Duganz at 23

Holy balls...

2008-08-01T12:28:00.000-07:00

...I'm tired. I've been working at the Pov a bunch. I get a break soon and I'll update. Hope all is well...

A few random notes...

...Alisia and I got an apartment...
...I got my class schedule figured out for the semester...the less I think about how tired I'll be, the better...
YAY! haircut...
....................................the other night a guy from Crazy Mike's on Broadway called to ask if he could send a drunk person our way. The Pov's zero-tolerance on booze, so we said no...the guy aksed, and I quote, "But what am I supposed to do? He's passed out in the action section and I need to close up."...h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s..........................
......Sleep man, it's good....If you see it just tell it I said hi.......
Holla.

Day 184-185: Child-sized Parachutes

2008-07-17T10:59:00.000-07:00

So, Mr. Sean Breslin and I are beginning a quest to make the greatest band since George Dennison and The STARFIRES! (like Wulfgar!, STARFIRES! demands an exclamation point, but also needs CAPS to show you hot IN YOUR FACE it is). We're calling this catastophuck "Child-sized Parachutes." We need some cover song suggestions. So, feel free to leave them in the comment section.

In other news: I start a new job at the Pov next week, which should be fun.

Nothing much else to report.

I'm going to see The Dark Knight tonight at midnight. I am WAY too excited. I'm serious. Anyone who knows me knows that my Batman obscession is kind of sick. But they love me anyway. And they should. Batman rocks, and I rock for liking him.

Also, I just heard today in Ochenski's column that Jackie Corr died. For those of you who don't know, Jackie was a Butte-guy who, I think it's safe to say, exchanged e-mail with just about every journalist in the state. He had a knowledge of state politics that would have made any historian envious. He was always on the edge with his commentary–hard-lined liberalism straight from the richest hill on Earth. And I agree with Mr. O: Corr was a tough guy (anyone who ever met him in person, and had their hand crushed can vouch for this).

I'm out kids. Laters

Days 180 through 183: Camping, the 5-monther, and more

2008-07-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

Quick words: Apparently a few people got the idea from my last update that things were bad. Real bad. Actually, things are good. Real good. I'm happy, and I have some direction with my life again. I also have a good thing going on with my lady friend, who for some unknown reason six weeks ago (she says love, I say "drug-induced insanity") agreed to become my roommate for the following year. (I asked her by giving her a stuffed monkey holding a note that asked, "Would you mind living with me?" She doesn't! And this when our 5-monther is only today. So, as I've been known to say: Holla.) Here's a picture of us before a party back in May:

Our friend Tonya called this picture "adorkable"

Alisia's the first girl I've ever lived with, which is odd these days, especially since I've had several decent length relationships. But I've never really wanted to live with any other female before her. Maybe because the party was more fun without having added responsibility. Or, more accurately, because at some subconscious level I just didn't really want to live with anyone before her.

Anyway...

While this doesn't really do much more than make me laugh, here are some other memories from the same night the above picture of Alisia and I was taken:

John T. sports a molestache that would make Burt Reynolds grimace.

A drunk man sings. I know this drunk man. I regret knowing this drunk man.

This last weekend Alisia and I camped in Challis, ID (60 miles south of Salmon) with our friends Sean and Tonya. It was a good time. Challis has a really decently priced hot spring ($10 gets you a spot and free use of the springs) so I recommend it to any bored Missoulian low on cash.

One last thing kids, a present for all of you readers. I've been working as a research-temp these past few weeks, which means that I've read nearly four decades of UM's fine paper, The Montana Kaimin. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, and sometimes I find gold. In this case, I found gold that I now will give to you:

President George Dennison, circa 1952, as he studied history, sold shoes, and fronted the STARFIRES!

You kids can thank me later for finding this image.

Laters

Day 179: Just where the f*ck have I been?

2008-07-11T11:18:00.000-07:00

Imagine this: You wake up one day and you can't move. I should say, you can move, but what's the point. You're body hurts for no reason. Your eyes ache, but the room is dark. You feel a panic attack building rapidly.

At this point your girlfriend leans over and asks if you're okay. You lie. You're fine, you say. She goes to the shower and gets washed. You make her a bagel, and then for some reason you're staring at the counter and you drift off to a different world...

you...

just...

Stop. Lose your mind. Get lost. Your girlfriend finishes her shower. She ask if something is wrong. You lie. You're fine, you say. You hug her. You kiss her. You put on a smile.

She goes to work.

Three days later you request a special night. One where you can just sit at home – preferably in the dark – and ask, again and again, what brought you to this moment.

A day later you have what can only be described as a nervous breakdown, but, you think, to be fair: you were not nervous at all. You were just completely fucking obliterated. You felt completely separated from what makes you a person. You sit. Shake. Cry. And at one point you're faced with the reality of your own fragile state of mind.

It happens like this:

You know damn well that you are on your couch. You are home. You are doing the whole shaking and crying bit. You can taste salt.

But, all the same, you're not on the couch. You can actually see yourself somewhere else. Noe somewhere better, mind you. But something not like this. You're not in the room. You're on a road, a standard country road desolate and nowhere. And you are looking at two paths. Right and left. It occurs to you that right means a complete breakdown wherein you lose the last bit of your sanity. Left means coming back. Feeling bad, possibly. Left means having to own up to the fact that things are hard lately.

You go left.

You cry more.

You spend a week getting over this event.

You cannot blog about your life.

You take 78 days to think of how to start again. You write a chapter to a novel. You visit Phoenix, Ore. for a week and see Portland one night. While in Oregon you have a huge fight with your girlfriend and feel bad for days. You go to Challis, Idaho too. There's a neat hot spring there. No fighting in Challis, though maybe because it happened before Oregon.

There are a few beers. Some laughs. You watch the HBO show Rome, and read a few books. You constantly think of that road you were on weeks before. And then one day you don't. You're past it. You're resolve returns. You feel better.

You breathe again.

Suddenly you don't care if UPS, USPS, the Montana Abolition Coalition, or anyone else wants to hire you. Fuck it. You decide one night that only one thing in your life ever truly made you feel happy: Working at Montana State Hospital.

You ponder this for a long time, keeping in mind that a few weeks before – exhausted, sad, and desperate – you nearly took a plunge into the deep blue ocean of insanity. But didn't You're here. And it's okay. You're okay.

You come to terms with yourself at 23 in a way that you didn't expect to.

You decide, without really consulting anyone, that you want to be a nurse. You sign up for credits at school. You become a student again. You get hired to work part time in the Student Involvement and Leadership Development office at UM. You get hired to work at the Pov part-time as well.

You see things getting better. You feel better.

You start blogging again.

You stop writing in the second person.

So okay. I'm back kids. I'll be seeing you soon. I'm out of town this weekend, but I
ll be back posting regularly next week. Until then....

Laters.

Oh, and P.S.: If this post just didn't make much sense I'm sorry. It's my way of just laying out some of the heavier stuff from my last few months without boring, or seeming whiny.

Small Update...

2008-05-04T10:18:00.000-07:00

Whoa nelly! Such a long week kids. I've been working my ass off. Weirdness: Haven't had any Kettlehouse in six days...I think I'm losing weight (Though, oddly I'm not happy about the loss seeing as I'm forgetting what Honey Hefe, Coldsmoke, and many more, taste like).

I'll be back this week kids, fresh from a depressing funk, and a week of work...

Anyone see this CD review? What a shitpickle....

So I...

2008-04-28T18:55:00.000-07:00

...need a week off. Sort of. Actually I'm just a little tired of writing and this week I'm working as a driver for a certain event and won't be allowed to talk about it anyway (non-disclosure). So I'm just going to leave it at that...

I may post later in the week if I have time.

Special Update about my Netflix...

2008-04-26T14:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, so as I've talked about, I love Netflix. It's great. But one thing I find annoying is its "suggestions" based on what I've rented before. And today's suggestion ranks as particularly bad because...well...just look...
In case you can't see the text, it says, "Because you enjoyed: F**k, The King of Kong...We think you'll enjoy: Dexter: Season 1."

Just an FYI: F**k and The King of Kong are both documentaries; one about the word "fuck," and the other about one man's quest to get the high score in Donkey Kong (I wrote about it here). Neither seem to be anything like Dexter, a show from cable channel Showtime that follows the exploits of serial killer Dexter Morgan – a very moral mass murderer. How Dexter lines up with either documentaries is beyond me. Honestly, I'm confused as shit.

So anyway, I got to get to work on some other stuff, but I thought this would entertain ya. Laters.

Day 101: Thursdays are a good time to find stupid shit

2008-04-24T16:52:00.000-07:00

My unemployment has taught me the following:

Beer in the shower = awesome
Afternoon naps are nice
The internet has stupid crap

The third one is especially important today because I just discovered the dumbest thing on the internet: CNN Headline T-shirts.

The above link will take you to a t-shirt for an article titled "176-lb beauty squashes stereotypes." I'm not kidding. You can buy that shirt for $15 (plus s/h). It has me asking the question, "Can CNN really suck this bad?"

Of course I've said before that CNN may rank as the lowest level of television news (remember kids, Fox doesn't count) this side of Heidi "I used to cheer for the SEAHAWKS!" Meili. But this pushes the bar so low we are now all above it.

T-shirts from headlines? Goddamnittydamn. It's insulting. Especially the one I've linked too. How about one for the article titled, "U.S." Syria reactor most likely wasn't for peaceful aims"? I would like that as a shirt. Doesn't it pop out and say something to you about the wearer? TO me it says, "I bought a t-shirt about an event that happened three weeks ago. That's how much I cared about McCain not liking the Bush administration's handling of Katrina."

Oh, and it also says, "Hi. You may remember me from an advertisement for douche."

And that, kids, represents Thursday. I haven't anything about employment so I'm just keeping my fingers crossed. Until then, at least I've got a new episode of The Office to watch. Laters.

Day 100: So, I saw Ben Folds last night

2008-04-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

Special note: I forgot to post this last night, so yeah. Now I am.

Ben folds rocks, and so does Old Chicago. I learned both of these truths last night and now believe them to be not only self-evident, but also very undeniable. Like the fact that everyone raised in the Catholic Church has at least at one point said, "You know, this bread tastes terrible," followed by guilt at disliking the flavor of Jesus.

And now to get into this comparison between Sir Elton and Ben Folds – the piano men:

Elton: Legendary piano guy who rocks.
Folds: Not quite there yet, and may never be...

Elton: Played "Tiny Dancer," which no one can deny is awesome.
Folds: Played "The Luckiest," which is kind of Alisia and my song...

Elton: Can't hit the high notes in his songs.
Folds: More falsettos than an Elliott Smith CD...

Elton: Played some really cool piano solos.
Folds: Made those piano solos look boring. Seriously, this guy attacked the piano so hard I think it should file charges...

Elton: Something like 4,500 people in attendance including Ass-Grabbing Dancer; Alisia and I stand next to a trash can but get a good look at the man himself from about 100 feet away.
Folds: Only about 1,300 people attend the show and Alisia and I scam tickets in the sixth row in front of the piano...we can see every detail of how he attacks the piano and it's incredible.

So what's my verdict? You see Elton John because he's Elton John; you see Ben Folds because he's fantastic, and you like his tunes. Both are worth it.

What about Old Chicago? Well if you clicked the link (or maybe have been to one) you know it's a restaurant with 110 beers. It rules. Lots of beer. So which one did I dive into? Which frosty mug of awesome did I try? None. It was late and Alisia was the one doing all the driving (as covered in my post about Phoenix – I think – I can't drive stick). I didn't think drinking a few beers and passing out would be nice, so I didn't. And it hurt a bit...

But anyway, it was a good night and I enjoyed it very much.

As for today? Well, Alisia and I took the evening for ourselves to, um...so moving on. I didn't accomplish a whole lot – which is becoming as much a catchphrase of mine as holla. Wait, I should add that I had to take my lip ring out today...I miss it a lot.

I'll see you kids tomorrow.

Day 99: Two job interviews today...

2008-04-22T09:43:00.000-07:00

This morning my Kayne West Alarm Clock (Read: The song "Good Morning" plays) sounded off at 5:40 a.m., otherwise known as, "Before any of you bastards woke up." That meant I was up way too damn early. But whatever. Sometimes that happens.

What was my reason? I had an interview with the United Parcel Service this morning (WTF is it with me and shipping jobs? I was meant to live on a dock). How did it go? Well about three minutes into the 15 minute interview the guy told me, "We don't allow dangling jewelry near the shipping lines." At first I thought, "That makes sense. Luckily I took out of lip ring." WRONG! There it was clanking merely against my teeth. Total self-inflicted pwnage.

I'm not expecting a call back on that one, but oh well. I'm not too depressed about it since I spied this video over at the Onion:

Study: Nearly 80 Percent Of Roommates Got So Drunk Last Night

Maybe that's not your type of yuck inducer, but it made me smile just in time for my second interview of the day: Not a job I'll talk about right now. Like I said yesterday – and oddly enough during the interview – it is a job that has some vague relation to my degree, which is a plus.

I'm hoping at least one of the gigs works out because this whole "unemployment" thing is getting me down. The other day Alisia actually described me as "in a transition period." It makes me feel impotent. ("Pat? Oh, his penis is in a transitional period.") I understand that wasn't her intention, but not having a job is kind of emasculating. It makes me a tidbit queasy and sad.

The upside is that tonight we're traveling to see Ben Folds live, making him the latest person to move off of the "Bands Duganz Needs to See Before He Dies List." Stupid Johnny Cash and Elliott Smith used to be on that list but they went and died. Bastards.

Hopefully Mr. Folds breaks out this track tonight:

That'd make me happy.

Anyway kids, I'm out for the day. Hope you're all doing well.

Day 96, 97, and 98 (cause Mondays are never very interesting...at all)

2008-04-21T09:45:00.000-07:00

Saturday:
I woke up Saturday morning with a big problem: no voice. None. Nada. First I thought it was due to the Trampled by Turtles show the night before, but after swallowing some water and nearly having tears explode from my eyes I decided I was actually sick. Lame. So I spent the whole day finishing off watching Season 3 (and part of Season 4) of Lost to ensure that I'm caught up come Thursday when the post-writer's strike episodes premiere. In other words: not a bad day at all.

Sunday:
Spent most of the morning laying in bed with Alisia since I felt better. The afternoon brought some enjoyment when I just watched YouTube videos of random bands and video games. Then later in the night I met up with Alisia and John to go see Amit Peled play the cello with the Symphony of the Rockies. Holy balls what a kick ass musician. Peled makes the cello sound like an entire orchestra, plus he's a really nice guy. I met him after the concert and he was very soft spoken and humbled by how much his music moved everyone. If he ends up back in Missoula I suggest checking him out.

Monday:
Well, I'm putting in some applications around town. I got interviews tomorrow for a labor job and a job more geared toward my degree...so I'll check back tomorrow. Maybe. I also have tickets to see Mr. Ben Folds in Bozeman, which I think might be cooler than blogging. Sorry.

Day 94 and 95: I got lazy and stupid

2008-04-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

Totally failed to post yesterday out of shear laziness. Okay, but I've got an excuse. First I spent my morning over at the Indy office figuring out some work I'll be doing for the arts pages in the coming weeks. Then I spent my afternoon dinking around. But, I also had family home evening with Tom of Tomfite.com and his brother Karf. And, wowzers, did we find us a way to make the good times roll.

Many people are unaware that I'm a big fan of mistranslations. A really big fan. I frequently check sites like Engrish.com not out of racist intent, but because I get a chuckle every time. I also, for unknown reasons, always read conservative blogs and columnists who I disagree with – it's the masochist in me. Usually I pick up something like Ann Coulter's newest catastrophuck and read stuff like this:

We don't know much about Obama's audience, other than that four fundraisers were held on April 6 at the homes of San Francisco's rich and mighty, such as Alex Mehran, an Iranian who went into daddy's business and married an IBM heiress, and Gordon Getty, heir to the Getty Oil fortune.

It is not known whether any of Getty's three illegitimate children attended the Obama fundraiser -- which turned out to be more of a McCain fundraiser -- but photos from the event indicate that there were a fair number of armed (and presumably bitter) policemen providing security for the billionaire's soiree.

See, I don't get why she's talking about illegitimate kids, or really anything about people other than Obama. My only guess is she's an idiot, or, possibly, we speak a different language.

That gave Tom, Karf and I an idea on Thursday night: Translate everything one of this pundits says from English to French ("Surrender Monkey") using Babelfish, and then change it back. I tell ya, we're geniuses.

Now see what Ann really meant:

We do not know much about the assistances of Obama, other that that which four fund raisers were held April 6 at the rich and powerful houses of San Francisco, like Alex Mehran, an Iranian who entered the businesses of the dad and married a heiress of IBM, and Gordon Getty, heir with oil fortune to Getty.

It is not known if unspecified of three illegitimate children of Getty were occupied of the fund raiser of Obama -- which proved to be more than one raiser funds of McCain -- but the photographs of the event indicate that there were a number right of police officers armed (and probably land-marks) providing safety for the evening with the billionaire.

Exactly. Now I'm starting to catch on. But, really, the question is what if we changed it from English, to French, to Dutch, and then back to English...

We do not know much concerning the assistance of Obama, other one then which that four collectors of funds has come April 6 by the rich and powerful houses of SanFrancisco, as Alex Mehran, an Iranian who the matter of papa has entered and a heiress of IBM, and Gordon Getty, heir to the capacity of oil of Getty has married.

One does not know it as randomly of three illegitimate children of Getty with the collector of fund of Obama have occupied themselves that has appeared more than one collector of funds of McCain amount to but the photograph of the event to notify that exactly a number of police constables had been armed (and probably bitter) the that security for soiree of the multi-millionaire provides.

Oh..."the matter of papa"...I get it now. But why the switch from "billionaire" to "millionaire"? Ann, you so crazy...

I'd like to say we did this type of crap for 10 minutes or so, but it was over an hour translating crap written by TV "personality" Pat Sajak – who I just learned is an especially conservative Republican. I was shocked. Bruce Willis I understand, Republicans like to blow things up, but Pat Sajak? He's just some lame game show host...oh well. I guess the GOP tent fits a bunch of different people.

All I got going on tonight is the Trampled by Turtles show over at the Otherside. The band kicks ass if anyone else is bored and willing to pay the $12 cover ($10 if you get a ticket at Rudy's today). Oh, and my folks are in town to have dinner and shop at Home Depot

Day 93: Okay, maybe I'm elitist

2008-04-16T08:40:00.000-07:00

Since I woke up this morning the only thought running through my head has been about all of the Hillary supporters in Butte, Montana – possibly America's strongest union town. All seriousness, Butte used to have a union for bartenders, and if that isn't dedication to trade unionism I don't know what is.

This thinking may com from this AP article saying that Hillary picked up the endorsement of the The 45,000-member Operative Plasterers' and Cement Masons' International Association. Meanwhile Barack grabbed on to my personal favorite endorsement: Bruce Springsteen. I think the two are a fairly decent juxtaposition of similar values.

For years I've heard how the rock classic "Born in the USA," is less a patriotic ode, but an indictment of Reagan – and it is, just listen to those words. The OPCMIA loves unions, as does Springsteen (I'm basing this on his hatred of Reagan, which I assume means a love of unionism), so both candidates grabbed union love today. But, and this is just one thing, Barack got ONE dude; Hillary got the backing of 45,000 guys and gals.

The OCPMIA's endorsement, if you didn't take time to read the article, comes before the AFL-CIO's meeting to grant a full endorsement so Barack may still get a huge union boost. Meanwhile Sprinsteen's endorsement comes before he releases any new material, which means his next album may be shitty. I don't see a connection, but the whole thing brings me back to my initial anecdote about Butte: Unionists like Hillary.

After finally admitting to this I started to think about the differences and divides amongst democrats these days.

The Obamarama actually provides a perfect look at the divides. Take Missoula for instance, Obama came in as a god to the crowd – believe me, I was one of the converted glad to stand at the altar. But in Butte the majority of signs amongst the crowd held a large "Hillary" logo on them. So, let's make a list of the differences between Butte and Missoula:

Butte has...: Huge pit of toxic water.
Missoula has...: A river that once died, but is now in pretty good shape.

Butte has...: A college for, mostly, engineering degrees.
Missoula has...: The largest liberal arts school in the state.

Butte has...: A mall that's always losing businesses.
Missoula has...: A mall that has this new greek place I just noticed last week. Weird.

Butte has...: Green water if you live "downtown."
Missoula has...: Some of the best water in the nation.

Butte has...: I don't know...like 20,000 people?
Missoula has...: About 12,000 students...and then 60,000 people on top of that.

Butte has...: Small town, blue-collar working class guys with bad backs and a knack for saying things like, "tap'er light."
Missoula has...: Progressive Happy Hour... and more.

And then it hit me – the reason I like Obama comes down to what kind of progressive guy I am. At least somewhat. You see, I'm indoctrinated to the Missoula way of life, and I no longer have that blue-collar cred of Anaconda, Montana to back someone like Hillary with so many of my unionist brethren. I feel like I do – I support unions, buy union when possible (UPS rocks my world) – but really, I'm part of what Fox News and O'Reilly call "the liberal elite," their euphemism for anyone who graduated college (or is at the very least one of those damn liberal bloggers!) and enjoys plays.

While reflecting on this sad realization I had a separate epiphany: That last thought, and entire line of reason, is pure bullshit brought on by the recent Obama controversy and the way the story's been covered. I fell victim to punditry and propaganda.

I'm sure you've already heard how Barack told a blogger that people in small towns cling to religion and guns as if those are the only real issues, and that these people are bitter. When I heard this I didn't flinch or look away like some people, I instead completely agreed with him. I'm from a small town, and, believe me, people there love their guns and God, and many are convinced that someone like Obama (or, yes, Hillary) will take them away from them. Sometimes the people are bitter, and yes, (sometimes) they are very dumb.

But what Obama said isn't some inflammatory statement, it's the same kind of stuff he's said his entire campaign. It's something brutally honest. It's about issues America doesn't want to face, in this case, bitterness and stupidity. I am, for lack of a better example, reminded of Jimmy Carter's "Malaise Speech" wherein he said:

...[W]e must face the truth, and then we can change our course. We simply must have faith in each other, faith in our ability to govern ourselves, and faith in the future of this Nation.

And something that profound – the mere mentioning of facing hard truths about America – put Reagan in the White House. Why? Because America hates truths. When we hear them we shutter; when we know them, we forget them; when someone asks if we believe, we shrug.

It's not that small town people, or the blue-collar worker, are necessarily dumb, it's that they're in a rut. A damn dirty rut. They live in towns like Butte and Anaconda that have been raped by corporate America and thrown to the ground so goddamn hard its a wonder how either still stands up enough to be seen on a map. And so they cling to the rut; they embrace the rut. They barely make it, but they make it. Is it guns? God? Stubbornness that makes the Democratic Party's donkey-logo all too perfect? All of the above.

So why the party split between Hillary and Obama? I don't really know. Will Hillary stand up for trade unionists in a way that' would make Frank Little smile? If she keeps her campaign promises then yes, but I doubt her, and these doubts come from her husband's policy – that little treat for the American laborer called "NAFTA." I try to treat her individually away from Bill's missteps, but this one just sticks out too much.

As for Obama, I'm sure if The Boss says he'll do right, he will. Okay, that's a joke, but what I'm saying is that Obama will stand up for unions all the same.

The only candidate I can assure you will not stand for unions is Sen. John McCain. Talk all you want about his moderateness, but do not be fooled. McCain hates the idea of unions. He is elected from Arizona – a prominent "right to work" state. (For those of you who don't know what that means, essentially it just gives businesses the power to squash any attempts at unionization by its workforce. It's also, ironically for the big AZ, a way for businesses to hire illegal immigrants since no outside entity – like a union – can look at the employee roles.)

Regardless of why this split exists in the Democratic Party today, the real outcome will be seen in November when people go to the polls. I hope that on that day people put aside their degrees and tools, and just realize that no matter which side of the party you sit on, no one wants to see this country handed over to McCain.

And, hopefully, regardless of who wins, we can finally do as Carter asked us and face our problems, and the truth. It hurts sometimes, but it's all we really got.

If that's elitist...well...fine by me.

Day 92: So, you like harassment huh?

2008-04-15T17:26:00.000-07:00

At 1 a.m. this morning Alisia got a text saying something like, "Baby, I'm still hard just thinking about what you did in my dream last night. Obviously that's weird, so she texted that person that s/he had the wrong number. But then, well, the next message had her name in it, which is kind of freaky. So I got to spend the next half hour repeating the following: "Nothing's going to happen while I'm here. Don't worry about it."

Because, let's be honest, getting a text message like that is kind of freaky. And, again all honesty here, I'm a badass (The internet even says so). So yeah I did the whole "I'm a guy who protects lady (grunt)," but it was asked of me.

I will add that all this entailed was me falling asleep what was described as "five seconds before me." Not much of anything really.

Today I did some laundry and got calls for job interviews, which I'll update about later because I'd rather not jinx anything. But what's really important is getting back to this whole call drama...

So I did some investigating this morning and found that the number was from Portland, Maine, from which neither Alisia or I know anyone. Then we got thinking about conspiracy theories ranging from all sorts of craziness, until Alisia called the number from a landline and got the phones voice message, which included the name "Vanessa." Well, a bunch of us have spent the day trying to figure out who this girl is. Finally my friend Joh got a break in the case when he texted the same creepiness to "Vanessa," and she told us that she got "so drunk last night" and "forgot her phone at the bar," and blamed the harassment on the fact that "drunk people say things."

We informed her that a complaint is going to be filed. Holla.

The point is that phone harassment – particularly of a sexual nature – isn't funny at all. We still are not sure who sent the messages, or how this "Vanessa" girl got Alisia's number, but we are sure the shit's going to stop soon.

Anyway...

I gave 30 days notice on my lease today and made the discovery that ending a renter agreement is kind of like a break-up: it's awkward and everything is just bad. Especially when I told him that his other tenant deals drugs. My landlord seemed to really enjoy the story of the tweaker kicking in my door. Hopefully Drug Dealer Neighbor and I both exit at the same time.

And, if anyone cares, I'm moving across the yard into my friend John's condo, which, as I explained way back, is where I lived this summer. Again, holla.

I'll check it with you kids later.

***

Quickie update:

I just read this article about how China thinks CNN is being unfair in its coverage of everyone's favorite communist regime. I found this graph to be most interesting:

It was the latest flare-up after Beijing accused Western media of bias in its reporting following violent protests in the Tibetan capital last month. Atlanta-based CNN has been singled out by some Chinese who say overseas news outlets are smearing Beijing.

Why not Fox News? ... ... ... Oh, wait, Rupert owns satellite stations in China. I wonder if that's why Fox is avoiding "biased" reporting about China? Hmm...

Day 91: Mini Update for laughs

2008-04-14T08:55:00.000-07:00

So, kids, I was checking out the Onion today when I spied this little joke, "Gypsy Curse Lifted from Montana." It made me chuckle just because it has someone impersonating Gov. Schweitzer.

Day 88, 89, and 90: Elton and the kids

2008-04-13T18:47:00.000-07:00

Friday: Bored. Boring. And nothing much else. That was the beginning of my day. Around 1 p.m. John and I joined Bill, Sean, and Sean's Father and Step-Mom at Sean Kelly's for lunch. That was a little entertaining.

Friday night was also the University of Montana School of Journalism's fabled Dean Stone Dinner. But, even though I love my alma mater, I didn't go because my lady friend snagged tickets to Elton John's $75,000 Return Show. Even though I like plenty of the Rocket Man's tracks ("I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues" rocks), I wouldn't have gone had Alisia not offered to take me. Looking back, however, it rocked. I was really excited once the show started and he hit the opening chords of "Tiny Dancer" (Come on kids; admit that that scene in "Almost Famous" is one of the coolest of all time).

I particularly enjoyed him singing "Daniel," which always reminds me of one time I took my brother to the bus station and it played on the radio. It's pretty damn sad, but standing around hearing it live made me happy actually...except for one thing: Crappy Dancer.

After the show Alisia asked me not to really focus on him and talk about how cool the lights were, or my joke about how the guitarist changed guitars on every song ("No! The other Gibson!"). She thought Crappy Dancer should be left out for the most part – maybe she was feeling conceited and wanted me to say she looked really pretty at the show. But I hated Crappy Dancer, he was an old man with a bad mustache who kept dancing too close to us and grabbing his own ass...It sucked. I hated him. I hope he gets a hemorrhoid.

We met up with everyone at the Union after the show and I spoke with the Montana Kaimin's Mike Gerrity. If you haven't read the kids work, well, he's genius. Seriously. He's bound for a brilliant career kicking ass and taking names in print. On Friday though he had only one highlight: He asked me, "Hey, how the hell'd you snag a girl like Alisia?" I told him simply: I made her laugh. And his response was, "Well, if you fuck up I'm totally going for that." Guess that's a compliment...

We walked home after some late night breakfast. Trivia: The Union's "Emotional Fulfillment" shot is the bomb. You need to try it.

Saturday: Wow, to hell with Saturday. We grabbed brunch with some peeps and then dedicated most of the day to watching Scrubs on DVD. Alisia's new to the show, but I think she likes it...wait...[I ask her]...[She nods]...Okay, confirmed, Alisia likes Scrubs based on Dr. Cox, the character played by John C. McGinley – Capt. Badass.

We also went to the MT Freestyle Jam, but we didn't really feel the scene and left before the Reverend Slanky set ended, which was how we knew we didn't dig the night that much. We had some ice cream and checked out.

Sunday: SHOE SHOPPING! Last night I learned that my shoes had died without me noticing, which meant a lot of pain for my feet. I bought a pair of New Balance that featured the numbers "406." Holla. Wait...not enough joy...Double Holla!

So we didn't do much and we can all move on kids. Later.

Day 87: I hate the media

2008-04-10T18:34:00.000-07:00

Allow me to clarify my title. See, I've been following the story of eight Florida teens who, for reasons not exactly logical or clear, beat the crap out of a fellow teenager. (If you haven't I suggest Googling "8 Florida teens." Outside of pornography, you get the news. So, that's good.) The only reason these kid got any attention for their crimes is mass media focusing on stories for pure sensationalism. It bothers me. Especially because

...Well, it turns out that the state great state of Florida now wants to try these teens – age 14-18 – as adults. I'll admit, from the description of the video (YouTube's removed it for "violations") these teens are brutal idiots. It's true. But they're teens. Teens are stupid; believe me, I was one for several years. Teens make absolutely no sense whatsoever. They cry, they get mad, they say the phrase "Oh, my, god" as if it meant something more, like, "I am surprised." And apparently teens will kick your ass for talking smack about them on this thing called the Internet.

But come on. They're kids. Kids. Saying that these kids deserve to never be free again is just insanity, and it depresses me.

I'm talking about all of these things, of course, because I have nothing else to discuss. I could talk about dinner, and Kettlehouse, but I do that all the time. I guess that's all for the night. Remember, the lesson is that you shouldn't throw kids in jail forever. They're stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Kids suck.

Day 86: I'm too excited about returning sitcoms

2008-04-09T18:43:00.000-07:00

There ar few things as pleasurable in this world as watching The Office. Allow me to explain: I usually hate sitcoms outside of a few exceptions like The Office, Scrubs, and, I'm ashamed to admit it, Friends. I can explain the two former with ease, but the latter even makes me wince.

I got watching Friends one night with my parents out of shared boredom. They hate shit like that too. But for some reason stars aligned above us – and there was an eclipse and probably some other random crap – and we watched. And then we watched more. And then, later, we even met on who was the father of Rachel's baby (Season 9). I then got even more into the show during a summer home while I worked at the state mental hospital. My friend owned the nine seasons that were available on DVD at the time, and I watched each one...sometimes five episodes a night. I justify this behavior as such: days spent working around people calling themselves "god," watching some seriously messed up events that still kind of leave me freaked out, and getting punched on a semi-regular basis left me needing something so sugary it hurt. Friends fit that bill and left me able to cope with the daily grind of psychopaths.

Scrubs is something I really liked when it first started airing, but then I started college and didn't watch TV that much – yes even in the dorms. So I lost touch with it for a couple of years. Then I started working at the Indy, and I again didn't have TV, but I had stress...and Scrubs is relatively affordable on DVD. Thus I got back into the show and have watched all six seasons available on DVD. Now I only need to get into watching Season 7, which returns before The Office, but I'm too behind to justify watching it just yet... If anyone knows a place I can stream the episodes from I'd really appreciate it.

With The Office it comes really from a mutual appreciation of the show I share with friends, mostly my boys Tom and Karf (Yes, Tom Fite of Tomfite.com. He's also got some stellar Obama shots from Saturday's awesomeness I suggest checking out. Anything else he writes about – like coding – will probably just confuse you as much as it does me).

Tom and I made a habit of watching the show last year (Season 3) until my job at the Kaimin ruined Thursday nights – I had to design the pages for the Arts section, as well as edit the stories...and that meant no Rainn Wilson for me. But then Season 4 premiered and I was free and clear on my Thursday nights courtesy of the Indy printing on that day. Holla. And just when things were feeling good, the writers went on strike and ruined my Thursdays again. I'm totally okay with the strike, I just, ya know, missed my show.

But now it's back. I can again watch new episodes of The Office. It makes me happy. (I'll bring the Rice Krispy Treats™ guys!)

Speaking of TV, I spotted this news today. It seems The Simpsons are being pulled from Venezuelan TV so that episodes of Baywatch can be shown. Why? Because The Simpsons ran in the morning when children were watching and the government felt it was a bad influence on children. So, yeah, silicon breasts and rampant objectification of women, OKAY!, but an animated family's actions are bad...yup... Hugo Chávez made us all laugh when he spoke at the United Nations way back last year, but this is ridiculous. Seriously. I am very annoyed with Hugo right now.

Later kids.

Day 85: I get writer's block

2008-04-08T16:17:00.000-07:00

So unlike previous days where I looked deep into the white nothingness of a Word doc. and created something, today I just stared...and stared...and then I watched Lost for a little bit. After that I repeated the staring. I also finished off my beard today, which means that for the first time since October I lack chin hair. It's a weird feeling – and the second time I've gone through this experience of beard loss...

Randomness:

• I couple of days ago my friend Danny posted on his blog The Yogurt Chronicles that he planned a blog war with me. But he hasn't yet since I rule. Note to Danny: Don't mess with me Davis. I beat you at the Kaimin and I'll beat you in the blogosphere as well. Holla.

• In my post the other day about Obama in Butte I left out that Obama said about fly-fishing: "It's ten and two right?" I didn't mention it because it seemed innocuous, but it turns out that Zed over at Dispatches from the Borderland actually explained this to Sen. Obama while the man stopped in at the iconic M&M Bar. Way to go man... that's a nice claim to fame.

• Speaking of my past post, Jhwygirl linked to it over at 4&20 and also further smacked around the "Line Cop" from that post, saying that I shouldn't be messed with at 7:30 a.m. My take? Damn straight. I'm not a morning person. If only Drug Dealer neighbor would wake me that early...

...Now exiting randomness:

Since my day didn't do much I think it's best to use this time to take the advice of my friend John and amend an earlier post in which I said,

When [Alisia and I] started off toward home though, something happened. Alisia dropped a bomb on me asking about my past – particularly about my relationships that…well, weren’t exactly completely fair. By that I mean I dated a passive-aggressive manipulator. Thrice actually. The normal guy thing is to say, “Yeah, she was a bitch,” which I know is pretty un-PC, and also sort of a mischaracterization. It wasn’t about “bitchiness,” but about the fact that when I dated these girls I sort of disliked myself... I told [Alisia], “Okay, I was in some abusive relationships.”

After reading that he told me I should point out that my hands aren't exactly clean in these matters, and he dropped a certain name I won't publish...Instead I'll call the girl Matilda. I sort of, well, used her. This was one of the problems I started with when I began the blog, namely, that Matilda would come over if I text messaged her and asked her to. And, well, if you come over in the middle of the night sometimes...well, draw your own conclusions.

Anyway, John siad that ot be true to the point of the blog I should at least be honest with my own piggishness if I'm going to smear past relationships. So there you have it. I'm a pig sometimes and a total asshole as well. While I think some of my relationships have been unbalanced, and bad, I'm a guilty person as well.

Maybe the only conclusion that can be drawn is that people are bastards. All of us. At least sometimes.

Day 84: Updates that aren't real

2008-04-07T16:25:00.000-07:00

Hitting up a show tonight at the Badlander after a long day of slaving for the sake of blogging and fiction. So, in other words, a rather boring day. But I thought I'd throw these videos up on here so you guys can relive the Obama shows this weekend:

Engen talks Obama:

Obama talks Missoula and goes to the M&M in Butte and talks:

Obama talks in Butte (more):

I wish he'd stuck around...I'd have taken him to Kettlehouse.

Day 82 and 83: My Political Hangover

2008-04-07T10:12:00.000-07:00

For some reason a bunch of us went out Friday night to the Union even though we needed to get up at dawn to catch the Barack Obama show at the Adams Center. Bad choice, but then again, we had a pretty good time out anyway.

When Alisia and I were on the road home from Phoenix a week ago I downloaded Kayne West's song "Good Morning" because I thought it'd be a nice way to wake up – and it usually is save for when Mr. West wakes me at 5 as he did on Obama Day. But regardless of our lack of sleep, Alisia and I woke up and headed off to the event, first meeting Sean, Tonya, Bill and John at Finnegan's for bad coffee and greasy food. It sort of worked out nicely...

Around 7 a.m. we arrived at the line, the end of which was near 6th and Gerald. Here we met "Line Cop" – a man who felt he owned the line and would run it his way. You see, as is often the case, people we knew got there early and we joined them at that point instead of the very back. Capt. Line Cop got pissy, "Is this it cause we keep getting pushed back here...okay?" That condescending "Okay" should have tipped me off that he wasn't joking, but I assumed he was. Wrong. Later when a reporter who works with Sean at the Kaimin showed up to ask some advice, Line Cop got on my ass about it. "Hey, this guy needs to move to the back, okay? He shouldn't be up here."

It was 7:30 a.m. and I was tired as all hell, so instead of responding I just mumbled, "huh?" And then Tonya explained to Line Cop that this guy was leaving. Had I not been half asleep I think I would have reminded the guy about how we all had these things called "tickets" and having a "ticket" would get him "inside" the "event" so he should fuck "himself."

Once we got inside we met the security forces, which sucked. The guy who patted me down felt my asthma inhaler, made me take it out and explain it, and then said, "So you have asthma?" I wanted to say, "No, I carry it around in case someone else does." But that'd been as useful as yelling, "I have a bomb!"

And once inside the Adams Center...we waited...and waited...and [yawn!] waited. At least I got to see this laugh worthy commemorative:

This was just oddly hilarious, particularly when the screen below this
prominently displayed a misspelling of his name.

Those two hours took forever. But then, at 10:14 a.m. the man arrived:

Obama, oh you came and delivered a sermon and inspired a crowd. Obama...

The place went nuts, seriously nuts. For just a moment it seemed like the man wouldn't get to speak because no one would stop clapping. But as much as his words meant something to me, and his candor drew me in and made me even more hopeful than ever that he would be our next president, the most stirring image for me was an old woman across the gymnasium from me.

Normally I don't stare at people, but in this case I did. She was an old woman with one of those white old-lady-afros that scream to be dyed blue, and she was clapping enthusiastically at each thing Obama said. Then the crowd stood to cheer during the peak of one of Obama's promises, I believe to bring the troops home. The old woman obviously had arthritis and she fought to stand up only barely making it to her feet before everyone else sat. But she did not. She clapped solo, quietly, as part of her own standing-O for Obama. Having watched the scene I suddenly was hit with a wave of emotion and appreciation for Sen. Obama – there are few things many people can willfully believe in these days it seems, and I don't think age makes cynicism easier. But there in the Adams Center, with Obama extolling his message of hope, an old woman dismissed her arthritic pain to cheer for him. She believed. I honestly hope that when I'm in my 60s or 70s someone can still make me believe that much.

I'll also say that Obama dropped a damn funny joke after saying his campaign still running strong felt like a miracle: "I mean, I'm a black man with a funny name and big ears." A laugh riot. He also said he wanted to go fly-fishing, a joke he repeated later that night...

The Missoula event ended around 11 a.m., leaving me with 2 hours before I needed to meet Rebecca and Jhwygirl from 4&20 to travel over toward Butte America for the Mansfield-Metcalf Dinner, or as I call it: Barrack 2: This time it's in Butte.

This was Barrack in Butte from my vantage point:

Yeah, I was far away, but his speech was just as moving as in Missoula.

I sat with some family, my undecided parents and my pro-Hillary Aunt and Uncle. But I think Obama won, if not everyone's vote, at least their heart. He just made everyone happy, particularly, again, with his humor by joking that he wanted a Tester haircut, or at least a Tester-tie (Couldn't do either); and to go fishing with Gov. Brian Schweitzer. It was pretty damn good humor even if it was repeated.

A sidenote: later in the night people would tell me that Barack seemed like a preacher giving a sermon. I concur. I've watched people at those megachurches speaking in tongues and acting crazy and always sot of felt like those people needed medication, but with the charisma Barack through out, and the way I felt watching and listening...well, I now get why Joel Olsteen sells books.

After Barack I tried eating my "dinner" provided by the Dems. In a word: Shitska. It was a turkey sandwich that sort of made me sick, but at least it came with a tasty cookie and some Doritos. (Lame!)

Between Obama and Hillary we got Sen. Tester, Gov. Schweitzer, and Sen. Baucus. Let me just say that Baucus is a boring man, but I agree with Mr. Wulfgar! that people didn't to be so disrespectful of him. Yes, Baucus doesn't always bring the gold in speeches, but remember Burns? Yeah, I'm okay with Max when compared to that nutbar. We also heard from South Dakota's Rep. Stephanie Herseth Sandlin, a very articulate woman who I had to pity given that she was the lead speaker before the big O and H signed on for the dinner. They sort of outshined her, which sucks for her, but oh well.

Another note: I thought it was very nice that Gov. Brian talked about Tester's election, and not so much his own upcoming raise. It was a nice departure from the rest of the evening's "vote for me" speeches.

Hillary's arrival didn't garner the same applause as Obama despite her seeming to have more sign-holders placed around Butte's Civic Center. I've been tougher on Clinton this race because of her, um, "mistake" five years ago by following President Bush to war, but she did a good job Saturday night despite obviously having a cold.

I thought Hillary did good, but someone needed to give her some TheraFlu,
and a couple of cough drops. The girl was sick.

I particularly appreciated her saying that China needs to quit poisoning us all the time...seems like a good policy choice. But when she started talking about how we need out of Iraq I just wanted to scream, "You apologize right now senator!" It came off as half-assed pandering instead of real regret. But then again, I'm just slightly bitter. I was graduating high school when she decided my generation could die in Baghdad...

After the speech I walked out with my family, exchanged some hugs and well-wishes, and then headed off to meet up with Rebecca and Jhwygirl again. En route I ran into a kid I went to High school with named Robbie. He was a Freshman when I graduated, but his uncanny resemblance to me in personality and looks got him dubbed, "Mini-Pat," so I took a shine to him. He's apparently still copying me since I noticed his shirt had a big "Obama voter" logo. Made me damn proud.

After meeting up with the kids we went off to an after party in Uptown Butte where I snagged this picture:

Myself and Sen. Jon "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" Tester.

Yeah I know it's lame to by a fan-boy at a politico event, but it's Jon-fucking-Tester. (I know I normally don't drop the f-bomb on the blog, but Tester deserves that as a middle name since Obama already snagged "Awesome.") The best part about this picture is that right before it was snapped Tester put his arm around me, smiled, and then took a second to say, "Hey, that's a nice coat." Complimenting a Carhartt = Real Montana. As much as I've mocked the fact that Tester looks like the singer Meatloaf, looking at the two of us...I think he and I share an unfortunate resemblance...but that's okay by me.

Early Sunday John tried to wake me up to go see Hillary at the hanger, but I ignored his call and slept in until noon. I'd seen her once already, and seeing as I support Obama, why bother? But I hear it was an okay time so that's good.

All I did Sunday was hang with Alisia and catch the new Jack Black flick Be Kind Rewind. Even though it was kind of nonsensical in some parts, and barely held a story together, I liked it enough to recommend a matinée visit.

Okay, it's 2 p.m. Monday and I need to quit blogging. Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday...I was just kind of tired. I'll stop by later for a quickie post.

Day 81: Um, nothing much...just pictures!

2008-04-04T17:57:00.000-07:00

So instead of blogging about life today I'm just uploading some of the Phoenix pictures. Holla. See you kids at Obamarama!

See! Donkeys in the middle of Phoenix...and some people get mad at chickens?

Ethan just freakin' out over some game he and I play with a toy car.

So, the kid like climbs everything, but since he's only 22 months old he needs a protector: Uncle Pat.

Myself, my brother Bob, Missy, and a very moody Ethan on the morning Alisia and I head out. He seemed sadder over Alisia leaving him...I think he had a crush.
Duganz men think alike.

I seem larger than life in this photo, so it makes the cut.

Since I jumped into the cold ass pool like an oaf my brother tried to do it in style. Dick.

Look at that face and tell me he's not adorable. That way I'll know about your lack of a soul.

Hope you like the pictures since Alisia spent several days going through them and making them look nice. See ya on Sunday kids...

Day 80: South Park, Samwell, and a flashback

2008-04-03T19:44:00.000-07:00

About a year ago my friend Ian Graham found a video on Youtube:

At the time I was working as a columnist and Arts Editor for the Montana Kaimin, which meant long hours and pretty much always being at the office, which in turn meant all of my friends belonged to the somewhat elitist group referred to as "Kaiminites." That video, Samwell's "What what in the butt," made nearly everyone in the office either laugh, or shiver with revulsion. Guess which group I belonged to? Exactly.

So last night while I was doing some writing I got a text message from my friend Danny, "Are you watching South Park?" I don't have cable so that was a resounding no, and Danny said, "You need to." Taking his advice I checked the episode out today at allabout-sp.net, and I was surprised to see the show's most endearing character, the terribly abused Butters Stauch, remake the above video.

Pure classic. I've wanted someone to redo that video for so long...and now someone has.

Anyway, not much to report today. I did a lot of writing and rewriting, and I'm proud to announce that my neighbor lives on without a beating – a true testament to my patience with idiots. So, that's about it kids. Talk tomorrow...and, like I said, hope we all run into each other Saturday. Holla.

Day 79: I debate beating my neighbor unconscious; update: Obama in the Zoo

2008-04-02T17:29:00.000-07:00

New addition:

O-to-the-bama in Missoula! Moments before Ms. Moy posted this to the web I got the e-mail from the campaign and had my ticket RSVPed...because seeing Obama once on Saturday just isn't enough for me apparently. Hope to see lots of you there...

***

One of my favorite stories from working at the Indy came by way of Ward 6 candidate Lewie Schneller. Remember him? He ran against councilman Ed Childers by breaking election rules and spreading half-truths he got from unnamed Republicans on Council and in the community. Anyway, Lewie came to meet with myself and our publisher, Matt, so he and I could ask him questions leading up to our endorsement package. You may remember that we endorsed Childers on that one for many reasons, but there was an incident behind closed doors that makes me laugh: At one point Lewie looked at me and said something like, "You wouldn't want to live in one of these alley houses just tagged on and stuck on the back end of a lot. They're terrible and ugly and no one wants them. I mean, where do you live?"

I couldn't help myself. "Well, Lewie, I live in an infill alley duplex in Ward 6 because I can afford the rent." The look on his face was nearly as funny as when I asked a certain individual about her part in a failed performing arts center in the Poconos.

The reason I'm thinking of this today is I kind of now agree with Lewie, but not because he's right. I just want to destroy my duplex...with my neighbor still inside. I'm imagining a huge gas explosion...

To explain why I hate my neighbor, who I usually call Drug Dealer: he sells drugs to super sketchy people. Now, as someone who's spent many a night blissfully strung out on various substances (we call this "college") I can usually take a few stoners talking about Phish, or how they think people should just, you know, like, love each other...and stuff. But I can't stand speed freaks and that's who he usually sells to.

A tale: So back a few months I'm in bed when suddenly someone is banging on my door yelling, "Get me my fix man. My fucking drugs! I just fucking need something man. I just...AAAAHHH!" At that point the person started kicking my door in and for the first ime in the five years since I moved to Missoula I found myself brandishing a knife, ready for a fight with a psychopath. It was, to say the very least, surreal. But this fight didn't happen because Drug Dealer, woke up to the sounds, called out, "Man, I live over here."

Great...he saves the night by selling meth (coke?) to a speed freak? Asshole.

On another night I came home to find two people sitting in a crappy old Honda Civic hatchback putting a lighter to a spoon. For those of you unaware of what this is, it's someone melting down rocks. Yeah, great. Just what I wanted to find in my driveway – idiots getting high. They froze and stared at me, and I just shook my head.

Okay, one more story: So I go away for a night and when I get back John tells me that he punched drug dealer in the mouth. I just point this put cause I got really jealous since I dream about it nearly three times a week. God it'd feel nice to punch this kid, and here's why: He blares shitty music, namely Rage Against the Machine.

As a former punk fan I feel I must point out the hypocrisy of RAtM, that while they act anti-capitalist (I remember once seeing their singer wear a Che t-shirt, which I thought made little sense since he bought a shirt to promote a communist rebel) the band made cash off of Sony Records, ya know, one of the "big three." Bastards. "Oh we hate the capitalist facists running this country...except for the ones who pay us."

Plus, their music sucks. Sucks bad. If you told me Hell was RAtM records played all day I would go join a fundamentalist cult. And quick. I don't need that crap for eternity. I would rather listen to the 20-minute live version of "Stairway to Heaven" be played over and over again (Note: that song sucks too).

When you mix his drug dealing with his shitty music is it any wonder why I'd like to go Anaconda Irish on his ass? But maybe you're not convinced yet... Well, how's this: I've been cordial to him. I've been nice when I see him, and I've even changed from playing my electric on my normal amp to using my practice amp with headphones because he complained. Today I actually asked him to turn down his craptastic music and he gave me lip, "You always, like, have some girl over, man, like, talking, and, stuff, ya know? Like, you can be up late talking, and stuff. So I'm fucking playing this to, like, ya know, cause, I, um, I want to, ya know?"

Quick sidenote: I hate people who end statements as questions. Could you imagine Obama doing that? "Yes we can...ya know?" Makes my stomach turn.

After all of that I think I have every right to knock down my duplex, making Lewie happy, and myself ecstatic. Or I could just, as I've said, go Anaconda Irish on my neighbor's ass. (To quote my friend John, "My knuckles are burning...") I think I need to start doing yoga again, or at least leave my house...maybe that's the problem...

Wait, now Drug Dealer's listening to the band Rush...damnit...he IS the problem.

Day 78: Better, and then some

2008-04-01T19:14:00.001-07:00

Late last night before drifting off into a NyQuil induced slumber I had a revelation, "It's tough getting back into the blogging groove. Terribly tough actually. I just can't bring myself to write much since not much is actually happening.

But then I just sort of passed out.

I think this is actually the biggest problem with my project: when you break down your existence day-by-day you're bound ot realize that not much interesting ever happens to you. You're stuck just rehashing the same stories over and over again. Whatever, though, I think I'll just get too personal for a bit...

Ever since I started dating Alisia a little over a month back I've been confronted over and over again by past relationships and how they can impact you later. For instance, my über post the other day covered the fact that I, in hindsight, went through some pretty terrible relationships with the fairer sex. With Alisia these things tend to bubble up since she tends toward the more probing questions of what makes me tick. Ever feel like you're fully exposed in front of someone? That's how I feel around her – as if any lie or attempt to lie would be caught and proved false in front of me. This is both sexy, and disarming.

As open as I am I tend toward the closed-off whenever possible because, well, letting people in usually means my "humorous chubby guy" persona get peeled away and suddenly I am screwed. They know me. They know that the jokes can sometimes be more nervousness than confidence, and they...well it sucks when someone knows that about you.

That occupied my mind today when I sat in bed debating whether or not I felt better. Eventually I concluded that I did and I took a shower, and then I just sort of stared at a blank Word doc. until I thought of something to put there...and amazingly it happened. I actually put something on paper...

All right. I'm done posting for today. I'll see you kids tomorrow.

Day 77: Sick...again

2008-03-31T21:18:00.000-07:00

So one thing I didn't talk about from my trip was my brother getting sick. I mean, who would care about that right? But now I'm feeling like ass so I guess it did matter after all. Anyway, all I did today was job hunt, feel sick and watch a bunch of Lost episodes via abc.com.

I'll try to get something together tomorrow. Alisia's currently working on the pictures...

Day 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75 and 76: The uber-post about PHX, the road trip, and whatever else

2008-03-30T12:07:00.000-07:00

Opening note: Kids, this is a long ass post so smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, and get ready… A few things upfront: my brother’s eight and a half years older than me, and he’s actually my brother-from-another-mother, though we call the same woman Mom. So this explains why he’s married and got a kid and goes to sleep early. You can read more about him here.

Why the week away? his goddamned Internet was bugged out and not cooperating so I just said to hell with it. But I'm back to tell you about my life everyday from now on.

• Day 67, Friday (March 21):

Rev. Slanky played at the Badlander (ONE YEAR! w00t!) and Alisia, Bill, John and myself couldn’t pass it up. We ran into more people we knew right before the show and all of us staked out some real estate on the dancefloor during the first set, a rollicking good time but few dancing. The second set, however, erupted with a floor so packed no one could really move at all, but that didn’t stop anyone. While normally getting batted around with a PBR in hand would be annoying, there was something in the energy that made it worthwhile. So overall a good night, that is aside from a few bits of OPD (Other People’s Drama). Note: Bill needs to embrace AmVets as one of Missoula’s places of interest, and just…calm down a bit.

• Day 68, Saturday (March 22):

Alisia and I need to pack for a trip to Phoenix, but we instead spend a fair amount of time just BSing about unimportant crap. We’re not the most “on the ball” couple of all time apparently, nor do we use time well (A big kindergarten unsatisfactory lies in our immediate future). I got hassled at Walgreen’s because I needed to refill a prescription for an inhaler – if I’ve never mentioned it before, I’m a moderate asthmatic – that my insurance wouldn’t cover because it was early in the month. I love that about insurance companies: You pay them not to do jack shit for you; kind of like Rep. Rehberg. The upside for the day was getting Alisia to watch Swingers, a fine 90s film that I’ll always have a special place for since Jon Favreau character’s personality seems oddly familiar to me…

• Day 69, Sunday (March 23):

Have you ever said something so blatantly stupid you thought someone would notice it and save you, but then no one did? Here’s mine: “We can totally drive to Phoenix in one day. It’s only a 17 hour trip.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

First off: Google Maps can kiss my ass. What a shitty direction-giving program. It led us down a road that essentially added on hour to our trip time, which ended up as 20 ½ hours, 17 of which I drove…yes, because I’m a moronic male. Sorry. I’m a cliché.

From Missoula to SLC were pretty much without incident as we rocked out to some badass 90s hits (There was some Gin Blossoms, I admit this). Then I ditched the freeway looking for the Red Robin in Murray, Utah and got us lost. Why Red Robin, a kitschy corporate eatery? We hadn’t eaten all day and a milkshake sounded good…but we didn’t find it and thus the Applebee’s post. Since I was pissed about losing the freeway and missing out on Red Robin Alisia took over driving for a while, which began with her stopping on a set of railroad tracks and saying, “I hope a train doesn’t come.” On cue the train arrived and we had to run a red light…bad mojo.

With her at the wheel I was free to sleep, and regain my composure… which means I sat there, passenger side, scared out of my mind convinced that she’d kill us both. Apparently, like I said before, I was being a cliché guy with a female driver. It made me feel guilty, but luckily Alisia found it charming (this is a blatant lie. It annoyed her to no end but she still put up with me and even gave somewhat constant reassurance by saying, “We’re fine…quit worrying…stop it…seriously, stop it…).

Coming into Arizona, I guess somewhere around Kanab, Utah at about 10:30 p.m., I took over the driving (it may have been before this actually, I can’t remember and Alisia’s discussing Lost with my brother so I’m not going to fact-check this.) A woman at a gas station told us to watch for elk at about 10-miles out of town because, “That area’s teemin’ with em from what ever’one sayin’.” But there weren’t any elk. Not one. Not even a deer – just winding, winding, and winding damn roads that seemed more and more dangerous with every minute. I chugged Red Bulls.

Alisia kept me awake with a conversation about how we first started dating. Neither of us played the whole odd dating game – trying to make moves, etc. – we just became friends…and then more. This conversation, a one-sentence summary, took us nearly through the Navajo Rez north of Flagstaff, but not entirely, which meant we had to move on to other topics like, sex, drugs and rock’n’roll. Okay, we talked about episodes of Friends that we liked…we’re embarrassing.

But anyway…

Speaking of Flagstaff, that’s where I scared Alisia to death. She tried sleeping, or rather fell into a stupor, around this time and I was near dead. This was about 2 a.m. and I couldn’t tell a tree from a person, or a red light from a green one. I told Alisia I wanted to quit and that I needed sleep, but she wanted to trek on saying, “I’m-ah, good. I can drive. I can drive. I can drive. Totally. I’m-ah fine.” So I continued driving since she was incoherent, which meant I needed to change interstates…total disaster. I ran two red lights and drove all over the road. Now, while this seems bad – and it was – I did get woke up… by a huge damn elk. Yeah, Kanab Lady was right about elk, but about 300 miles off.

I have lived in Montana for 23 years, and I’ve never seen as many elk as I did right outside of Flagstaff. Jesus Christ. It was an endless line of elk that truckers and other idiots drove by at speeds of 75 mph. It was crazy. We drove slower, and then we eventually got there…at 4 a.m…with a big ass story of the 20 hours we spent with each other between Missoula, Montana and Phoenix, Arizona and how at the end of it we still liked each other. My brother, Bob, seemed amazed that we were alive.

Upside of bringing Alisia with me: a real mattress. Usually when I stay in PHX my brother provides an air mattress that sucks, but because I brought a female he actually got a mattress and box spring. Holla.

One could assume we hit this mattress and slept, but instead the two of us hit the bed and laughed for about half an hour about the whole trip. It was a crazy day, but it felt great. We’d done something together that was completely insane, and I think it made us a little closer for having done it.

Also, It felt awesome to sleep…

• Day 70, Monday (March 24):

My nephew Ethan is one loud little turd. Totally loud. He squeals. He screams. He bangs toys. He’s two and he wants you to know it. Waking up to his calls wasn’t as much a pleasure as a curse. Ugh. I wanted sleep time, but Ethan was awake and as I would continue to learn throughout the week: this means get up and play.

Missy, my sister-in-law, went to get a pedicure with her sister-in-law Annette so Bob, Alisia and I took Ethan as well as his cousins Maddy and Austin to the park and then to feed the neighborhood donkeys. I’m not lying here. Glendale, at least the area where my brother lives, doesn’t have a home owners association so people own chickens (without controversy), horses, and donkeys. The donkeys are kind of the neighborhood pet and people tend to feed them all the time. We brought them apples. Alisia got some great pictures of this, but since she hasn’t had time to go through them I can’t post any. Expect them in the future, but here's one of Maddy and Ethan playing in my brother's Saturn:

Ethan and Maddy...

In the afternoon all of us went to a mall in Scottsdale so the parents could return an outfit that didn’t fit Ethan. I hate Scottsdale, AZ. It’s a shit-town. A few years back, okay about a decade, my brother and I got harassed at this same mall because I had blonde hair and looked punkish, and my brother had a red Mohawk. Some guy kicked us out of is store saying, “This doesn’t seem like your kind of place. I’d like you to move along.”

This time we avoided such incidents. A little note on Scottsdale: no smoothies. We spent about a half hour in the mall looking for the obligatory smoothie concession only to find that the place had none. It has about a bazillion polo shirts, but no smoothies. What a shithole. Yuppies suck.

That night we barbecued some burgers while my brother took it upon himself to goad me into leaping into a cold ass pool. This thing is not a heated high-class deal. It’s a cement hole with water requiring sunshine. In the winter it doesn’t freeze, but it doesn’t get warm. Finally he said the magic words: “I’ll jump in if you do.” Oh, it was on. I jumped, I froze, and then – shocked that I did it – Missy and Alisia mocked my brother until he jumped as well. Awesome.

• Day 71, Tuesday (March 25):

We went to the park again, but this time to a different one, and with Bob and Missy’s friends Chip and Suzy, and their daughter whose name I am totally blanking on… well, never mind that whole time. It was fun, but we don’t need to talk about it much other than to say that watching two grown men (Chip and my brother) try to fly a kite on a day with barely a breeze has to be one of the best ways to spend a Tuesday.

This night actually marked my one-month anniversary with Alisia, but I of course didn’t realize this until Thursday. Regardless I took her to a PHX restaurant called Ah-So, or as I call it, The Best Place Ever. Ah-So is for adults what Chuck-E-Cheese is for kids. It’s a Japanese joint where the cooks do all the dishes at the table, which is great to watch not only for handy tips, but also because it’s a performance piece. If you’re in PHX and you don’t hit this place up, you should just drive out to the desert and rot. You’ve missed something amazing.

Once we got home Alisia and I took a stroll around the neighborhood. Apparently Phoenix residents love their carbon because I counted at least 20 Ford 4x4s, mostly extended or double cabs. I guess you need such a ride for all those steep hills and snowstorms Phoenix is famous for. Morons. (I know, I know, a few could be for off-roading, but the vast majority were not tricked out for that so I’m assuming the worst here.)

After that…sleep. Precious sleep.

• Day 72, Wednesday (March 26):

My friend Sarah has family in Phoenix so we met up with her and her Father at a restaurant called The Yardhouse. Big feature: Tons of beer. Tons. Seriously. I was in heaven. Plus Sarah and her Dad are really nice people, and getting a night out with someone other than family while down in Phoenix was a real treat.

Beer tip: Smithwick’s is the bomb. Sean Kelley’s got it on tap so make sure to try it (I scoped it out on the whiteboard there today).

It felt relaxing to have a beer after a long day in the sun that included Alisia and I heading up to this place called Lookout Mountain. From the looks of it Phoenix is a polluted mess. Very smoggy. Again, Alisia got pictures, but I don’t have them yet.

• Day 73, Thursday (March 27):

We’re so lazy…did nothing for a few hours and then we went to the play Closer (the basis for the movie Closer) with Bob and Missy – a new activity for them. Sort of cracks me up that we brought a Missoula-style night out to PHX, especially because the place, ChryoArts Venue, is the small and unknown indie art house…just a few days in the city and I find an art scene. Weird.

Unamazingly Bob and Missy completely dug the play and I think they’ll go to more since plays rock…Others have as well...

*Special note: With 515 closed what will become of the Crystal?

The only other note worthy part of Thursday was Alisia forgetting her ring in our room and Ethan bringing it to her. He’s a bright little scamp and I think the family should keep him around. Here’s a picture of Alisia and Ethan taking pictures together:

Personally I think they're both cute.

• Day 74, Friday (March 28):

We leave Phoenix at about 10:30 a.m. en route to SLC and a stay at what turns out to be the seediest Motel 6 I’ve ever seen. What a dive. We got there at about 10 p.m. and were rundown. Another day on the damn road. Plus I was already missing my nephew squeals and attempts to talk. He has a normal nearly 2-year-old vocabulary, but his favorite phrases are “Mama!” and “Yo yo yo!” For my quarter both are funny.

The trip to the Motel Bad went off fine with Alisia and I discovering one big thing: Everyone driving a PT Cruiser is an asshole. Okay, that’s too far. I’ll make it this: Not everyone who drives a PT Cruiser is an asshole, but only assholes drive PT Cruisers. Every few miles we had to deal with someone being a complete bastard in one of these ug-mobiles. Bleh. To hell with them.

I also learned that the freeway scares the shit out of me. I’m used to two lanes and cordial people, not six lanes chock full of bastards. One would think a Mormon state would have polite drivers…but no. Bastards.

After checking in with the staff at Motel Bad (three people with less teeth than a single person, and more ass than a Hostess Snack Cake Fan Club) we entered into our stained room and I felt guilty. What a dive. Just depressing. I couldn’t bring myself to take any pictures of it.

Following a confusing situation involving ordering a pizza I decided to go look for a gas station to buy beer at. Want to know how I knew this part of town was lowclass? Did you know Keystone had an “ICE” version? Neither did I, but apparently it comes in 40s.

On my way back to the room I encountered a fight with a crackhead and a drunk. Good times. The crackhead of course won, but what really matters is that the drunk looked like this guy:

Seriously, the dude looked like this guy from the Never Ending Story...scary!

Gross but true. I barely slept after realizing a divot in our room’s wall looked like spackle covering a bullet hole.

• Day 75, Saturday (March 29):

We eat at a Red Robin! Burgers and shakes. Total fatty ass lunch, but so deserved for having missed out the previous week. I was psyched.

When we started off toward home though, something happened. Alisia dropped a bomb on me asking about my past – particularly about my relationships that…well, weren’t exactly completely fair. By that I mean I dated a passive-aggressive manipulator. Thrice actually. The normal guy thing is to say, “Yeah, she was a bitch,” which I know is pretty un-PC, and also sort of a mischaracterization. It wasn’t about “bitchiness,” but about the fact that when I dated these girls I sort of disliked myself. And that low self-esteem got me to stop dressing in my Fat Wreck hoody, become a vegetarian, and a whole plethora of other crap. So then I did something that I’m sure means I can no longer belong to the John Wayne Fan Club (I don’t, but still…). I told her, “Okay, I was in some abusive relationships.”

Someone call Tracey Gold, I’m going to change the gender and make this into a Lifetime movie…Consult the movie Swingers for more info on what happens to guys and gals when things go south.

Anyway, saying this aloud kind of queered the trip from SLC to Missoula and left me pretty silent. I do this from time to time. I just go blank. I did this once at a party at Alex’s house where I just sat in the basement reading Albert Camus books. But in a Dodge Neon with only one other person, it kind of seems like I’m mad, or something. It makes everything awkward.

Really, all I kept thinking about was how much dating can suck, and how you can really change yourself a lot trying to be something another person likes, but it doesn’t always work out that way…anyway, it was a heavy trip home and it wasn’t until Deer Lodge that we set our ship right again and started having fun. Alisia thinks I should write a book about a guy dealing with trauma after an abusive relationship since the issue never really gets play.

Moving on…

After getting home, showering, and diving into a growler of stout from K-House Alisia and I joined Sean, Tonya, and John for what we figured would be a good time at Westside Lanes singing karaoke (Sean and I were down for Paradise by the Dashboard Light), but then… John saw a gun; some dude packing heat. Given the local's recent rep for, um, killings, we jetted out of there and headed home without telling a soul…the night was pretty much ruined.

• Day 76, Sunday (March 30):

All day I’ve been regretting not saying anything about seeing the gun at Westside, but I haven’t heard anything bad so…I guess Karma worked out for me this time. Outside of that I’ve done nothing but work on this damn post… my hands are tired and my mind is completely broken now. I mean, Jesus, what a length. If you’re reading this I commend you. I’ll see you kids later. Hope everything went well while I was gone.

Quickie Update...

2008-03-29T20:27:00.000-07:00

I'm back and will post tomorrow about the last week of my life... Holla.

Day 67, 68, and 69 (Easter)

2008-03-23T15:25:00.000-07:00

I'll make this quick: Alisia and I are on the road to Phoenix, Arizona. Right now we're in an Applebee's in Murray, Utah. We've been on the road for 9 1/2 hours and we're just now stopping to grub. Kind of tired, but we're debating muscling through the night...

I'll update later about the weekend activities...

Day 66: Didn't accomplish a lot...

2008-03-20T20:37:00.001-07:00

The only real thing I did today was buy a t-shirt from Mr. Obama that I think says Butte, Montana:

That just jumps out and tells you, "Hey, I'm Irish and going for Barack." It's awesome. Plus, apparently it's the only shirt not sold out....so I guess I'm lucky.

Alisia had a concert tonight that featured Cody Hollow of Reverend Slanky going to town on a marimba solo that left the audience floored. Swriously, the guy's intense. He used three mallets in both hands to rock out – and the entire time he had NO sheet music. Completely badass. The entire audience could not stop talking about it, and the orchestra felt equally amused by it. So, future reference, the guy's really good. (Note: tomorrow night–Friday, March 21–the Badlander charges no cover to see the Slanky in case anyone out there feels like $2 PBR and dancing.)

And that was it...

Day 65: So...I got tickets to the Barack and Hillary show

2008-03-19T18:00:00.001-07:00

Just writing that post title bothered me. I feel sort of bad about the whole deal with the Mansfield-Metcalf Dinner after reading posts all over the place about those missing out (sorry Pete, Señor Singer, Mr. Stevens, Jhwygirl, Rebecca, et al, though congrats to Wulfgar).

Like I said at 4&20, if something changes with my tickets I'll make sure some of you get to go (Although I did find Singer's take humorous based on the incessant attacks about Forward Montana's funding, and Ayn "Confused by Irony" Rand commenting at 4&20 that "party elites" got tickets...Apparently Soros doesn't pack the same sway as he used to...I'm kidding of course).

I promise that I'll put up pictures of the event afterward, so at least there's that. And who knows, maybe I'll get to actually be close to one of these Possible Presidents, to ask a question... (Again, sorry that me – me the unemployed journo – got tickets. I feel like Wayne and Garth here; as if I should shout, "I'm not worthy!" over and over again. I promise to have fun in your steads, however.)

Outside of getting tickets to the April 5th shenanigans I had lunch at Sean Kelly's today with some kids from the Indy (the new guy is very nice BTW), and that was about it. Later tonight Alisia's planned some big surprise for me that she won't divulge, which kind of sucks because I hate surprises.

The whole surprise thing bothers me because if you hate the surprise it's an automatic reaction without a hint of suppression. Hence, you're surprised. In other words: you better like the deal or you'll suffer for it since surprises take time and effort and hating on it hurts peoples' feel goods. But, I digress. Hopefully she knows me well enough that I don't have to worry.

Anyway...I'd like to get back to the 4&20 post that Mr. Talbot put up about the Barillary tickets. At the end he talks about pasties being served at former congressman Pat Williams' birthday. I'd just like to say that his proves one thing I've always felt in my heart: pasties are the food of the Democratic Party. If there is a way to have it declared as such I think it should happen...maybe then people will stop mocking my love of potato and meat pies...

Hopefully my old Indy comrade John S. Adams got good intel from the Dems (I'm betting he did since John is a super kick ass reporter) and Obama does stop in Missoula. That way we'll all get to at least see him.

All right kids, I'll see you tomorrow.

Day 64: The swelling subsides

2008-03-18T19:08:00.000-07:00

My lip feels better today because the swelling is down, but now the whole area is raw and chapped. So, it's kind of a wash, but whatever.

I grabbed lunch with Ashley today (check her pic of me to the right...she makes me look good) at Food for Thought to discuss our lives since we last hung out a few weeks ago. It provided plenty of laughs as I pointed out to her that she sometimes over analyzes her life – especially concerning men. Once I said this she started to over analyze her personality as a tomboyish girl. So, good humor fodder and a worthy way to spend the afternoon.

Then we parted and I did some writing...

Around 5 ish Ashley and I met up again, this time with Kyle, Zane and John, for brews at K-House. That rocked as well and I told a great story about Mike Gerrity, a Kaimin reporter who today published a really great story about Cyril Kenneth Richard, the guy who allegedly killed his roommate in self defense a few weeks ago. It's shockingly awful – not Gerrity's writing, but the whole event surrounding this kid. Whether or not his story proves more truth than fiction, the events leading to this story are just tragic. I know Alisia's felt weird ever since the murder because it happened just a few blocks from her house, but I digress. I suggest reading the feature to get a picture into everything that happened. Honestly, I think it's the best story so far on the whole event, though don't tell Gerrity I said that. He's a putz of a man.

Also, today my friend Jordan also pushed me to a new job (like a certain "motherly" figure has been doing as well...she knows who she is). This one sounds good, so good that I'm not talking about it. I'll tell more later...

Anyway, I hope all is well out there in the world my fair readers. See ya soon.

Day 63: A small look at my (lack of) belief

2008-03-17T14:50:00.000-07:00

Like I’ve said before on this blog, my parents raised me Catholic, but I’m not really into it, or God in general for that matter. This often causes crisis in my life because people have attempted to convert me – save me, as some call it – or at the very least insult my lack of belief in a higher being.

A friend once told me, “I can’t understand how you look at the world, see all of these things like animals and us and all of this, and still don’t think something made it happen. That something made it this way for us.” Okay, he said it much less eloquently and with many “ums” and “ahs” thrown in, but the gist of it was that I, by way of agnosticism, downplayed the miracle of life.

Hmm… Whatever. That was the Christian take, as for the other side…

Sophomore year of college a guy loaned me a book called Atheism: The Case Against God by George H. Smith, a kind of 1980s version of Christopher Hitchens or Richard Dawkins. He gave me this book as a way to –and this makes me laugh – convert me to atheism. He’d been at my apartment ranting about how belief in God was stupid and immature, and only for those with weak intellect. He eventually turned to everyone in the room and asked for their beliefs. After condemning a few Christians he reached me: the token agnostic.

More so than the Christians, I annoyed him. How could I be in the middle? Either there is or isn’t a God. Done deal. No debate. I’m apparently an idiot. The book changed hands.

In his book Smith argues that since the word atheism consists of “a-” – lack of – and “theism” – belief in God – all agnostics are actually atheists because they “lack belief in God.” I read that and thought to myself, “That’s not what an agnostic is…” And then the rest of the book seemed kind of self-righteous and rude, as if he needed to be a huge dick with a book to legitimize his beliefs. This picture of a guy acting rude because of a book conjured thoughts of Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, and led me back to my agnostic position.

I know not of God’s existence, nor do I care. That is, until recently.

I’m currently trading off between reading Hitchens’ God is Not Great, and A.J. Jacobs’ The Year of Living Biblically (The Hot Zone and Hell’s Angels distracted me for a while so I’m behind in both), and the different takes on belief, God, the Bible, and faith each author discusses is enough to get even me filled up with questions again. Plus John and Sean are both taking a class on the Bible with John remaining confused about Jesus and the fig tree despite reading, and re-reading the passages. (Nothing can really get him to understand why Jesus would, of all things, condemn a fig tree. I told him that the Catholic priest in Anaconda used to say it was to show Jesus was a normal man with anger and passion, but the more I think of it, it’s probably just out of context, and or a stupid story…but still…)

With so much God floating around it seemed perfect thatlast night Alisia would say how from time to time she envies those with undying commitment and belief in Heaven, Hell, God, Jesus, and so on. The believers seem pretty happy and fulfilled in a faith-based initiative that “God” is the answer to everything. (What makes a hurricane? God. Why does Plum Creek own most of northern Maine? God.)

Her statement caught me off guard because I know that feeling all too well. Atheists and theists each have this place they can go to where the answer is simple. For the believers, miracles did it. For the non-believers, something logical caused it. But when you’re agnostic things sometimes remain unanswered. For instance, I’ve always believed in the evolutionary theory proposed by Darwin, but it leaves one gaping hole: What caused that first cell to form? It’s the one part science can’t figure out, and believers call God – at least as far as I care to delve into the whole idea anyway.

Being enough to one side of the argument would leave a lot of things less murky, most assuredly. But as I said this I realized, again for maybe the hundredth time, why this feeling of envy subsides, and usually leaves me feeling okay where I stand.

I thought of how everyday I need medication to control my asthma, how I was jaundice at birth and needed ultra-violet light therapy to kick-start my liver. I thought of how I lived for 9-months in a womb without being ejected too early, how the fertilized egg that became me latched on to my Mammy’s uterus, how a single sperm from my Dad made it to that egg, how my parents had to want kids, how they had to meet, how my Mom had to survive a car wreck to get to that moment, how my Dad had to survive being a premature triplet in 1956. I thought of how both lived 25 and 29 years respectively to get to the place where they made me, and I thought of how my Dad needed to divorce his first wife and how my Mom had to decide on being a mom to his 4-year-old son. (Take a breath…I know I need one.) And when I thought of all of this, how odd, and even absurd my existence really is, I thought of how odd it is that 6.6 billion other people do as well. And this made me think of something a friend once told me:

We’re all just fibers in an afghan or a rug. Just these threads that move over and under one another, and are forever moved when they run into each other, and exist only because of how they’re all connected.

Then I thought of how to be on that couch, huddled next to a few candles, Alisia and I both had to move to Missoula, be introduced by our mutual friend Alex, and actually like each other… the odds, again, felt daunting, wholly improbable, but real. I thought of how some people would look at this and say that God meant for it, others would say it was the random outcome of every event leading up to it. But something inside of me felt sated that the “how” didn’t, and doesn’t, matter. At all. It just matters to be there in the moment.

I don’t care why I’m here or why anyone else is. We are, and that’s enough. The “rug” seems to be a very nice picture to think of. And as far as miracles? Well, like I said, we were all somehow born, and given that the fertilization of an egg is nearly impossible; I think it’s pretty amazing. Maybe not in the same league as sea-partings, but amazing anyway.

And with those feelings I felt confident in ending any kind envy toward the theists and atheists. I don’t give a shit either way. I just know that I woke up today and could breath, and could think. And that’s good.

The only real lingering question I have now is why the hell Jesus would nuke a fig tree? It just seems like a stupid idea, nuking a fig tree just because…

Damnit…

Day 60, 61, and 62: A stunted weekend

2008-03-16T13:56:00.000-07:00

You'd think three days would bring a bunch of change and stories to tell, but not so much. All and all I didn't do too much. Friday night I went up to Helena with John and we pretty much just hung at the cabin. I actually fell asleep at about 11:30 while Predator played in the background. So not much to report.

Saturday proved a little more interesting with John and I scoping a rather boring parade in downtown Helena to celebrate my personal holiday. I know, I know: Why wasn't I in Butte? Because, those honkies are crazy. Seriously. I've seen a man shit off a building during the revelry, and I'm not too pressed to repeat the witnessing. At all. I got other things to do.

We did manage to catch some time with Sarah and Jeff (married friends) and grab a Busch on tap at a dive called O'Toole's. Not really my bag, but with $1.5o beers I can see why it could be a place to hit while in town.

To finish off the day Alisia and I had dinner (she's somewhat better, but still recovering), and watched a few movies while drinking wine. So that was fun actually, but not very eventful in a way I can articulate. And now Sunday...

A few weeks ago I asked Alisia the following: What if I pierced my lip?

I thought she'd for sure say what most people do when I suggest such foolishness – NO! – but instead she shrugged, asked where, and then said she thought it'd look cool. I then sat on this thought for a few weeks: would it look cool? Why would I do such a thing? But today it came down to either shitting or removing myself from the aforementioned "pot." So, I...

So far Tonya and Sean hate it (the couple who loves together hates together).
John, Alisia, and my friend Paul all like it.

I know some people are sure to say it looks stupid and that I'm officially a schmuck, but I like it. Besides, it's not permanent. I can always remove it someday. It's not like my tattoos, which cost more and will stay with me forever more. This can go away in a matter of days.

I must say, however, that it hurt. A shit ton. As someone with tattoos over bone, believe me, this hurt just as much if not more. My eyes admittedly tingled in a way that made me think I was going to be babyish, but then they quit and I felt nothing but dizziness. This is normal, I was told.

So that's my weekend, please let the comments commence, but remember that it's not something that will last forever. Plus, I bought it with money from the Indy. In other words: Holla.

Day 59: Chauffeuring and writing

2008-03-13T18:33:00.000-07:00

Okay…so this post’s been sitting around the last few days because it kind of freaked me out. In reality, it’s just Day 57’s original post. I just winged the other Day 57 post since this one got me freaked…

Without further ado:

So, last night I had a dream – a sexy dream. This girl I used to hang out with came into my room and told me bluntly that she wanted to do things to me that my Catholic upbringing will not allow me to repeat, even though I’m pretty damn agnostic nowadays.

I protest a bit saying, of all things, “I’m tired.” Undeterred she used some type of magic, and/or witchcraft, and removed my pants forcefully. At this point her clothes disappeared and she ran at me like a rhino. This was not cool, at all, and something clicked in my brain that made me say, “No…get off of me…I’m seeing someone.”

Like that the girl disappeared, and I was left alone and without pants.

Do you see what happened? I was faithful in a dream. A dream! This is the one place where anything goes, where I fly and play guitar with John Lennon, and where I punch various politicians in the groin. But with this dream I acted with restraint and care. I didn’t cheat on a girl in my sleep.

I woke up afterward to find Alisia moving awkwardly in her sleep, her fever spiking higher again. I rubbed her back and watched as light from outside of her apartment moved over us every few seconds. I thought to myself, “You better like me, cause I just avoided amazing dream sex for you.”

And the worst part of all of this? I don’t even remember dream girl’s name…I’m a lowlife even in my sleep.

I also forgot something about yesterday. I bought a Tommy the Leprechaun shirt at K-House for $15. I’m sure nearly everyone reading already has one, but they’re good shirts and the money goes to help the Poverello Center, so it’s worthwhile to buy more than one (I’m unemployed though, so my purchase of one is forgivable). Plus, while you’re at the K-House you can drink a beer, and that’s always a good time.

Alisia went back to the salt mines today even though she's still not too healthy. With the feds figured out, and waiting for other job offers, I got around to writing some fiction today, so I'm happy since I'm actually creating ideas again.

Nothing else to report on the day other than Gone Baby Gone is pretty good. Lots of twists, though unfortunately I figured out the ending about 20 minutes early. Still, I recommend it.

Day 58: Well... Okay kids

2008-03-12T19:31:00.000-07:00

As I begin writing this I'm listening to John and Jamie watch Love Actually, and Bill talk to Unnamed Girl about whether or not to watch Once. Bill's having an ethical quandary that I'm not in to talking about, but still, I kind of agree with him.

Today I won my fight with the Feds! A package containing my study package for Postal Worker should be in the mail tonight at 3 a.m., which means I'll soon be studying for a job as a postal worker. I also, as I said, had an interview with a certain group today. I'm not going to name it because unlike the Feds, people may actually know people involved in this group. I thought the interview went well, particularly because I feel we agree on how Montana's land should be used. But anyway...

Alisia's feeling somewhat better, but she's probably a few days shy of recovery. Hopefully she gets there soon because we have some plans coming up...

John and I went to the Dark Abyss today because he needed to buy a DVD player for his living room (he recently gave up cable). I tagged along to buy a new water bottle at Sportsman's WArehouse, and, also buy a few of Wind's Bakery pasties. John mocked my for purchasing this culinary treat, but it always makes me feel at home (the pasties are made in Anaconda after all). I reminded him that he's short, he mocked my chubbiness, and we then met Zane and Kyle for brews at K-House.

Right now I'm figuring out the rest of the night, which apparently I should stick around for. Then again, I have that sick girl in need of someone. So, what to do? What to do?

Normally I'd feel odd about the debate, if only because most of the girls I've dated have had a big shit storm over even the idea that I'd have the debate. But Alisia's a lot more laid back. Even with a fever.

It freaks me out as much as it pleases me. Is it normal for a person of my opposite gender to act...normal? Breaks my brain just thinking about it. But, anyway, I should figure the night out and get on with it. Overall, I've had a good day. Farewell.

Day 57: A late update

2008-03-12T08:41:00.000-07:00

I skipped blogging last night to play nurse and wrap my head around an interview I have today (I'll talk about it tonight). Sitting down in front of the blog to type something out just didn't feel doable. So I'm here this morning to do it.

Yesterday I had a fight with the federal government and my credit card company that went like this:

Me: You [the Postal Service] haven't sent my test book.
Postal service: You're not in the system.
Me: I paid you.
PS: Hmmm.....could you send us a statement proving that?

Me: I'm getting fucked by the Postal Service.
Capitol One: For real?
Me: Holla.
CO: I'm on it.

I don't know what'll happen because I have to call the PS again today and repeat this fight. IT bothers me to a great extent.

After messing around for a bit, after the postal fight, I headed back to Alisia's to find her worse for the wear. Her fever had reached 103º, which is bad. Very bad. Not good at all. Really scary. But it soon collapsed as I got her to take some Tylenol and eat popsicles (actually, Dreyer's fruit bars, which rock). And that was essentially the whole day.

Day 56: Hospitals suck, and I get offended by an Oklahoman

2008-03-10T16:51:00.000-07:00

Took Alisia to Community Medical Center today, which proved more beneficial for my people watching time than her health care. After two and a half hours of waiting in a room the doctor finally got around to telling her she didn't have strep, but did have "an upper respiratory virus." Great, just the single best thing the girlfriend of an asthmatic could have...I'm overjoyed.

Anyway, I got her to eat some soup, which she's eating right now as she asks me what color her toenails should be. Odd as it may seem, I'm not a foot fetishist, so I care very little what color these nails are. But I play along and tell her, "Pink." Which they already are. (Note: as I write this she's began looking at me, and I'm sure she knows I'm writing something about her...)

Since most of my day was spent caring for the sicky I barely got around to checking in on the world. But I did spy an item on CNN, which led me to this YouTube clip:

What a terrible wench. On all fronts. On her religious smugness, her hate, and her utter lack of decency. Man I hate Oklahoma. But the worst part is that what she said doesn't seem so out of the ordinary for some people, and this disturbs me greatly. Right now, somewhere in Missoula, a parent is telling their child this kind of garbage, and someday that kid will ooze the same vitriol out into the world. It's just awful.

The sicky and I are gearing up to watch Once here in a minute, so I gotta go. Take it easy everyone, and if you can, please avoid being a homophobic, myopic turd. It'd make my day.

Day 54 and 55: Alisia gets sick; I beat John at bowling

2008-03-09T20:08:00.000-07:00

Friday night a bunch of us went to the Mauler’s game against Helena…It was a bit of a couple affair involving John, Jamie, Alisia, myself, Bill, an unnamed girl (Note: I’ll leave her out for now, but she may stick around for future blogging), and Alex. Even before the first puck dropped Jamie and Alisia started talking. A lot. It inspired me to send John a text saying we needed to stop them from becoming too friendly. We got plenty of laughs out of that, but truth be told it was a little weird when they talked about how both couples should learn how to dance better. Personally I thought we covered this already…

One bad thing from the game was a woman who may or may not have bathed in perfume. She smelled like honey mustard and fart. Everyone nearby began to complain in code. “There’s…something that’s bad…” and, “[Whispering] This woman smells like…bad.”

There was also a guy with a toothpick stuck in the brim of his hat for convenience. I only bring this up because he winked at Alisia in that special asshat kind of way that says, “Yeah, I’m money.” What an ass. And it's not like I'm insecure about other guys looking at her, I just hate idiotic men who make every other guy look bad. I mean, winking? A toothpick hat? I bet he'll vote for McCain too.

Somewhere around the end of the second period Bill and I invented a fictional robot named “Billtrick – the justice robot who runs on pure Patiam Fuel.” Yes, that is a combination of our names. And yes, at the Albertson’s next to Paul’s Pancakes you can find a shamrock signifying Billtrick’s donation toward the study of muscular dystrophy.

And that was pretty much Friday.

Saturday started off with breakfast at the Shack with Sean and Tonya, and John and Jamie. Tonya and Alisia seemed to hit it off (I base this on Tonya’s later appraisal that Alisia was nice)…frankly I’m a little weirded out by her getting along with people in my life. Usually this doesn’t happen. The women in my life often hate my friends, or at the very least don’t think of them in friendly terms. But Alisia seems to get along with everyone…I’ll investigate this further and report back on why this is happening…

Saturday night Sean, John and I went bowling for a little bit. Now, while my game two didn’t go very well, I must say that I beat John in the first game with a stunning end of three straight strikes and a spare:

Take that Cribb! Your ass is now officially owned by PatCo., a Duganzacrom Corporation. Bitch.

(Note: John won game two...but to be fair, I'd been drinking, and I'm taller. Holla)

Alisia felt slightly under the weather on Friday, and worse on Saturday night, so she didn’t go out bowling. After taking out Cribb I went over to her house, where she seemed sort of destroyed. Particularly in the early morning when she, erm…vacated her stomach repeatedly. I gotta be honest, when you’re first dating someone and they start the morning vomit, a bit of you fills with fear – huge amounts of fear actually. But, luckily she just has the flu…which isn’t lucky at all.

All day I’ve been sitting by trying to get Alisia’s fever to subside (she been over 100º all day). But alas, she’s not doing much better. I’m heading over to her house to make her drink Gatorade and see if she’s improved. I’ll see you kids tomorrow.

Day 53: Recap of the PBR thing, and previewing the weekend

2008-03-07T11:01:00.000-08:00

Last night's PBR Band of the Year deal at the Otherside renewed my faith in mankind, and then shot it all to hell.

First off, as frequent readers know, I have a special place in my Irish heart for Alt-country/indie-folk act the Good Neighbor Policy, but last night I also found room to add in a few other local bands that I had foolishly not shown love to previously.

GNP started off the night, and had a good set, though the place hadn't filled up as much as it would later in the night so only about 40 people got to see them go all out (though I wished they'd ended the night with "Cruel World" as per usual *sigh*).

Next up came Black Velvet Elvises with their own unique brand of rock. I've seen these kids before and wasn't exactly floored, but last night I really enjoyed their set (even though they failed to play their cover of "Last Caress" by the Misfits). They really showed up and got the walls shaking. Olivia, their singer, did her very best Deborah Harry impression and made the entire set worth watching. Much fun.

Frequent Duganz at 23 comment-maker Chris LaTray (and fellow blogger) next took the stage with his band Lazerwolfs. I must admit that I'm not a huge metal fan. I kind of find it to be mostly noise with very little musicality. But with its Hüsker Dü meets Motörhead kind of sound Lazerwolfs may make me a believer – especially with Chris introducing a song as follows:

"All right. This next one's called 'The Deed**.' It's a song about...um...fucking."

Holla. I laughed at that intro a lot, as did my buddy John, who was equally swayed to, if not entirely liking metal, at least liking Lazerwolfs. Rock on.*

After Lazerwolfs exited the stage things turned bad, I mean really bad. Walking Corpse Syndrome "played," and somewhere inside I lost my will to breath, think, or exist. I had never seen this band before since I have an aversion to any band with a convoluted name referencing zombies. I'd describe this WCS' sound as noise, but the band Crass is noise and doesn't suck as much as this band. That's right. I said Crass, Crass for goddsake, doesn't suck as much as WCS. The poster for the PBR gig listed them as "Industrial/metal," but that doesn't really do it justice. It should have said "bad/worse." I should have seen the writing on the wall when they brought out two drum kits (groan), but I just thought they were being creative...

Okay, I'm honestly being a dick on this one. If I were actually into their style of music I probably would have been down with them more than a stay-at-home-mom during an Oprah marathon. But as it is I just felt like I was watching Hot Topic vomit out a band. However, one cool addition they brought to the night was a group of "zombie dancers." It was shameless gimmicky crap I normally hate, but given the rest of what was going on with this band I'll say it came off as the least "hey, we're a really cool band!!!!LOL!1!" bit of their whole shtick.

Reverend Slanky played after, and as always got people moving and shaking, which is a lot better than having them just stand against the wall looking. Biggest surprise in the set: a cover of Prince's "Musicology." After this ended I went home because John was leaving, and Alisia wanted to head out as well, plus I was tired. So I missed performances from The Hermans, iNHUMANS and Blessidoom, and the announcement that Slanky won the whole competition.

Oh well. It was a good night out.

I'm getting ready to do some serious writing today, and maybe play some guitar (along with more applications and job searching). For the weekend I'm not planning on much outside of a Maulers game tonight, and some movie watching on the weekend...which brings me to this point...

The other day I was watching TV at John, Sean, and Bill's when I caught a new commercial from Showcase Video that had some slightly veiled digs at Netflix. It shows a guy going to his mailbox a few times, becoming frustrated and then going to Showcase for whatever generic, unnamed film he wants to see. The guy then says, "This is a lot better than waiting on my mailbox!"

LOLOLOLOL!...wait...It's a terrible commercial.

Admittedly at some level I feel bad about no longer frequenting local movie shops for my viewing needs, but Netflix is really nice. I don't ever worry about late fees, or something being out of stock. The only downside is the wait to get movies. I hate that, but the films do eventually come so I can't complain too much.

But after watching the commercial I have decided that when I want a movie NOW, and cannot wait two days to watch one, I will go down to Showcase or Crystal to grab hold of something. Maybe The Missoula Riots, something tells me that'll be a good primer for the summer...

Take care kids, I'll see you soon.

*Update: After posting this I headed over to 4&20 where Rebecca said the same thing. Great minds think alike I guess. Either that or Lazerwolfs actually did kick ass.
**Second Update: Originally I had this as "Thirteen," but Chris corrected me, and so I've changed it.

Day 52: A sequel

2008-03-06T17:57:00.000-08:00

About ten days back I posted about Bill getting drunk in Helena and telling everyone that when he dressed in drag his senior year in high school he “looked like a fat girl, but...could totally pull it off.”

I put the whole thing behind me until today when I got this item in my e-mail:

Wow. Am I right? He's so...well, he's right. That's all I can say. (I love you Bill!)

Outside of this I accomplished a lot today. I returned some Netflix movies, did my laundry, bought some CD-Rs, hung out with Karf for a bit, and I saved the galaxy in a video game. Yep, a very busy day indeed.

Tonight the Good Neighbor Policy and plenty of other good bands are playing, so I'm off to that. I'll post in the morning, maybe. Until then...think of Bill. Bill. Bill. Bill...coming out of that tank top....and think of me vomiting.

Day 51: Still unemployed, but I feel better

2008-03-05T18:28:00.000-08:00

Though I spent all day bored and refused to leave my house, I feel like I accomplished something, if only because I wrote up a storm of copy, reworking the entire scene I blogged about the other day so that it could work as more than a scene. I have no idea where the story will go, but accomplishing some actual creative work made me feel better.

I celebrated with a shower beer. Then I ran out of things to do.

After some bad jokes over a beer at Kettlehouse with Kyle and Zane I'm now getting ready to watch more Monk with Alisia (though truthfully I'm looking for a way to convince her to watch the Chipmunk Adventure). While at the Kettlehouse I noticed Al Pils changed his facial hair to a stand-alone mustache...yes, I frequent the joint enough to notice these things.

I'm still debating the piercing that many people left comments against, but given the universal hatred I don't know if I'll follow through with it. Or maybe I will just for spite.

I'll see what I can do tomorrow to make this more entertaining. Until then...Holla.

Day 50: Bored, bored...so bored

2008-03-04T22:28:00.000-08:00

Alisia seems worried about my state of mind now two weeks into my unemployment. I concur. This complete boredom business has me somewhat depressed and feeling the malaise a bit. All I did today was watch Mr. Show and play Mass Effect. Until later that is.

My friend Jordan dragged me out to Sean Kelly's Pub Trivia tonight to get our faces stomped in by those bastards "Work in Progress." Anyone who has ever joined the fray at Pub Trivia has heard this name, and knows what it means: victory. They always win and everyone always groans and feels bad afterward. And remember, I'm a guy who loves Pub Trivia and even recommended it to newbies in Missoula. Regardless of that, however, I hate Work in Progress.

Take this "Work in Progress"!

I also debated piercing my lip today, just out of boredom. I think it'd work if I did that, though maybe not. Any thoughts from you readers?

Outside of the trivia time I accomplished very little today and sank lower into this feeling of endless boredom and annoyance. Tomorrow I think I'll attempt to do something, even if it's just ride the bus around Missoula all day. See you then.

Day 49: The rest of the day...

2008-03-03T18:03:00.000-08:00

...I accomplished very little aside form attempting to put some polish on a scene I'm writing tha tmay turn into a larger project. That's right, like all unemployed people I'm trying to do something creative (but long time readers already knew this was coming). After the depressing morning I sort of just sat around playing guitar and looking at classifieds. So, in a word, boring. In two words, extremely monotonous.

An old chum from my J-School days (in that far off land of 2007) put this quote up on my morning post that I thought more people should read:

Oh they [the military] love using that word -precision- Truth is its a GPS guidance kit attached to a friggin bomb. Doesn't matter how precise it is if the areas populated. That thing hits and it sends out a shock wave that'll shatter concrete, kill anyone within 120 meter radius and send metal fragments and other debris as far as 1000 meters....and that's hoping the GPS doesn't malfunction and go way off target.

She was referring to the bombing today in Somalia that I linked to this morning. I added the explanation of who "they" refers to.

Kind of puts the whole war machine in perspective, doesn't it?

Anyway, I'm watching episodes of Monk tonight and probably drinking a Rolling Rock or two. I'll be back tomorrow with something better I hope.

Day 49: Morning update

2008-03-03T07:52:00.000-08:00

Wow... I'm just shocked at this, especially the part that says:

The United States attacked a "known terrorist target" with precision missiles in southern Somalia on Monday, a U.S. military official said.
The strike near Dhoobley, which is close to the Kenyan border, was aimed at a "facility where there were known terrorists" affiliated with East African al Qaeda operations, according to the official.

The strike destroyed two houses -- killing three women and three children, and wounding another 20 people -- Dhoobley's District Commissioner Ali Nur Ali Dherre told CNN. Dherre said the remains of the missiles were marked "US K."

I added in the italics. I'm just depressed about this.

Days 46, 47, and 48

2008-03-02T16:35:00.000-08:00

I neglected to update on Friday, again, sorry. I got busy messing around my house and then before I knew it, it was time to head to the Union to catch Reverend Slanky and dance the night away. So I didn’t update.

Friday was actually an extremely good time, for John and I at least. I don’t know what happened for others out that night, but for us the night was filled with – and I’m not lying here – a dance off.

Many people don’t know this about me, but I got moves. I’m not talking extremely good moves, but moves nonetheless. I can somewhat dance…okay, I suck but I let myself go when given a chance and have been known to at the very least provide some people with entertainment. Friday it was Alisia, and John and his friend Jamie.

The thing about John is that he’s a bit cocky, and so am I. Get us together and we could compete on just about any dumbass thing from who can sneak in the best Blues Brothers joke, to who’s got the better ass (me). Friday it was dancing. Coupled up he and I attempted a competition on a floor so cramped up our elbows kept hitting other dancer, but we were not detoured in the slightest (possibly annoying some people). If anything the cramped quarters made the competition better since it attracted attention in a cliché movie way, which I personally feel all dance-offs need.

John thinks he won because he picked Jamie up in some half-assed swing-style maneuver, but Alisia and I declared victory because we feel we looked better doing it. We’re both taller than John after all. (Holla.)

Outside of that I got to drink an Irish Carbomb, which always makes me a little happy. Plus, Alisia and I danced past* the competition time, which was weird. Usually girls I hang out with don’t dance, which means we go to a bar like the Union and…do nothing. We sit and bullshit over pitchers. Lame. But Friday I got to groove.

Saturday was possibly the laziest day I’ve ever had. I mostly watched movies all day and accomplished very little passed learning that Ratatouille is a pretty funny movie and that after all these years So I Married an Ax Murderer holds up (though admittedly the beat poetry scenes are awful, and so is the ending...I like it though. I don't know why). That was it. Wait, there was more: Jiffy Pop popcorn sucks. It sucks bad. How that stuff ever sells is beyond me. It tastes like a baseball covered in butter and dipped in old underwear. Just awful. I cannot recommend it to anyone.

As for today: not much to say. I’ve accomplished very little outside of a shower and having breakfast with friends over at Paul’s.

*Bite me Fihkman.

Day 45: A good night’s sleep

2008-02-28T18:53:00.000-08:00

Oh holla. Damn swell holla. I actually slept last night, and it was fantastic, particularly since I was in a different bed…but you don’t want to read about that do you? Exactly. If there’s one thing I know about Duganz at 23 it’s that my readership, while amused at my romantic life, doesn’t need constant updates…

Ah to hell with it…

I’m seeing someone. Yes, her name has appeared on the blog, but instead of just pointing you toward her name I think you should read through and find it on your own. Hint: It all started with a pig named Mortimina.

Today I did some more job searching after noticing that the masthead of the Indy still lists me as staff (I’m having trouble letting go myself). The job: postal worker. The benefits alone make it worthwhile, but add in the salary – $57,000 – and I start to care less and less about my degree. That kind of cash would help me pay my college debt off, and that’s a happy thought indeed.

Outside of that I put in time with the classifieds looking for jobs I’d like. The outcome? Not many. But I’m in no rush as of now. I’ve got a sizable check coming from Uncle Sam because of my loyal tax paying throughout the year, and that’ll keep me afloat for some time more.

Tonight while I watched John down some McDonald’s (known for its organic food) I caught a clip of Bill O’Reilly comparing the Huffington Post to Nazi-Germany propaganda…and I died a little inside. One of his readers felt outraged because they’d lost family to the Holocaust, and didn’t see the similarities. Oh, but Bill did.

“The blogs use the same tactics as the Nazis did,” he opined. I nearly vomited.

Apparently Bill took offense to a post stating that Nancy Reagan deserved a painful death. I haven’t bothered looking it up, nor will I because I don’t care enough to follow O’Reilly’s stupidity to its source.

While wishing Nancy Reagan a painful death seems a bit stupid, it’s nothing like Nazi propaganda, or hatred. Not even a little bit. Not one smidgen. Nope. None. Nothing. Nothing at all. And he’s an asshole for saying it is.

The Huffington Post isn’t trying to exterminate Nancy Reagan, or all people like Nancy Reagan. In fact, it’s merely the opinion of the author. But he doesn’t care about these “facts.” At all. God he annoys me.

Anyway, to wash that bad taste from my mouth I thought I’d bring up something that I like, the book The Little Prince.

I figure everyone’s read it, but if you haven’t this is a link to a free online version of the Katherine Woods translation, which I think is the best version. If you watched Bill O’Reilly’s foolishness I’d check this out to make yourself feel a little better.

As for me, I’m reading it to a girl. And that's a lot better than watching The O'Reilly Factor... Or John eat McDonald's.

Day 44: I don't know about Karf

2008-02-27T18:44:00.001-08:00

My buddy Karf (brother of Tom Fite of Tomfite.com) lived for about a year without a job, and kept most of his sanity. Today I asked him how he did it because honestly I am starting to get bored.

"I'm incredibly lazy," he told me.

Okay...well, shit. I'm lazy, but not entirely lazy. Of course Karf was being facetious about his unemployed year, but he brings up a good point. Essentially you have to come to a place where you're secure in doing nothing. Boredom must be something not to fear, but to embrace.

I can't do it. I fidget. I talk to much. I need stimulus.

So I took Karf to lunch today to waste some time. Done and done we took a walk around downtown where I learned some bad news. Muse Comics' downtown branch is moving back to it's main location. Totally lame if you ask me. The downtown shop featured a small and friendly atmosphere for my comic needs, and I liked it more than the larger store.

Guess it doesn't matter anymore so I'll just move on. And by that I mean that I'll end this post. Holla.

Day 43: Not as tired…kind of

2008-02-26T18:08:00.000-08:00

I got more sleep last night, a staggering five hours! Yeah! What a great night of sleep.

Now on to the question on every readers mind: Why have I been losing sleep lately?

Am I going through Indy withdrawals? Am I so bored during the day that I’ve done absolutely nothing and thus am not at all tired? Newly found meth addiction?

No, no, and no.

Actually I’ve just been hanging out having some long – very long actually – conversations with a certain person, who I will call CP. CP and I have only hung out a few times, but each time it’s been for about eight hours, and entire workday of just talking about whatever. I told her about Dan (Dave?) this guy who couldn’t man up for an afternoon and be a pallbearer for my uncle leaving me to do the task, and sob in front of my family. She told me about plenty of non-Duganz related events, which means I’ll leave them off the blog.

Most of the time if I spend more than five hours with a girl I find interesting I search for the “in” moment when I can do the whole romantic lean in/drunken move, that says “I am all that is man,” and yet also says, “please don’t be offended that I kissed you.” But with this girl all I’ve managed is to talk, talk, and talk. I swear. By the time I even have the thought, “hey, is this supposed to be something I pursue in a more romantic manner?” I realize its 4 a.m. and I’m too tired to bother.

This makes me feel weird.

I’m not trying to sound like some womanizer; it’s just that most of the time I don’t spend 16 hours over the course of two pseudo-dates just talking (we never declared them as anything with a purpose so I didn’t go in looking for much of anything). Usually there’s something telling me to do more than just talk. But not in this case. All I’ve wanted to do is talk. I’ve wanted questions answered. I’ve wanted to just know stuff. And this isn’t even about dating, or wanting to date. It just had to do with getting to know this girl.

To some people this probably sounds good or better than my past experiences in knowing women, which range from

Her to me: You should come home with – hic – me.
Me to her: Okay…are you feeling all right?
Her to me: [vomits]

And

Me to her: So…I, uh…Yeah. Hi. I said hello before didn’t I. Well hello again. Remember in Jerry MacGuire? “You had me at hello.” Yeah. So…I’m nervous. Do you ever get nervous? I get nervous. One time this girl wanted to take me home and she vomited on my shoes.
Her to me: I sort of like you.
Me to her: Okay…are you feeling all right?

Being in a situation that just demands the opposite, one that encourages knowing this girl as a friend before even acknowledging small flirtations, it’s, well, much, much better. Much less stressful too. It makes me kind of regret any form of dating women, or even knowing women, that I’ve tried before.

So tonight CP and I are supposed to hang out again…I’m bringing meth… or at least caffeine pills.

I’m so excited. I’m so excited. I’m so…scared Zach.

Or maybe not…

Day 42: I am too tired

2008-02-25T22:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I stayed up way to late last night, which is a story I'll get into in tomorrow's post because right now I just want to sleep. Why am I posting so late? Because I went to the Council meeting tonight for a possible story in this week's Indy. I've slept an hour and a half since 8 a.m. Sunday...totally sucks. Goodnight.

Days 39, 40, and 41: The Helena Weekend

2008-02-24T15:03:00.000-08:00

The Helena trip extended itself from just Friday, to the whole weekend. Hilarity ensued

Friday night I missed the Good Neighbor Policy to scope out John’s Dad’s band Running on Empty, a Bozeman-based cover band. They played in the H-town Civic Center, which has to be one of the oddest buildings I’ve ever been in. Huge stage, chandeliers, and tons of older folk, but good times nonetheless.

Bill, Sean, John and I acted out the role of roadies, though not until after the guys finished up at about 1 a.m. Between 9 and that time the four of us had some drinks, some dances with the groupies traveling with the band (their “wives” we were told), and watched the funniest thing in the world: Open Shirt Man (OSM).

OSM came to us with a sad tale. Apparently after 22 years of marriage he learned that his wife had had a boyfriend of 25 years. Totally lame, but I doubt its authenticity. The only obviously factual aspect of OSM came from his willingness to be the King Tool of the night by grabbing at the asses of the groupies, which their husbands could spy from their spot up on the stage.

The best way to describe OSM is a mixture of Colin Farrell and John Goodman – a big sack of hair and bad flopped into a white frat boy shirt with a crucifix on a chain. John, however, thinks the guy was going for a Tim McGraw look (He missed it). I cannot describe what a huge tool this guy was. The kind of guy I sometimes find myself fearful of becoming when I’m awake late at night.

I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid of it again as I could wake up every day, suck a little more, and never equal the terribleness of OSM.

Though I missed hitting the Badlander and getting some much needed time with GNP and others, I at least got to see this guy…well, John’s Dad described it best on Saturday morning while sitting in the hot tub:

“I saw him from the stage and I was just amazed.”

Exactly. Truly amazing man. He had the rhythm of a white guy with the stolen moves of a Kris Kross video. It was like watching that footage of nuclear tests…just a big mushroom cloud and an expanding wave of bad. It’s how I imagine hell, but with less Christian overtones.

Whenever OSM asked for the hand of one of the groupies the ladies were too nice to turn him down, mostly because I think they bought his sob story. As he’d lead them to the dance floor, his sweaty body rippling with joy, they’d glance back and give a look at the group like, “HELP!” One of the groupies, tired of my guffaws at her pain hauled off and slapped me for my insolence, but it was a nice slap.

Though we grabbed a few pictures of OSM, they can’t do the man justice. His badness permeated every bit of his existence, and while a picture tells a thousand words, you’d need at least a book to tell his tale.

On the ride home to John’s cabin on Canyon Ferry he and I had a long talk about OSM, about aging and having everything in your life change. We noted that if OSM’s story was true, and that he had lost his wife after 22 years, that sucks and we could only pity him. For OSM life used to be couples and work, now it’s being that single guy who needs to crate his own good time or fall to the ravages of loathing. Sad. Depressing. We vowed never to turn out like him, and like I said earlier, I think it’s near impossible to actual become as lame as OSM.

Running on Empty played a pretty good set of covers that got the people moving and grooving to the hits of the sixties, and it raised a lot of money for a local charity. So in the end the night was worth it even though I missed GNP (Alisia took some pictures and sent me a few texts reminding me of how badass the band is…she’s kind of mean like that). Laughs and tunes will always be worth the ride.

Plus I got free chicken Parmesan courtesy of John’s Dad…who’s name is John also.

Saturday was different altogether….

Instead of going out we all just hung around John’s cabin hot tubbing and drinking beer, especially Bill. Some of his better (worse?) moments from the night:

• After saying he dressed in drag in high school: “I looked like a fat girl, but I could totally pull it off.”

• “I’m-in not dern…I’m fine.”

• “Why do I want to be in my room?” I explain he should pass out. “Will do.”

• Standing over the toilet: “I’ve vomited.”

• A different time standing over the toilet, this time with his arms whole of vomit covered toilet paper: “The lid was closed…I didn’t notice it at first.”

• “How did I get from the hot tub to me bed?” I explained that I just pointed him in the direction and he went. See earlier comments.

Some of his friends who live in Helena came up to enjoy the cabin as well, though honestly we didn’t talk a whole bunch even though we were sitting around a lot. At least it didn’t feel like a long time talking. Maybe it was. As far as Bill’s huge amount of booze, I blame myself. I encouraged him to drink a six-pack in a hot tub and didn’t stop him from drinking an awful lot of bourbon. But he seemed in good spirits this morning.

For all the time I spent in the hot tub this weekend, maybe about 6 hours total, my shoulder hurt a whole damn bunch. And I’m tired from the whole trip since we didn’t sleep nearly enough. This would bother me if it weren’t for the whole unemployed thing.

Today Sean, John, Bill and I all had brunch at our friend Sarah’s house. She made a huge amount of food and we ate way too much of it, but she and her husband seemed happy to have the company. I guess Helena isn’t a huge amount of fun when you’re young, which is why four dirty idiots grubbing at your pad seems like a treat.

But it was fun and we had some laughs. Then it was just a long ride back to Zootown (Holla), and my bed, which is where I am headed until a little later tonight when last night’s movie watching plans can actually happen. Should be fun. I’ll see you tomorrow kids.

Day 38: Buses and Misc.

2008-02-21T17:45:00.001-08:00

Top reasons I love the bus:

1. Hate driving
2. Save on gas money
3. I walk more

But that's not what I'm really blogging about tonight, I just wanted to talk about how much I like the bus, just briefly.

First day without a job went off without much fanfare. The weirdest part had to do with sitting around without anyone to hang out with. When everyone else has work or school things get boring. So I went to campus today and collected my design clips from my days at the Kaimin and looked for a few jobs. Sort of boring day.

Oh, and I made my weekend plans, though as I said earlier, these "weekend" things don't matter since I lack employment. But the reason I bring it up is that I won't be blogging on Friday because I'm roadying for John's father's band up in Helena. This isn't a paying gig, but we do get to hang out and listen to some pretty good blues music (for white guys). Then Saturday I think I'm staying in to watch a movie.

A note about Friday: when I planned on the roady gig I didn't know that Good Neighbor Policy was playing at the Badlander. So, that sucks that I'm missing it, but if you read this you should go, and cheer twice as hard for me.

I'm sorry this post is all rambling. I stayed up way to late last night and I'm not really thinking very coherently.

Day 37 (redux): Wrong number

2008-02-21T09:23:00.001-08:00

My friend Alisia and I made plans to watch Scream last night first via Facebook, and then by calling each other (rather, texting). So I sent this message to Alisia: "What's your favorite scary movie?"

Harmless fun, right? Just a small reference to the iconic 90s slasher flick. But as it turns out she gave me the wrong number, so I sent that to some random stranger completely out of context.

As I realized this last night before watching the movie I thought of someone sitting out there, getting that text, and wondering if they were going to die. I sure hope not and that the individual just assumed it was a stupid joke.

...and so yeah, Alisia and I watched a movie and had an extremely long talk about randomness. I don't know what else to say about it...

Like I said yesterday, while this updates on yesterday, I'm writing it today so I might as well update you on what I'm doing right now: drinking a beer. I don't even want this one, but I felt as an unemployed person I should do something completely odd, and a beer at 10:30 a.m. fit the bill.

Anyway, I'll be back later to talk about my day. I hope everyone catches my MRSA feature in the Indy... what can I say? Science is fun.

Day 37: Yeah...

2008-02-20T19:08:00.001-08:00

Not going to blog tonight. Got plans. I'll blog twice tomorrow... I have a great story of getting the wrong number...

Day 36: Last 'real' deadline day

2008-02-19T18:35:00.000-08:00

I hit the office around a quarter to nine today and slipped in my feature story for editing. Then I got to work reworking some of my UpFront, and finished off a couple of smaller stories to fill up the front of the Indy. All told I put in about 4,500 words this week with four stories and some truly great photos from Chad Harder to accompany them.

Then I set about throwing around shits and giggles with Harper, that other ink slinger you've been reading from week to week. At first I felt just completely stressed this morning, the world just seemed like a big bowl of bad. I didn't want to take that first step into the office and finish off the paper.

Then I did...and it was just over.

I think it's human nature to feel like you're going to go out in a bigger way than you really do. But unfortunately only James Dean gets to go out big, and maybe Kurt Cobain, the rest of us just sort go away.

But I didn't feel bad about this. I thought of the cover of the Independent sitting out there with my name on the cover – which has a damn fine picture on it – and that made me feel good. I get to leave with that as my crescendo, which makes it kind of fun.

Anyway, enough about that since I've still got one more actual day...

I was thinking a lot today about Rehberg's all too hilarious joke that was about as funny as a bag of cats in a river. I mean that. And here's why: because public figures have a higher standard to follow than the rest of us. That's why someone can get drunk downtown, make an ass out of themselves, and few ever care. But when Britney does it the world flips and can't shut up about it. Like Britney, Rehberg has to be scrutinized harsher, thus his attempt at humor gets a more jaded eye than most others – especially when you look at his voting record. I mean, jeesh, did a gay person steal his lunchbox as a kid?

And you know the best part of Rehberg's anti-gay rhetoric? Okay, he makes a passing joke about Sen. Larry Craig, right? And this after being so anti-gay...like a certain Sen. Larry Craig. See where I'm going with this?

Don't make fun of an anti-gay (allegedly) gay senator, when you're voting record matches up. It gets this guy's wheels turning about how wide of a stance a Billings "rancher" may have...

Of course that's pure hyperbole and humor, but you get my point? It's not funny to both vote against gay people, and also mock them. Didn't he do that enough already?

Day 35: What my plans are...

2008-02-18T18:46:00.000-08:00

So jhwygirl left a comment on my post about Mortimina, the work of Spart, asking the simple question, "What's next?" I think she was referring to what I'll do after post Indy, and not what I'll next carve out of Spam, but maybe I'm wrong.

Anyway, right now I have ideas, but nothing pegged down for what my career will become. I think I have a few prospects, but who knows? I'll know more in the coming weeks, but rest assured that I've hedged myself for a few months of life via some minor savings, and a pending tax return that should get me through April. So I'm doing all right actually. Worst comes to worst I start living in Caras Park, or moving to Phoenix to be a "manny" for my brother.

Though I do have one problem going on right now. Last week I learned that a rumor is afoot that I got canned at the Indy, of course those reading the blog know that's not true, but hearing it asked of me semi-seriously got me sort of freaked out. What would I have been fired for? Writing some decent articles? Talking smack about Plum Creek Timber? I'm leaving on pretty damn fine terms with the Indy actually, and penning a feature this week, which – get this – tends to be a big part of the paper.

Speaking of which, I have to write some of that right now, so I should go do that instead of blogging about my rather boring day. Something tells me Wednesday will bring a decent post (last day of work).

Day 34: Lazy Sunday

2008-02-17T19:11:00.000-08:00

I didn't do much at all today. Did some re-working of my feature for this Thursday's Indy, but sitting at a desk typing rarely amounts to work. My friend John, however, did do something today. Well, actually Friday night.

He went out camping with his brother this weekend and they went to some bars...I forget where they went honestly...so John comes in tonight and he looks like Rocky Balboa mixed with a dash of Ted Kennedy. In a word: fugly. Apparently the guy just wanted to fight, so he picked John (a guy roughly 5' 6") and beat his ass. But John's in good spirits, so I'll move on.

I don't know if anyone else caught this moment on Media Matters (or FoxNews Radio): Tom Sullivan, a radio pundit, did a side-by-side comparison of Obama orating, with Hitler orating. Just listen to it here.

Sick. Sick sick sick. Just...wow. You think they can't go any lower, and then they just dive.

I posted earlier today about my Spam pig Mortimina, and I hope everyone checks it out. I can't draw. I can't sing. But I seem to be able to carve Spam...[cries]

Day 33: A small update on yesterday...

2008-02-17T08:14:00.000-08:00

Okay, this is all I wanted to post about:

Yeah, that's a pig ("Mortimina") carved out of Spam. My friend Tonya had her birthday last night with the theme "Whitetrash Birthday." So we carved Spam, and I went for the ironic item with some help from Alisia (The ears were her handy work). We didn't win the competition though, Tonya gave it to her brother's girlfriend...damn nepotism.

Looking at my art, or "Spart," this morning I'm not exactly proud of it. It's really gross.

I'll be back later today...

Day 32: What about when weekends don’t matter?

2008-02-15T18:00:00.000-08:00

I got really excited today as I left the office to grab my new glasses. Then it hit me. I’m not going to have a weekend next week. Just nowhere to go…and nothing to do. Totally weird feeling, like a school vacation, but really broke… Here's a super artsy picture of my new glassware via the Mac program Photobooth:

Alex and I are hitting up Stones in his Pocke ts at the Crystal tonight, and then who knows what. Maybe Cornmash over at the Union (Zane’s asking about that). I'm not sure. I might just come home and watch a movie.

So I think I’ll post some stuff tomorrow, but as always, don’t trust me to do this.

Day 31: Valentine’s Day…

2008-02-14T20:29:00.000-08:00

While a single chubby man could wax on and on about the grimness of life on Valentine’s Day, I won’t because I’m bothered by something else entirely today.

I opened up the Indy and saw an ad for a show at the Wilma in May, a show involving the band NOFX. At first I was la little excited, but then something hit me that I wasn’t expecting. Age.

Back a few years ago – okay, about 10 – my brother visited for Christmas. He’d been living in Phoenix for a few years, and wow was he different. He had tattoos, piercings, and a shit load of cds, punk rock cds. I had never heard anything like it before in my life. See in Anaconda you’ve got two music options: radio and MTV. We didn’t have a Rockin’ Rudy’s or Ear Candy. All we had was crappy crap crap coming from Carson Daly, and the always terrible “Y-95,” which has since sold.

The cds my brother had were of bands like Bad Religion, NOFX, Lagwagon, Propaghandi, etc. These were bands made up of angry guys how couldn’t sing, and could barely play their instruments. The anger part got me into the music. I’ll never forget the first time I heard the NOFX song “Murder the Government,” a string of somewhat barely coherent indictments of right wing thought with lines like: Wanna tar and lynch the KKK, wanna pull and shoot the NRA.

Lots of laughs.

My brother had me listen to these songs, bought me some new clothes, and then he bought me some cds later on: Lagwagon’s album Hoss, the Violent Femmes self-titled disc (not exactly hardcore, but perfect for an angsty teen), and the NOFX cd Punk in Drublic (I had already bought So Long and Thanks for all the Shoes, my first punk cd ever).

I was the only person in the Anaconda High class of ’03 listening to these bands in 1998, and one of only a few in town. That gave me an identity, something I could say made me different. When the football team gave my flabby little ass crap, I’d go home and blare these records and know that while maybe I couldn’t run fast, I was still something damn cool – an individual.

In 2000 the Van’s Warped Tour came through Montana stopping one day only in Bozeman. The big headliner: NOFX. My little chubby heart filled with glee, or a plaque clog, it’s hard to know at that age.

I got tickets and went with a few friends. We had a blast. I got into a pit, punching, pushing, kicking, jumping, and loving every minute of it. It was amazing. We went to the Warped Tour the next two years as well. Same results: awesome time.

But now to come back to the present…

When I saw the ad today for NOFX I remembered my blue hair, green hair, spiked bracelets, Fat Wreck Chords hoodie, chained wallet, studded jacket, and “eat shit” attitude. I remembered flipping off the football players and then wagging my sizable backside at them while they yelled homophobic slurs and such. And then it hit me: I’m 23 and I’m not fighting the football team anymore. I haven’t even listened to a NOFX song in about three years. I think I threw my Fat Wreck hoodie out a few years ago. The spikes? I gave those to the drummer of my short lived punk band “Suburban Excursion” (we named it as such because we thought the two SUV names were funny…plus it sounded cool when shortened to Sub-X).

I’m not that kid anymore. I don’t get that angry.

I’m…I’m…Oh god – I’m lame!

I listen to indie bands. I drink coffee. I write a blog and alt-weekly news. I’m not some angry little punk kid trying to figure out a way to leave Anaconda…I did.

Suddenly I felt old when I looked at that ad. I realized that part of me was gone into that great abyss of “when I was your age.” I shivered in my seat a little and wondered seriously for a few minutes if the little punk inside of me missed those days of wigging out and going violent. Does he? Probably, but that kid was kind of a little jerk, and all pent up as well.

I can still turn up the overdrive on my amp, blast out a track from Hüsker Dü, or…sigh… the Decemberists. And the worst part is that I’m okay with it. I think it’s all right to be different than when I was 16. In fact, it’s pretty much essential.

As for love and loneliness on Valentine’s Day? Phht! Who gives a damn? The whole holiday is kind of a sham anyway…and besides, the little punk in me doesn’t care about it all that much, and sometimes he’s still worth listening to.

Day 30: Wow…five days…

2008-02-13T18:18:00.000-08:00

I’m nearly unemployed. In five (work)days I’ll box up my stuff at the Indy and just…leave. It’s a weird feeling.

I’ve talked about how it makes me feel really in control of everything, but I’d be lying if I acted completely sure of myself…I don’t know what will happen. I’m feeling good about it, but wow. It’s a big damn world where I might fail.

Anyway…

I gotta be honest, nothing happened to me today. I went to work. I went to lunch. I attended a few Council Committee meetings. I went to Kettlehouse. Nothing else.

Wait, there was something else – I played guitar. I played this song:

So, I’m planning some more stuff later in the week, but nothing else right now. Sorry for the lame update, but life isn’t always exciting.

Make sure to grab the Indy tomorrow.

Day 29: Random post on a taboo topic

2008-02-12T19:04:00.000-08:00

Some of you may have caught my piece this past week about Dr. Lindsey Doe, Montana’s only trained sexologist. I must admit I had a little too much fun both interviewing her, and writing about it. For instance I got more use out of this old joke of mine:

I can understand how religion messes with peoples’ sex lives, but I’ve used it to my advantage. Most guys think of something like baseball or Presidential trivia during sex, but I just remember the encouraging words of Father Murray from my Catholic childhood: “Sex is evil. Sex is evil. Sex is evil.” It really extends the night.

Any time I get to drop that joke I feel pretty good, the problem is that so many people have hang-ups about sex that the joke can’t always be told.

I myself try not to be too hung up on the issue; though I must admit that being raised Catholic provides plenty of chances to feel odd about the ubiquitous “it.”

This week I’ve been more aware of people’s little foibles with sex. What can I say, it could be the month, or the fact that I’m living single – I don’t know. But being aware of the new foibles doesn’t make me all that happy. For instance, I caught this item today about how the Seattle Times wouldn’t run an ad for The Vagina Monologues because of an image that showed a Rorschach-esque vagina (gasp!).

More shocking than that however, my aunt told me a story about her boyfriend, who I’ll call Ronny in reference to his Presidential hero. So Ronny and his redneck/moron friends have been all about the Heath Ledger news, she told me. Because they feel terrible about the fact that a young father died? No. Not even a bit. They think he killed himself because of that “gay cowboy movie.” Again, people freaked out about something sexual so they respond like idiots. (Worse, they were wrong.)

Annoyed I turned toward a project a former classmate Brian McDermott made: Montanalove.net. This site he did for his MA project, and it always makes me feel good, particularly this story about a gay cowboy. You can also catch more about Dr. Doe, as well.

A little more about The Vagina Monologues…

I’ve seen the play before as part of a V-Day with a past girlfriend. We saw it in Butte of all places. At the event – I guess it was in 2003 – they gave out stickers to so many people as a representation of how many women in Butte were victims of domestic violence. Halfway through the night they asked everyone with a sticker to stand…I was the only guy, which made me feel like I was the guy responsible for it. Totally bad feeling, but I completely recommend viewing it.

Another thing I want to ask is already being discussed at 4&20, which is: How the hell do University of Montana dancers have anything in common with Hooters Girls? I'll give you a minute...nothing. Not a damn thing. The context is completely different. One is meant as eye-candy to entice wing buying, the other fills the time between the second and third quarter. And that difference in context makes one demeaning, and the other art. But that's just my opinion...

So, I’m going to end this post now. Take care kids. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Day 28: Soliciting for unsolicited advice

2008-02-11T22:28:00.000-08:00

After tonight’s City Council meeting I got some advice from a reader: Don’t worry so much. Actually, she pointed out that I’m 23 and I worry too much for someone my age without a mortgage, kids, or anything like that.

True. I have a pretty easy life outside of work and a somewhat boring, but existent, social life. I get by, sort of, and I’m able to enjoy free time (again, sort of). But I do worry regardless of the fact that my life is relatively easy, and I appreciated the POV that I need to ease up on my worrying a bit. So, since the unsolicited advice did perk me up, I’ve decided to open this post to more unsolicited advice – the kind of stuff you’d tell someone having a bad day, or someone graduating. Just post it in the comments section…

Another part the post meeting conversation worth talking about is our somewhat odd exchange over the fact that worries cause suicides, to which I responded that I couldn’t commit suicide until I write something big. Let’s be honest here, that guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces got pretty lucky on his first serious piece of work. I doubt the same would happen for me. In other words: I gotta live for a while.

(Plus I dig this whole life gig; cemeteries are too creepy.)

Also, today I finished up the first draft of my last feature for the Indy as a staff writer, and I must admit that it felt weird. If I write another feature for the paper I’ll just be a freelancer, some hired ink-slinger doing the work without an actual desk. It caught me off guard and for a minute and I caught myself debating taking my notice back…but I didn’t. I think quitting will end up being a good choice, it just seems weird to know that the basement at 317 S. Orange will no longer be my home.

But not recanting my original choice made me feel stronger about it than ever. I think it’s an odd moment when you know you’re in complete control of your life, and “destiny,” though I kind of dislike the word…Now I’ve just got to figure out what’s next… again, any ideas?

***

Update: I had to post this gem:

Day 26 and 27: Not a whole lot of anything…

2008-02-10T20:20:00.000-08:00

Saturday night I hit the KBGA End-a-thon Prom to see the bands and, as I hoped, some characters. I caught both, so, holla.

The bands were pretty decent, but rather than review those I’d like to talk about Drunk Guy. Drunk Guy was about 26 or so, completely wasted, and sporting a shirt that said, “Hi. I used to be in a frat!” He walked around yelling at people, not angrily, just the drunken, “Yeah! Woo! Yeah!” He also sported devil horns whenever a song played…regardless of its rockalicious content, and or metalness. I had to laugh. A lot. It made my night.

Outside of that I caught some Finnegan’s with Alisia* (I misspelled her name as “Alyssa” a few posts back…which I haven’t bothered correcting since I thought her name at the time was Alyssa…so, moving on). She’d never been and I promised her that the place was worthwhile if only because of the bad coffee, and guaranteed impromptu drag show come 2:15 a.m. Luckily both happened. I love that place.

Today I caught There Will Be Blood, the big Oscar buzz-filled film setting hearts aflutter. My interpretation: it’s…good…I think. Honestly I thought it was at least a bit disturbing. It was good though. I recommend it if only to see Daniel Day-Lewis’ performance. He’s fantastic.

*Not "CD Girl"

Update: Thanks for the correction Davis.

Day 25: You’re too stupid for me

2008-02-08T18:54:00.000-08:00

It’s not often, but on occasion I meet a person who inspires me to question my faith in humanity. The type of person who makes it seem like I’ll avoid children not because of my aversion to such matters, but because I don’t want my kids to see a world with people so unfathomably dumb.

Tonight I saw some of that and it just made me think, “Wow, I am really happy to be 23. I am fine with being away from college where it may have been easier to meet new people, but I kept meeting people like you. Thank god I have entered the real world and I can now just, um, go over here…away from you…no, please don’t touch me…”

I actually thought all of that. It seemed sort of liberating to know I no longer have this set demographic of people I had in college. See, as a collegiate you’re kind of stuck with whatever 20something will date you, but once you’ve torn free from the shackles of the tuition-based life, you can pretty much to whatever you want. At least in my experience, I may be wrong.

Friday’s, as usual, provided me very little material. Especially today. I spent the whole day trying to assemble the feature I’m authoring in issue eight (my last issue on staff). Then I just grabbed beers with Zane, ate some OP recession special – the aptly named dish for the economy these days – and now I’m home, blogging, watching Heat, and drinking a nice bottle of beer.

Some may say Fridays need to be spent out, fraternizing and carpe diem, but I feel fine. Damn fine. Especially given that Jamee Greer over at 4&20 dropped a “holla.” That made my day. (By the way: Crazy avalanche photos...)

If nothing goes on tomorrow I’ll be back here, same Pat time, same Pat channel. If I find stuff to do, I’ll see you Sunday.

Day 24: The year of the rat

2008-02-07T18:05:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed that movies about pot always make it seem one of two things: EVIL! or just something to enjoy. It’s weird. I only note this because I’m watching Saving Grace, a small film written by Craig Ferguson about a woman who becomes a large scale dealer after her husband’s death. It makes the drug look like most experiences I’ve ever had with it: fun.

But anyway, today marks the year of the Rat in the Chinese astrological cycle. I don’t believe in New Age stuff, but I found it odd that that this would happen this year. Why? Because I fall under the rat in the Chinese astro chart. I want to change this year, and it’s my year.

Everybody needs to know it's the year of the rat
Every day we've got to hold on
'cause if we hold on we could find some new energy

– Badly Drawn Boy

Wikipedia says this about Rats:

Rats consider others before themselves, at least sometimes, and avoid forcing their ideas onto others. Rats are fair in their dealings and expect the same from others in return, and can be deeply affronted if they feel they have been deceived or that their trust has been abused. Sometimes they set their targets too high, whether in relation to their friends or in their career. But as the years pass, they will become more idealistic and tolerant. If they can develop their sense of self and realize it leaves room for others in their life as well, Rats can find true happiness.

According to tradition, Rats often carry heavy karma and at some point in life may face an identity crisis or some kind of feeling of guilt. Rats are said to often have to work very long and hard for everything they may earn or have in life. However, a Rat born during the day is said to have things a bit easier than those who are born at night. Traditionally, Rats born during the night may face extreme hardships and suffering throughout life. Rats in general should guard themselves against hedonism, as it may lead to self-destruction. Gambling, alcohol and drugs tend to be great temptations to Rat natives.

Professions include espionage, psychiatry, psychology, writing, politics, law, engineering, accounting, detective work, acting, and pathology.

Admittedly I see a lot of myself in those words, particularly the lofty goals and identity crisis bit. The Wiki-page also talks a lot about the five elements in Chinese and about how mine is wood, which apparently has a lot to do with depression (a depressing notion to contemplate). Anyway, I thought it seemed odd that my year of self discovery falls here in my astrological year.

Maybe it means something...

Nah.

Day 23: My favorite thing in the world

2008-02-06T19:43:00.000-08:00

It’s July 2003 just a few months shy of when I moved to Missoula. My whole family is going through a grieving process over my grandmother and aunt’s recent deaths. Stroke complications and cancer, respectively. Amongst this badness we learn that my dad’s twin brother has cancer as well. Cancer of the everything. I am on Lexapro (I'm planning a post about this later). Additionally "L" and I are pretty serious and starting to go over how the move should be handled. The talks aren’t going well.

Truly not the best of times in my life, but all of this led me to something great: tattoos.

I always liked tattoos, at least the idea of them. My parents had friends with tats, and my brother had a few too. There was nothing taboo about them. At all. To me the tattoo represents a chance to sport art on your body, and that is cool.

Faced with all the shit in my life I decided I needed something changed, and a tattoo does change you. It’s an experience unlike anything else. If you’ve never got a tattoo before allow me to describe it: pain. It hurts, but soon your body goes into shock and the needles just tickle. Afterward everything tingles from the adrenaline. (I myself shake.) It’s the adrenaline that makes it fun. Just like jumping out of a plane gives someone a rush, the tattoo provides a high. It’s addicting.

I chose Matt Perez at Painless Steel in Butte for my first tattoo a feather with a few words written around it that mean courage and bravery that sits on my left shoulder blade. The feather was in memory of my grandma; the words were about what it took to get through everything that year.

Going through that physical pain sort of put the emotional pain in perspective. It ended, and soon, with time and a couple nights of drinking (post Lexapro that is), I got over the emotional pain of my family’s tough times.

A year after this first tattoo I was working at Montana State Hospital, a place where everyone has tattoos. I felt odd tingles and started staring at pictures thinking, “Wow, that’d look great on my arm.” Finally it became too much to handle So I got a moon tattooed opposite the feather. This one was for my brother who sports a sun on his arm (we’re like night and day, get it?). Again, Perez did this one.

Shortly after this ink job my other grandma died. This would be the seventh death of someone I loved over what I like to call “Three Really Bad Years.” Not knowing how else to deal with this latest death I got shamrock on my arm with a Celtic knot wrapped around it. (Bonus story: This past March I spent St. Patty’s day at the Union Club. I wasn’t sporting any green and the bartender started giving me hell about it. In response I pulled up my shirtsleeve to show her the shamrock and said, “Real Irish people don’t need to wear green shirts.” She comped my Guinness. Bonus Bonus story: “J,” from my post about love, and I first bonded because of my tattoos.)

Last year I got my first tattoo just for me: a biohazard sign. When people ask me why I got this, I explain that it’s fun growing up on a Superfund Site, but it probably means I’m full of poison.

With everything going on in my life now – you know, that whole quitting thing – I’m feeling the tingles again. Big time. Problem is that I don’t have the cash to get a new one, and so I’m stuck wanting… looking at my four tattoos and imagining more…lots more.

*sigh*

Anyway. Not a huge day today so that’s why I’m talking about tattoos. The cold still has me kind of weak feeling. Plus, Super Tuesday meant too many pitchers. So bad choice really.

See you tomorrow.

Day 22: Fat Tuesday predictions

2008-02-05T16:23:00.000-08:00

While I’d like to see Ron Paul’s revolution cause an upset (for the laughs), I doubt that will happen. But some of these peeps will win, and then we’ll all have to vote for one of them come November (*cough* Obama *cough*). Anyway, this also helps save me from a real post today. Holla.

Alabama
Dems: Clinton (I can’t see this state going Obama)
Reps: Huckabee

Alaska
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain

Arizona
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain

Arkansas
Dems: Obama
Reps: Huckabee

California
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

Colorado
Dems: Obama
Reps: Huckabee

Connecticut
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

Delaware
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

Georgia
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

Idaho
Dems: Obama

Illinois
Dems: Obama (Home field)
Reps: McCain

Kansas
Dems: Clinton

Massachusetts
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

Minnesota
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain

Missouri
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

Montana
Reps: Romney (The GOP loves Burns, but I think they’ll follow Denny’s lead on this one)

New Jersey
Dems: Obama
Reps: McCain

New Mexico
Dems: Obama

New York
Dems: Clinton (Home field)
Reps: McCain

North Dakota
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain

Oklahoma
Dems: Clinton
Reps: McCain

Tennessee
Dems: Obama
Reps: Huckabee

Utah
Dems: Obama
Reps: Romney (Nearly a freebie guess)

West Virginia already came out and ruined my prediction there (McCain) and chose Huckabee, which has me doubting some of these other predictions. Then right before I posted this I saw that I was right about Georgia Dems: totally pro Obama. So maybe I’m doing okay with my predictions after all… Only time will tell.

***

Update: Wow... so I was wrong about most of my guesses... I haven't bothered with a full postmortem on them, but it looks bad. Anyway, my friend Sean made a great observation this morning: "The worst part about Super Tuesday is the not so Super Wednesday." Holla. We apparently toasted a little much last night. But that happens when you go bowling at midnight.

***

Second update: Ron Paul wins Missoula? Well, the internet tubes have a word for this: LOLs!

Day 21: Down with the sickness

2008-02-04T19:01:00.000-08:00

I hate being sick. I hate the lethargy, the sneezing, the coughing, and just feeling crappy. It's terrible. Add in how much work I got going on right now, and you can guess how happy my life is today.

But there are some good things. For instance, this weekend I watched King of Kong, a documentary about one man's quest to hold the world record for the high score in Donkey Kong. If you're a gamer the movie somehow legitimizes your own fascination with the medium, but I think non-gamers would enjoy it as well because it's a very intriguing story of a nice guy facing a bully. The bully in this situation is a guy named Billy Mitchell, who runs a few restaurants in Hollywood, Florida, and spends the entire movie acting like he's somehow amazing because he has got high scores on Donkey Kong. As a gamer myself I know I have occasionally gloated over dumb things, but if you see the movie you'll see not the worst video gamer, but the worst person. I give the movie four-stars and recommend checking it out.

I read an entire article today about how bloggers need to involve their readers in ways...like by proposing questions. So I've got one for you. First the situation:

After the Good Neighbor Policy played Friday night a girl told me how she really liked the band and wished she had their cd, which I happened to have. The next morning while on my way to get my car I stopped by where she works and gave the cd to her because I no longer need a real copy.

A few friends say that's a very nice gesture that stands out as a kind, memorable act. One went as far as to say it was a bold, and smooth move (oddly enough this is the same description given to Miller Genuine Draft, which has me doubting the sincerity of the statement). I mostly brought her the cd because I was trying to be nice, but regardless of that, my question to you fine reader is whether or not bringing someone a cd – kind of at random – is smooth, stupid, or creepy?

That's all I got today. This cold has me floored.

Days 19 and 20: Meh, again

2008-02-03T19:44:00.000-08:00

Sick. Very sick. Some kind of head cold that's knocked me down since early yesterday. I'll update when I get better.

Outside of me, however, I am so damn happy that the Giants won the Super Bowl. Man I hate the Patriots.

Day 18: The big news

2008-02-01T19:46:00.000-08:00

This is my big news post... I sent the following out to some people yesterday morning. First thing before you read, however, I would like to apologize to jhwygirl from 4&20 who promoted this blog and also reads my articles:

Friends, colleagues, former-colleagues and
well-wishers:

After a good long think about my life, and my future, I must sadly announce my departure from the Missoula Independent. It's been a damn fine time, but, to speak as a poetic barfly, the lights have come up and it’s time to wander home. So after issue 8 (Feb. 21) this guy's unemployed.

I know, I know. This sounds like a terrible idea, but after a lot of thinking I've decided just say to hell with it and follow the advice of my mentor and friend Henriette Lowisch: “You’ve got something you want to do just do it and don’t think about what happens next… You’re young. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

So I’m off to do what I want, hopefully without making too many mistakes. (Hint: I’m not becoming a meth dealer...yet) Don’t worry kids – you haven’t heard the last of me. I promise.

As I said, don't worry. I'm not going to quit writing, and you'll see my stuff somewhere else (and here of course) soon enough.

So, yeah...that's my news. See you Sunday.

***

Tonight I caught Good Neighbor Policy and Thomas Pendarvis gave me some really bad news. Apparently the band might be moving. And that sucks. GNP is one of the best bands in town so I'd like to see them stay a "Missoula band." They're playing the PBR Battle of the bands and would like everyone's support. Being a local music-file, I'd highly recommend the group, and I think everyone should go give them some love because they're frickin' fantastic. Seriously. Especially Bethany (cello) who a few friends of mine have a total music crush on. Anyway. they played a great set at the Badlander and I hope everyone can show them some love in the coming months to keep them here.

Day 17: Dinner with McKee, then drinks at the K-House

2008-01-31T19:55:00.000-08:00

I grabbed some dinner with McKee tonight (usually referred to here as Ashley, but I never call her that so it’s kind of dumb to use her first name on the blog). We talked about relationships for a bit, and then had a few laughs. Pretty standard dinner actually.

After that I headed over to Kettlehouse for beers with Keila and Chelsi from the Missoulian. I bring this up because there’s an unwritten rule in some people’s minds that the Indy and the Missoulian hate each other. Now, I admit that I’ve probably helped this perception with my own writing, but it isn’t completely true. Keila, for instance, once worked at the Indy. Journalists are like military members – we sort of just get the battles each other go through.

And in case anyone wonders, we rarely talk beats and stories – we are, after all, competition. (Just kidding. I think we avoid the talk mostly because it’s work, and who wants to talk shop at Kettlehouse?)

Tonight all I’ve done is watch Sean play Resident Evil 4, and suffer through Bill’s music tastes (Brooks and Dunn, Elton John, and Peter Cetera…bleh). The last few nights I’ve been on fire with mockings against Bill that have made his Facebook page. This first example has to do with my thoughts that “Harvey” is a cool name for a girl:

Bill: Harvey is Rizzo [from Grease].
Pat: Definitely.
Bill: But she wouldn't get knocked up.
Pat: Oh, she might get knocked up, but she'd Juno that shit.

And then I have this one on his page as well:

John: Jackson (Wyo.) is like my ball sack.
Pat Duganz: It's sprawling and has too many tourists?

I don’t know how I became so quotable, but I did. I guess I’m just awesome like that. And by awesome, I mean the opposite of Bill’s musical tastes. Seriously as I wrap this up I am watching him listening to Cher. I think I should point out, however, that he is only doing this to make the blog…that he’s already on multiple times. It’s kind of sad.

I should also note that Bill “Shitpickle” Oram denies that he’s listening to this crap to make the blog, which I think makes it worse. But that’s just me. Quotable me.

Remember: Friday has my big update.

***

Well, right as I posted this Bill and I had a talk about Jerry MacGuire. I pointed out to him that at the end of the film when Renée Zellwegger says, "You had me at hello," that Tom Cruise never said hello. I got this info from my friend Adam, but upon watching the clip on YouTube, he does indeed say "Hello" when he walks in. So...Shitpickle wins this round, but I still feel like the movie ranks at best three-stars. The way it makes love so simple. Hollywood sucks. Bunch of liars.

Day 16: Stanley Kowalski is probably gay too

2008-01-30T21:38:00.000-08:00

I caught the Montana Rep’s version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof tonight, which I thought was really good, and highly recommend.

My friend Alex and I (remember him from a few posts back?) caught it together as a bit of a man-date and between acts had a talk about how each Tennessee Williams play touches on the topic of closeted gay men...which sort of makes sense given the context of the man-date

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Alex quipped.

But then I dropped a bomb. Since high school I’ve been working out this theory that Stanley Kowalski is gay. Sure Blanche’s husband was gay so that would fit the motif of a Williams play, but I also think Stanley stood in the closet as well.

My argument: Stanley had to lash out at Blanche not because he found her annoying and intrusive, but because, after finding out about her closeted gay husband (CGH), he felt his secret, living as a gay man, could be known. Further, what does he do with the knowledge of the CGH? He goes and tells his friend Mitch so Mitch will end it with Blanche. See, he wanted Mitch all to himself, and he knew pushing the two away would create a rift wherein he could make his move on his long time pal. And the ending? The whole “STELLA!” thing? More rage based on how he feels inside, a person uncomfortable in his own skin. He needs Stella because she stands as the one thing that can keep him on the status quo. It’s sad really. Way sadder than Blanche’s craziness.

Okay. I’m not completely serious, but I think there is an argument that Stanley was gay – if only I just make it up in my head to entertain a friend during an intermission.

Still, it opens up that whole debate about Brando again…

Anyway, I'd like to touch back on the whole man-date thing. I've noticed whenever two guys hangout in a scenario most commonly enjoyed by a couple – play, movie, dinner – somehow the conversation always ends up about stupid, completely inane crap. But I think guys need to do it. It gives us time to talk about stupid inane crap that only guys talk about.

Little update on the "Big news": It's coming on Friday...and no, I'm not pregnant.

Day 15: Yeah, about CNN…

2008-01-29T17:30:00.000-08:00

It sucks, and because it reigns as the only legitimate alternative to Fox News I hate it even more than that monstrosity. My big beef with it: Wolf Blitzer.

I have an amusing anecdote about Wolfy. As a kid I used to like fiddling with the electronics my parents owned, and by far the VCR provided the most entertainment. At the age of four I figured out how to record TV, but not which channel, so unfortunately my parents copy of Dances with Wolves – that they recorded from they’re stolen HBO – was destroyed by three hours of Wolf Blitzer.

They were not amused, and in retrospect neither am I. The last thing I need floating around in my childhood home is a copy of a 1989 version of Blitzer talking about Bush Sr. To me that seems worse than homemade pornography…but just slightly.

Lately I’ve been reading the blog posts Blitzer provides for CNN’s Political Tracker blog (Click his name above). I may be relatively new to this art, and I may not be very good at all, but I am leaps ahead of a guy who puts the headline “Blitzer: Stunned by readers' response” on an article beginning, “I must say I was stunned…”

Thanks Wolf, didn’t quite get that from the headline. He then goes on to diligently kiss the ass of each viewer saying:

"I have always had high confidence in our CNN viewers. I know you are smart because you wouldn’t be watching The Situation Room and all of our other CNN political coverage if you weren’t. There are simply too many other options available to all of you — ranging from sitcoms, to sports, to silly talk shows. Our viewers are intelligent and that certainly came through with your comments."

Someone put a muzzle on this guy, or at the very least handcuff him so he cannot type this kind of garbage.

Two days later (Jan. 16) he dropped this in a post titled “Blitzer: How quickly things change”:

“It’s amazing how quickly things can change. It wasn’t that long ago when the war in Iraq and terrorism were the number one issues on the minds of Americans. Now, according to the latest polls, it’s back to the economy.”

What keen insight! People, many of whom have foreclosures looming, worry about the economy. Now I know why you’re part of “The Best Politcal Team on television.”

Another great Blitzer moment is the post titled “Blitzer: Get Ready for a Wild Ride,” which begins…oh if you’re not already onto this one… “Get ready for a wild ride…”

The worst part about his utter lack of creativity is that he has the audacity for posts with this kind of crap:

“This is one of those days when an anchor (me) really appreciates his staff (mine).”

“We like to say that CNN has the best political team on television. And that is true. But I have to add that I have the best staff on television. They are hard-working, smart and determined to get the story right. And I am totally grateful.”

He goes on to say this:

“While it’s important for a journalist to get the story first, it is much more important to get it right.”

Anyone remember where you were in 2000 when Wolf and other TV puppets called Florida for Gore? I know, I know, Gore probably won, but that night it was too close to call when CNN called it for him, only to recant after Fox called shenanigans. Get it right my ass.

I think Jack Shafer from Slate.com said it best in his Jan. 10 article "The Best Political Team on Television"?: On election night, CNN runs its preposterous slogan into the ground."

“Now, it's one thing for a station in a bush-league television market to proclaim itself the ‘region's news leader. Little harm is done because so few are insulted. But when a major network flings such a load of humbug on a day of peak viewership, the damage is palpable.”

Exactly, but more than that it’s annoying – much like when Fox personalities repeat tired phrases that are often lies (I’m looking at you, Sean Hannity).

I know I'm being tough on him, but his claims are boisterous and all to frequent, and his insight s lack any type of...um...insight. (Damn! I could have done better with that one.) Yeah, he's broadcast so he only gets to speak in slogans and sound bites couch surfers can comprehend, but that shouldn't let him off the hook completely.

So that’s my thoughts for Tuesday. We finished up another issue of the Indy today and I hope you’ll check out on Thursday…or any day of the week really…

Day 14: Work

2008-01-28T19:26:00.000-08:00

Mondays always seem to take too long for me. I get up early, shower, and hit the office by nine. Then I make calls if I have to. Do research. More calls. E-mails. Check if our “Week in Review” file needs updates (it always does), and then I write. When that’s done I get ready for the City Council meeting by doing research, making calls, reading pdfs, etc. Then I start wondering about food. I eat. I go to Council. I come home and write. I sleep.

Today is that normal Monday, but made all the more magic because of all the snow I found on my car this morning. The longer this winter goes, and the more ice I have to scrape, the more I want to just start walking or taking the bus.

Actually, I think I will start. I hate my car that much. I’ve got $.85, a schedule, and a hankerin’ for not driving in this weather any more.

Sorry I don’t have much else today.

Weekend: Days 11, 12, and 13… Jesus I’m lazy

2008-01-27T12:14:00.000-08:00

It was another weekend, and another round of dropping from the blog… sorry Megan.

Let’s have a bit of a recap:

Friday: Went out to the Union Club with John, Alex, and a girl named Alyssa and then to the Rhino and the Badlander. Yeah, long night indeed. John ended up with a hangover rating at least 9 Murdochs (For those of you unaccustomed to the Rupert Murdoch Hangover Scale, essentially it measures your hangover on a scale of 1-10 in relation to how stupid you are. At 1 you green light Married with Children, at 10 you hire an asshole like John Gibson to give his opinion to the world). But I don’t care about the drinking, what mattered was that John, the good one, and I were on fire when it comes to charming humor. Most of it was pretty lowbrow, but everyone had a good time. Then John and I walked home in the cold.

Saturday: Another night at the Union, this time to see Tom Catmull and the Clerics and wish luck to my friend Peter Bulger who’s decided to travel to India for six months to help his cousin research…something. Tom Catmull (played great BTW) plays loud and I’m kind of hard of hearing so I lost most of Peter’s explanation. John didn’t go out (see Friday), Sean and Tonya did however, as did Ashley, Kyle, Zane and a few others. It got kind of crowded on our area of the bar, but that’s a good thing. The night also featured me telling people some big news that I’ll get into a little later in the week…it’s big though, so check back…moving on.

Saturday ranks as probably the second best night I’ve had in Missoula for some time with plenty of laughs. I will say though that only one person could have improved the night: Danny Davis. Okay, I’m not exactly serious; I just thought he deserved a shout since he sent out an e-mail telling people about the blog and I wanted to make a joke at his expense (click the link). Wait, I nearly forgot about this: When we got home around two I ran into John’s room and scared him. He didn’t enjoy that very much.

[You know, I should really explain the situation with John, Sean, Bill and I. I lived with Sean and John this summer, and now I live in their backyard. Essentially. I live in an alley duplex right behind them. It’s nice because I still get to live with my friends, but without actually living with them. It’s perfect.]

I walked home again, this time with Sean and Tonya in tow. The night felt much warmer than the previous, though this might have been caused by Tonya having the three of us do carbombs before leaving. Our journey across town was a very good time with plenty of hilarious moments I want to divulge, but I’m sure they’d rather I not blog about.

So now we come to Sunday. Today. Nothing going on. I’ve watched John play videogames and we ran some errands (I have shampoo again. Holla!). Sean looked in bad shape today with a hangover of 6 Murdochs (Meaning he’d let Geraldo have a show again). I feel fine. Tonya seemed a little messed up, but quite functional. I plan on doing very little for the rest of the day.

I feel like I’ve rambled a lot so why not a little more?

Let’s talk about John Gibson since I mention him above. I’m sure everyone’s already heard about what he did, but I just have to say something myself, and that is, “I hope this homophobic, myopic, moron gets fired…from a canon…pointed at a building.”

In case you’re to lazy to click the link, I’ll summarize: Gibson played a clip from Brokeback Mountain on his radio show when Heath Ledger died of Jake Gyllenhaal's infamous line “I wish I knew how to quit you." After that Gibson came back on the air to say, “Well he (Ledger) found a way to quit you.”*

What an asshole. It’s probably the most disgusting thing I’ve heard in a while and I read Bill O’Reilly’s weekly column.

If anything happens today I’ll update. Again, let me plug that big news is coming this week so do check back.

* Tristan Scott sent me a correction on this graph. Originally my post didn't make it clear who said the line "I wish...," and besides, I misquoted it to begin with. Thanks Tristan for catching that. All is now well.

Day 10: This bit of annoyance I had...

2008-01-24T21:26:00.000-08:00

So, I’ve wanted to avoid this, but I feel like I have to say something about it because I’m so annoyed. The other day I saw an article (and a press release) about how athletes at the University of Montana take 12.5 credits per semester on average, and have a 3.0 gpa. The other nearly 12,000 students don’t measure up to this standard of hard work and success. Allegedly.

So from the facts presented one could assume that our jocks are smart, right? Well, some sure, maybe even most, but the fact that their credit load is over 12 has to do with this thing called a “scholarship.” Athletes at UM must take at least 12 credits. The other 12,000 don’t have to do that because they pay/take loans/beg to receive an education. It's their choice to take credits, and not a requirement.

And, for an added bonus, the numbers provided by UM allowed for students failing classes. Again, athletes at UM cannot fail classes. They must maintain a decent gpa akin to this thing called “passing” or be kicked out.

What I'm saying is that to compare 12,000 students to a few fortunate, talented athletes, is an uneven comparison and totally skewed toward something many will not be forced to achieve. Some students take 3 credits, or six, or nine, or 21. Some have crappy grades because they have kids, and – get this! – kids need attention. Others might have dropped out early, yet unofficially, and failed every class they enrolled in.

The whole situation with the attention on this skewed perspective reminded me of my days at Anaconda High when I was part of an outcast, nerdish group of guys who watched Kevin Smith movies and talked about girls. (We'd spend all of our time imaging that someday one of these mythical girls may let us sit near them, and then, maybe even date them...gasp). We didn’t drink or do drugs, yet a few of us, myself included, found ourselves on the receiving end of rudeness, and ridicule from authority because (yet another gasp) we had odd hair, or weird music tastes.

I hated the double standard between athletes and others then, and I hate it even more today because I know that it makes people feel worthless.

Anyway, now to CYA...

Personally I love sports. I watch football whenever possible and still remember the first time I saw Randy Johnson throw a strikeout in person (he actually through 14 in the game I saw). But, I don’t think an athlete is any better than the rest of us. We're all just people.

You want to give the public a stat to absorb take a survey of how every student working at the Kaimin 40 hours a week, and still taking 12-18 credits, can make it work out somehow. Or how single parents get degrees and somehow work out day care for their kids, or any other number of successful students with a “lot on their plate.” There are thousands to choose from and to put these people in a lower class than a few select students that must succeed for scholarship reasons is wrong. And to see this unfair comparison annoyed me. Deeply.

Again, I think athletes are great, but I think anyone succeeding at college is equally great. It’s not an easy time (even with the procrastination and partying). I finished my BA in four years., and that took a lot of work, and more stress than I care to enter into again any time soon. Every student knows this feeling, regardless of athletic ability. And, damnit, they deserve respect.

So here it is: Good job guys and gals doing college on their own system of work and loans. You’ve got a lot to deal with and you make it work. All 12,000 of you. Maybe you can't tkae all 12 credits to be full time, or maybe you're grades slipped because of some personal issue. Who cares? You're trying to better yourself through knowledge, and that's a fine pursuit in life.

And in other news: I covered an event on poverty today that was really exciting. I'm writing about it for next week's Indy, and I think when the issue publishes I'll write something here as well. That's all folks. Thanks for reading this elaborate rant.

Day nine: Really Gatorade, really?

2008-01-23T19:49:00.000-08:00

I saw this commercial today for Gatorade G2, a new type of Gatorade that’s just water and flavoring. Whatever, people buy stupid crap all the time–that’s not what got me. The commercial’s soundtrack, however, did bother me: “Walk on the Wild Side” by Lou Reed.

This type of commercial needs to end, for too long advertisement creators have used good songs – the Ramones “Blitzkrieg Bop,” to name another – for monetary gains. It bother me a whole damn lot. From now on I think only terrible music should be allowed in commercials. Well, unless it was one for Roosters, the local shop.

I went there today for the first time ever, and I am now officially a fan. Beer during a haircut, what can I say? It’s sweet. Plus I got a hot towel over my face while I got my hair washed. That is way more relaxing than I ever thought it could be.

Admittedly the $24 price tag caught me as a tad but high, but I felt so elated by the time I got done with the whole deal that I didn’t care. It’s that good.

Outside of that I am glad our issue is done this week and as per usual I am looking forward to the weekend…maybe it’ll be warmer.

Day eight: A few thoughts I had today

2008-01-22T20:28:00.000-08:00

Tonight I got home after what was a really long day at work and ordered a pizza. It occurs to me that every time I do this I wonder what would happen if I greeted the pizza person (check out that PC niceness) with a song on guitar what they would do. I think punch me, but still the thought crosses my mind.

The other thing running through my mind concerns Heath Ledger. I know, mourning a movie star seems odd, but a part of me does. I was never some big fan of his, but I once saw Brokeback Mountain in a Salt Lake City indie film house. It’s a memory oddly ironic given last days post.

When I rocked the SLC I was dating the illusive “J,” who went by Jamie. She, her sister, and I, all saw the film together amongst what has to be the funniest/saddest moment in the history of religious oppression.

See, the owner of the Utah Jazz, Larry Miller (seriously click this link), owns a slew of movie houses in Salt Lake. About the time I was visiting, around Christmas 2005, Brokeback Mountain was seeing a huge release in a studio driven attempt to get some Oscars. The religious leaders in Utah were totally freaked out. Gays? Movies? NOOOOOOO!

At the front of the pack was Larry Miller, who immediately condemned the film and said he would not show it in his theaters. Thus, we saw it at the indie film house and I cried like a little girl. Seriously, that movie broke this chubby Irish kids heart, and if you haven’t seen it, go rent it right now. Even if you’re a Neanderthal who dislikes gay people, see it.

So that’s why I feel bad about Mr. Ledger. Because of him I have a really great memory from my time in SLC, and that movie probably wouldn’t have existed without him.

Oh, and also, the movie that Miller replaced Brokeback with? Hostel. Yeah, gay equals bad, but torture and blood are fine.

Religion…jeez.

Day seven: Fine…I’ll talk about love…

2008-01-21T19:49:00.000-08:00

The title is completely misleading in that it presumes someone wrote me a message demanding I discuss my love life, but they didn’t. I promised to do it over the weekend and failed. I guess, and this shocks even me, talking about it seems so personal. Yes, I am the guy who once ruminated on moments when my family thought I was gay, but that was mostly jest on a real event. I’d like this to be a serious appraisal of my life…in front of an audience of several I presume.

First though I think I should clear up a word I used a few posts back, “Holla.” I should explain that I only use this word in ironic or as complete nonsense. An example by way of dialogue:

John: Did you take my beer?
Me: Yeah.
John: Why?
Me: Holla.

So…moving on. Let’s start the list of my failed attempts at love (initials protect identities):

L (Off and on Jan. 2003 – Dec. 2004)
M (Feb. 2005 – May 2005)
K (July 2005 – Aug. 2005)
J (Roughly Oct. 2005 – Jan. 2006)
C (Feb. 2007 – Dec. 2007)

This list leaves out the girls who fell between as hook-ups, a few short dates, or any other amalgamation of poor decision-making one can imagine. I know that some people my age have lists astonishingly longer, but mine still disturbs me if only because I know people who are marrying their second boyfriend or girlfriend…ever…and that’s sort of depressing. Mostly I get a tad bummed by my bungling because in each case something I did led to the failure of the relationship. Cold feet. The “convinced you are cheating” paranoia every guy experiences at one point or another. Living in a different area code. My fault. Each one. I apologize, but the deeds have been done and this isn’t High Fidelity––we’re not meeting up to discuss it.

I don’t hit. I’m not verbally abusive. I try to be considerate (even though I fail in huge ways from time to time). I try to do little things because I think those matter most. But, there’s this other side of me…the dumbass side. Here are ten examples:

1. Oddly confused about what I do wrong, yet completely aware of it
2. I often experience bouts of insecurity over everything from size of my ass to any talent I may have or not have
3. Always sneezing
4. Remember how in When Harry Met Sally Billy Crystal talks about reading the last page of a book first just in case he dies before getting to it as if that were evidence of a dark side? I have a will. I am 23.
5. I’ll forget every important date – birthdays and anniversaries equally – like I get paid to do it.
6. Snoring is my hobby
7. I nearly always dislike or am disliked by your friends
8. When I feel stressed I become very quiet and “don’t want to talk about it,” and when I do (and this gem comes from my friend John) I'm sort of a dick. I'd note however that these aren't extremely common
9. I meant to call…
10. Free For All: Have you dated me, or otherwise seen me? Feel free to comment.

After a long think over the whole issue, I'm pretty sure these are just the tip of the iceberg that represents my problems. Overall, I’m not looking for marriage now, or maybe ever (the whole concept seems bad…the government licensing human relationships? They can barely keep bridges in order), all I really want is to just get a slight hold on what the hell other people are doing to make relationships work that I fail at. Some of my problems I can’t change–like the snoring (asthma)–but others I should really work on. I mean forgetting a birthday? It’s called a “calendar.” Your friends? I should at the very least hide my disgust…as long as they reciprocate.

Okay that’s all I got for you. We can dive into each relationship later if it’s relevant to the post or if someone falls back into my life in a way I’ll have to address. I see no reason to do that just yet, and besides, this post is getting very long compared to the others.

Weekend: Days five and six

2008-01-20T13:22:00.000-08:00

Well, I’ve already received on Facebook message about failing to update this blog yesterday, but I have an excuse. I got up with a bit of a headache (Bill and I went out Friday and, um…yeah). I sat around with John for a while drinking coffee and watching him play Resident Evil 4 until Sean and Tonya and Bill got up and we all went to Old Post for breakfast.

After that I played guitar until late into the afternoon before deciding to go to Cloverfield with my friend Tom. Just so you know, that movie rocks. You need to see it. My only complaint comes from the 9/11-symbolism that sort of sticks out as if to say, “Hey! Sept. 11 was bad, huh?! Feel bad about this too!” Luckily they get back to the monster and things improve.

Then we watched – and this is completely true – Christian TV programs. One show had to do with missionaries having car problems. The guy spoke in this overdramatic way about it as if he were saying things like, “There were no survivors,” but he was talking about a Subaru. Tom, his brother Karf and I all sat around mocking it until late when all of the primary and caucus numbers were in. Boring day actually.

I have an aside here: Tom and Karf are both Mormon so we had a long talk about how if Romney gets the Republican nod the amount of veiled Mormon hate spewing from TV meat puppets will be amazingly high. You think Lou Dobbs hates Latinos and Hispanics? Just you wait…

But anyway… that’s why I didn’t update yesterday. I had other things going on.

Today I’m watching football with a bunch of people and rooting against the Patriots. I can’t wait until hating these bastards becomes political issue. Imagine it. Bill O’Reilly will say things like, “Of course Hillary Clinton won’t be cheering for the Patriots because doing so would be raving for the flag and she is controlled by far-left elements who hate patriotism, families, puppies…and freedoms…and they love gays!”

The love gays part will be essential. He’ll have to add that in there if only because homosexuality must always be a divisive issue in his mind.

The only other news I have comes from 4 & 20 Blackbirds. They found me. I don’t know how, but they found me. (Run for it Marty!) So, welcome everyone. I hope you have a good time reading about my life. I only wonder who over there posted about me... they didn't use a byline, but apparently like my work. Thanks people. I like being liked (much better than hate).

Day Four: James Bar and the unpaid tab

2008-01-18T11:02:00.000-08:00

Last night was a really fun night. One of the best I’ve had in a while.

My friend John celebrated his 22nd last night with his parents, his sister Sunny, and a good portion of our crew of insolent fools (Sean, Tonya, and myself). Good times had by all as we lit up the Depot and this new bar James Bar, which I thought I’d hate, but actually found quite charming despite a large population of Polo wearers.

What I really want to talk about though is John stiffing Sean and I with the bill at James Bar. He ordered calamari and a ton of drinks (okay, only two) then hightailed it home leaving the bill untouched. Douche. But that’s okay; I plan on doing that to him sometime in the near future.

I also ran into my dorm roommate Ryan and shared a drunken hug, which was better than the last time I saw him.

We ran into each other downtown about four months back and he decided we needed to go drink at the Depot. Nice, except for some reason he got the idea that punching me in the face was an equally good idea. I didn’t however, so I punched him back. He was with this girl that night and the violent testosterone scene sort of threw her off. I found it rather funny though, especially when I ran into Ryan a few weeks later and he talked about waking up the next day and thinking, “Why the hell does my jaw hurt?”

Holla.

Anyway, tonight I think some of us will hit downtown to celebrate John and I being born, and then we’ll enjoy a nice walk home…in about a foot of snow that won’t stop falling. Why? Because it’s either that or DUIs, and I don’t make enough for that kind of an arrest.

Day Three: The thing about Hillary is…

2008-01-17T16:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve decided to put off any discussion about my love life until the weekend––it’s a long story. Instead I am going to talk about why I dislike Sen. Hillary Clinton’s candidacy.

Allow me to provide an image for you: It’s 40 years ago and Hillary and Bill Clinton (though not yet married) are protesting the Vietnam War. Hillary says this war is evil, and the leaders have lied to people, and, most importantly, people of her generation are dying. Bill agrees so much so that he has deftly avoided the draft (genius).

First of all, I completely agree with their ideas. As we all know by now the Gulf of Tonkin Incident never happened but President Lyndon Johnson still began one of the stupidest and ill thought of conflicts in American history. The dick. So many people died for no reason––“bad intelligence” if you will.

Hillary should have stood against the war and her leaders, and she did. I’m damn proud of people like her who helped end that whole deal before Pappy Duganz came of draft age. But when she called Johnson a liar back then, she wasn’t even completely sure of it…she just didn't like the idea of war.

Fast forward to 2002…

Bad intelligence on WsMD in Iraq comes to the Senate, where Hillary now holds office. But where as when people her age were dying, now she didn’t care. Her skepticism had eroded and she beat the drum for war…for people my age.

How can a rebel change so much that they become the establishment? It kills me inside just thinking about it. This woman used to hate the government, but now, she is the government. And she had no problems with people my age dying. Amazing what a few decades will do.

So there, in just a few words, is the one and only reason I’m not part of the pro-Hillary camp. It’s not even because of any view I hold on the war. My opposition comes down to the fact that she wouldn’t send someone her age to die in a jungle, but sending someone my age to die in a desert seemed tip-top-a-roo to her.

I can’t tell if that’s depressing, or sick. All I know is I can't stomach her winning because of it.

Day Two: Meh….

2008-01-16T19:48:00.000-08:00

I nearly destroyed my whole project today by missing this blog. I only now (at 8:30 p.m.) remembered the whole deal…sorry. I’m not exactly in the habit yet.

But moving on…

I had too many meetings today. I sort of feel bogged down by the whole deal. But anyway, let’s move on.

Since I’m blogging late I won’t get into too much detail about my impending hopes to lose weight.

And…without further ado… (drums) SALAD!

I’ve decided to eliminate fried foods and replace that with salad. I am totally depressed about this since that means no more Old Post tots. That’s really it…I know I hyped it, but that’s it. Again, sorry.

Sean’s girlfriend Tonya bought me body wash and a loofah for my birthday. Sean bought me Guinness pint glasses for drinking. John took me to lunch at OP. What an exciting birthday.

Tomorrow I plan on taking some time to write a better entry––I do have more to say. But right now I’m a little bit distracted. Sean and Tonya are playing Yahtzee, Bill is looking over stats from the game he just watched at the Press Box, and John is commentating on the Yahtzee game. In other words, this isn’t a prime writing spot.

Tomorrow I think I’ll write about my birthday resolution: Stop sleeping with people I shouldn’t sleep with. It’ll be a good time for all. I'll also introduce everyone mentioned above in a little better detail.

Happy birthday to me: Day One

2008-01-15T08:25:00.000-08:00

So where do we begin? Should we talk about my bachelorhood and how I need to buy a broom or the Kettlehouse pig of Honey Hefe sitting in my refrigerator?

I’ve blogged before, but never with a purpose like this. In essence I’m chronicling my life, which rarely seems to entertain anyone, so I think for this first actual post I’ll just quote what one Daniel Shevlin wrote in the comment section of my latest feature for the Missoula Independent, but with my thoughts added as well:

I wonder what one person at the Independent has done to serve their country? I wager: Not one damn thing. (I’ll see your “not one damn thing” and raise you a “nothing particular.”) These young, brave people represent everything you, as liberals, take for granted. And, you got to love the inaccuracy (typical of liberals) in regards to this statement: "EVERY NIGHT we hear of more dead soldiers....." (Two periods too many) We do? Actually, troop deaths have been at an all-time low since the war began. (Since the war began, eh? How many thousands were killed before the war?) I guess 'evil' Gen. Petreus was right, eh libs? (Yes he was. However, Gen. Petraeus was not.) "An increasingly discouraging war.." (Yet more superfluous punctuation.) Huh? Actually, most people (outside of the 'left-wing propoganda [Only one “o” in propaganda.] zone' here in Missoula) have been encouraged by the progress made for democracy in Iraq. I wonder when, WHEN, (I doubt these caps were necessary) liberals, like the hypocritical egg-heads (No hyphen needed.) at the Independent, will just once demand that the Islamic extremists (you know, the people who want to kill you for not being Muslim), come to the table and discuss peace with the rest of the civilized world? Will that ever happen? (Oh no…I’m having an out of body experience…I can see Bill Clinton…and Arafat…they’re talking about…peace…and it’s the 90’s.) Hmm...Jews and Christians have managed to carve out a peaceful world with themselves, haven't we? (White Christian Nationalists for Israel, right?) Can you imagine the world of peace we would have if the Muslims would recounce death and murder and embrace peace? (If only “recouncing” was possible.) How about demanding that Muslims give women equal rights? I thought 'equality' was a virtue prized by liberals?

The last two rhetorical questions bothered me, not because I’m left without an argument (liberals do in fact demand equality, but without bombs), but because my feature was about two U.S. Army recruits discussing why during a very unpopular war they are joining the military. Politics had nothing to do with it. At all. But this guy didn’t care; he just wanted a stage to complain about “liberals,” and he used my article as a jumping off point. Not only does that stink of below average reading comprehension, but also it just seems petty.

Not that this guy hasn’t bottomed out before (He wrote a letter to us saying hate crimes could be someone leaving pickle off of a gay man's burger), but I digress.

Actually returning fire against this guy has made me feel a little better about turning 23 today. A little preview about tomorrow’s post: I’ll detail how I plan on losing 20 pounds in the next few months.

An Introduction

2008-01-02T12:00:00.000-08:00

When I turned 18 I thought, and this is not a lie, “Cool, now I can vote and move away from Anaconda*.” Twenty-one brought the unmistakable joy of buying booze with a real ID and without feeling panicky about it.

And now 23…what does that even mean? So many ages come with inherent significance and meaning without any effort on part of the individual, but 23 just sticks out as a meaningless era between legal drinking, and cheaper insurance.

Okay, so maybe I’m being sardonic. But I have my reasons. College is over. I’m single. Broke. About 20 pounds overweight. I need new glasses. My hair is calling for a full retreat from my scalp. Prescriptions cost too much. Gas costs too much. I think I’m developing some sort of gastronomical issue. I may be a hypochondriac. And my sleep patterns are dreadfully erratic.

This was not what I pictured as my life at 23, but oh my, it is.

What do you do when you wake up one morning, just shy of 23, chunky yet having malnutrition, with the taste of Marqués de Cáceres Crianza Rioja 2003 wine still bitter in your mouth, and a mild case of depression? What if the greatest compliment you had ever received began to ring untrue? I don’t know the answers either, but I plan on finding out.

Starting Jan. 15, my birthday, I will begin daily postings here (and occasionally on YouTube) as a way to chronicle the next year of my life as I search for the answers to the following:

Out of college…now what?
Single…now what?
Two years to write a complete draft of a novel as per promise to dying relative (made three years ago)…how hard can that be?

And probably the most important question:

What do I really want in life?

For some reason I always thought what I wanted was to be a published, professional writer. Then, I found out how easy it is to be this. You go to journalism school for four years, work moderately hard, graduate, and apply to a newspaper. Done. Pro. Dream discovered. I never realized until now that there were more layers to be exposed, such as what kind of writer one wishes to be, or where one wants to write. I always thought you just wrote stuff somewhere. Wrong. It’s complicated.

So, for those of you who haven’t quite figured it out, I am having a mid-mid-life crisis. Out of boredom, stupidity, or both, I am asking you to come join me on my quest to find answers in my life, and maybe figure out just who the hell Duganz at 23 really is.

*Clarifying: Anaconda is a small town in Montana where I grew up. Hated. And am happy to be free of.