Once I was afraid of love, but when it's your brother those things change

A few weeks ago I got a Sunday morning phone call. It was my dad, asking me about one of my high school friends and if I knew whether something had happened to him. My dad had seen something on Facebook that suggested that something had. Sadly, my friend had passed away early that morning. Nothing prepares you for that kind of news. I know I'm not exactly young anymore, but I'm still too young to be losing friends. It was a heartbreaking moment.

I wasn't able to attend his funeral. I tried and tried to figure out a way that I could make it all work, but just couldn't manage it. I'll probably always regret not going, but at least I sent his family a card with a little bit of cash to put toward funeral costs and a brief note telling them of a few fond memories I have of him, so hopefully they know he was in my thoughts.

I've mentioned him a few times on this blog: There was the time he and I killed Ramone, I told you about him coming up with what might be the best catch phrase ever (see the footnote on the linked post), and he also came up with the worst pick-up line I've ever heard. Of course there are other stories, and in honor of his memory, I'll share another here.

We were in eighth grade and took a class field trip to visit Fremont Indian State Park as part of our Utah history class (I think). We learned about how the Native American relicts were discovered with the construction of a new freeway, about what had been learned about their culture by the archaeologists who'd worked in the area, and we listened to some stories about some of their gods and legends. We also got to see many of the artifacts (baskets, arrowheads, pottery, etc.) that were on display. At the end of the day, we were to go on a hike to look at the rock art after having the difference between petroglyphs and pictographs explained to us.

Through some misunderstanding, a rather large group of us (15 or so boys) didn't realize that we were only to go on the hike if we had a teacher, chaperone, or park employee with us, so we took off on our own. (Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly a "misunderstanding" because at one point we heard one of the teachers with a group of students coming down the trail, so we hid from them, ensuring that we didn't have to go back to the bus just then.) We hiked around, looked at the petroglyphs, took off our shirts to get a tan, had a "contest" to see who had the most armpit hair (spoiler alert: it wasn't me), rolled boulders down the side of the mountain to see if we could splash them in the river below, and just generally had a good time. At one point, my friend (who was Navajo) sat down to eat the lunch that he'd packed, and ended up dropping some cheese on the rocks. He called out to the rest of us and said, "Look! Cheese-O-Glyphs!" then declared he would leave it there for future generations to see, because after all, he was the only Native American in the group.

Eventually we made our way back to the visitor's center and the parking lot, where unbeknownst to us, the rest of our classmates had been waiting on the bus for over an hour while the teachers were out looking for us. Needless to say, we were in a lot of trouble. As punishment, we weren't allowed to go on any more field trips for the rest of the year, and all of us who'd gone AWOL had to write a seven page paper describing in great detail what we'd done while everyone else was waiting for us back at the bus, then read it in front of our classmates so that they could experience all the fun that we'd had while they waited. Not all of us took the assignment seriously. I turned mine in on miniature notebook paper, which just infuriated the teacher and earned me an additional five pages that I had to write (a 12 page paper to an eighth grade student was sheer torture - Now, I'd love to write a paper that was "only" 12 pages long).

One of our other friends wrote about how we were gone so long because we followed the smell of the peace pipe down into the ant world, where we couldn't return until we were able to trick an eagle into flying us up through the hole in the sky to deliver us back to the parking lot. It was a derivative of one of the legends the park ranger had told us. Of course, that earned us a 30 minute lecture from the teacher on not mocking others' beliefs, and got another five pages tacked onto the end of his assignment as well. Seriously, don't ever teach junior high school kids. We were all so very annoying.

There are so many other stories to tell. There was the first time I met him: I was in seventh grade and he was the new kid seated next to me in English class. He told me he was Navajo, so I asked him to teach me some Navajo words. He told me to say, "clit" so I did. Then, when I asked him what it meant, he just laughed. Turns out he had a lot of fun being surrounded by naive Mormon kids. Then there was the time he ground up birth control pills and told everyone it was from a pixie stick and got them to taste it. Or the time we won in the playoffs in football, then stayed to watch the next game, and he went up and asked one of the cheerleaders from another team out on a date. (A year later, I took that same girl to our junior prom.)

He had the most infectious laugh. It was impossible to hear it and not at least crack a smile. I'm going to miss hearing that. And I'm going to miss getting voice messages that simply say, "Where the white women at?" followed by laughter and nothing else. It's hard to believe he's gone. I get tears in my eyes every time I think about it.

For some reason, every time I've thought about him passing away I think of the lyrics from the Jon Bon Jovi song Never Say Die. It might be because Young Guns was one of our favorite movies at the time we met. It might be because the lyrics themselves somehow describe our friendship. Maybe there are parts that remind me of his military service (he was a marine). Or maybe it's just one of the few songs that come to mind that sing about death. Regardless, I find it somewhat therapeutic (particularly the very last verse), so I'm going to post them here.

As we stood there older than the men

And younger than the boys

We were still as the wind

That blows on a hot August night

And you were lonesome as a jukebox

But deadly just the same

I could be as gentle as a newborn

Then spit into the eye of a hurricane

And we knew how to laugh

And we knew how to cry

Yeah we sure knew how to live

But we don't ever

Never say die

Never say die

I guess you'd say we had a pact

These words we knew so well

Still they remained unspoken

And we'd take them to the fiery gates of Hell

Once I was afraid of love

But when it's your brother those things change

'Cause love is just another words for trust

So hear me when I say

Never say die

Never say no

You've gotta look them in the eye and don't let go

When it's your own blood you bleed

And your own tears you cry

When you're brought up to believe

That it's the strong who survive

Never say die

Yeah and we could run like lightning

Through the pouring rain

And we'll be standing like a soldier

Who comes marching home again

They ask what it is that I want written

On the gravestone where I'll lie

Tell them it's just my bones that died there

So save the tears they'll cry

'Cause my spirit is still riding

Somewhere in this night

When it's these three words that come to me as I kiss this world goodbye

Never say die

Never say no

You've gotta look them in the eye and don't let go

When it's your own blood you bleed

And your own tears you'll cry

When you're brought up to believe

That it's the strong who survive

Never say die

Rest in peace, Elston Louis. You were a true friend, and you will be missed!

I need some air that no-one's been breathing

I seriously don't know where the time goes anymore. I went on a hike last weekend, and meant to post about it before now, but better late than never I guess.

It all started when I posted one of the pictures from the drive I went with on my brother on Facebook. One of my old high school friends commented on how gorgeous it was, and then said that the next thing I needed to do was meet her and her husband for a hike the next morning. I haven't seen either of them since high school, but it was a hike I'd been wanting to do all summer long, but thought there would still be too much snow to make it up that high. There was still snow, but she said they'd heard it was passable, so I joined them. It wasn't a hard decision to make. I'm really glad I went. It was nice catching up with the two of them, and the scenery was simply phenomenal. Here are some of the pics I took.

It's been a relatively cool summer, so there were still plenty of wildflowers:



As expected, we did have to cross a few snow fields:



The view from the other side of the first snow field wasn't too shabby:



And it just kept on getting better. This is my favorite picture from the hike:



Here are some hikers and their dog that were crossing another snow field in front of us:



The scariest part for me was that I'd lost my sunglasses, and was worried about getting snow blindness. I had to squint my eyes as much as possible while walking across the snow so as not to burn my retinas. I think I did sunburn my eyelids, even though I'd applied sunblock, but better the outside of those than the eyes themselves. Luckily, everything turned out fine.

We eventually came up along a ridge just before making our final ascent to the summit. The view was pretty good on both sides of the trail:





The summit was pretty cool too:





But perhaps the funnest part of the entire hike was when we were crossing one of the steep snow fields, and decided to follow someone else's slide rather than walk back down. Here's a picture that shows you how steep the slope was:



And here's one of the slide itself:



We also saw a commode that has a view that rivals any:



No, I didn't use it.

At some point during our ascent, my friend told me that I hadn't changed a bit since high school. She added that she was glad that it wasn't weird hanging out again after all this time.

"Really? I think I've changed a lot since high school."

"Yeah?" she asked, "How so?"

I answered, "I'm way more cool now than I ever was back then."

All in all, it was a good day!

Now in the future, cloners won't make much money

This week I emailed an old friend the link to this article about a Japanese researcher's plan to clone a mammoth. They plan on using an elephant as a surrogate mother for an egg implanted with a nucleus from a mammoth cell taken from a specimen that was preserved in ice.

I wrote:

Remember when you used to say that some day they'd clone them successfully, and then they'd become pests and start knocking over your garbage cans in the middle of the night and you'd just shake your head and say, "Damn mammoths. Why'd they have to bring THOSE back?"

Well, looks like we're on our way.

He responded:

I only remember that because you brought it up and I thought, "yeah, that sounds like something dumb enough to come from my lips."

If you go to Eastern Europe though, you'll see some of the women and know that these Japanese researchers are wasting their time...Mammoths are alive and well.

We've got California in our eyes come on and catch us if you can

Has it really been a week since I last posted? Don't worry, I didn't drop off the face of the earth. Almost, but not quite. I went to California for the long holiday weekend.

Here's a little bit of what I've been up to since I last posted:

Thursday 7/1
Drove to California from Vegas - Saw Sloan perform at House of Blues in Los Angeles.

Friday 7/2
Hit the beach in Malibu - saw my first dolphins in the wild. Perhaps more importantly, saw many babes in bikinis. Spent the evening walking around a shopping area near my friend's apartment, bought some cool fish mugs, and tried some of the best Indian food I've had in quite some time.

Saturday 7/3
Visited the La Brea tar pits and the L.A. County Museum of Art. While there, my friend painted a picture of my "essence", and I did the same for her husband. I'll scan those later. I'm not going to lie, they're pretty amazing pieces of art. Also saw an Andy Warhol exhibit, and a lot of other cool things. Had dinner at an amazing Italian restaurant (apparently ranked top 10 for L.A., but we didn't know that until we were already seated), and even proposed to a piece of chocolate cake with a diamond ring and all. The cake said no. Still we had an amazing night together, but in the morning she was gone. Later we walked back down to the beach at Santa Monica, and saw a pretty cool fireworks display that was going on near Malibu. I'm now convinced that nothing beats sitting alone on a beach watching fireworks. It turned out to be much more enjoyable than the fireworks display we "saw" on Independence Day.

Sunday 7/4
Walked along Venice Beach and saw all of the associated madness. I wanted to get my picture taken with the "Kush Doctor" but didn't want to have to explain that I didn't actually want a prescription for medical marijuana. There was a muscleman competition going on at muscle beach, which I found hilarious for some reason. (Probably just jealousy.) Later we went back to the beach near my friend's apartment, then tried to go south to see a fireworks show at Marina Del Ray. It was a madhouse, and by the time we found a spot to sit, we quickly realized that we couldn't see any fireworks, so we just left before it was done. Luckily we'd seen a better fireworks display the night before so didn't feel too sorry for ourselves.

Monday 7/5
Toured Mission San Gabriel. It was pretty cool to see a little about the history of colonization of Southern California. I also saw a little bit of the UCLA campus and then drove home to Vegas.

In other words, it was not a bad way to spend a few days. I'll post pictures later. (I got some pretty cool ones.)

At every occasion I'll be ready for a funeral

Last week, one of my best friends lost his mother. Her funeral was on Saturday. I debated long and hard about whether I was too busy to go, then realized that it shouldn't matter how busy I am, some things have to be more important than anything else. Close friends fall into that category, so I went. I'm glad I did.

A few observations from the weekend:

- The good ones always seem to leave us too early.

- Cancer is a bitch.

- There is absolutely nothing you can say to console someone who has just lost their mother.

- Ditto for someone who has just lost the love of their life.

- My way of dealing with grief is to try and laugh it off (sometimes it works, sometimes it makes me look like a jerk).

- It's good to see old friends, even if it is at a funeral.

She's got hands like a mans with hair on the back, she'll crush you in her embrace

I have a friend who is preparing to take his comprehensive exam. He's sworn off alcohol from now until he takes them so that he can maximize productivity, even on weekends. He will, however, still come hang out with us because he's got about a month between now and then and outright panic hasn't set in yet. Last night we were hanging out, but the place we were at was pretty dead so there was talk about going elsewhere.

Friend 1: Let's get out of here.
Friend 2: Ok, but where should we go?
Friend 1: I don't know. Anywhere but here. This place is dead.
Friend 2: Want to go to the trannie bar?
Friend 1: I don't know. Do they serve O'Doul's there?
Friend 3: Wait. He wants to go to a trannie bar, and your biggest concern is whether or not they have O'Doul's? I think there are larger issues at stake.

I guess some people just have different priorities than others.

Born on a desert floor you've got the deepest thirst

I spent the bulk of Friday night out at the dry lake bed. Unlike last time, we didn't have a good old fashioned book burning, but we did have fun, even if we were killing diapause eubranchiopod embryos.

Here's what the carnage looked like:



Fire is cool.

Neither one of us is one of them

There's a new restaurant/bar in town that just opened on Sunday. My friends wanted to try it out because they have 160 beers on tap, including one friend's favorite beer in the world, which, until recently, he could only get if he was close to Missoula, MT. So, that's where we spent our Friday evening.

I arrived the same time as two of my other friends. They weren't entirely sure where the place was, so they followed me through the parking lot. It was rather full, but as I drove through one of the rows of cars I saw a parking space that was close. I waved at my friends so they would take it, then drove further down the row, parked, then caught up with them as they were getting out of their car.

Him: Why didn't you take that spot?
Me: Because I was going to go over there and get handicapped.
Her: But then he already was handicapped, so he didn't need to.

As we walked up to the door, my friend ran ahead and opened the door for some women, and then for us.

Me: I would have grabbed the door, but I'm gimpy. I probably shouldn't even be out.
Her: It's okay, I'm frumpy. Hey! Gimpy and Frumpy: We're the other two dwarves.

Back in the summer of '75 when it felt so good just to be alive

HIghlights from a phone conversation I just had with an old friend from high school:

Him: How the hell did you guys let that happen to you?
Me: Let what happen?
Him: Kids!
Me: Well, let me explain something to you. A guy has something called a penis. A woman has something called a vagina. Sometimes, when those two things come into contact, a baby gets made.
Him: I'm not talking about that part. I'm talking about being careful. You have to be careful. I've always been careful. I have a baloney sandwich in my refrigerator. A baloney sandwich!!! I can't even take care of myself, let alone a kid.


Me: I go in for my steroid shot tomorrow morning.
Him: Is that going to make your balls shrink?
Me: I hope not.
Him: It is. It's going to make your balls shrink.
Me: Well, then I'll have to do something else to make sure they stay big.
Him: No you don't. You don't need big balls anymore. You've already got three kids.


Him: What are your plans for the day?
Me: Well, first I have to get out of bed. Then I have to clean a little because the friends I'm house-sitting before are coming home today.
Him: Clean? It's not even your house. What do you have to clean?
Me: I don't have to do much. Just change the cats' litter box, do the dishes, stuff like that.
Him: Do the dishes? What are you, gay?


Him: I kind of get tired about the lack of culture around here.
Me: Yeah?
Him: Yeah. Around here people think culture is eating Mexican food from Taco Bell.


Him: It kills me that you all got married. I'm the only one that never got a degree. Never got married. Never had kids.
Me: Ah, but that just means you've been able to sleep with more women. How many are you up to now?
Him: Wait, do hookers count?
Me: Sure.
Him: Ok. Seventy.

I am so homesick, but it ain't that bad, 'cause I'm homesick for the home I never had

For the first time in my life, I'm spending Christmas away from my family. I have to admit, it's a little depressing even though I should be grateful that I've been fortunate enough to go 32 years before experiencing it for the first time. I would say I'm homesick, but I'm not sure that term really applies. I miss people, and I miss places, but at different times and in different ways. Right now I'm missing people.

My parents have lived a somewhat nomadic life. They've moved something like 33 times since they've been married. They've moved twice since I graduated from high school. As a result, I don't really have a home town, and since I never lived in the house they're in now, it doesn't really feel like home either. After all, it's not like I ever had a room there or anything. Not to mention the fact that I don't really know anyone who lives there besides my family (well, there are a few people I went to high school with there, but I don't go visit them because we're not as cose as we once were). Don't get me wrong, I like to visit, but that's because my family's there, not because I feel like I'm going home. In fact, when people ask me if I'm going home for various holidays I usually respond with, "I'm going to my parents' house." It's a subtle distinction, but it's more correct.

For the most part, I grew up in a small town in southern Utah (after spending years 1-6 in western Montana). When I was in high school we moved to an even smaller town in northeastern Utah (the very northeastern corner to be exact). Driving through these towns almost always brings back a flood of memories on the rare occasions that I do it, but they don't feel like home because the people are missing.

Last month, when my daughter got shot in the eye, I drove to Salt Lake City, and as I pulled into town got the feeling that I was home. The funny thing about that is I've never lived in Salt Lake City. However, my kids live there now, as does my best friend from high school. I always have a place to stay. I can always spend time with someone who is near and dear to me when I'm there. I wish I could do that this week.

Luckily, I've got some friends here in town that are taking care of me this Christmas. Without them, I think I'd be getting really depressed.

Come on baby be my bad boyfriend

Some friends of mine spend a lot of time baking cookies and giving them out to their friends every Christmas. The cookies are quite fancy, and quite tasty. They gave me a plate full last week. Having the sweet tooth that I do, it only took a couple of days to plow through them. Through most of them at least. However, there were a couple that I didn't eat. I didn't go to work for a few days, and those just sat on my desk uncovered. When I went back to work earlier this week, I offered one of them to a guy I work with. He grabbed one, took a bite, and realized that it had gotten very hard in the time it had sat uncovered.

Him: I'll swallow it, but only because it's in my mouth.

Me: Is that your motto for everything?

Him: Pretty much.

Me: In that case, I've got something else for you.

The everliving ghost of what once was

The other night I was sitting in my car in the parking lot to a movie theater listening to music while I waited for a girl to show up. We had agreed to see Wristcutters: A Love Story (great movie by the way), but I had miscalculated the time it would take to drive across town, and arrived twenty minutes early. I didn't mind waiting. I just sat in the car listening to music to kill the time, which is something I enjoy doing anyway.

However, as I sat there listening to music, it occurred to me what day it was. Nov 11. Also known as the day my ex-wife and I officially separated. It took nearly three years for the divorce to be finalized. Those were the most emotionally draining three years of my life. It won't come as a surprise to anyone who knew me during that time that I was extremely depressed.

Flash back to that time period a few years ago, when I first moved to Vegas. I already knew a guy in the Ph. D. program because we'd worked on our master's degrees together, so I stepped into an immediate group of friends who did a lot of things together. A couple times a week we'd all meet up after school, usually at a particular bar that was close to campus which had great happy hour specials. On one occasion in particular, I was listening to Ryan Adams' Demolition on the way to meet up with them, and just broke down in tears on the way. I ended up being quite late because I just sat in the parking lot listening to music and sobbing. Once I got it all out, it took a few minutes to compose myself and go inside. I offered up some excuse about how I was sorry it took me so long to get there, but it was because I got caught up responding to an email or something like that. Of course, they knew better, but they never said anything to let me know that they knew.

I never told any of my friends (or family) thanks for getting me through that difficult period of my life. I don't think most of them can even comprehend how much they helped me. So, for the few of you who were there for me that read this, thank you. I've come a long way since then. Now I listen to music in my car to kill time, or because I want to hear the rest of a good song, not because I'm trying to get myself together before going into a public place. That's a big difference.

I know it's hard sometimes for you to tell where you end and where the world begins

Yes, I'm still alive. I've just been too busy being without internet access for the past four days to have posted anything. But, it was having no internet access in a good way, meaning that I was in the mountains, in an awesome cabin, with a big group of friends. Oh, and I bought a mountain bike.

For the past three years, a friend that I don't see very often has organized a "mountain biking" weekend at Brian Head, a ski resort town in southern Utah. I haven't owned a mountain bike for several years, so the first year we did this I just went for the fun of being away from it all, but one of my friends crashed and hurt his knee, so I was able to use his bike the following day. The second year another of my friends was going, but was facing a highly stressful event otherwise known as his comprehensive exam, so he basically studied the entire weekend (just in a different environment). Since he wasn't going to be able to ride at all, he let me use his bike in exchange for storing it for him for a couple of months while he was in the process of moving. This year, I didn't have any such options, so I decided I'd rent one, or maybe buy one if I could find something I liked for a good price. As luck would have it, the bike shop just down the street from our cabin had a Trek 4500 (a decent starter bike) for sale for $285, and it was the right size. It sounds like a lot of money, sure, but it was marked down about $150, and was less than half the price of the bike I'd almost talked myself into buying. Since it rained all day long on the day I bought the bike, I had to wait until yesterday to take it out.

It felt pretty good, except for the four times that I wiped out (three of my crashes sent me flying over the handle bars - stupid tree roots - I really need to get better at this mountain biking thing).

In addition to the mountain biking, I also went to Bryce Canyon and hiked a little. I also drove through Zion National Park and hiked Angel's Landing on the way back to Vegas. It was a good weekend.

I took some more pics, but left my camera at home, so I'll have to update this later to include some of those.

------------------------------------UPDATE------------------------------------

Bryce Canyon:

Me on the new bike:

The trail to Angel's Landing (yes, we walked along that ridge):

The View from Angel's Landing:

Underneath the blue neverending sky

Oh, hi there. I believe I promised some pictures of my trip to Sedona, didn't I? Well, I have some. If you're really nice I'll let you see them.

What's that? You promise to be really nice? Ok, here are a few pics.

And just for good measure, here's a video showing that I'm still capable of being daring. I was a trendsetter here. This wasn't my first jump, but I was the first to do it.

Now that you've seen the pictures I'll tell you this: You should have asked what my definition of really nice was before you agreed to my terms.

Where have all the friends gone?

On my way back from British Columbia, I stopped in Seattle to spend a little time with one of my best friends from high school. He and I haven't seen each other in eight years, and since I was four days ahead of schedule (my trip went better than planned, even though I forgot to sacrifice a virgin to the volcano gods before I left. Hey, you try finding a virgin in Las Vegas. And a volcano for that matter.) I decided to stay there for a day. It was great to catch up. What I found was that he and I have lived very different lives.

Here are a few examples:

• He has lived in 39 different countries. I have lived in three states.
• He goes fishing for King Salmon in Canada on weekends. I blog.
• He makes a lot of money. I make $600 a year.
• He rides a Ducati. I drive a Sentra.
• He has hung out with the Maloof brothers. I've watched a movie in their casino.
• He has slept with a lot of gorgeous women. I haven't.
  

Even with those differences, hanging out with him was just like old times.

Him: I'm going to take you to one of the swankiest night spots in Seattle.
Me: Sounds good, but I don't have anything to wear.
Him: You will in a second. Here, put this on. It's a $200 t-shirt.
Me: Ok. Wow, it's tight. I think you can see my nipples.
Him: It's supposed to be tight. Here, let me see. You look gay. Perfect, let's go.


When we reached our destination he started complaining that it was mostly guys in the crowd. It was a total sausagefest, but there were at least a few attractive ladies.

Me: Well, that lady over there is pretty cute.
Him: Yeah, but she's got the ass of a twelve year old boy. I like it!


We got bored of that place after a while, then he and his friends decided we should hit another place just down the street. As we were walking he lit up a cigarette (Seattle has a ban on indoor smoking).


His Friend: Do you have any more cigarettes?
Him: Why yes, yes I do.


He then proceeded to take cigarettes out of the pack one at a time, throw them on the ground and stomp on them. It cracked me up. Mostly because I knew that's what his reaction would be even before he acted.


The next morning as he was leaving for work he told me to just lock everything up when I left.


Him: Like I told you yesterday, I'm leaving town for the weekend, but if you want to stick around another couple of days, the apartment is yours. It's a pretty nice bachelor pad for you to bring girls back to. I mean, look at that. Girls take their panties off when they see that view. It's automatic.

I should have taken him up on that!

Here's the view from his apartment:

Here's the view from my room:

Lurking behind every curtain

One of my friends has been hanging out with a new girl. She recently broke up with her boyfriend. After my friend hung out with her once or twice, her ex-boyfriend started sending him emails. Yesterday he was telling me a little bit about it. Let's just say it's a weird situation and leave it at that.

As we finished our conversation my friend jokingly said, "Oh, and one more thing. If I should end up dead, you know who to send the police after. Also, feel free to look through my CDs at the house and take whatever you want."

Is it wrong to start secretly rooting for the ex-boyfriend? My friend does have a lot of good music.

Well I can tell you for the money the simple life honey is good

When I got out of bed this morning, my roommate was standing right outside my bedroom door folding laundry. It startled me to walk out of my room and almost bump into him because I wasn't expecting him to be standing there.

Him: I'm sorry. Was I being too loud?
Me: No. I just didn't realize you were out here because I didn't hear you at all.
Him: Well, I had to be quiet so as not to disturb the princess.

I'm sure his comment had nothing to do with this:



One of my friends gave it to me last night along with a couple bags of candy (my friends know me so well).

By the way, thank you all for the birthday wishes yesterday.

Here's the thing that's so much more depressing than the infidelity itself

Last night I was listening to Pedro the Lion. A friend of mine gave me the album Control shortly after my ex-wife and I separated. Back then it suited my mood just about perfectly with its lyrics about infidelity, jealousy, revenge, etc.

Below are a few examples that I can think of off the top of my head (listed by song):

Rapture: This is how we multiply, pity that it's not my wife. The friction and skin, the trembling sigh. This is how our bodies move with everything that we can lose. Pushing us deeper still the sheets and the sweat, the seed and the spill. The bitter pill yet undiscovered. Gideon is in the drawer, clothes scattered on the floor. She's arching her back, she screams for more.

Penetration: If it isn't penetration then it isn't worth the kiss.

Rehearsal: You know I always said that I would kill you if I ever caught you stepping out. But now I see I did not know the half of what hatred and revenge were all about. Darlin' you are so unoriginal, each move more obvious than the one before it. I guess I could be bigger but I'd rather make you pay.

Second Best: Second best. Second best. I guess I can live with it. After all what's wrong with second best?

Priests and Paramedics: The neighbors heard a fight. Someone had a knife. It must have been the wife. Husband's lost a lot of blood, wakes up screaming, "Oh my God! Am I gonna die? Am I gonna die?" As they strap his arms down to his side. In times like these they've been taught to lie, "Buddy, just calm down you'll be alright."

I could go on, but I think you get my point.

Pedro the Lion is one of the few bands of which I own a t-shirt.



A different friend of mine bought it for me once he realized that I liked the band. I wear the shirt occasionally, and usually someone will ask about it. One day I was talking to him while I was wearing it when a girl asked me about it.

Her: Who's Pedro the Lion.
Me: It's the name of a band.
Her: Really? I've never heard of them.
My Friend: Oh, that's because [Minnow] and I are the only people in the world who have been able to listen to an entire album without killing ourselves.

The band broke up early last year, but the lead singer (and main artist behind it all), David Bazan, is still doing solo work. He's good, in case you're interested in some music that may or may not make you want to kill yourself.

Hang down my umbilical noose so I can climb right back

A friend of mine hosted a two-on-two basketball tournament yesterday. Initially, he wanted to make sure that those of us who play on a regular basis were on separate teams in order to keep it fun and not too competitive. However, as the tournament approached, he decided to let anyone that wanted to play pair up, regardless of skill level, just to make sure that there were some teams. That's how I was able to form team Shake 'n Bake with my friend Piz.

Our game plan largely consisted of coming up with uniforms (white wife beater shirts and Mardi Gras beads) and memorizing lines from the movie Talladega Nights to use as trash talk.

For example:

- We're gonna' come at you like a couple of spider monkeys.
- One of you turds is about to get smacked in the mouth.
- I'm the best there is, plain and simple, I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence.

Yeah, we're annoying.

Piz and I were talking the evening before the tournament:

Piz: Are we going to win this basketball tournament tomorrow?
Me: Of course.
Piz: Is that going to help us feel better about our lives?
Me: I certainly hope so.

We won the tournament, and while I can't really speak for Piz, it didn't help me feel all that much better about my life. Maybe it's because we don't have the trophy yet.

There were a lot of people who didn't play but showed up just to have fun watching the games, dying Easter eggs, barbecuing, etc. I'm only bringing this up so that I can tell you one of the funniest things I heard all night. My friend's daughter asked what color of egg I wanted, and then dyed one red and yellow for me. When they left, they took most of the eggs with them, but I made her leave mine. I was carrying it around, saying that nobody could eat it because it was my egg, when a guy made a crack about my masculinity.

Him: Your egg huh? You know, most guys wouldn't be able to say that.
Me: It is my egg. I keep it in my vagina.
Him: A vagina is not a fanny pack.

Fire it up

Last night I watched my friends play softball. They lost (again), but this time it was probably just because the other team was made up of guys who live to play softball. What pleasure you get out of stacking a team with a bunch of guys who are pretty decent and then playing in a novice league is beyond me, but apparently it helps some people feel better about life. And by some people I'm specifically referring to the really fat pitcher on the other team. I haven't seen anything jiggle like that since the girl we nicknamed Jugs competed in one of those sack races in high school. When she was bouncing up and down all over the place it was awesome (you should have seen it, every guy in the school lined up to watch that one, including the male teachers and principal). When the pitcher's man boobies and fat gut were jiggling all over the place as he ran the bases, it was most certainly not awesome. I really wish that I'd had some sort of recording device so that I could have slowed it down, put it to music and shared it with you all via YouTube, but you'll just have to use your imaginations. Personally, I'd want to play in a league that was competitive so the games would actually be interesting. There's really no joy in winning a league championship if you didn't really have to compete for it, but maybe that's just me.

I was not dressed for the occasion. I knew that it was supposed to cool down yesterday, but figured I could still get away with wearing shorts and sandals. I was wrong. It was cold!

(Those of you who are not from Vegas are probably snickering about what wimps we are here, in which case I challenge you to come here in July when the temperature is 117 and we'll see who's wimpier).

I had to break down and put on the big gay sweatshirt my parents got me for Christmas (live by the rod, die by the rod). That wasn't even enough so I put on a windbreaker too. Even with that, I still got too cold just sitting on the bleachers so stood up throughout the second game of their double header figuring that it would help a little, and it did.

While we were standing there, I offered to warm up one of my friends by putting my jacket around her to shield the wind.

Girl 1: That actually does help a little.
Me (to Girls 2 and 3): Come on you two, there's plenty of room. It'll warm you up.
Girl 2: It might heat up in other ways.
Me: True. It'd probably start a fire in my pants.

Now that, my friends, would be a proper way to start a fire in your pants.