Toby Keith is putting on his boots. Prepare your ass.

Please don't think bad things about me, but I fell victim to the busy turn that my life has made this week, and I forgot what today's date was. Don't get me wrong, once I heard like 3 Toby Keith songs on the radio on my way into work, my memories of September 11, 2001 came rushing back like a tidal wave.

I was 18 years old and living in the back room at my mom's house on Court St. Back in those days, I was content working for minimum wage at the KD Station. I would work in the evenings, party all night, and sleep all day. I didn't have a real care in the world. I almost never had to work during the daytime hours, but this particular Tuesday, I had been scheduled at 9 in the morning. I was up by 8:15 to make sure that I had plenty of time for my morning rituals: two cigarettes, a quick shower, and a can of coke on my way out the door.

That day was no different. I woke up to my alarm clock stereo playing "The Circle of Life" from the Lion King soundtrack that had been stuck in my 5-disc CD changer for at least a year. I rolled out of bed and grabbed my pack of smokes and a lighter, and headed to the back porch. Some people need coffee to wake up fully in the morning. I needed two (2) cigarettes. I smoked my breakfast and headed back inside to shower. I walked into the main house and instantly saw my mom sitting in front of the tv, white as a ghost and tears streaking down her face. At this point of the morning, everyone, including the newscasters, was still convinced that this was a horrible freak accident. Somehow, a pilot had gotten off course and had slammed into the tower. This was the general consensus until they saw the second plane headed for the second tower. All hell was about to break loose. We sat in complete silence and watched the collision. I was late for work. I didn't care.

After the initial shock wore off, I called work and told them I would be a little late. The owner was somber on the phone. She was usually talkative and jovial. That morning, she calmly and quietly told me to just get there when I could, as there wasn't going to be much work going on that day. I went to work and sat with them in the office, watching the news and chain-smoking cigarettes. The only time I left the room was when they all sent me to buy more smokes. Back then, cigarettes and gas were cheap, so they gave me money for my own smokes and some gas money to boot.

That night, I got home and my parents told me that I was going to do two things: the first was that I was to go fill up all the family vehicles, as there was speculation that gas was going to break the $1.25/gal price and then I was going to the blood bank with my dad to donate blood.

That day was the last normal day of our lives. All of a sudden, things started to change. People were nicer to other people. People started to show a lot more distrust. People rallied around New York City officials and rescue workers, even if they lived on the opposite side of the country. People thought that this newfound patriotism would last forever. The only thing that lasted over the last nine years, in my humble opinion, is the distrust of people that are different than us.

Now, it seems that we are a patriotic nation when that fateful day comes around every September, and we will all get back to our boring and mundane lives again by Monday.

But, even if it is for only one day out of the year, it is important that we never forget the lives lost, both on that day and on every day since that we have been fighting for our nation and our freedom.

I'm just a guy that sells pizza and writes my opinions about stuff. I've never served my country and probably never will. In fact, if it weren't for my love of violent video games, I could probably be classified as a modern-day hippy. But two facts remain: I love my country and I respect those that serve to protect it.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Blackberry

The voices in my head aren't voices. They are vuvuzela buzzes.

Two posts in the course of a week. I hope none of you suffer a heart attack. This is out of the ordinary for me. By now, you are all accustomed to my usual slacker-like attitude when it comes to this blog. Don't get me wrong though, I am by no means saying that I have changed my ways and will update more frequently. That would just be giving you false hope that I actually want to open a weekly or biweekly window into my mundane life. Instead, I will continue to sporadically update my blog whenever I feel necessary. Deal with it.

With all that legal stuff out of the way, let's get to the topic at hand. Tonight's Topic: Tattoos.

Today, while doing the very important task of making sure there were enough skeeballs in Skeeball Lane #3, I looked up to see Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise staring right back at me with his benevolent gaze that I grew up watching on the television. Right behind him, almost flanking him, was the quizzical, and almost curious, stare of Lt. Cmdr. Data. For a minute, I thought that I had been transported away to a fantastic journey that I always dreamed of as a younger me. Upon further inspection, I realized that it was indeed just a piece of artwork on a random guy's right leg. After I quelled my need to scream in a geek-like cry of passion, I finished loading balls into skeeball and went on my way.

A few minutes later, this guy came to me with a request for assistance with another game. I couldn't contain my nerdgasam any longer and, as I pushed my glasses further up onto the bridge of my nose, I blurted out that I "absolutely loved" his tattoo. This started a shortlived, yet beautiful, five minute friendship. We spent all of our friendship talking about Star Trek and ended on the most heartwarming note, both agreeing that Star Trek: Deep Space Nine was the best of the Star Trek television series. We went our separate ways. I would like to think that as he walked away, he thought about how charming of a fellow I was and how glad he was that our paths had crossed on this fateful afternoon. In fact, I KNOW that is what he was thinking.

I just smiled to myself and thought about how I would be able to justify cutting off his right leg and keeping it for myself.

...Home of the Molten Goat!

I don't have a very good excuse for waiting this long in between posts. The only excuse I can think of is that I have been too busy with my life to sit down for a half hour every couple of days and put my thoughts onto "paper", so to speak. The last few months have just caught me by surprise and trapped me in a sort of temporal anomaly. I feel like just last week, Lisa and I were looking for a new place to live and it wasn't even May yet. Now, it is the middle of July, we have a house, and the baby might be here any day.

You learn a lot when purchasing a new house. You learn even more when you purchase a house with in-laws. You start to learn everyone's boundaries and that what might seem like an acceptable "joke" to you is offensive to the other person. You learn to be a little more patient with people and you learn that even though you don't want to, sometimes the best action is to step back and let someone have their own way. The biggest thing I struggle with is sharing my things, especially my Xbox. But, even though there are times that I feel like just freaking out and being selfish, I have found that the better option is to just let it be and schedule my playing time around Ryan's playing time. Besides, my days of Xbox playing are numbered. More important things are coming.

With four very opinionated people living under the same roof, I thought for sure that we would have had the cops out to the house at least once a week by now. But, aside from a couple of stress induced spats, I think we are getting along pretty well.

Only time will tell if we can hold out and finish out the year peacefully. As long as we keep the scotch cold and the Coca-Cola in stock, I'll be happy.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Blackberry

Somewhere, people are talking about me and how they wish I was there with them. But, unfortunately, my passport expired last week and airfare to France is too expensive.

We now have a house. It is a nice little house with about 30 doors on the ground floor. I think there are that many so that the happiness and sanity has several escape routes.

Lisa and I (with the help of my sister-in-law's signature) purchased the house to make sure that we have ample room for the baby. Part of the agreement was that Amy would be living with us for the first year, until I can salvage my shipwreck of a credit score. Let's just say that this is going to be an interesting first year. It isn't that we don't get along, it is that we are both VERY opinionated and stubborn. Phrases like "my house" have been replaced by "the house", as to not cause any arguments about who technically the house belongs to.

The biggest issue will be my selfishness. I like to have MY things where and when I want them. My xbox playing will probably be the cause of a lot of arguments, not to mention the way I feel about my laptop. I don't trust other people not to screw it up. But, I just like to have things the way I am used to.

Hopefully I will keep my sanity intact so that I can go back to updating this blog regularly again.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Blackberry

Calling all Monsters.

I know it has been a while since i have posted one of these. I kind of gave up on my side project. I didn't think that it was going anywhere. Maybe I will pick it up again in the future, but I can't guarantee anything. My life is going a million miles per hour and I just can't find the time to be creative.

My brother Ben talked my into being in a show with him at the community theater. We are playing the "Costazuela brothers" in Neil Simon's female version of The Odd Couple. We are pretty much the comic relief in the second act. We get to speak in a Spanish accent and be 'romantic and sexy.' I had trouble with the accent, but romance and sexiness kind of runs in my blood.

Work is going well. Working some crazy shifts this month so that I can make time for all the practices/performances/moving that I will be doing. Pretty hectic month.

I will try to post more later. I love you. Jeremy

Paint Chips and Salsa

Life for me is too routine lately. I do the same thing every day. At the end of the week, I start over and do it all again. At work, especially, I constantly feel like I am just going through the motions. Nothing changes. Nothing is exciting. The hours drag by and I end the day feeling empty. I yearn for excitement. I hunger for adventure.

I want to be famous for something. I don't need to be world famous. I don't even need to get rich (although I wouldn't complain). I just want to have some sort of fame associated with me. And I want it to be for something awesome.

And the three of you that read this blog can someday say, "Hey, I was one of the three people that read his blog back before he got famous."

Coming Soon: A New Project

I am inspired to take up a challenge. I will begin April 1st. It will be fun. Look forward to it.

Confessions are for the guilty.

Are jalapenos a substance? If so, somebody needs to call a substance abuse hotline and report me. I can't get enough of them. I feel like a meth addict with a conscience. I know how they make me feel the next day. I know how they inflame my esophagus with a fire that would make Satan himself break a sweat. But in my case, knowledge leads to stupidity and the desire to have even more. Something about that spicy sensation and the steady flow of liquids from every hole in my head keeps me coming back for more. Someday it will be a crime to have jalapenos and I will be an enemy of the state, garnishing my salads and enchiladas in a secret compartment under my house. And when they finally catch me, my only two requests will be immunity for my family (as they will know nothing of my secret jalapeno lair) and a prescription for ulcer medication.

The Punchline.

Every Tuesday, I cut my hand in some way. It isn't on purpose, it just happens. Sometimes I try to put something on a shelf and skin my fingers on the side of the shelf that I should have avoided. Other times, the box cutter that I am using mistakes my finger for cardboard. I was looking at my hands and the various scrapes, scabs, and scars when I thought to myself that it speaks volumes about my character: I am clumsy.

In a sense, we are all just as clumsy. Some of us are physically clumsy, while others are socially awkward and clumsy. I speak from experience on both. I haven't always been this model of confidence and (at times) arrogant security.

When I was a teenager, while all of my 2 friends that I had were into sports and cars, I was interested in Star Trek and reading a good book. People would ask what I thought about "the Bears" and I would have to ask what sport these "bears" played. I was more interested in what Captain Sisko would do about the impending invasion by the Dominion or if Captain Janeway would ever get the crew of the U.S.S. Voyager back home to the Alpha Quadrant.

I didn't even pay attention to girls until I was 17 or 18. It wasn't that I didn't want "love". It was because I felt that I didn't deserve it or couldn't obtain it. Females weren't scary to me; rejection was. Luckily for me, I met the wrong girl and gained two things: confidence and the knowledge that I could do better. Almost 5 years later, I am confident that my life is the best that anyone can ask for in a life.

So, next week when I cut my hand, I'll wipe off the blood and be thankful for clumsiness.

The Life and Death of my Sanity

Somebody once told me that you can't loose your mind if you never had one to begin with. I disagree. I am slowly, but surely losing my mind. The sad thing is, I don't really seem to care. I don't care about much these days. I can count on a three fingered hand the things that I care about. 1) My wife. 2) My family (this includes the little guy/gal currently residing inside of my wife) and 3) My job.

I have come to realize that the "friends" that I had growing up are merely acquaintances now. I see them here and there and when we talk, it seems like we are strained for topics and feigning interest. But for some reason, I knew it was going to happen years ago. Sometimes I wish I had a group of "the guys" that I could hang out with. We would drink beer, play cards, and piss and moan about our jobs, finances, wives, etc. You know. The kind of guys depicted on sitcoms and in movies.

Right now, besides my biological siblings, my closest male friends are Lisa's four brothers. I love those guys like they were my own blood.

I let work and "growing up" take priority over my other friendships. I guess that's what happens when you grow up.

Ruining Little Kid Birthday Parties Since 2004

I'm pretty much done with winter. My hands are cracked and dry. My head is cracked and dry. My feet sweat at work, then my socks freeze while I drive home. Maybe a little too much information there, but this blog has always been known for its truthfulness.

Lisa and I still don't know what the gender of the baby is. We were going to find out on Monday, but the baby had plans that involved crossed legs and other shenanigans. Oh well. Just another month of people incessantly asking us what we are having and what we are hoping for and what color the baby's eyes are. Seriously. People ask too many damned questions. For something that should be considered a private matter, lots of people want to know everything.

I have started to read again. I'm about 45 pages away from finishing Jurassic Park. The book is just amazing. I am going to finish it either tonight or tommorow, then get the film version from Netflix. I already am aware that the book will be better, but I haven't watched the movie since it came out some 17 years ago or so.

The other night, I had a great idea for a story pop into my head. I wish words came as easily as ideas do...I would have 2 or 3 novels done by now. Oh well. Such is life.

Whiskey Shots and Cheap Cigarettes.

More and more, I find myself looking forward to my future. Some aspects of my future scare me, while others excite me. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like right now if I never took the chance on going to Perkins that Friday night five years ago. Where would I be today if I hadn't offered the girl from Hinton a ride home after her friends left her at the restaurant. The bottom line is this: if I had chickened out that night and not gone to Perkins, I don't think that my life would be as amazing or wonderful as it is now. But now, instead of wondering about my past, I'm looking forward to the beginning of a new era. In just about five months, we will be bringing a new life into the world. My mind is swarming with questions. Will it be a boy or a girl? Will it be healthy? When it is old enough, will it develop a love for the things that I love, or will it develop passions of its own? Will it like me?

The only thing that I know for certain is this: I will love this baby with all that I can muster, no matter what happens.

So long and thanks for all the figs. Or is it fish?

Today has been an interesting day. I got up and went down to start Lisa's car, so it would be warmed up when she left for work. This was at 7:15 or so. After she left, I went about my normal morning routine, which consisted of turning on the TV, followed by turning on the XBox. The last step was sitting on the couch for about the next 4 hours. Very proud of myself that I got all of that accomplished.

I went to work at 1:00 and had to run some errands for the store. I went to Sam's Club to get some produce for the salad bar, like I have been doing every Thursday for years. And every Thursday, at least one employee or customer there, asks me if I'm a vegetarian. Today I said "Nope. I raise rabbits."

Also, I got promoted today and got a raise. Wasn't expecting that one, but I'll take it. Gonna be helpful with a little one on the way. So today can only go downhill, cuz I'm on top of the world right now.

Would You Like Some Attitude With That?

I just sat down and put my thinking cap on. Ok. I lied. I put my hood up on my sweatshirt. My ears are cold. Don't get all in my business about it. It is just a hood.


Fine. I took it off.


So this weekend was our first real busy one of the year. We were super packed at the Cheese and I began my annual practice of being an asshole when I need to be. Something about being at full capacity and having to be firm and borderline strict with the people that come into my store just makes me shine. So for the next few months, if you want to get snapped at and talked down to, all while I have the biggest, warmest smile on my face, then you know where to find me.


I decided last week to stop caring about stuff that I can't handle. I know that I am supposed to be everyone's friend and everyone's buddy, but I can't fake it anymore. I am content with my life. I am content with the choices I have made and the ones I still make on a daily basis. I am content with my toys. I hate feeling like people are trying to one up me with their phones, or their cars, or their games. I don't care. All I need in my physical life I already have: her name is Lisa.

If tomorrow finds us homeless and penniless, and all I have is my wife, my partner, I will have prevailed.

I wish someone would actually hate me 'cause they ain't me...

Today, a lot of the ice melted and fell. I say good riddance. It reminds me of the time that I spent in the French Foreign Legion. We were helping to relocate a group of nomadic ice dwellers from a quickly melting ice shelf to their new home in a walk in cooler located in the back of a Burger King restaurant in Central America. Well, the ice shelf melted and fell, killing all of the nomads. We still went to BK though. Whoppers were buy one get one free. It was the most tragically delicious burger I ever had.

I have found that the earlier I get up, the more likely I am to be tired when bed time gets here. Lisa and I started getting into this nasty habit of sleeping in late on days that she and I don't have to be at work or go anywhere important. So we get up at 10 or 10:30 and then when it is bedtime, she falls right asleep and I am not tired. I don't know how she does it. Frankly, I'm a little jealous some nights.

I think that Lisa and I have decided to find out what gender the baby is going to be. People have been pressuring us and we also would like to start thinking of some names for the baby. I just wish Lisa would pay serious attention to me when I tell her that it it is a boy, his name should be Vladimir. And Betty-Sue for a girl.

Sorry, ladies...I won't be giving out any roses tonight.

On the eve of yet another winter storm, I am warm and cozy in the place I always seem to be when winter storms hit: Chuck E. Cheese's.

My week has been pretty slow and uneventful so far, even though it is only Tuesday. Lisa and I have been talking a lot about whether or not we should buy a house or just rent one for a while. I am under the impression that Sioux City is my home and that this is where I want to grow old and die. She is under the impression that cold is evil and snow will kill us all in our sleep. And since she is a woman, she is always right. If only I was a millionaire. We would go to the Islands during the winter months and stay warm. Then we would come back to Sioux City and be warm again.

My old friend insomnia has come back to haunt my nights again. I just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. It isn't much fun. I try reading before bed to calm my nerves, but then I just lay up and think about what I read and that doesn't help either. The last time I had bad insomnia, I watched a Happy Days marathon on TVLand and then insisted that everyone call me "The Fonz" the next day. Let's hope that doesn't happen to be the solution this time around...

Addition.

I just clicked that "Next Blog" button and it brought me to a blog entitled Random Thoughts. I cannot share the name. I will think of a new title. Sad Face.

God made pigs for me to eat. With my mouth.

Today was a day of rest. I figured that if God and Rabbi Goldstein can both have the sabbath off, I figured that I could take advantage of my day off and do about as little as humanly possible. So I slept in until 7:23 AM and then started to play XBOX at about 7:30. I pretty much continued to do that for the rest of the day. And then we went out to eat at Famous Dave's. Where I ate a pig.


I found a fun button on the top of my blog yesterday. It is the "Next Blog" button. I spent a good chunk of an hour just looking at other people's blogs and laughing at how amazingly dumb I thought they were. But then I realized that these blogs are their only way to express themselves. That is exactly why I have a blog. It's like a giant electronic diary for straight men.

Sandra Bullock has amazing hips.

Nuff Said

Test

This is a test of my new blog from my phone feature.

Oh Yeah! It's Thursday!

The middle of the week is always my least favorite. I absolutely hate Wednesdays. I would rather have a bowling ball thrown into my scrotum then deal with Wednesdays any more. The day seems like it never ends. Whatever. I'll stop being a little whine baby about it. We need to discuss some other, more important things.

I noticed while I was changing out of my work clothes today, and emptying out my pockets, that I own a lot of black things. I will name a few. My wallet, my watch, my cell phone, my cell phone holster, my car remote, my car, my laptop, my headphones, my camera, my bluetooth retro phone receiver, and my favorite pair of underwear. I just enjoy black things. I don't know why. I've always been a fan of the blacks. I mean black things. There is only one black thing that
I would never own. Black people. That is against the law.

Abraham Lincoln once said, while in line at a local StarBucks, "I love being able to buy dark coffee, but I would never even consider buying a dark person."

Welcome Back.

As I lay in my bed the other night, I couldn't sleep, so I picked up my phone and looked at my Facebook page. I was just about to put the phone away and try to sleep, but I noticed that I had a link on my profile for my blog. I clicked on it and read through all of the old posts and tried to stifle my laughter, as to not wake up Lisa. I knew that I needed to get back into the business of writing things that people may or may not read.

Speaking of things that people won't read, I sent a movie script in to one of the major studios this week. I wrote it over the course of 3 months and am determined to see it on the silver screen some day. So, keep your eyes peeled for Fang Ten: The Tragically True Story of Hawaii's First and Only All Vampire Surf Team. If some lady can write a book about vampires and become a bazzillionaire over-night, I think that I can do it too.

This last week has been amazing. At the beginning of the week, we were at sub-zero temps and freezing our eyeballs off. Then, last night at 9:00, it was 30 degrees. Awesome. Tuesday was an extra special day. Lisa and I got to see our little peanut baby. It isn't really a peanut, but it looked like a peanut with arms and legs. The only thing it was missing was a top hat and a monocle. I call the baby it out of no knowledge of gender. It isn't out of indifference or lack of respect. I will love it if it is a boy or a girl or if it is in fact a peanut.