somebody if I could use her eye for the tattoo I want. She said I could. I won't say who it is, but if she wants to mention it, she can. I still think it's a little creepy. I'm shooting for May to get this tattoo done. I'll be in the Dallas area for gayhole's wedding (just kidding, Jimmy.) Speaking of which, do I get a finder's fee for that shit? I should. Wait, will I be in Dallas? I should probably know these things since I'm the best man. I don't mean in this wedding. I mean IN THE WORLD. Anyway, back to my tattoo. I want to get words in Latin around it. That's where you come in, Turd Ferguson (funny name, by the way. It's funny 'cause it's bigger than regular name.) All of this has meaning. Where I was. Where I am now. Where I will be. You know. Stuff like that. That's why I want it in Latin 'cause it's a little gay to put in words that people can read and understand. I'll write more on this later. I just worked a ridiculous 17-hour day and I'm pooped. Heh...pooped.

Have a great weekend. Try not to love me too much or forget my name too much. (Pazing!)

Creepy?

Ok, I have this huge dilemma. I need to ask somebody a favor, but it's a very strange favor. I don't even know that it's really a favor. It's just a really weird request. The thing is that I had this vision that made so much sense to me it was scary. Not one of those crazy "I saw Jesus in a corn chip" visions. A real vision. An artistic vision. If this person doesn't agree with it, then my vision is done. I can't figure out a good way to even ask. They have to be open minded from the second I open my mouth to ask the question or else it's going to sound weird. While the question itself is extremely creepy, the thought behind it isn't at all. I PROMISE. That's not even sarcasm. Neither was that. I swear on all that is good and holy that this isn't meant to be creepy. I just don't know if asking this is going to be worth the end result. Is the juice going to be worth the squeeze? Shazam! I need advice, blog readers. I won't say what it is, but I will say what it's not. It's nothing gross, naked, criminal, immoral, humiliating, controversial, invasive, um...other stuff that's bad.
It's not bad. It's just...weird. So if you think I may ask you something, just consider every weird thing you can think of. Also consider that it contains none of the things listed above. Then consider the fact that I'm adorable.

On a related issue, anybody familiar with Latin? If so, that'd be great.

Change (in the house of fries)

Yesterday I came home and sat down here to write a long post venting about my horribly shitty day. After I finished and posted it, I realized that I didn't really need to post it and I took it back down. The same thing happened today. I started to whine in an email to someone, but I ended up deleting it.

Things are changing. Today at work, I was reading a rival paper and I realized that I was 95% sure mine was better. In both style and content. Holy shit. Is this what confidence feels like? Not bad...not bad.

Things have been ridiculously great lately. The Steelers are 3-0. Nebraska almost lost to Ball St., but that's ok. Their name is hilarious. They deserve a good game. Notre Dame looks like ass, but they were bound to look like ass eventually. The personal life (minus the girlfriend part) is going well. I should be financially stable enough to hopefully celebrate my next birthday in a home where my mother doesn't live. Things just feel great. I was close to the end. I wasn't too far away from chewing on a Dora the Explorer toy. But now? Well now the thought of digesting lead-based Chinese toys doesn't even cross my mind. It's good to feel like a person again.

Something really bad is about to happen, isn't it?

Don't worry, though. I'm not going to turn into one of those "look at me. I made it through adversity" blogs. I'll keep the happy stuff to a minimum. Expect the same level of poop jokes you've all come to know and love. I've just been really busy lately. Ha! Busy! It feels great to say that and actually be telling the truth.

On an unrelated note, I've finally found the tattoo I want. I've wanted one for awhile, but I can't ever decide what I want. That shit's permanent, ya know. Here it is. Someone who can draw, draw that for me, por favor. I'm serious about this. It has meaning to me, but it's kinda gay and I don't want to go into it. I randomly came across this when I was looking for stupid pictures to photoshop. It couldn't have been more perfect.

I need help

I need a name. That whole "too lazy to think of a name" thing is kinda gay, but I was rushed. Anybody have any suggestions? I have a few, but don't really like any of them.

• Doughboy - The name I use for basically everything. Video games, fantasy football/baseball teams, email addresses.
• Lunchy McBox - My um...3rd (?) blog name. I didn't stay there long.
  
• Turtlehead - No real reason. Just makes me laugh. Honorable mention here: Teabag.
  
• Tom Selleck - Never got over the disappointment that it was taken when I made my AIM screen name.
• Arvid Engen/Dennis Blunden - Anybody?
• EDIT: Meshack Taylor's White Cousin
  

Gimme some suggestions. I just thought of another one, but I'm gonna have to photoshop some stuff to make it as funny as it is in my head.

EDIT:


It doesn't make any sense, but really, what does?

Ridiculous

I have this huge flaw. No, not the one about me being too handsome. I wouldn't exactly call that a flaw. Curse? Yes. Flaw? No. My flaw is that I tend to think that people like me more than they actually do. Not to the point where I show up at there house to just hang out uninvited because I think I'm that cool and we're great friends. Well, except for Josh and Amanda, but I've known you guys since I was a mere fetus and I don't really care. But it's just some people. I'll be going about my business and then this flaw shows itself. I think everything is cool. I've really made some kind of connection with somebody and then they go and say something about how they "don't know my last name" despite the fact that I've known them for over a year and talk to them on a semi regular basis. Of course that scenario I just described is purely hypothetical...or at least I wish it was. Your name is basically who you are. It's what identifies you. It's you. If somebody easily forgets fundamental details about you, forgetting about you all together is probably the next step. I don't know how this shit happens. I'm a fucking fantastic person. Why just the other day I won an award for the greatest guy EVER. I declined, however, because I was also set to receive the Nobel prize for humility on that very same day (which I also declined. You know...in the interest of humility.)

It amazes me and pisses me off all at the same time. It reminds me of that Indian chick in college who I shared many mutual friends. I think I met her "for the first time" about 46 times. Several readers of this very blog can back me up on that. I was going to tattoo something on my forehead so she'd remember me, but I didn't want to offend her. Get it? 'Cause she's Indian? Ah, stereotypes. Is that supposed to be like the third eye to offer more clarity or something? Hmm...maybe she should have tried a third ear so she could hear MY FUCKING NAME.

During the course of writing this, I received some news that I didn't think I really gave a shit about. Turns out I totally do give a shit about it. Huh. I think I'm going to have to put today, Sept. 20, 2007, on my list of shittiest days of my life. Probably broke the top ten. I'm going to have to put in front of that day I failed math and came home to find out my dog of 15 years had died. It comes in behind the last time this sorta thing happened, though. I saw this one coming at least. Life goes on, I guess.

I need to find a happy place.

"It's all good, baby..."

Ah, there it is. G'night, folks.

I'm an idiot

A conversation with the mayor's secretary:

Me: "So the luncheon is a the Immaculate Reception Catholic Church, right?"
Her: "The what?"
Me: "The Immaculate Conception Church..."
Her: "You said 'reception,' didn't you?"
Me: "*sigh*...Yeah"
Her: (laughing while I gradually lose all credibility as a journalist)
Me: "Well, at least Franco Harris would be proud."
Her: "Who?"
Me: "Nevermind. I'll see you guys at lunch."


I apologize, readers. I know how lame it is to post conversations nobody cares about. Oh well. At least this one actually happened.