Say a Prayer

I'm sure everyone has overdosed on Katrina stuff. But bear with me here. Before Katrina hit, I issued a moratorium on watching the news. Nothing disgusts me more than television news during a crisis -- real or manufactured. This is why, after graduating with my master's and making my resume tape for TV stations, I made the decision to forget the two years of work I had done and go into print. I probably would have had a pretty good career in television--according to instructors and local TV "talent" I had a "look." This means I could have stood in front of the camera and spewed forth shit, which is what most television "talent" does, and it wouldn't matter. I chose a different (and I think more worthy) path.

So, I've been oblivious to how devastating Katrina really was. Until yesterday. I called my sister Sue to see what was going on. She said that nobody had her from my cousins Linda and Adam (who live in New Orleans) nor from my Aunt Marge and Uncle Bill (who live in Biloxi, MS). She said that my dad was freaking out and couldn't even talk to Sue on the phone (Sue spoke with my stepmom) because he was so upset.

Whenever big hurricanes hit, like the one last year that kind of petered out, my cousin Linda drives to Biloxi, picks up my aunt and uncle and heads for safer ground. It's important to note that both Aunt Marge and Uncle Bill (my dad's brother) have had strokes in the past few years.

Uncle Bill's stroke destroyed the part of the brain that deals with memory. So, he can't remember directions, even simple ones. For example, when Uncle Bill visited my dad he got lost going to the bathroom--even though my dad had shown him where it was earlier in the day. And my dad doesn't have a big ass house either.

The stroke that my Aunt Marge had also done some damage. I believe it's difficult for her to get around. I know that she becomes agitated easily.

So, today Sue called me to say that on Sunday, Aunt Marge was on the phone with her brother. While Aunt Marge was on the phone the police came to the house to tell her that she had to evacuate immediately. For some reason, my cousins never made it to Biloxi. Now, nobody knows if the police helped my aunt and uncle to a shelter or if the police just said they had to go.

Regardless, there's no word on anyone. Dad has been in contact with different organizations and put their names on a watch list, but no luck yet.

So anybody who reads this, just say a quick prayer or whatever you may do (if you're not religious just think good thoughts).

Yield-Proceed with Caution

Yield
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

I have a few things to get off my chest. First, the post that follows may or may not contain graphical descriptions of gay sex -- I do a stream of consciousness type of writing, so I'm not sure what it'll contain. Yes, I do edit for grammar and punctuation but I never change content. It's there for a reason.

If you're one of my sisters or friends or some stranger who happens upon this, you might want to skip this post. Come back later in the week. Zeppgoddess tagged me with an assignment and I'll write about that later in the week.

I'm saying this because I made a high school friend of mine blush with my description of sporting wood while kissing Jason 'nee Mr. AA' Adonis. I probably write stuff I shouldn't, but I try to "keep it real." ;-)

OK. So here we go. After getting horribly sick last week, I went to the doctor. He examined me, my throat and asked about my symptoms. He said it could be strep, mono, gonorrhea (I guess you can get that in the throat) or HIV. He did a five minute quick strep test and that came back negative.

So, this sends my heart racing. I'm flipping out. One, I feel like shit. Two, the prospect of HIV always scares me.

I remember when I was quite young, maybe 11 or 12, and reading Time Magazine. There was a cover story about the new gay cancer. I was afraid that I would catch it because I thought I was gay.

But it wasn't until I was in my early 20s that I was finally honest with myself and started dating men. The spectre of HIV always hung over me.

I didn't let it stop me from having sex. But I was almost always careful (being young and stupid makes you do dumb things--like not practice safer sex 100 percent of the time). After having sex, I was always nervous about getting HIV.

If I got sick, my mind would always kick into overdrive and I'd be a nervous wreck.

Since my 6+ year relationship with Kevin ended, I've been single. This means that I can abstain from sex until "I find the right guy." Or, I can hook up every couple of months. Because finding someone I really want to have a relationship with is just not that easy.

As I've gotten older, I'm more demanding (or more aware) of my needs. On the first date I find out the following things: 1) if they have a job 2) if they've ever been in love 3) if they've ever been in a relationship that lasted more than six months 4) if they're married, partnered or "seeing someone special" 5) if they're out to their family and friends.

If they answer yes to 1, 2 3 and 5 and answered no to 4 and there's chemistry and the person seems decent, then there's potential.

But you wouldn't believe how many people fail that simple test. Mr. X failed that one but I still went out with him. Stupid mistake. When the red flags are waving, it's time to stop. No matter how much you like a person.

Anyway, this year (my last HIV test was in Jan.) I've had sex with three guys, ironically I never had it with Mr. X. One of the times, it was just a makeout jerk off session. Very safe. The other two times, I was the "top" and wore a condom. The odds of transmission (even if the other guy had HIV) in that case is supposed to be negligible.

But there's always a chance.

So, for five days I've been freaking out inside. I mentioned it to Kevin, Jay and Jeffiel, because I had to talk about it. They all said not to worry. But it's hard not to sometimes. On a side note, if someone can come up with a good name for Jeff and Daniel -- like JenBen or Bennifer, please e-mail me or post in the comments section.

There are two HIV tests. One detects HIV antibodies. The other detects HIV itself (this is a good test for those recently infected--within one month's time before the antibodies develop).

Today I got the call that both came back negative. It's a relief. It turns out I have strep.

The thing is, I know everything would be alright even if I had contracted HIV. My life would be a little different but not radically. I'd still workout and play tennis and hang with my friends. I'd probably take better care of myself--cut down on the 20 jobs and stuff. And I would never not date someone with it. And I probably won't change my habits. Yes, I want to date one person and only have sex with them. But if that doesn't happen and months go by with sex consisting of me, my hand and porn I'm gonna have sex.

I'll keep playing it safe, but a small part of me will always wonder.

I'm glad to get this all out on (digital) paper. Now I can start concentrating on work and knock some shit out.

Rock Bottom

Rock Bottom

Like Courtney Love, I have hit rock bottom. At least my body has, I think.

All day long at work Wednesday, I thought I was going to fall asleep at my desk. In fact, I had to close my eyes a couple of times for a few minutes. I was so freaking tired. I left work early, drove home and laid on the couch. I fell asleep. No, I passed out for two hours. I never nap--I try but I can never do it. So this was monumental.

I woke up from my nap with a sore throat and feeling kind of icky. I watched a little TV and went to bed. I woke up several times throughout the night because my throat hurt so bad. It was like knives stabbing the inside of my throat. Swallowing my own spit was a painful experience.

I finally got out of bed at 6am and popped some Tylenol--OUCH!! Water and pills!

I stayed home from work and called the doctor. I dragged myself to his office--he said it could be strep, mono, exhaustion or who knows what. So, he swabbed my throat and drew some blood. He gave me some antibiotics to kill whatever fungus or bacteria is inside me. I'll find out what the deal is next week.

I went back home, took a nap and then drove to Central Phoenix and interviewed someone for Echo. Came back and laid on the couch some more.

Friday was the same routine. I went into the office, drove to Tempe and interviewed someone, then came home and napped. Then I went back into the office and tried to get some shit done. Saturday, I had to go to a photo shoot for our cover. Afterwards, I interviewed someone and then came home. I got home by noon.

For 12 straight hours I laid on the couch and watched horror movies and napped. My cats were in heaven. They love sleeping with their daddy. The movie day/night was awesome. IFC was running some old school flicks--Friday the 13th (starring Kevin Bacon), April Fool's Day (with Deborah Foreman of Valley Girl fame), Slumber Party Massacre, etc. Now, these are killer (pun intended) movies. They were all made in the 1980s and it's interesting to compare them to today's movies. Although the actors aren't butt ugly, they're not all super models. The guy don't have bodies like Arnold and the girls aren't Kate Moss-thin. They look like real people. Plus, the movies show T&A and gratuitous sex scenes. I miss that in movies. Today it's all violence but no T&A.

When I woke up this morning I felt 90% better. My sore throat left me by Friday afternoon, and my fever is gone but I still feel sleepy. I'm good for a few hours and then I need to rest.

Today I had an interview in the morning and then I cleaned, ran over to Neil's house to drop off his edited book, cleaned the fish tank and then watched more TV.

I think I may have just gotten burned out. Since May I've been involved in three sporting leagues, two jobs and a lot of freelance work. Plus, for two months I was trying to maintain a relationship with Mr. X. So, I worked 7 days a week, plus I worked out or had sports 7 days a week.

Basically, I ran myself into the ground. I'm gonna have to slow down. I've cut out two of my sports leagues. So now I'm just doing rugby. But I'll probably pick up tennis at the end of the month. I'm gonna have to cut my part time job to just one day a week. I need a full weekend of "me time."

Oh! The best part of this weekend (besides the horror flicks) was my Friday night date with Mr. AA. Mr. AA is now referred to as Jason Adonis. Why? DanJeff, thinks I should name all of my dates after porn stars and Jason is my wallpaper right now. Anywho, on Thursday I told him that I wasn't feeling well and asked if he wanted to postpone. But he said he was really looking forward to seeing me again, so I said ok (it's nice to feel wanted). I met Jason at Plazma for some beers. I didn't really drink because I was on antibiotics. We talked for a couple of hours and played some darts and pool.

He did the sweetest thing. He was drinking Bud Light. I told him he needed to stop drinking Bud products because John McCain just endorsed the CAP amendment. And Cindy McCain is the chairman of Hensley--a distributor of Bud and other alcoholic beverages. So, when he went to get another beer for himself, he came back with a Miller Lite and said, "That's for you." Isn't that cute?

At the end of the evening, he said he wanted to kiss me but I told him no because I might have mono or strep. He said he didn't care. So... that's all I needed to hear. We made out hot and heavy (sorry Buddy if you're reading this) in the parking lot (sooooo classy--right next to a dumpster), until someone from the apartment complex next to the bar screamed out, "There's children over here!"

I laughed my ass off. We took it as a sign to call it a night.

Thank God I'm left handed

LimpwristCDcover
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

I went to the doctor's office today to hear the results of my MRI. Apparently, there are five different things wrong with my right wrist.

There's a tear at the tendon that runs between the bones in the wrist/arm area. One of the bones in my wrist is surrounded by an INTENSE CONTUSION (according to the MRI report, signed by Pamela Lund, M.D.), so they don't know what's wrong there -- it requires other pictures to see through the contusion.

There's some other stuff, but I don't understand what's written and I wasn't paying attention to the doctor because very hot physical therapist was "observing."

So, I'm gonna try physical therapy for a month to see if that works. If not, then I'll have to have surgery--which is a bummer.

The good news is: I can still bowl, lift and play rugby. I just have to tape everything up real well before I do.

Although I bowl right handed and play tennis right handed, I'm predominately left handed. This means that I can still maintain my active love life. Whew!

Calling Dr. Love

Kiss
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

I had a very interesting weekend. I've got a shitload of freelance projects going on and I'm really far behind in completing them.

I decided that I was going to stay in Friday and Saturday evenings and knock out a bunch of shit. I took two Simply Sleeps Friday night to ensure that my mind closed down and I would achieve at least 7 hours of sleep.

It didn't happen. I managed to piece together about 3 or 4 hours of broken sleep. AND I WAS ON DRUGS! It's so frustrating.

Of course, I was so tired on Saturday that I couldn't get anything done. So what did I do? I watched two hours of Melrose Place on Soapnet. Why the hell did they ever cancel this amazing show?

The two episodes I got to watch were the ones when Kimberly (now a famous Desperate Widow) has a split personality and ends up blowing up Melrose Place. It's also where Dan Cortes (looking so hot -- like he just walked out of a Pearl Jam video--he's very grunge-like and sensitive) beats the shit out of Joe. I forgot about that part--made me sick.

Anyway... I managed to get two hours of work done. Then I went to the gym and came home, ate Chinese food and watched two hours of Knots Landing. Another favorite of mine. I mean, nobody could do eye shadow like Donna Mills. I used to love that show so much, I made my mother tape it every Thursday night while I was stationed in Germany and mail me the videotapes.

Sunday, I worked at Skyview, came home, cleaned, showered and then went to Charlie's (a local country/western bar) for its afternoon cookout, beer bust thing.

It's only $2.50 for a mini pitcher of beer. Needless to say, I got drunk. But it was cool because a bunch of ruggers were there, my friends DanJeff, Richard, Charles, George and Kevin; George's friends Kevin and David; even Tim from work stopped by. All in all, there was a huge group of people that I know and love. Oh and I ran into one of Phoenix's bloggers-Darrin.

Jay and I had a goal of talking to one person we didn't know but thought was attractive. We are both kinda scared (okay, we're pussies) when it comes to approaching strangers. In fact, I've only asked one guy out on a date in my entire life--and that was very high-schoolish. I made someone else find out if that person was single and if that person thought I was attractive. What a dork.

So, after two beers and a mini pitcher of beer. I decided to make out with this guy--Mr. AA (Mr. Z exists but we never went out, so now I'm doing the theater seating assignment of guys). I just grabbed him and stuck my tongue down his throat. When I stopped I told him we weren't going to have sex.... that night. I didn't want him to think I was a whore. ;-)

But that leads me to point of this VERY long post. Some men don't know how to kiss.

Mr. AA, DEFINITELY knows how to kiss. I sported instant wood.

But many guys don't know how to do it. I don't know if it's mechanics or what. Even though I liked Mr. X, he was only adequate in the kissing department. It was nice but I could never figure out what the hell he was trying to do.

I've been told that I'm a very good kisser. By both men and women. I always thought it was a line. Until I started getting drunk and kissing random guys in bars. The more guys I kissed, the more I realized that it really is an artform that most people have never studied.

Or they've studied it so much that they're just horrendous--they understand the theories, they can converse on what makes a great kisser, but they are just terrible in practice.

I tried to figure out what it is that makes some people good, and others not. But there's no checklist you can create.

Obviously, I know what's wrong with the bad kissers. Some dart their tongues around like little snakes. Others try to extricate your tonsils using only a forked tongue and some spit. And others forget that a love bite doesn't draw blood.

But Mr. AA -- he knew what the deal was. I like that in a guy.

So, after making out with him, I asked him out (I thought it was the proper thing to do). We're gonna go out on a date Friday night.

He's smart (a lawyer), knows a little Russian and he knows how to kiss. Isn't that all anyone can ask for? Hopefully, we'll have something in common. If not, at least we can always make out to make up for awkward silences.

Push Me, Pull Me

Harmony
I'm taking a blogger break. It will probably last only a couple of days--seven at the most. Work's crazy this week, social life a little anemic (Torch Song Trilogy--All I wanna do is be loved. Is that so wrong?) and I'm a bit sleepy all the time. I'm feeling like a hibernating bear.

Loves me some Pearl Jam. This picture is from the Yield record. One of my favorite songs is actually a spoken word song. It's called Push Me, Pull Me. Here's a stanza.

like a cloud dropping rain
i'm discarding all thought
i'll dry up, leaving puddles on the ground
i'm like an opening band for the sun
push me, pull me, push me, pull me
push me, pull me, push me, pull me
push me, pull me, push me, pull me
i've had enough, said enough, felt enough, i'm fine
see ya later

See ya'll in a couple of days.

I see we have an opening....next year

Doc
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

Although Dr. Feelgood is very convenient (he sees me at a moment's notice), I just don't feel comfortable going to him anymore. So, I've made up my mind to find a new doctor. I need to see a doctor because my allergy medication is on empty and I like to breathe.

We have a new group of doctors advertising with Echo, so I called them up. I asked if Dr. Redenius took new patients. The lady said sure. I said, "Great! Do you have any openings this week?"

She said, "Dr. Redenius doesn't see new patients for three weeks." Umm... okay, but in three weeks, I'll have to resort to sniffing glue to keep by nasal passages open. So I asked if anyone else in the practice would see me sooner.

She said that another doctor (Dr. Martinez) could see me next week (this past Tuesday). Great!

Monday morning the lady at the office called to say that the doctor had to leave town. But if he's back by Thursday he'll see me Friday. I said okay.

Yesterday, the lady from Dr. Martinez's office left me a voice message saying the doctor had to cancel.

A little annoyed, I called around to three different doctor's offices hoping to get an appointment with someone else. Nobody could see me sooner and one wouldn't see me until mid-September!

I crawled back to Dr. Martinez and have an appointment for next Tuesday. Hopefully this one sticks because I have to snort this bottle of nail polish remover every 30 minutes in order to breathe.

In other news... my rugger teammate, workout partner and karaoke partner, Jay, had emergency gallbladder surgery. So everyone throw positive thoughts his way. I visited him yesterday and he's doing well.

I've been tagged

coma
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

So Jeffy tagged me with one of those list thingies. Immediately, I set to work because it's either write about this or about the Lesbian Cancer Project changing its name to the Lesbian Health Project. After a three hour editorial meeting with the X Factor crew, I figured this would be easier.

So, here are the instructions and my answers:
“List ten songs that you are currently digging ... it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're no good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the ten songs in your blog. Then tag five other people to see what they're listening to."

Here's how I chose my top ten. These are the songs on my hard drive at home or at work or in my car that I really crank up when I hear them. Or, they're songs in heavy rotation. For example, I've been playing Coma exclusively in my car for over a week now.

I'm tagging Berly's Blog, Babs, Stairs, Ian and Mike.

1. Coma - Guns N Roses
2. A Little Bitter - Alice in Chains
3. Remedy - Seether
4. Wake Up - Mad Season
5. Masters of War - Pearl Jam
6. Holiday - Green Day
7. Be Yourself - Audioslave
8. The Rain Song - Led Zeppelin
9. MacArthur Park - Donna Summer
10. Anarchy in the U.K. - Sex Pistols

Better Than a Ginsu

Leeumall
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

So, two weeks ago I stopped biting my nails. Why is this significant? I've been biting my nails since I was at least four or five.

This means I've been biting my nails for 15 years straight. Okay, 20 years. Alright, 30 years, but who's counting?

What's more amazing is that I've stopped biting them at a fairly stressful time. Just having been dumped by Mr. X, my self esteem is not at an all time high. My hand is still fucked up and my eye, although better, is not 100 percent.

I think I'm able to do difficult things during stressful times. For some reason, I can focus better.

For example, after smoking 1 1/2 - 2 packs a day, I decided to quit on April 2, 1999. One month later, I moved in with my boyfriend. Three months later we moved to Phoenix, Arizona. And four months after I quit smoking I started graduate school full time and worked three part time jobs.

Not exactly, the recipe for success. But for me, it was easier. And six years later I'm still smoke free.

I kind of like having fingernails. For example, I was able to peel the little sticker off my nectarine yesterday without pulling out a knife and cutting away half the fruit. I can also scratch my back and actually feel it. Plus, my nails don't hurt and aren't bleeding from me biting them all the time.

I wonder how long I'll be able to keep this up. Only time will tell.

How Dry I Am

Betty Ford

Last night, Kevin, George, Angi, Jeff, Jay and the other rugby dudes (myself included) went to Apollo's for karaoke. Since Kevin was driving, I got to drink for a change. I have not drank much this summer. Mostly because I work at Skyview on Sunday mornings (I usually have to get up anytime between 7-9 a.m.) and rugby practice on Saturdays begins at 8. So, drinking is not an option. This is fine because I don't need the wasted calories.

However, this means that my liquor tolerance has dropped to about zero. So, after three margaritas of immense strength I was really messed up. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, because I'm not an ugly drunk. I don't get angry and throw punches. I don't black out and wake up in a stranger's bed. But I do hug and kiss a lot .

Some funny things happened at the forum.

Jeff ended up getting cozy (and digits) from Daniel. Daniel is this really hot and adorable guy on the rugby team. I also think he's probably a decade or so younger than Jeff, so if they end up hitting it off I'll be sure to get Jeff a subscription to Teen Beat or Bop magazines. That way he'll be able to converse on topics that are at the foremost of most young adult's minds.

Some of the guys sang. Some really well. Others not so. But everyone should get an A for effort. Bob sang Glory from Rent. He sounded as good as the CD. I was completely blown away. Immediately after, Jeremy and he sang Seasons of Love. Daniel gave an intense performance of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. Gary did his best imitation of Loretta Lynn. Brian sang something (I'm thinking Duran Duran but can't remember). Jay did a fun version of Walking Contradiction by Green Day.

Then Jay and I teamed up for Hash Pipe by Weezer. I'm not sure how well or poorly we did because by that time I was completely blitzed. But I did have fun with it. I love this song so much because it's about a gay male prostitute. It really brings back the memories. LOL.

We have one straight guy, John, on our team. His brother is gay and on the team as well. John's wife, Jacque, and I had a great long talk. She is so fucking awesome--she works at the Humane Society so we talked pets. :-)

Finally, it was time to go. Gary wanted me to go home with him, but I was so drunk that I did not want to have sex. So, I declined.

The ride home was a struggle. I felt like I had to puke so bad. The whole world was spinning. YUCK! It was those damn Jagerbombers! I got home and drunk e-mailed Mr. X who is in Peru. Fortunately, it wasn't too embarrassing. I really need to stop being so tragic when it comes to him. UGH!

I didn't go to sleep until 3 or 4 because every time I tried to close my eyes, the world spun out of control.

My alarm went off at 8--time to go to Skyview. I had the worst headache. Fortunately, I've been working at Skyview for over 5 years so I can actually do the job in my sleep.

Skyview is a satellite company. We take radio feeds of sporting events from flagship stations and rebroadcast them to the affiliates. Us board ops have a sound board and we play commercials during breaks and station IDs and such.

Today I had the Marlins. I slept during the innings, but I'm so in tuned to the sounds that I was able to gain consciousness and play my breaks when needed. After about 3 innings, I was completely refreshed and ready to go.

So, all in all, it was a good weekend.

I Could Never Be a Parent

Dukie boy

Last night around 8, I was biting into my sloppy joe when Kevin yelled at me to come upstairs. I could tell from the panic in his voice that something was SERIOUSLY wrong (and not something stupid like I left a wet towel on the hallway floor). I ran upstairs to find Duke (my little kitty) foaming at the mouth.

He looked rabid. There was foam coming out of his mouth and it reached all the way to the floor. Kevin saw him throw up (which cats tend to do once or twice a month) but then he started this foaming at the mouth thing.

We cornered him in my room and shut the door. He seemed fine but a little scared. He was wagging his tail and he let us pet him but he continued to generate foam.

So, I called the vet to get the emergency number. I called the hotline and the lady said to just keep an eye on him. She said that if he threw up more than 5 times in an hour to bring him in. Otherwise, wash his mouth out with a wet rag and don't give him food or water until the morning.

So, I sat in my bedroom as Duke slimed my entire bed and curtains and pillows and floor. I didn't really care about that. I just sat there and stroked him. Kevin was flipping out, asking me a billion questions (as if I was a DVM and knew all about cat physiology).

It's interesting because that's how we are. Kevin always flips out and I always sit there calmly. Although I was just as scared as Kevin, I had my instructions from an expert and I was going to follow them and everything would be okay.

It turns out that everything WAS okay. After two hours, Duke stopped foaming. I changed my sheets and washed up (I was really slimey). Then I locked him in my room with me and went to sleep.

I woke up at 3:30. Duke was YOWLING at the top of his lungs. He wanted out. And Hera (the little girl cat) was YOWLING outside the room--she wanted in. So, I got up and locked up the food dishes and the water and let Duke roam the house. I'm glad he was screaming like that because my room was like an OVEN. I was sweating it was so hot, but that's not really important here.

The important thing is, I'm not sure I could ever handle being a parent to a human. It's so stressful just being a parent to cats! They can't tell you what's wrong and if something happens, I just get terribly scared. Although I remain calm outside, inside I'm a wreck.

I love my kitties. I'm so glad they're both okay now.

It's Raining Men... and PT Cruisers

sr-weatherart
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

I stole borrowed this picture from AZ Central. Mostly because the guy is really hot.

Last night we had the storm from hell. It was lightning and thundering and dropped 2.6 inches of rain in a very short period of time. The average rainfall in Phoenix is 7 inches in a YEAR. So this was significant.

It flooded the streets and highways. It was so bad the police had to close down some stretches of the highway. It was reported that five feet of water was at I-17 and Thunderbird Road.

So what does this mean? It means that the 10 o'clock news was an entire half hour of rain stories. That's it. Nothing else must have happened in the Valley. I'm sure there were no political scandals or murders or corporate takeovers on account of rain.

What kills me is the freaking idiots who drive in the washes. Here in Phoenix we have dry washes. When it rains, they flood. There are big road signs pointing this out. And there are news reports every time it rains that some jackass (or several jackasses) had to be rescued from the various washes spread throughout the Valley. It makes for great TV. People watch the daring rescues, but they're too stupid to learn.

I propose that we don't rescue people who drive their miniCoopers or Escalades or Hummers into the washes. There is a thing called natural selection and we shouldn't mess with it.

Click here to read something fucking amazing!

Pretty soon, the geniuses at Apple are going to invent another useful product--like a computer that costs less than a car.

Marat Safin, my Russian brother

Safin
Originally uploaded by veryapeaz.

One of my favorite tennis players to watch is Marat Safin. Click here for a hot shirtless pic. The mercurial Russian is one of the few players on the tour able to beat Roger Federer (the #1 player in the world and someone who's lost maybe twice this year). But Safin can also lose to really horrible players too. He's like a Greek tragedy.

His temper is also very explosive. If he fucks up, he will scream, throw his racket or slam it into the ground. After he does this, he keeps on playing.

Many commentators say that's bad. They contend that he gets too upset.

I disagree. Last night at bowling (and every night of bowling or tennis or rugby), I was a bit like Marat Safin. If I get frustrated because I managed to get three splits in a game or I failed to pick up an easy spare--I cuss and cuss loudly.

If I don't do this, it builds up and it has no place to go. I think I embarrass my teammates a bit. They pretend that they don't know me. But that's okay. Sometimes we gotta let it out or else we develop ulcers (or styes in our eyes). LOL.