That'd be a great name for a band, wouldn't it?
I've been out of commission for the last few days. I've been trying to get over a nagging chest cold fire-damaged lung caused by breathing the spores of the mystical white phosphor lotus I got while playing with my cousin's baby battling a rabid Yeti sorcerer to the death in the Himalayas.
First, I just found this amusing:
Second, my cousin H-Bomb and myself decided to see The Number 23 last Friday. We hit the bar first, where I drank my dinner and got incredibly fucked up. As soon as I sat down in the theatre I passed out on her shoulder. I can’t tell you anything about the movie. All I remember was Jim Carrey doing a lot of addition, and the vague feeling that the movie was annoying. After waking me up several times because I was snoring, she decided we should leave. I’d feel bad about ruining the evening, but, as we all know, I don’t have a soul.
In other news... I got a ticket two weeks ago for running a stop sign, which I didn't do. As many of you may recall, I've been pulled over dozens of times, and each time I was guilty as hell, but this time I really didn't do it. I've been pretty pissed about it, mostly because of the cop's shitty attitude, and I decided to fight the ticket instead of just paying it. Went to court this morning, sat there with a LOT of drunks and one amazingly hot-ass 24 year old girl from Indiana who got a DUI with a 2.1 blood alcohol level. How is she not dead? And where can I find her that drunk again and take advantage of the situation? Oh, wait, I know where; under house arrest in Indiana.
But that's beside the point. The point is I've never fought a ticket before, nor have I ever been to court, so I went in not knowing what to expect. If you've never been to the Campbell County, KY District Court before either, here's how it goes: take every stupid, angry, unwashed drunk you've ever seen on Cops, set them all in a room full of church pews FAR earlier than they're used to being conscious, add a dash of old fart prosecuting attorney with a shitty attitude, plus one - and I'm not kidding here at all - totally awesome judge, and let the circus begin.
I don't know jack shit about the letter of the law, but it was fairly clear that the judge was fucking INCREDIBLE at her job. She was laughing with the defendants, she would poke fun at herself when she made a mistake, she was patient, she was extremely fair, and she was completely unafraid to lay the hammer down when someone pushed her or the law too far. She was just like Harry Stone, but without all the rubber chickens and Mel Tormé. When hot-ass Elizabeth from Indiana gave her flak about her sentence, Judge said, in a much kinder, more motherly tone than these words would suggest, "You know what? I don't think you're taking this seriously. I think some jail time will straighten that out. And you're arguing with me. I don't suppose you understand how bad an idea that is at this point." I think she was just trying to scare her, which worked, because Liz freaked. She was terrified of going to jail, and eventually the judge reduced it to house arrest. I'm sure everyone totally saw it coming, but it was still a good show.
Sometime later the mean old bastard prosecutor, who I'm sure yells at kids to stay off his lawn and keeps any baseballs that land in his yard, was convinced he was going to save the world by preventing a guy who was driving on a suspended license from ever doing it again. Judge was kindly, patiently spelling out to the tard in question exactly what he had to do to prevent from fucking his life up any further, when Coot Jenkins, District Attorney pipes up with "He's got five priors for driving without a license! I'd bet anything he's just going to walk out of here and do it again!" It sounded like he was taking the whole thing personally. The judge pointed out, and this is when I became her biggest fan, that society would not be bettered by depriving this man of his means to get to work and thereby hold a job, and that the court was there to provide solutions to problems. And that's when ol' Coot fuckin' snapped.
"SOMETIMES YOU CAN'T SOLVE! SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO PUNISH!" It was fantastic. My jaw dropped. It was exactly like being on the set of a comic book movie when the superstar villain makes his angriest tirade. A thing of wonder. The judge looked at him, and calmly, with as much smart-ass as you could possibly cram into four little words, said, "Well, today we're solving." The courtroom broke up at that; even the people who were bound for jail were laughing at his hateful old ass. The crusty old prospector prosecutor just slumped in his chair, defeated, angry, and embarrassed. I might go to court more often just to watch shit like this do down. It was kind of fun.
Just like on Cops, the people there were incredibly, amazingly incapable of shutting the fuck up. The judge said to the court no fewer than four times in the two hours I was there "You are being recorded. If you keep talking, you WILL incriminate yourselves." But they just kept going. Six people that I recall talked themselves into a harsher punishment after she had already given them a more lenient sentence. What was even worse is that the old codger of a prosecutor wasn't aware of half the shit these people had on their records until they pointed it out, because he was too busy sitting there practicing his scowl. These dumb bastards weren't being interrogated, they were just straight up telling on themselves. It was like I was sitting in the confessional at an all Down Syndrome mass. It was unreal.
When the judge called my name I was feeling pretty good. I had my arguments and evidence all lined up in my mind, I was happily free of any prior convictions for anything at all, and I was supremely confident that I could achieve the relatively simple goal of recognizing when I was winning, and then ceasing all speech. She asked me how I plead, I said, "Not guilty," and that's when my world collapsed. She said, "Okay then, we'll hold this over for a bench trial. We'll get the officer in question in here and we'll see what they have to say."
WHAT THE FUCK?? All the muliple DUI offenders, shoplifters, check bouncers, freebasers, wifebeaters, and illegal Mexican drunkards who plead 'not guilty' got to go right then! Why not me?! You're going to let these fucking degenerates walk, while I, whose huge crime against society which I didn't even commit was running a fucking stop sign, have to come back and sit through all this shit again?! Jesus. Mother. Fucking. Christ.
God forbid I was going to argue with her - I'd seen the unhappy ending to that little fairy tale - and there was no way I was going to back down and change my plea after spending all damn morning there. So now I have to fucking go back next month. Sure its a hassle, but I made my decision and I'm sticking to it. Besides, it'll be a fun story when I get to tell you all about the time I called a cop a liar in court for not doing her job.
Stay tuned for Part Two of 'The Case Of That One Time Chris Got Pulled Over By The Heinous White Trash Gutterslut Cop Bitch From Beyond Hell.'
I usually try to keep things lighthearted because, let's face it, if I wanted to whine on the internet, there's already a long line of people who've beaten me to the punch. But I can't talk to my friends about this, because I'm sure they already know and have discussed it ad nauseum, and the confirmation of that will piss me right the fuck off. So instead I'm going to whine to the entire digital world.
In that spirit, here's a bit of maudlin personal info that's gonna bring everyone down: I'm lonely. I don't mean lonely as in 'There's no one around today', I mean lonely as in feelings of extreme isolation and questioning if I'm ever going to be really happy again. The experts say probably not. I had a pretty bad car wreck a few years ago which I walked away from without a scratch. Its occurred to me lately that its possible that wasn't for the best. I was enjoying a high point in my life at the time, and I could've gone out feeling on top. Woulda, coulda, shoulda.
Here's a tale you've heard before, and, surprise surprise, it involves a woman. We've been friends for a long time, blah blah blah, I like her, she doesn't like me, old story, old story, I swallow my feelings for a long time because I know she doesn't feel the same, over a year later my feelings for her are stronger then ever, it's killing me not to tell her, eventually I tell her everything and come on WAY too strong, and, she confirms she doesn't feel the same, which is the inevitable hammer blow to the heart I spent over a year being a big pussy trying to avoid. Now that I've established myself as any number of the ridiculous, whiny vagina-men you've seen on popular sitcoms, you can probably understand her disinterest.
Here's the part I wasn't expecting; she's still wants to be my friend. I thought for sure that was off the table, because I knew I was coming on too strong. I've come to realize that holding in love is like holding in a fart; the longer you keep it in, the louder and less pleasant its going to be on the way out, especially for those around you. But sometimes you gotta fart, and damn the consequences. So it is with unspoken love. God, I'll never understand why Hallmark didn't hire me.
Anyway, a bunch of us get together every Wednesday night, and just a couple of hours beforehand, I find out that, not only does she have a new guy - AND WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN? - but he'll be there tonight. I immediately crashed. What had already been a bad week professionally and financially took a sharp turn straight into absolute shit personally as well. I was snappy with people the rest of the day. When I got out of work, I noticed it was taking me a long time to get to my car. I realized it was because I was taking little, slow baby steps, like I was on my way to my own execution. I was unconsciously avoiding seeing her with anybody else.
When I got there, things were just as bad as they could get. His name is "Brian", which I think we can all agree is most certainly the shittiest name in the world. He's a nice guy, which infuriated me, because I wanted really badly to genuinely dislike him for good reasons. She's been seeing him for a while and hasn't said anything; their body language made that pretty clear. She had some of his laundry she had done. She's comfortable enough around him to dress down and go without makeup, which I've only ever seen her do with her friends. It could be that I'm reading far too much from very little exposure to them, but it looked to me like they have one of those very relaxed, easy going relationships, which I know from experience are the very best kind of all, because they're full of adoration and trust. That's exactly the kind I thought she and I could have. That was loads of fun to see.
She talked directly to me a lot more than she usually does. I suspect, because she is not a moron, that she knew I was bothered and was trying to gauge my mood. I played it cool, because I'm a guy, and that's the first lesson in the guy manual: "Play it cool, especially when its not." She talked to me comfortably and at length, which she rarely ever does for whatever reason, and we had a great conversation, and I was witty and charming, and the room loved me. Seriously, I was on my game that night. But every time something clever came out of my mouth, what that old primordial male wiring in my head was really saying is "Why the fuck is your arm around her? Why is your hand on her knee? Don't come around and feel free to touch her like you've known her for years, fucknut, because you haven't. This is my pack and my territory, and you're acting a little too comfortable in it for my taste. I'm twice your size, and I've been cataloging your vulnerable spots since I laid eyes on you. Don't push your fucking luck, jackass; this is thin ice."
I don't say these things, of course. But every cell in my body feels them. Why doesn't she find me suitable? Am I too old? Probably. She dates young. I'm four years her senior, and he's three years younger than her. Is it because I've let myself get fat? Yes. Women are attracted to healthy looking men, just like men are attracted to healthy looking women. Is it because of this, or that, or a litany of other reasons that keep hammering inside my head, screaming out "She doesn't love you. She will never love you. You are not good enough"? If I knew that, I wouldn't be writing this, would I?
My friend Mark, whom I love very much despite what you'll read in the next paragraph, is the one I want least to get his hands on this info. That's why I haven't told any of my friends about this blog. I immerse myself in everything I do, and I'm very open about pretty much everything under the sun with my friends and family. But not this blog. This one's just for me.
As for Mark, I see him more than any of my other friends. More than most of my family. But I don't talk to him about stuff like this, ever. Mark is like a French prick; he thinks everyone's emotional suffering is funny except his own, which he laments and bemoans like it the fucking Apocalypse. Its one of those awful personal qualities in a friend that you loathe, but have to decide to look past because you want to remain friends, so I ignore it. Except when its directed at me, then I unleash a gout of rage at him you would swear came straight from the demonic blowhole of Moby Dick himself. Its a balance we've struck. You may think this sounds like a fucked up friendship, but I think if you'll examine the relationships you have with your friends, you have something similar. We all do.
Anyway, the reason I bring him up is that a while back she and I were starting to get closer as friends; having little in-jokes, sticking up for each other in conversations, holding conversations together off to the side while other people were having conversations around us, you know the drill. Mark is gay and was clearly worried that if she were to get closer to me he would lose her as his fag-hag. So he did everything he could to sabotage it. It was very overt, and others even commented on it. He did everything he could to damage me getting close to her. Now that he's in a relationship, he has no further need for her services, mind you, so its okay if she's got a guy now. It just wasn't okay then. And despite that I don't know for certain if he knows or ever knew how much I like her, I'm not sure I'm ever going to forgive him for that, for what its worth. Its not worth much. Occasionally, though, I see his behavior and I understand why society looks down on gay men and stereotypes them they way they have. Its because they've earned it.
So what's the deal with the video? Simple; its the loneliest song I've ever heard, and it keeps running through my head. You know, because I'm a cliche of a human being. How pathetic am I? I swear I sometimes have to reach down and feel my testicles to be sure they're still there.
When it comes down to it, I guess I'm just writing a confession, as stupid as that sounds. I'm getting it off my chest. I've screwed up my life, I'm alone, and now I'm horribly lonely, and its getting unbearable. I had the most perfect woman for me imaginable and I fucked it up. Now, after a very long time, I finally found someone I could feel something for again, and I fucked that up, too. And I feel even worse because I've watched the girl that I'd be good with being good with someone else. I fucked up with her in so many ways I bet I couldn't even remember them all if I had to. Its like Led Zeppelin says, "Oh, its nobody's fault but mine."
I really don't have any sort of hope for some miraculous bright future. I don't believe in miracles. What this all boils down to is that I'm screaming a very selfish "I'm sorry" with all these words I'm typing, hoping in some small way to feel better for it, but, seriously, folks, that's just a lie I'm telling myself. There is no magic happiness pill. I feel bad, and that's probably not going to change. There's no one out there to grant me any kind of forgiveness I could believe in, and even if there were, what good would it do me? None.
I really thought writing this would help me feel better, but it hasn't. This has begun to feel self indulgent and childish, and that's making me feel worse. Seeing as I've nothing more to add anyway, I'll end it here. Everybody have a good weekend.
