Et tu..you Irish blarney punks? Part 2

Alright here is the fire and brimstone conclusion. I'm getting the gang together with Bill "The Butcher" Cutting and we are gonna throw down with those potato eaters! Throw me..ME.. out of the club? Unacceptable. It's on. I'm gonna take your Lucky Charms and I'm flushing them down into the sewers you little annoying Leprechaun. Take your imaginary pot of gold with you too. It's like the lottery. I always see the rainbow but I've never seen that shining pot of gold. I have driven miles chasing you and I have determined that I have a better shot winning Powerball twice than I do of finding that damn gold. Speaking of gold I'm also bringing Al Swearengen (for you Deadwood fans) to my battle royal on Riverside. We will even get that kid playing that flute (bagpipes?) or whatever the hell they were playing in that fight scene in Gangs of New York. You can have Leo. That doesn't help you. I'm bringing Randy "Macho Man" Savage. Wrath.

As I'm assembling the gang for our showdown my mind drifts to the WWF (now I guess it's WWE). My favorite wrestlers were obviously Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant, but I was also a huge Ultimate Warrior, "Ravishing" Rick Rude, and "Mr. Perfect" fan. It's sad that a lot of these guys that I followed died of drug use. In the movie The Wrestler you can see why. These guys abused their bodies so much to please the crowds and sell the moves that they needed to dose up just to survive the aches and pains. It was medicinal and recreational I'm sure. After the rush of being in the ring before 30,000 people a night I imagine that it would be difficult to unwind at the end of the show, and also being alone and so far from family as they travel from show to show. What's appalling is that these guys don't get medical coverage. As much money as Vince McMahon has made he employs these guys as independent contractors. They have no insurance outside of the ring coverage for "work-related" injuries. The same thing is also going on in the UFC with Dana White. Another cocky bastard that has made millions on the backs of his star athletes. Once they are no longer usable they are discarded. We just remember them in hindsight: Ken Shamrock, Dan Severn, Kimo, Royce, Tito and pretty soon The Iceman. Just like we look back at Junkyard Dog, Ricky the Dragon Steamboat, and Jake "The Snake" Roberts. Greed.

My gang is now walking down E. Main. There are torches with us and that kid playing the pipes. We grip our weapons of choice and I realize now that we live in a culture now that doesn't allow for idol worship. We tear them down before they ever get there. We want "real" people on television. When they do attain idol status and falter we jump on them like a pack of wolves. No wonder some seem so camera shy. Are those cameras that TMZ films with or weapons? Sure, make better decisions, don't screw up and we won't get the story you can say. But, how many of us live with clean life resumes? Our lives are littered with mistakes and embarrassments that only a few or no one knows of. The price you pay for stardom and fame is envy. And envy is one hell of a powerful weapon. How would you like that one mistake to follow you the rest of your life? Look at Hugh Grant. Just google him and the first page you get has Divine Brown. Really? One mistake 15 years ago and guess what, it doesn't disappear. Let's be honest how many of us are rooting against Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton? Envy.

The music intensifies as we pick up our pace. I think of my relationships and my desires. What was real and what wasn't. Was I longing for someone else when I should have been loving someone else? In today's society is it even possible to be married 30, 40, or 50 years? When so many people can get out after 1 or 2 so easily? Why commit to fix a problem when there are so many temptations out there that can distract us from it? When we believe someone online, hidden thousands of miles away truly knows us, does it just mean they just listen? When television tells us this is love and it happens in 30 days and we fall for it? Because they have a beautiful body, smile, a rose, and a television host? Lust.

We walk past people now assembling outside of their houses. Word has gotten out that we were heading for a throw down. Families standing in their front yards watching us march to battle. I think about the world we live in. The food we consume and the mass quantities. We are over-indulged. While countries starve we super size. I am as guilty of this as the next person. I take the easy road and I am lazy. When I do cook I use way too much and throw away too much. I rarely save left overs. When I am out of food at the house instead of making the smart decision to stock up on things I buy for the now. I feel the weight of my unhealthy eating habits as my stomach turns as we press on. Gluttony.

I am writer who talks a big game. My next novel, screenplay, blah blah blah, etc etc. I will wake up at 6am and write every morning. I will finish this in 6 months, 1 year, etc. But I use my mind to surf TMZ and watch The Bachelor or Dancing with The Stars. I have a house full of incredible novels that I do not read. My mind turns to mush and I'm force fed my cravings and desires by the mass market media machine of Madison Avenue. Tell me what I want? Tell me who I am? When I don't get the desired response, I just flip the channel. Sloth.

We are here. My men are lined up. The leprechaun bastards are lined up as well. We stare each other down. I realize now how foolish I am. This is going on because they kicked me out of the bar? I was so proud that I couldn't realize I probably was way too drunk and they should have cut me off to begin with. Instead of rationalizing I got in defense mode. And now we are about to throw down and who knows if we are walking out of here alive. How did this get so out of hand? I want to stop but Bill "The Butcher" and Al Swearengen are gung ho for a fight. They charge and all hell has broken loose. Randy "Macho Man" Savage is now jumping off a car with his trademark elbow drop. I stand still as this all takes place around me. Everything slows down and I realize that my weapons are already inside of me. The only person they are attacking is myself, I am the one at battle and I am losing. Pride.

Et tu Shen*****? Et tu?

So life springs anew on Blogspot. Thank you for the resuscitation. I really like to write and I'm glad a few people read this and well I'll keep 'er going.

It's amazing how when we are upset we will find the resolve to push on. I've been upset a lot lately. Last night it was for some heavy handed treatment at a local watering hole. I can name names and bitch and moan but that doesn't solve anything. Truthfully it just plugs them and makes me look like a childish lush so we'll skip that detour. But I did walk home from downtown last night and stayed up surfing the Better Business Bureau website to file a complaint. It will float out in anonymous cyberspace and probably have the effect on that place like I was fighting Machette with a large feather. It's fine, the principle of it matters I guess. Speaking of Machette I saw the trailer on youtube it looks pretty bad ass, let me know if you've seen it.

I can't take things so personal. This must be a trait of my Pisces, but it seems I can be an emotional Space Mountain. One second I'm on a euphoric high singing Daydream Believer stone cold sober but wired on Diet Rockstar and the next I am storming off the main strip of downtown Medford on a 2 am walk home. All within a few days time, and I'm all over the place. I don't know if it's the recent events (and by recent I'm talking last two months) or if it's just the way I've always been and I'm now noticing it. I'm up, I'm down, making videos of success and sabotaging my psyche two days later. I want positive thoughts to fill my head and push me forward but then reality seeps in and I realize I'm not a positive guy. I have my moments but the music I truly love, the movies I love are dark. Maybe this is my inability to escape the winters of Seattle in my head or maybe I was just born this way. This could be single child syndrome. I mean, even though I have a wonderful sister, she was 8 years older than me and I grew up pretty much alone. Both of my parents worked full-time jobs when I was growing up so my babysitter after school was my television. Maybe this is where I developed my writing talent, in my isolation. I made up friends because I didn't have many of them, and I always envied my friends that had brothers and sisters their same age. Like a built in best friend/rival I'm sure.

Ok enough Blogspot therapy! Ha, please feel free to bill me! Anyways back to other things. So yeah I got kicked out of a bar last night when out with friends for some ridiculous reason and huffed and puffed all the way home. It's not the first time I've ever been kicked out of an establishment but the last time was over five years ago when I was up in Seattle. Me and my friends were at a bar called Cowgirls Inc. It is one of those places where the girls get on the bars and dance, sing, and get majorly aggressive with all the drunk male and female patrons. Well one of these bartenders/dancers served my buddy this shot of some white liquor. I think it must have had kahlua or maybe she was lactating, anyways my friend didn't want the shot. He wouldn't take it and she "claimed" he ordered it. He didn't. She was just hot and thought my friend was drunk enough and they were pushing drinks. Well we all got kicked out. She essentially called over the bouncer and said we were not paying for our drinks and they kicked us all out. Outside we argued with the bouncer for ten minutes in vain. Who ever wins an argument with a bouncer. I mean, first off, most of them have a dialogue that consists of ten words. They look as though they are thinking about food the entire time you are arguing. I shouldn't argue with them anymore I'm just going to carry protein bars now with me to clubs. If I get kicked out I'm just gonna pull out the Tiger Milk bar and say "hey bud, wanna let me back in?" And his eyes are gonna widen "uh Proteeen?..good, me like, go back in, me sorry!"

I vowed to never go again to Cowgirls and I never did while I lived in Seattle. Now a new establishment has been blacklisted. It's unfortunate because a big event is approaching at this place Wednesday night and I wanted to attend for a friend but that is now out. I guess that is selfish of me. If I were a good friend I would go regardless, but I'm stubborn and I don't want to support a bar that treats their clientele so poorly. Maybe I need some feedback on this. Yes, actual participation to my blog. You read?? So you say?? Well I want proof. Respond to my two questions..How is the movie Machette? Anyone seen it. Also is it selfish to not support a friend because you hate the bar that friend is performing in?? Alright, I guess I will see who REALLY reads and who just talks about it now, huh? As for me, I gotta go walk back downtown and pick up my car. No huffing and puffing this time.

It's time to say goodbye....

Ok...that's all folks. I'm officially retiring the blog. It just feels like I'm writing to a black void. People may read it but no one responds, or even "likes" status it. So it feels like I'm writing to myself and I can do that in a mead notebook. I think I need to re-evaluate my life and the quality of people I allow in it. I'm going on a permanent hiatus. If you want to reach me it won't be through this channel. Thanks for listening.

First days.. or hey everyone this is the new guy

I get the good fortune to have two first days. How lucky am I? I know, huh? Jealous? Today I worked at a different branch then the one I was hired for so I got to meet the crew and be the newbie there all day today. Tomorrow I get to reenact the whole performance again for my real branch. Yes! Luckily it was busy at my fake new branch so that I wasn't getting the new guy treatment. No one stole my lunch or pulled the chair out from under me. I made it through the whole day without getting pantsed in the lobby so I'm off to a good start.

I'm kidding of course. New days at the office aren't like new days of school and boy how I dreaded those early on in junior high and freshman year of high school. Those new days can be forgotten, but they won't be. They will live on in infamy and vhs recordings. i tried to buy all the copies but I couldn't muster the cash flow. I just have to hope that when I'm famous no one will want to see a 15 year old thrown in a dumpster or pantsed in the gymnasium. Haha, who am I kidding. I want to see that! If only that had truly happened. What a great sympathy blog I could write. Nope, nope, it never occurred. Really. My therapist says so.

I am happy I got the practise round done. Tomorrow it's for real! Seems pretty easy though. It's not as though I'm learning how to perform surgery. It's the same stuff I've done for like almost half my life. Crazy to think I started banking at 19, and weird enough that the branch I started at today was the same branch I was at the beginning of my illustrious banking career. It's called full circle. You spin your wheels 360 degrees and end up back where you started 14 years later. Yep, the branch didn't change at all in 14 years. It was completely identical. I think I even found the spot where I carved my initials into the desk, and that chair I used to lay on in those lazy afternoons of my youth.

I think first days usually are about trying to blend in. I like smooth transitions. It's not like I play entrance music and walk into my new jobs with a manager, but how cool would that be? You walk into your new job and the lights go off and one of those shiny disco balls pops down and lights up the room in black lighting. The music starts blaring. In this case with the disco ball and it being the first day of September, it's gotta be Earth, Wind and Fire baby. I would wear a large white robe and sunglasses. Hey I'm the new guy. Now that would be a cool entrance, and probably my last at that job.

I think that was my problem as a freshman in high school maybe. I didn't realize that the white robe and 70's disco music would not win the ladies. I was both way ahead of my time and twenty years frozen in it.

I do remember that when I was in third grade I thought I was the man. I actually wore a Micheal Jackson red leather zipper jacket, the sparkling silver glove, the black pants and even, I swear to God, even the silver sparkling socks. I wore this decked out in class like I was walking into Studio 54 and hanging with Andy Warhol and Brooke Shields. The girls loved me. How is this possible? Third grade girls loved me and thought I couldn't have been cooler. I remember going to this roller skating birthday party for this girl and how all of her friends kept trying to get me to skate with her. I was just too cool. I just was there to make an appearance. She cried on her birthday and 4th grade was my comeuppance karma. New school and not quite the same affection for my eccentric clothing. I guess Boy George wasn't the best first day outfit.

So in honor of first days everywhere I just want to thank whoever made it possible for me to have two in one week and I hope my real branch likes Earth, Wind, and Fire because it's September and you're a shining star no matter who you are!!

That Vision (Board) thing....

Four years ago I read the book "The Secret". I liked the idea of it and agreed that positive thoughts do lead to better things happening in our lives. I saw the video in 2007. While some of the speakers were kinda hokey I found that it was pretty inspiring to think of how we can attract positive things into our lives just by focusing on them. Some people disclaimed the movie and book as wishful thinking. It didn't really explain how you were going to achieve all these things you wished for/thought of, so many people felt that is catered to the dreamers and people who weren't realistic about life.

I allowed myself to buy into the concept and in 2007 I made a Youtube video with all of my goals as if they had already happened. I showed my dream house in Maui, my yacht, and all of the places I wanted to travel to. A few of the destinations in my video were: Spain, Italy and Havasupai Falls in Arizona. I didn't realize this until I made another video a few days ago set to music of all the places I visited in 2010. It was set to the same music. I showed my friend Whitney online and she remembered my old video. The one I made in '07 was just a "Vision Board", a visual wish list. The one I made three days ago was real. The places I visited were almost identical. I only wish I still had that original video so that I could show and compare them.

Here is the link to the 2010 video I made three days ago:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l15_Z56QTxk


Needless to say, this inspired me. Was it possible that my mind already believed that I was going there so it happened? Could the "law of attraction" that was described in "The Secret" be real?

Yesterday I decided to make a new vision board. This is where my life is going. This is the plan and it looks pretty real to me. I know I'm capable of this and this is the kind of life I want to live, so check it out. Interesting side note...after I finished making this video I went out to get my mail for the first time in a few days. I had a check for $500 in my mailbox. I couldn't even make this stuff up. Enjoy the video....

Birthday Blog..Happy Birthday sister.

There is a little bit of a delay on the card and gift, the delay being neither are on the way so all you get is this measly blog entry to you. You know the factors: the recession, laziness, overall Jon-ness. Not to be confused with Jonas. I am not one of their brothers, otherwise it would be a hell of a birthday gift. "You see that car outside your window Kim??" Well it's not yours, cause I'm not a Jonas brother.

I was lucky to have a great sister like you growing up. Even the times when I was the obnoxious little brother following you and harassing you in front of your potential boyfriends. The eight year difference definitely had the effect of me getting my way a lot more because you were the ground-breaker so I appreciate that. And who could forget all the hot cheerleader girlfriends you had and the coolest backyard parties in the neighborhood. Even when one of your friends hustled me out of my "Mr. Wonderful" Paul Oryndorf wrestling figure and I cried like a little girl, I still had fun. It wasn't a bad place to be. And yet I'm kind of glad I had an eight year window to go to high school after you so that your popularity had faded in the distance while I strolled into Madera High with my bottle cap glasses. Ha, that's kinda sad.

I remember the little yellow house in the backyard in Madera. I think grandpa built that for you right? If it was dad, wow I'm terrible...someone built it. All I remember is that for you in was this playhouse and by the time you out grew it it became my fort. I think I did more damage to that little house in a couple of years than you did in several. I think by the time I was done with it they had condemned the building.

I remember random things. Like my friends in the backyard at Phillip's house. When you came looking for me because I was in trouble, I don't remember what I did but I'm sure it was bad. My friend Joseph started singing "Whoooa here she comes, watch out boys she'll chew you up...whooa here she comes she's a maneater." We were like eight. I don't even think he knew what the song meant. I just think he knew I was in trouble!

I also still feel bad for that time we were at Long's and you wanted to go inside and get some things in the store and I didn't have shoes and wouldn't go in. You tried to bribe me to go in but mom and dad wouldn't have it. You had to stay in the car and watch me because I wasn't budging. Isn't that ridiculous to feel guilty about something so random? Yet I remember these things. Somethings stay with us longer than others even if they make no sense to remember at all.

I followed your lead though. You got the the chevy sprint car first, then I got one. You got the bank teller job at BofA then I did. You were a cheerleader and I like cheerleaders. But you have always been the responsible one and I'm definitely not that. You've got a beautiful family, a great house, and a very full life. I'm proud of you sister. I love you and I wish you an awesome birthday. You better go out and celebrate.

Textaholics Anonymous

"Hello, my name is Jon and I'm a textaholic." That's it, I'm halfway to curing my affliction. I'm on the road to recovery. I'm... hold on I think I have a text...nope, false alarm. Alright well I need this group because I am definitely an addicted texter. I text when I drive, I text when I'm drunk, I may be on nyquil, half asleep, fully asleep (real talent), and just way too often. I forget what human voices sound like I am too busy texting. I need to read the steps and develop a healthier way of living because this isn't working...wait, is my phone blinking? No, it's the glare.

I've had embarrassing escapades via text. Almost as bad as Mikey making those repeated calls in the movie Swingers to that answering machine. I can't even watch that scene it is so desperate and painful to view. Yet while I have not called a girl's machine several times in a row in order to say the perfect message and end up sounding like a complete dumbass, I have sent the texts. I've sent the texts and then another, and then another. Hello idiot, if she doesn't respond to the third one stop sending...oh damn, four, five, ...maybe. Yeah take the phone and hurl it. Mikey baby, I'm with ya.

I wish there were books on texting etiquette. Is it ok to text this time? What is the proper thing to text in this situation? How long should I wait to reply to that last text? I'd read all of them: The Power of Positive Texting; The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Texters; Guerilla Texting. You name it, I would be all over those. I need guidance and direction cause I'm an addict.

I can't be alone out there. There have to be other addicted texters with worse stories than mine. I have to hear them so I don't feel like the biggest loser in the room. Where is this meeting?! I'll even pour the coffee and get a sponsor. I'm committed to recovery, but I need to hear about the guy/gal who lives under a bridge because of their text addiction. Maybe that will knock some sense into me.

It was so much easier, you know, before text. Now you have to decipher what they mean when they say something. What does that mean? Is she/he joking? Is that playful? Or do they really want to get a restraining order on me? I can't read the signals!

So there we have it, Text Anonymous..not to be confused with Facebook Anonymous. Cause baby, that disease is incurable. Have a great day...um, text me. : )