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Happy New Year brothers and sisters! May we all have more sex, make more money, do more drugs, consume more alcohol, burn down more churches, vote out more republicans, and generally have a better time then last year. Thank you all for your support.
Reverend Creepy
I think it might be time for an intervention. Not for me, rather my best friend Rick, who seems to slowly be losing his grip on reality. He's living in California with no friends or family to speak of, or job that couldn't be replaced here in Florida. Only a seemingly loveless, trustless relationship keeps him 3,000 miles from home. That or he's a masochist. I know that many people live away from their friends and family but are quite happy with the companionship their partner provides; but I find that hard to believe seeing as he sleeps on the couch more often then in bed with her. As a result of all this he's lonely, and to fill the void he listens to right wing talk radio and watches Fox News all day and night, which is taking it's toll and driving him insane.
Most people with a half functioning brain no longer support the Bush administration or republicans due to the lies used to justify the invasion of Iraq, the many violations of civil liberties, the torture of prisoners, the spying on Americans, and legislation that will condemn millions of Americans to debt slavery, cut Medicaid and student loans to pay for tax cuts for the rich, and an energy bill that gives subsidies to the oil companies already enjoying record profits while we pay an arm and a leg for fuel and does little for energy conservation that is obviously necessary. Not Rick -- "the weapons of mass destruction are in Syria" he says, "Israel has satellite photos of them being convoyed over there." Well then my educated friend, if your country was about to be invaded by a superpower with far more superior weaponry and firepower and you did have biological and chemical weapons, why would you ship them out of your country when you knew they would hang you once captured? And if this is true, and the footage proving it does exist, why aren't we sanctioning Syria or sending weapons inspectors there? And how's that search for bin Laden going? He's so passionate about 9/11, "Pearl Harbor in our backyard" as he likes to call it, yet he doesn't care about hunting down the man responsible for it -- he'd rather blame Clinton and Janet Reno for allowing it to happen.
As disturbing as all that is, it's not what has me worried. No, the final straw was giants. Not the New York or San Francisco Giants, rather the kind slain by David in the Bible. Last night he insisted that when our troops were in Afghanistan they encountered these enormous fellas and killed them. Their bodies were then shipped to the U.S. It was at that point I had to end our conversation -- it pains me to see him this way. This is a guy with a Masters in psychology. I think it's time he goes to see someone else educated in his field, but I was thinking more along the lines of a PhD. And the sooner the better, as I'd hate to see him end up counseling fellow inmates in an asylum...
Saw the shrink this morning. In between talking about his new, cleanly shaved head and 'South Park' I told him about the incidents at work which have left me as a project manager who can no longer speak with our client and ruining my family's Hanukkah celebration last night by dragging my 18 year-old nephew outside and nearly beating him to a bloody pulp for being a disrespectful punk. So Doc recommended I attend anger management classes. Never a dull moment for Reverend Creepy. While I'm apprehensive about being one of 'those people', it couldn't hurt -- actually, it would probably help. After all, I am wound a bit tight these days, and I don't see anything wrong with trying to improve yourself as a person, so I agreed to take his advice. I'll call my insurance company this week and find out the particulars. At least it should give me some good material for The Church.
Looks like it's the end of one era and the beginning of another. Tonight was my second date with the teacher. While getting dressed I grabbed my rings from the jewelry box on my dresser. While putting one on I dropped the hematite ring I wear on my left middle finger and it shattered as it hit the tile floor. Interestingly enough, that ring was my last real tangible link to 'the Ex' -- I bought it during a trip we made to the Coral Castle in January and have worn it since. So that ring was absent when the teacher and I kissed for the first time. We went to an Italian place in downtown Hollywood for dinner, during which I suffered a panic attack. For those who have never met me, I carry 'my satchel', which everyone else refers to as my 'purse' or 'fag bag', everywhere I go. It's a black fanny pack that I sling over my shoulder. I can't stand having anything in my pockets so I throw everything I need in 'my satch': keys, wallet, smokes, contact lens drops, Listerine strips and a bottle with a few Xanax. I NEVER leave home without a couple of Xanax just in case; as I suffer from social anxiety disorder they're my security blanket. But when I go on a date I don't bring 'the satch' -- I stuff whatever I deem essential in my pockets. Since this was our second date I didn't think I'd need Xannies, and didn't think the prescription bottle bulging in my pants would be a good look, so I left them behind. Wrong move. I'm sitting at the table trying to act cool as I'm freaking out, expecting to fall to the floor any minute and flop around like a fish out of water. Fortunately, I've had enough panic attacks to be able to ride it out without acting like a lunatic (at least I hope I did). After dinner we walked to O'Hara's to listen to some music. I was drinking a Jack on the rocks when a waitress came up and informed us it was a 2 drink per person minimum per set. Despite not being a drinker the teacher was a trooper and ordered a Kahlua and creme. She ended up drinking 2 before we left, which may or may not have led to our first kiss while saying goodnight.
I'm particularly fond of her and the kissing was great, but it feels awfully strange. It's like she's Sweet Polly Purebread and I'm Dick Dastardly (sorry if any of you younger brothers or sisters don't know what I'm talking about). She's 27 and was with her husband from the age of 19 until a few months ago -- I would bet dollars to donuts that she's slept with less than 5 men. After our 'body count' discussions you all know I've slept with almost 25 women. Tonight I learned that in addition to never being drunk, she's never smoked a cigarette or tried pot. I'll assume that unlike me she's never dropped acid, snorted coke or crystal meth, eaten magic mushrooms, done speed, or taken Valium or prescription drugs for recreation. They say opposites attract, but can our respective lifestyles coexist? And what if we had sex: I have a funny feeling that she wouldn't put 'Little Creepy' in her mouth after he was in her vag or let me cum in her face. And what about anal sex? 'The Ex' was as warm, nice, sweet and pure as they came, but in the bedroom she was fire and brimstone. However, she drank, cursed, smoked and even got high on occasion. The teacher doesn't appear to have even a hint of wild in her. We both really seem to dig each other at this point, so this is gonna end in a fiery crash, the Rev corrupting and converting her into a member of The Church, or her pulling the mindblow of the century by turning out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. However it turns out, it should be very, interesting. Stay tuned...
Today we had some holiday spirit in the office as they had a catered brunch for us. It wasn't quite a 'holiday party' but it was better than nothing. We played some games, one of which was a limerick writing contest. Each table was given a sheet of paper containing the instructions and a first line to build our limerick around. They would all be read out loud and table with the best one would all win a gift. Ours began with "There once was an old man named Clause;" we had to to write the next four lines. Of course with me at the table ours quickly deteriorated into a story about a dead hooker. I told my fellow employees "anything involving a dead hooker is always funny." My version went something like:
"There once was an old man named Clause,
who tied up a hooker with gauze,
then took out an assortment of saws..."
Since a couple of years ago our company laid off eight people two weeks before Christmas I decided they probably wouldn't appreciate my creativity so we went with something about the elves going on strike for "the cause." But mine would have been much more amusing...
While driving in to work this morning traffic on the highway came to a near stop approaching one of those overhead signs on which they broadcast 'Amber Alerts'. Today's urgent message: drive carefully during the holidays. Fucking brilliant. I'm all for the 'Amber Alerts' providing the details of a vehicle involved in the abduction of a child -- that's one of the better ideas the government has come up with in the past few years. But causing traffic to suddenly screech to a halt, which often results in accidents, just to remind people not to drink and drive is pretty fucking stupid. I'd like to know the rocket scientist who came up with that one.
On my way home from work I was driving behind an SUV with those stickers of a family on the back window. You know what I'm talking about, you can't drive anywhere without seeing them:
What the fuck is that all about? This one had a man and a woman, two girls, a cat and a dog. Okay, you're married, have 2 daughters, a cat and a dog -- so fuckin' what? Do I really need to know that? Is that a way of bragging to those of us who are single and childless that you have a family? Well good for fucking you. I hope your husband is having an affair with a large, black man, your daughters become crack whores who contract AIDS, your cat pisses in your hamper and your dog runs away. Are we obligated by the Census Bureau to declare our our family status on our vehicles? Am I supposed to put the stickers of a man and two cats on my back window? People might think I'm into bestiality. And what if you're gay? Do you put the stickers of two men on? What is the point? Do any of you have these stickers on your vehicle? If so, please enlighten the rest of us as to why you felt compelled to make the world aware of the occupants of your home.
NOW I'm getting into the holiday spirit...
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