i gotta be honest. it's awful hard to maintain my PMA with this nonsense.
there is no good reason I didn't get that job.
i guess all i can do is keep my head up and work that much harder.
posi is as posi does.
and I'm so damn slack I don't post shit about it until the following week.
Happy belated birthday to that good friend of ours, Breakin' the Lawlor.
Here's some evidence of the fun that was predicated on yer special day.
A bunch of drunks milling around
The Birthday Girl and her obedient Man-servant and partner in water sports.
Is it Matt, is it Moby? You make the call!
The Orfn of Death Metal
As I am being a good little Carrie Nation boy until the 4th of Ju-la, I was able to partake in the festivities AND remember them. No small feat. It was one of those great nights when there was a bunch of people mucking about, talking, laughing, drinking, singing, and reveling in general good spirits. A hardy kudos to Michelle for having a birthday worth celebrating.
After that, the weekend just kept going. Saturday I worked, Sunday I played an abysmal round of golf at Miry Run. Still had a good time though, just proving that old maxim that golf, like sex, is one of those wonderful activities that you don't have to be very good at to enjoy. Unfortunately I was compelled by golf, stink, food, and Fatter's company to miss a friend's friend's bar-b-que. Hopefully it wasn't a crucial bar-b-q. Thanks anyway to the ladies for the invite. But Deadwood was great again.
Yesterday I played Pitch and Putt with Frank not once but twice. We hit up the Mo'ville Golf Farm and I whooped his ass, as per my usual. Then, after his tattoo appointment went down the drain we scouted out a place in Wall Township called Quail Ridge. The grounds were nice, but the greens were like the backs of whales sticking out of the ground. Seriously steep shite. Frank hit an absolutely spectacular shot that was two inches away from a hole-in-one and his tap in birdie gave him the stroke he needed to beat me.
I don't really work, so I don't really have a "weekend" unless you want to say my weekend runs from Sunday to Friday, since I only tend bar Saturday nights unless I pick up extra shifts. That gives me a whole lot of free time. Anyone got ideas for what I can do with myself, keeping in mind that I don't have much money. And replying "get a job" is useless, so in the words of Vincent, "Don't waste my motherfuckin' time!"
He came down the stairs in a hurry and almost fell from stopping so suddenly. Of course, he didn't expect her to be sitting on his couch. He didn't expect anyone to be in his house, but certainly not her. Not here. Not now.
She looked like shame would look, if it could fit into a light cotton dress. The coy look and the sudden shock of her being there again, in his house, combined to make him wish various things: first that he had better eye sight with which to study all of the perfection that was she, also that he wasn't in a hurry so that he had remembered to lock the door, and finally that he hadn't left his pistol hanging in the closet. For the few moments when he just stared at her, wondering how something so beautiful could be so deadly, there was almost a complete lack of sound. Even the usual noises of traffic or birdsong just held their breath for the slice of time it takes to realize your fate. She let the moment dangle, teetering just on the edge of whatever cliff he was about to join them over.
It was torturous to know that he would die without ever kissing someone as beautiful as her, and was beginning to wonder if it was worth the extra pain she would surely inflict if he fought her, if only to get closer. Close enough to kiss her. That would be his final act of defiance. She would kill him, she was better. But before he died, he would make a point of kissing her, and he would leave her messy. His blood on her dress. The perfect end for someone like him. Desperation, passion, an empty gesture, and ruining someone else's day. Once he understood the situation, he could think of no better way to die than trying to put his lips on her's.
You know, kid, ethics isn't about choosing between right and wrong; it's about choosing between grey and grey. It's about choosing between two equally desirable but mutually exclusive courses of action. Freedom or security? Courage or comfort? Self-examination or blissful happiness? Column A or Column B?
With kudos to Kelly Gierman, from whose journal this link was ganked.
"If being gay is a sin, shorting me a Taco Supreme is a war crime."
I know who my friends are
woke up before 9 o'clock. yes this is a big deal.
had two eggs, scrambled, and some toasted seedless italian bread for breakfast.
went to the gym, stretched, warmed up on the treadmill, 1 mile. worked my biceps, then did interval training on the treadmill. 3 miles. more stretching.
came home, and had two chicken patties for lunch.
got a phone call asking me to work a birthday party at the pub for some local politician.
picked Frank up at his place.
kicked Frank's pooper at Pitch n' Putt at the Mo'Ville Golf Farm. had two birdies, but didn't shoot as well as I did last time. 4 strokes higher.
had a really good bacon cheeseburger for dinner at Denny's.
made over a hundred bucks for working two hours at the pub.
saw one of the most beautiful women I've encountered in quite a while.
played guitar with Tom and Devon for about two hours, also at the pub. my fingers are raw.
called Natasha and told her how much I love her and miss her.
begged, pleaded, coerced, and cajoled everyone I know to come to the pub tomorrow night for the first ever Karaoke night at Tir na nOg. do it.
planned to read a bit of the book Mike is lending me before I fall asleep.
(I'll let you know how that one turned out)
& & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & &
I just found this in a poem I wrote last year. The poem is shite, but I really dig this bit:
the sun just sets
and I'm told that opposites attract
you are so beautiful
I don't get more opposite than that
I guess I never will, I guess I've got to let this go but I can't, still...
de·fect n.
1. The lack of something necessary or desirable for completion or perfection; a deficiency: a visual defect.
2. An imperfection that causes inadequacy or failure; a shortcoming.
ok. here's one I don't get.
it's a beautiful day, early spring. the sun is shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. there's just enough of a cool breeze to keep the warmth of the sun from being hot on your skin. the air is light and easy, not at all oppressive like it can be in summer. all around, just gorgeous weather.
and people are driving around like maniacs, desperately searching for the closest possible parking spot...
to the gym.
sometimes i think this society is hopeless.
at least on the way home i saw a bumper sticker that read:
Ignorance and arrogance is not good foreign policy.
so there's that.
There are cool characters in movies, and then there is ...
Everyone, go see Sin City. Twice.
