I've been roamin' around always lookin' down on all I see

Somebody recently forwarded me an Amber Alert email for a girl who'd gone missing from somewhere in the mid-west. I didn't pass it on. Does anybody read those anyway? Would you actually remember the face of someone you saw there? Of all the missing kids' pictures that you see, do you really expect to be able to pick one of those faces out of a crowd should you encounter them? Same goes for missing people on milk containers. There are so many of them these days that I don't even look at them anymore. Isn't that something that might have been effective when they first started doing it, but has sort of lost it's ability to do what it's intended to do? Or am I just a dick?

Well I can't cope, but I'm no dope

I've been tagged by Delirious to tell six quirky things about me. I'll play along, but I'm not tagging anyone else. What can I say? The Shallows is where Memes come to die.

1. I've had insomnia after every break up. The time period for which I experience it is proportional to the length of time I was in the relationship (i.e., I couldn't sleep well for several months after my divorce, but only for a week or so when I broke up with my last girlfriend).

2. I tend to be an impulse buyer. That said, I've wanted an ipod for years, but have never been able to justify spending the money to get one, even though I've spent as much (if not more) money on more ridiculous things over that time span.

3. My bladder is such that I rarely have to get up in the middle of the night to take a piss.

4. I every new type of candy bar that I see, so that I can try it at least once. My latest favorite is the Reese's Crunch Bar.

5. My feet have to be covered in order for me to be able to fall asleep, even if they're the only part of my body that is.

6. I don't consider myself to be sexist, but I find misogynistic songs to be hilarious (but only when the band is doing it to be funny*, unlike many rap songs).





*For example: Ween - Piss Up A Rope; Cracker - Ain't Gonna Suck Itself; Ben Folds - Bitches Ain't Shit

Babe we both had dry spells, hard times in bad lands, I'm a good man for ya', I'm a good man

Las Vegas has an event called First Friday where artists display their work to the public on the first Friday of every month. Last week I was invited to go with some friends, but declined because I didn't think I'd be up to walking around in a crowd. One of the people that did go was telling me a little about last week's experience. He really liked it (it was his first time going) and even bought some prints. He mentioned that he saw a lot of original paintings that were several hundred dollars apiece.

Somehow, we got talking about our trip to Sedona, and I brought up the price of a bronze statue we had seen there. It was really cool. It also cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $45,000.

Me: Well, it was cool and all, but I wouldn't buy something like that. Especially for that price. Even if I had the money. I'm not exactly a statue-in-the-yard type of guy.

Friend: What type of guy are you, exactly?

I gave him some answers, some of which are repeated below along with some others I came up with for you to read. You know, In case you're wondering the same thing.

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I'm a bites-his-fingernails-when-they-get-too-long-or-uneven-or-when-he's-nervous type of guy.

I'm a hey-everybody-listen-to-this-awesome-music-and-like-it type of guy.

I'm a misses-living-in-an-area-where-it-snows-until-he-hears-stories-about-his-parents-driving-through-storms-and-passing-thirty-plus-accidents-on-the-icy-roads type of guy.

I'm a too-chicken-to-make-the-first-move-on-a-girl-unless-there-is-good-indication-that-such-a-move-would-not-be-rejected type of guy.

I'm a hurry-up-and-open-a-manuscript-draft-when-he-hears-his-advisor-coming-down-the-hall-so-that-it-looks-like-he's-been-working-instead-of-blogging-IMing-or-wasting-time-on-myspace-in-case-his-advisor-pokes-his-head-in-to-see-how-things-are-going type of guy.

I'm a washes-hands-immediately-after-touching-an-animal type of guy.

I'm a trims-his-nails-with-the-scissors-on-his-Swiss-army-knife type of guy.

I'm a turn-his-cell-phone-off-at-night-in-order-to-save-the-battery-and-not-be-woken-up-by-a-call-in-the-middle-of-the-night type of guy.

I'm a willing-to-drop-an-F-bomb-in-order-to-make-a-joke-funnier type of guy.

I'm an eats-Hershey's-kisses-when-he-takes-percocet type of guy.

I'm a likes-to-take-pictures-but-never-prints-them-up-and-frames-them type of guy.

I'm a would-rather-drive-eight-hours-to-Lake-Tahoe-to-play-in-the-snow-than-drive-an-hour-to-Mt.-Charleston-to-do-the-same-thing type of guy.

I'm a could-be-a-great-cook-if-he-wanted-to-but-instead-only-uses-his-kitchen-skills-to-make-desserts type of guy.

I'm a not-afraid-of-heights-but-is-scared-of-snakes type of guy.

I'm an I-don't-drink-but-will-hang-out-with-and-act-just-as-drunk-as-you-while-you're-drinking-short-of-vomiting*-or-sleeping-with-an-ugly-chick type of guy.

I'm a recycle-every-scrap-of-paper-yet-enjoys-shooting-glass-ornaments-in-the-desert-with-his-dad's-rifle type of guy.

I'm a when-simultaneously-hit-with-a-case-of-diarrhea-and-vomit-will-always-choose-to-crap-in-the-toilet-and-puke-on-the-floor-rather-than-puke-in-the-toilet-and-crap-on-the-floor-because-vomit-is-more-appealing-to-clean-up-than-crap** type of guy***.

I'm a thinks-he's-funny-even-if-nobody-else-seems-to-agree type of guy.





*Unless, of course, we are playing a drinking game and I have to eat a bite of chocolate every time I would normally have to take a drink, in which case all bets are off, and I will vomit multiple times throughout the night. I still won't sleep with an ugly chick though.

**No matter how runny it is.

***Unlike some people I know.

Step aside, out the way, wipe that look off your face

The other day I went to the post office to send a package. I got one of the colorful padded envelopes that they have available for purchase, put the stuff I was mailing into it, and started filling out a matching address label.

As I was doing this, the lady standing ahead of me said, "Wow, I sure would like to be your friend."

Without looking up I replied, "Eh. It's overrated."

I know she was just trying to be nice, but when I'm standing in line anywhere in the ghetto I prefer to be left alone. I'm a jerk like that.

The quilted thicker picker upper

I was driving home from a movie yesterday (V for Vendetta - go see it, it's good) and was talking to my sister on the phone when a kid rode his bike out in front of me. It wasn't very close so I didn't have to brake, or even swerve, before he got out of the way, but it still startled me.

She started talking about how someone we know hit a kid on a bike a few years ago. It was a similar situation where they were just driving and this kid came zipping across in front of them, except there was no time to react. Luckily the kid didn't die, but he did get hurt pretty bad. The person who hit him ended up getting sued by the kids parents, but the judge threw the case out of court because there was a police officer who had witnessed the entire thing and said that the kid came out of nowhere, so there was no way they could have done anything to stop it from happening.

I didn't remember any of this, until she said the part about the cop seeing it all.

Me: "My memory must be getting really bad. I can't believe that I didn't remember any of that happening."
Her: "It's not that your memory is bad, you're just too self absorbed."

That I am, Sis, that I am.

I'm the jerk on the plane

I flew to Salt Lake City from Vegas last night as I had wedding to go to today at Temple Square. I've been sick the past few days with a cough that's been getting progressively worse and moved down into my chest. However, I already paid for the ticket and it was non-refundable so I wasn't about to take a loss on it. Especially since I had already rescheduled the flight once before and had to pay a $50 fee to the airline because of it. Instead of being a nice guy, and staying home so as not to get everyone sick, I took a double dose of my cough suppressant and had a friend drop me off at the airport. Luckily this strategy paid off, and I was able to make it through the entire flight without any violent fits of coughing. I know I ran the risk of making the people I was sitting next to sick, but at least this way if they come down with it they won't be able to pinpoint me and curse my name, even if I was the jerk that gave it to them.