|random thoughts and thoroughbred selections|
|"All life is 6-5 against" - Damon Runyon|
Friday, July 15, 2005
Two days, two posts. Looking forward to more!
Oh, and if you're interested in contributing please do feel free to email me and I'll send you an email address to which you can send your content. Thanks guys.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
I Was Serious...
...about the anonymous thing. Send me something, I'll put it up. Hell, if you want the "post it yourself" option via email, ask and I'll give you the ability to post via email.
It took less than 24 hours, and I've got a contributor to my new Anonyblog. Go check it out.
Has it been three months? Convo w/ the Ex
She loves it when I do this.
BG: you rang?
The Ex: was just about to give up on you
The Ex: so I read that thing you wrote - you cheated on me first
BG: what are you talking about?
The Ex: whatsherbucket from Bank XXXXX, the blowjob that she gave you was when you and I were together
The Ex: not before
BG: not together - you were still "deciding" but whatever
BG: if that's your absolution, feel free to run with it ;-)
The Ex: deciding?? I was on your couch
BG: you were on k***e's couch
The Ex: I remember when you went to that
The Ex: oh wait, maybe I was at K***e
The Ex: s
BG: yes, you were
BG: and you were pretty sure
BG: but you were still deciding
The Ex: but still...I remember that, you said it was after you guys had gone to dinner at that place in Novi
BG: yeah, that's what i told you
The Ex: yes, you lied
BG: so i'm a liar
The Ex: you liar
BG: non-truth teller
The Ex: completely
BG: i'm filthy and evil
The Ex: dirty and naughty
BG: no, that's part of why you left
BG: not so naughty
BG: i'm not even vanilla, i'm tepid water
The Ex: what, you saying I need a naughty boy
The Ex: yes, I do require someone more agressive in that department I suppose
BG: the inferrence is not mine
The Ex: what time is it there
BG: 722pm est
The Ex: ok so after midnight here
BG: gonna let it all hang out?
The Ex: my clock has been screwy today on this machine
BG: gonna shake jump and shout?
BG: cause talk and suspicion?
BG: give an exhibition?
The Ex: yeah, I have to go feed the new Bean soon, so I have to stay up
The Ex: plus I can't sleep
The Ex: I had the baby last week
BG: plus, late night IM conversations with men who live across oceans is a hard habit to break?
The Ex: har har
BG: you shouldn't read my blog
BG: it only is going to serve to make you mad
The Ex: oh well
The Ex: I'm not mad about the thing with the blowjob
BG: it was an "AH HA!" moment for you
BG: you could throw fat, lazy, incompetent in my face
BG: you couldn't throw "cheater"
The Ex: no, it was more of an...ah, ok. moment for me
BG: well, now you can if it makes you feel better
The Ex: I just always had thought I could trust you when we were together
The Ex: that's all...it just surprised me
BG: well, we can nitpick that all night long
The Ex: so so very tired
The Ex: hopefully will get some sleep soon
BG: easier sleep now that you know i'm a cheater?
The Ex: we'll dish soon...sorry I read your blog, can't help myself
The Ex: ummmm
BG: i'm way too good, you can't contain yourself
BG: i can understand that
The Ex: just kinda makes me think that it doesn't surprise me now
BG: i paint werd pictures
BG: with my mind
BG: and then i tell them to the peoples
The Ex: like I should've known, and thus should not be surprised
The Ex: yes you do
The Ex: why would you think that the blog would make me mad?
BG: you should've known a middle aged woman blew me on a random friday night?
BG: you'll find stuff that will make you mad
BG: i'm good like that
The Ex: great...just stuff you lied about
The Ex: wonderful
The Ex: as well as your spite for me
BG: like, don't google "tiffani-amber thiessen" and my URL (You'll get this)
BG: don't do that
The Ex: oh you know I'm going to now
The Ex: why
BG: remember the lady in the mexican restaurant?
The Ex: sure
BG: just don't do it
The Ex: just tell me quickly as I don't have time
BG: we'll have to have another one of these conversations, and that won't be pleasant
BG: i was pretty irritated with you for awhile
The Ex: just tell me what you said
BG: i may have gotten blown, but you really fucked me
The Ex: oh please
BG: now i'm laughing
The Ex: what's the tiffany thing
BG: you know you want to google it
BG: i'm telling you not to
The Ex: I don't have the time, seriously
The Ex: quick like bunnies
BG: but when you go there and finally break down and google it?
BG: because you will
BG: and i'm baiting you
The Ex: did and can't find it thanks
BG: "no, i didn't think that at the time, i'm just bitter and petty thank you."
BG: i thought you were a web mistress
The Ex: I'm someone who has a life beyond searching for a blog
BG: speaking of webmistresses, this site used to link to me for some weird reason:
BG: so i guess i kind of know two women with big tits across the pond
BG: well, three if you count natalie
BG: and four if you throw nigella lawson in there, but just because she doesn't respond to my emails doesn't mean that i don't know her
The Ex: nice
The Ex: give me dthe link
BG: ur industrious, ur a web girl, u can find it
BG: or just ignore my baiting and taunting
BG: either way
BG: you know, not that i think we can have or need to develop a friendship now, but i think i'm past feeling really really pissed off and sitting squarely in "chagrined" now
The Ex: on the subject, I know I dont' look like Tiffany Amber
BG: you are both brunettes with strikingly lovely facial features
The Ex: I mean she did have her boobs enlarged, so in that respect they are now more similar in size compared to her Saved By The Bell days
BG: and you shared a haircut for a little while
BG: thank god she did too
The Ex: so what did you say, could you just summarize
The Ex: I'd rather just talk to you than have to Google through crap
BG: naw, i need to have something here for us to talk about next time, right?
The Ex: seriously I had a really really hideous day
The Ex: but I won't be able to sleep unless you let me read it
The Ex: can you just send me the link and put me out of my misery
The Ex: yeah I found it, real nice slim
The Ex: after having 3 kids, I'm thinner than I was when we were married
BG: whaddaya want, i'm a dick
The Ex: I was depressed...I was married to you
The Ex: that's enough to make anyone gain weight and not give a damn
BG: i was there
BG: hell yeah, i am the cause of all marital strife
The Ex: that was just mean though
BG: told you not to read it
The Ex: btw, all IM conversations are off the record...ie, no blogging this
BG: too late
The Ex: not too late...there are things and actions one can take deary
BG: it's not like we get horrifically personal
The Ex: I'm asking you not to, half of these are my words
The Ex: ok?
BG: nobody reads me anyway
BG: no one you know reads it
The Ex: not the point
BG: and they all know what i think about us anyway
The Ex: still, not the point
The Ex: so all of that is what you thought about me
BG: in the wake of everything, sure
The Ex: I mean how would you feel if I whipped up a top ten about you
The Ex: and you read it, it's not pleasant
BG: well, i'm lazy
BG: i'm ridiculously bad in bed
BG: couldn't possibly have satisfied you
BG: never tried at anything in my life
BG: couldn't manage our finances even though that was my degree
The Ex: looked like you ate anthony edwards
BG: you forget, you were reminding me of all this stuff all through our marriage
BG: yeah, i was getting to overweight and balding
The Ex: so if you hated me so much and thought I was horrible why didn't you leave
The Ex: why leave it to years later and write about it all in a blog
BG: i didn't know how - and i didn't hate you
BG: jesuschrist, you have no idea how much i loved you
BG: i lost control of me, and that sucked
The Ex: and you thought I didn't love you, or rather wasn't in love with you
The Ex: which is such bullshit
BG: but losing control of the marriage was way worse
BG: of COURSE i thought that at the time
BG: my god, put yourself in my shoes for a minute
The Ex: put yourself in mine
BG: you stepped into a different world, nearly absolved of a lot of the pressures, and you got better
BG: it took me a long goddamn time to feel like i was getting better
The Ex: I had to do something
The Ex: that's because that's how YOU deal with things
The Ex: it's just your way to be miserable and sulk over things and hang onto them
The Ex: you left me?
BG: i didn't wait for you to leave me first
BG: i think that's fair
BG: you begged me to be there when you got back from england
BG: but i wasn't that dumb
BG: you may have had it in your head to leave at some point before i effectively moved out
BG: but i left
The Ex: yeah I thought we could try to resolve some issues and either see where things could go or more likely just end things on a better note
The Ex: THAT'S why I wanted you to stay
BG: you knew that wasn't going to happen, but i don't think it's fair to nitpick the who-left-who-really thing
The Ex: I'm just telling you why
BG: i don't ever varnish the story up, i always tell it the way it happened
BG: you know, whatever. we were both there
The Ex: it just says to me you still have some issues
BG: i didn't have anyone with whom i could work things through
BG: sure, why wouldn't i have issues? i think it's natural to still feel gypped and screwed over from our marriage
BG: i'm not angry anymore
BG: but i can't help but feel screwed
The Ex: I felt gypped
BG: more like "that guy from high school i'll never see again still owes me $20" sort of irritation
The Ex: well, you also felt a bunch of other negative things about me
The Ex: so it should just be a matter that you've moved on
BG: i have
BG: doesn't mean i don't mine what's going on in my head for writing material though
The Ex: I just needed some cheering up and I didn't have anyone else I could really talk to
The Ex: then you have me read that
BG: well, i apologize then
The Ex: just knocked me down a couple of rungs on an already spiraling day
The Ex: I just always thought that I could trust you from the beginning
BG: the blowjob again?
The Ex: and that you loved me
The Ex: unconditionally
BG: i still do love you
BG: can't stand you ;-)
BG: but that doesn't just go away
BG: either of those things
The Ex: you didn't
BG: uh huh
BG: ok, never did love you
The Ex: its just the things that I looked back on that were good just seem tainted now
BG: got one blowjob and made a bitter comment about your weight, and all of a sudden i'm polluted
BG: look, take what you need, but despite your arguments i think you know the truth
The Ex: I'm telling you what I feel is the truth
BG: ok, that's fine
BG: i'm disappointed, but ok
The Ex: just a lot of what you've written is just really mean
BG: sure is
BG: and a lot of what i've written is really heartfelt too
The Ex: and the more I've read the more everything that was good just has turned bad
BG: feel free to ignore that stuff
The Ex: I can't
BG: i meant the heartfelt stuff
BG: that's there too
The Ex: it's just like twisting the knife years later
The Ex: it's kind of breaking my heart a bit
BG: i was mean, and i apologize for that
The Ex: well its done
BG: you deserve an apology, and there it is
The Ex: and I'm sad
The Ex: apology doesn't erase what you've written
BG: you should probably understand that we're really unlikely to ever have a conversation that doesn't end up like this
BG: and that's not entirely "my fault" or "my bitterness" or whatever
BG: i don't push these conversations, nor do i avoid them anymore
BG: if you want to talk, we can talk from time to time
BG: i dunno why it always gets down to this, but here we are again
The Ex: why should I want to if the end result is you making me upset
The Ex: I think you derive some sort of pleasure from this
BG: that's not true, but i'm also not giving you anything and not going to let you affect me emotionally at all
BG: that's been my habit for the past few years
BG: and it is what it is
The Ex: ok
The Ex signed off at 8:42:12 PM.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
There's a fucking sushi joint that just opened up in town, and manning the counter, rolling the nigiri up for my culinary pleasure, was a known quantity, former blogger, hippie dude sans marijuana that hiked the Appalachian Trail and came back to sling hash and said "okay" when it came time to draft a sucker from the kitchen staff to toss raw fish around.
I asked him if he had kept up on his blog since leaving the Trail almost eighteen months ago, and he said no, and I said What The Fuck?
Why in god's name wouldn't you want to keep writing? Always?
He said he didn't want people to see he had gotten off the Trail and was no back doing the same shit he was doing before he hiked through the mountains of West Virginia, and I was like Motherfucker, that's what people want to hear about if you can frame it right. I want to hear about the sullen despondency of dead coal towns in Middle America and the majesty of some native flower that maybe only bloomed because you passed it by on a Thursday in May, but I also want to know how trapped you feel making your eighteen jillionth plate of eggs and bacon and how the only joy in your day is an over-hard because motherfuckers don't step up and order their eggs funny like that most of the time, you're only tossing scrambled and o/e to tourists all morning long. I want to hear that your car wouldn't start, that your hairline is receding, that your dog goddamn near ran away last night and you had to cobble together some batteries from various appliances, tools, and remote controls just to power the flashlight that found him hiding in the bushes two yards away.
Think my vulgarity goes up a notch when I've been drinking? You goddamn right bitch.
I live for this shit, I want to read your words about today, yesterday, and the day before, and I want them to live and breathe for me. I can do without the hand histrionics, but I want to hear your suckout lamentations and how you were five outs away from one more hand of sanity before that asshole caught and gloated his superiority. I want to read you bleed. Tell me, show me.
So many blogs, so many... I try, I swear to fucking god at this point I try. My friends kick all sorts of ass in person, but when they drag ass online it breaks my heart. It's a personal affront to the written word to see the words HAND HISTORY #39484792 plastered on one more post, but to paint a Plath-esque despondency around one more two-outer rocking your world is beautiful. There's a bar, and I don't know who's setting it, but there's so much motherfucking mediocrity that gets settled for that I don't even want to read anymore, I just want to turn on MTV and watch Ex-2-Da-Zee rock another ride full of candy colors and the latest in Japatronical gizmodica to dull my fucking senses away from the pain. I want to beg and plead and hold my breath to urge you guys to not waste the keystrokes, they're so goddamn valuable, you have no idea. You do have something to say, I promise, and I know I want to read it, and it ain't all poker, or at least it ain't all hand history bullshit and I did this in my EssEnnGee last night and went to bed pissed off because of some donkey bullshit. Come on! This is freestyle bullshit, this is cold lampin' at the mic, an excuse to get retarded. You don't even have to push yourself, just fucking be yourself, your words count your thoughts count your ideas count you count there's no middle ground just fucking step up and be counted.
Can you tell I've been drinking? Fuckingmotherfuck.
No, you're not as good as XXX, you're not going to get paid and laid like XXX, you're not going to write a book like XXX, but you can do so much better, I promise, I plead of you. Maybe this is the tuna or the salmon or the crab or the shrimp talking, but I want to want to read you and I do want to read you now, but goddammit, step up and be the storyteller you know you are. This isn't rocket science, Mrs. Crabapple isn't cutting you a letter grade with a red wax pencil, this is real and this is nothing and everything all at the same time. If you're making the minimum effort to be open, why not make the maximum effort? I haven't gotten laid in so goddamn long, that's real. I think I'm shit and often full of the same, and that's real. I think about the past and how fucking random events collide and make things happen and Iggy finds my blog and we share a moment about long-lost Cynderany, and all of a sudden I'm in his top twenty links in his blogroll apropos of maybe nothing, maybe not, and I meet Pauly, and I meet Al, and I meet so many wonderfully expressive and diverse personalities and I'M BEING DRIVEN INSANE BY THE SHEER SAMENESS OF IT ALL because I know you and you know who I'm talking to here, and you are so ridiculously capable of more, and I can see it and so can everyone else, and still we get stats and percentages and suckout stories and oh-my-god-can-I-call-a-moratorium?
I want so much more from you, you've whetted the appetite, if that is the proper conjugation thereof, and I'm anxious and eager to know about you and your life and your struggles and your confidence, and why you're an asshole/cult member/crappy poet/fly fisherman/expert macrame artist or whatever the fuck you want to talk about and relate, just fucking talk about it already.
I was talking to another blogger who was lamenting that WHERE'S MY MOTHERFUCKING MOVIE CHECK BANKY attitude I had been copping for awhile, and trying to talk this blogger down off the ledge, but oddly enough didn't feel that I had to because maybe I was feeling like some sort of diametric polar opposite to what this blogger was thinking and feeling. Instead of being the guy now who wanted to be like everyone else, maybe now I'm feeling like I'm on some sort of island in my own community. I want to know I'm not alone in my efforts, I want to feel like some of my other friends aren't afraid to open up and show their ugly sides like I make myself do. I want a friend of mine to talk more about divorce, another to discuss their insecurities. I want to know about your kids, your wives or husbands, the life experiences that fucked you up like all the ones I've been pushing through the keyboard here. I don't think most of y'all need therapy the way I need therapy, but maybe I'm just being a motherfucking selfish-ass bastard for tossing around this lamentation: Goddammit, tell me something else.
I don't know what to make of this phenomenon of sharing on a worldwide scale anymore, because so few people seem to be able to do it in a consistently engaging fashion. By no fucking means am I saying I lump myself in that group, but I am saying that because I know you, I read you, in many cases I've met you, I know we can do more together.
Raise the fucking bar. Seriously. Come on up, pop it up a notch or two, and watch the fun as we all try to clear it in a single jump. I want you to feel that feeling, that release, that understanding of pulling something ugly out of your past and putting it out there with only the grime of a dozen or more years worth of regret polluting the content. I know there are stories I haven't heard, and I'm starving to devour them.
As a matter of fact, if you have a story you want to tell anonymously? Send it to me. Create a hotmail or gmail or yahoo account, write it up, send it in anonymously. I'll put it up. I swear to god. I'd rather you feel good about telling these things yourself, but if it has to be this way, I'm happy to give you an outlet of embarrassing absurdity.
God knows I've been keeping that side of the bed warm for a long goddamn time.
I feel like I should maybe type a disclaimer before I toss this up, so here goes. I'm 77% crocked at this moment, so don't take anything I'm saying verbatim as gospel or as truth. I'm not fucking around here, noodling some thoughts out there willy-nilly, but I'm also not trying to insult anyone who sees themselves in this post. I have a great deal or respect for anyone who "puts themselves out there" in any capacity, even at the bare minimum precipice of emotional release. I just know most of you can really step it up if you want to, and by god I'll be grinning like a mental patient if that were to happen.
I'm going to go pour myself another drink. Forget we ever had this conversation.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Just Some Shit
Don't forget to sign up for the WPBT Charlie Memorial tournament at Stars. They aren't taking one red cent for themselves, it all goes to cancer funds. Awesome.
So, if you haven't noticed, there's been a distinct drop-off in the content around here lately. I had actually planned a hiatus from everyday blogging for a bit, kind of in an effort to recharge and come back strong here soon enough, but one day later AJ from Oddjack came calling. We worked out a little agreement which started with an off-the-radar trial period, and so far I think I've been collaborating using the same ethic he was looking for. I really enjoy the new gig, as it gives my snarky side an outlet and certainly lets me write more than a little bit about what I enjoy so fucking much - gambling. I hope y'all have been enjoying things over there so far, I'm proud of the gig, proud of the content (even when it's bite sized), and proud of my efforts so far. I think the Denton model works well for gambling, and look forward to wherever this next step is going to take me.
Now, I can't deny that Oddjack has taken some of my time lately, but this hiatus thing has owed as much to injury as to keeping busy elsewhere.
I think I've got tendinitis in my right wrist. I've taken to wearing a slightly-too-small wrist brace lately, which has helped, but with as much time as I'm required to spend on the computer, I had spent a few weeks exacerbating what I thought was the onset of carpal tunnel. Thankfully, the ergo people at my office don't agree with my worst-case scenario, and it's likely just tendinitis. Whatever, when your wrist hurts and your elbow pops every time you turn your wrist off the mouse, you worry a little bit.
Goddamn I'm getting old.
So, as what I guess might be a benefit to working for some huge media conglomerate (cough), I think I'm going to be interviewing someone soon - although at this point though I know the person's name, I don't have any idea who this person is. None. Zero. I hope I can do the interview justice. Jesus, those two (go read the link for fuck's sake) are so good at what they do they make me want to hang up my keyboard for good. I get the "you're a good writer" bullshit blown up my ass periodically, but holy motherfucking shit, I can't for a minute imagine I've written anything that comes across as effortlessly enjoyable as Tony Pierce. No one needs to get into some sort of "whose is bigger" contest when it comes to blogging, because these things are just personal and that's all, but that doesn't mean that I can't look across the wasteland of American amateur writing and know I'm just some motherfucking softball league big swing while Tony Pierce is hitting for power and average in front of 20k a night and still too modest to take a curtain call. Goddammit. If I were some sort of starf*cker, some sort of anonymous blogebrity suckup fuck, I'd be on his jock in his comments every goddamn day.
I'm not that kind of guy. I am and always will be on Doc's jock though. Metaphorically motherfuckers. He was worried about this WSOP gig, what the fuck now? I can't for a minute imagine he's not going to get paid to write poker from this point forward. Between you and I and the wall, it would not surprise me to see him replace that fucktard Lovinger at ESPN. They've got too much invested in poker coverage to not have a primetime spokesman, and who's got better street cred right now than Pauly? Jesuschrist, someone pick him up.
You know, I'm not worried about it. All I'm worried about is what he's going to do with steady income. Only rich fat white guys with Hispanic housekeepers get fucked on Oxycontin, so I think we can rule that one out. Anything else? Fair game.
More later, I actually want to watch some baseball.
Monday, July 11, 2005
WPBT "Charlie" Tournament
When? 6PM EST Sunday July 17th
How Much? $20 - every penny goes to charity
What Do I Get When I Win? The comfort of knowing you're doing something good for someone else
No, Really... No. Really.
All proceeds to go to wherever Charlie Tuttle's family wants them. Come on out and play!
Bill Simmons @ ESPN
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