Hello friends,
After very careful consideration over the past few weeks, I think it is time to end my little experiment here and retire my blog. Yes, I realize that many of you will be absolutely crushed by these turn of events, but I have my reasons, most notably, the real world is starting to crash down upon me and so I think it's time to put an end to my little fantasy world here, where Brett Favre looks up to me, zombie epidemics are eminent, and I have to resort to childish dating rules to screen the hundreds of potential love interests that are hounding me at every corner.
This whole turn of events transpired a few weeks ago when I put my house on the market. I was extremely busy with painting, landscaping, and general cleaning to make my house ready for viewing. I was coming up with good ideas in my head, but I was just too exhausted to type them out at the end of the day. It was frustrating.
Well, things actually started getting worse. Work started really picking me up so I had to stay later just to keep up. Then some asshole that I showed my house to ratted me out to the City of Madison Code Enforcement for illegally renting one of my two non-conforming bedrooms in the basement. Even as I write this, I’m staring down at my gut that magically grew this winter, which makes me realize that my ass should be on a treadmill right now instead of in front of a keyboard.
All of a sudden, blog posts on applying economic game theory to pick up chicks and reasons why the sport of boxing in Hollywood has been at the epicenter of the some of the biggest turning points in history (the thesis there being that Russell Crowe in Cinderella Man, Will Smith in Ali, and Sylvester Stallone in Rocky IV, single handedly defeated the Great Depression, Racism, and Communism respectively) became pointless in light of my current predicament.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not depressed or anything. I have great friends and family, I love my job, and things will eventually be on the up and up again. I guess I just realized that I don’t need to live in a fantasy world any more; reality is working out pretty well for me as is. I just need to concentrate on it harder.
So thank you once again for tuning in, leaving comments, and complimenting me on my work over the last 10 months. Your support has really meant a lot to me. See you all later in this crazy mixed-up world of ours. I hope to milk as much fun out of it as I can and I hope you do as well.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Monday, May 08, 2006
Busted With My Secret Song
Every dude has a secret song that they are ashamed to like.
Fellas, you know what I am talking about. It’s the song you keep on that unlabeled CD that sits underneath the driver’s seat. It’s the second or third to last song, cleverly hidden amidst a collection of Pantera Greatest Hits or some other assemblage of death metal. It’s the song you only listen to after rolling up your windows and checking over your shoulder for stowaways. Sound familiar?
Well I was driving home from work today and I think this warmth has gotten into my head, because I decided to pop in my secret song with my windows haphazardly down. I knew it was foolish to tempt the secret song gods with such insolence, but I didn’t care, the intro was just starting.
A Jitterbug...A Jitterbug…you put the boom boom into my heart…
You can stop laughing now. Any guy that has never sang along with a Wham song is lying to you. Well, maybe not necessarily Wham but they are pretty much interchangeable with any other singing fairy dance squad out there. Yes, I am ashamed that I find that ONE Wham song kind of catchy, but dammit, what a man listens to in the privacy of his own car is his own damn business.
Unfortunately, this business became public when my car suddenly came to a halt in the always reliable 5:00 traffic of the west bound Beltline. Instinctively, I applied my brakes to prevent myself from crashing, but mentally, I was staging up George Michael in front of a packed stadium of delusional teenage girls.
The older woman in the white Sebring next to me was particular amused by my bellowing. At that point, where you’re caught red-handed, you’re only option is to run with it.
Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Take me dancin’ tonight! Yeah Yeah Yeah !
Stupid rush hour. It’s the source of all my problems. Well, maybe if people didn’t gawk at the car wrecks IN THE OPPOSITE LANE then my secret song would have remained an enigma to this day.
You know that rule for concerts where you're not supposed to wear a shirt with then band that you're about to see? Apparently that rule doesn't apply if you are the band.
Fellas, you know what I am talking about. It’s the song you keep on that unlabeled CD that sits underneath the driver’s seat. It’s the second or third to last song, cleverly hidden amidst a collection of Pantera Greatest Hits or some other assemblage of death metal. It’s the song you only listen to after rolling up your windows and checking over your shoulder for stowaways. Sound familiar?
Well I was driving home from work today and I think this warmth has gotten into my head, because I decided to pop in my secret song with my windows haphazardly down. I knew it was foolish to tempt the secret song gods with such insolence, but I didn’t care, the intro was just starting.
A Jitterbug...A Jitterbug…you put the boom boom into my heart…
You can stop laughing now. Any guy that has never sang along with a Wham song is lying to you. Well, maybe not necessarily Wham but they are pretty much interchangeable with any other singing fairy dance squad out there. Yes, I am ashamed that I find that ONE Wham song kind of catchy, but dammit, what a man listens to in the privacy of his own car is his own damn business.
Unfortunately, this business became public when my car suddenly came to a halt in the always reliable 5:00 traffic of the west bound Beltline. Instinctively, I applied my brakes to prevent myself from crashing, but mentally, I was staging up George Michael in front of a packed stadium of delusional teenage girls.
The older woman in the white Sebring next to me was particular amused by my bellowing. At that point, where you’re caught red-handed, you’re only option is to run with it.
Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. Take me dancin’ tonight! Yeah Yeah Yeah !
Stupid rush hour. It’s the source of all my problems. Well, maybe if people didn’t gawk at the car wrecks IN THE OPPOSITE LANE then my secret song would have remained an enigma to this day.
You know that rule for concerts where you're not supposed to wear a shirt with then band that you're about to see? Apparently that rule doesn't apply if you are the band.
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