Oy vey I'm falling apart you don't visit your mother ever?

A few weeks ago I threw my back out carrying a load of laundry to the washing machine. It took 6 visits to the chiropractor and two weeks to heal and still doesn't feel right.

Last night I dropped a plastic computer keyboard on the big toe of my left foot, and now I can't walk without a limp and my toenail has a nice pyramid-shaped black and blue mark on it. The keyboard weighs MAYBE 1 pound, must have hit is JUST right.

As if that's not enough, I seem to have developed insomnia with all of the stressful events in my life lately. I think I slept maybe 3 hours last night, and that was only because of the beer. Of course I was able to fall asleep around 5, just in time for that goddamn woodpecker to start waking me up every half hour. So anything I might post today might be weird, but rest assured it'll make me laugh.

This is my life. And it's ending one minute at a time...

Exclusive Rick James Interview

Rick, to what do you owe your success?
I'm Rick James, Beyotch!

Mr. James, how do you maintain your curly locks?
Fuk a pik, get a rake!

It's been said that you are quite a ladies man. What do you say about that?
I'm a super freak, I'm super freakin' - OW!

Is there anyone in show business that you despise?
That nigka Charlie Murphy.

And who in show business do you like and respect more than any other?
My nigka Charlie Murphy.

Anything else you'd like our readers to know?
I'm Rick James, Beyotch!

You can't make me

There are times when I don't feel like it. You can't make me. You can try, but forget it, it's not going to happen. I won't buckle to guilt, passive-aggressive manipulation, or the silent treatment. I am me, you are not, and that's the way I roll. You don't like it? Then be you, but do it somewhere else please. I was here first.

You may have underestimated me. You may have thought my will would bend. I can sleep at night, knowing I did everything I could. Can you? Are you pleased with the outcome? No? Neither am I, but I'm done worrying about what I can do to right the wrong, to put the train back on the track, to pick up after the kids after they go to bed.

It is what it is. It's not what it should be. I am who I am. I'm not who you think I am.

I am deeper than an ocean, loftier than the clouds, stronger than a tornado, and calmer than death.

Who the hell do you think you are?

Congratulations on your success, you smell WONDERFUL

One thing's for certain, as much as you're hurtin', dollars to donuts it's a rare thing in fact for anyone else to have exact change when you need it. And no amount of wanting is going to put a five, 4 ones, 3 quarters, 2 dimes, and a nickle in someone else's pocket.

So the lesson of this story is to diversify your portfolio, don't count your chickens until they are hatched, and above all, never put all of your eggs in one basket. Keep your own change, and when you do make sure to always have extra singles because you never know when you may find yourself at a strip club and in situations like that having enough dollar bills to choke a mule means never having to dance alone. Or standing up.

Retarded Woodpeckers and Other Diversions

There is a retarded woodpecker living in the woods outside my house. He spends his entire day (and his day starts at 5 AM apparently) flying from tree to tree to my house to another tree; banging on each in the same rythym over and over again. Sounds like typical woodpecker behavior, I'm sure, but my house is vinyl sided and roofed with a compound material. There are no wood parts to bang on. That doesn't stop him though, from banging over and over and over...

The guy that runs the Transfer Station (French for "dump") in my town scares me. He's an older gentleman with a wild white beard and longish unkempt white hair. He always wears overalls and black Caterpilar boots and never looks you in the eye, and you get the feeling that if he did you would explode. I call him "Evil Santa". The fact that "Santa" has the same letters in it as "Satan" has not escaped my attention.

Just because Bacitracin is in Triple Antibiotic Ointment doesn't mean that you can put T.A.O. on tattoos right after you get them - it's way too strong. For this one I am using good old A&D ointment (which I couldn't find for the last tattoo so I used T.A.O. after following the advice of someone who apparently doesn't like me very much), and not only am I already healing very nicely, but I smell like a babies butt after its diaper has been changed. Makes me sleepy.

New Tattoo (Wooooooooooooot)

I wanted Jon over at Green Man to do the fenhuang (Chinese phoenix) on my left arm since he did the dragon on the right. When I was in last week setting up Snow Ninja's sister for a tattoo appointment they had said he was booked into August, and worried that I wouldn't be around in August I stopped by the studio yesterday to talk to him about design and set up an appointment. Coincidentally he had a cancellation for tonight, so we got done at the same time. Just like the last one, he came up with a design that was not really what I was thinking of but even cooler. This design was completely custom, and it's a phoenix made of flame, shaded to match my dragon.

Try as I might, this was the best picture I could take of it myself because of how it wraps around the back of my (oh so manly) bicep. Sorry, it's out of focus a bit...

I'm really happy with his work. I'm not sure I'm going to feel comfortable having anyone else do my ink anymore, I may have to travel back to CT to get my new art done when it's time after I move...

Edit: NIP SLIP!!!!! HELLOOOOOOO LADIES!

So Cool

Today, completely by accident, I became part of a kick-ass racing motorcycle gang for about a half hour. I was driving along on Route 84, minding my own business, when a group of about 10 racing bikes (at least 3 were driving the same machine I was) merged onto the highway from Route 9 and surrounded me in the left lane. We all rode together all the way up to Route 91, and then rode together heading north for a few miles until they exited at the border of Hartford. It was the coolest moment of my life, hearing all of those engines reving at different times, moving closer and then further apart from each other, some of them popping wheelies for a few hundred feet while their engine raced - very cool stuff.

There's something about the motorcycle brotherhood that is so inherently tight in general, but it's something altogether different when a group of riders picks you up and integrates you into their group without saying a word, without discussing it, just accepting you because you are like them - period.

Today was a great day, that was the icing on the cake.

Thank you my brothers, stay vertical, keep the rubber on the road, and we will meet again...

Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat. Let go. LET GO!

A brief recap of my week so far is in order because it's been nothing short of spectaular and it's only Wednesday. "Hump Day".

Earlier this week, the woman I love told me (via e-mail) that (for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me) she never wanted to talk to me again, and for some reason this time I think she meant it.

Today, my boss of 10 years told me (in person) that (for reasons that also aren't entirely clear to me - oh wait, I know, he's a stupid piece of shit cockmonger) he didn't want me working for him anymore.

Unable to stop the tide from flowing over me, I now find myself adrift in icy cold waters when I was only moments before polishing silver on the Titanic.

I can't afford my mortgage and home improvement loan payments anymore, so the loss of my job means I am also losing my house. I can't afford my truck AND motorcycle payments, and I'll be damned if I get rid of my machines, so this means I am also losing my truck. Since my child support requirements (for a child that isn't even mine) were bound to my job, the loss of my love means that I now have nothing left tying me to this area, so it looks like the world is my oyster.

Maybe this is good. I'm actually not all that broken up about losing the job or my things (just a bit scared), but the loss of those that I love feels like death.

In a lot of ways though I feel an enormous sense of relief mingled with abject terror. "You are not the money in your bank account. You are not the khakis you wear." How many people get a fresh start like this? I can go anywhere, do anything. It's horrifying, but exciting at the same time. This is what survival feels like. It's scary, and raw, but somehow pure.

The only decisions I've made so far are 1) to sell my house immediately (it's the first thing you do in Monopoly when you hit hard times, and I always try to live my life according to the rules of that game), and 2) not make any other decisions for at least a week until my emotions die down a little bit.

That said, I'm already starting to think about where I want to end up. Right now, I keep settling on Florida, with Seattle as a distinct runner-up (but only because of the possible jobs out that way). With no reason left to stay in New England I think it's time to head for warmer climates. A place where I can ride my motorcycles every day of the year, and where women wear bikinis all year 'round. I don't know if I'll like it much, but nothing I do for now will be permanent. And I have friends there - good friends.

All I know is that I have to get out of Connecticut. I don't feel welcome here, and I'm not sure I ever did.

I feel like my life has become the punchline to a bad comedian's joke:

Why do strangers ask you how you are doing? They don't really want to know. What would they say if you responded with "Shitty, thanks. So far this week my girfriend dumped me and I lost my job, and it's only Wednesday. What... where are you going? You asked!!!"

This is your life.

And it's ending one minute at a time.

Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. As soon as I crawl back out of this bottle, cigar clenched between my teeth, giving the finger to the Man with one hand and fingering his wife with the other.

Like Gloria Gaynor, I Will Survive.

Goodnight Moon.

Goodnight Stars.

Goonight Destiny, tonight I sleep with your mortal enemy: uncertainty. And I'm putting it in her pooper.

Edit: Fuck, I'm out of rum. Even Captain Morgan doesn't want me around.

I can hang

It's not appropriate for someone my age to pound Irish Car Bombs with 22 year olds. But last night I did anyway. 3 times. And then I taught those young fuckers how to drink like a man - Jameson on the rocks (although I would have prefered it without the ice and with a nice cigar).

Note to self: next time you crash at someone's house after a night of partying, make sure you find out ahead of time whether or not they are a crazy-ass morning person. Waking up at 6 AM with a hangover and then driving home is a shitty way to start the day.

Sunny

It's sunny today, and that makes me happy. Tomorrow it will rain, and I'll deal with that then. For now, the sun is out, there are big fluffy clouds in the sky, and the roads are dry beneath the wheels of my motorcycle. When the rain comes I will be ready for it, for I will have enjoyed the sunny days fully and without remorse. I have been through rain, and been through sun, and I choose sun whenever I can.

You = Crazy

I just got back from a nice afternoon ride with my dad - I met him out in Goshen at a smokehouse / restaurant and then we headed home north through Norfolk and Winsted. On the way out to meet him I took 179 to 20 to 8, and on Rte 8 I had an interesting experience.

Route 8 starts in Winsted, and is a rarely patrolled highway. Therefore, everyone drives on it REALLY fast (about 95 on average). I got on the highway and was in the left lane doing 95 behind two cars, one in the left lane, one in the right. When a slow vehicle lane opened up to the right of the latter, a guy on a Harley - wearing a t-shirt and no helmet - blew past all of us.

Not one to let down my Japanese crotch-rocket image, I swung out behind him and throttled up to catch up with him. He was doing nearly 120 - without a helmet - all, apparently, to show me (ricer) that Harleys could outperform. I kept up with him just to show him that I wasn't being outperformed, but I was wearing leather and a helmet.

Crazy mofo...

Movie Review: The Assasination of the Outlaw Jesse James by the Coward Robert BLAH BLAH BLAH

There's a fine line between dramatic and boring. This movie crosses it.

Not a good idea to err on the side of boring when the climax of the movie is described that verbosely in the title. And in the name of all that does NOT suck my will to live, if you can summarize the plot of the movie in few enough words to fit into the entire title, does it REALLY have to be 7 and half hours long???

Friday Morning Limerick

There once was a man from Kentucky,
Whose life was all shitty and sucky,
He plucked on his banjo,
And sang about Ann Jo,
Lamenting being so damn unlucky.

New Tattoo

I've been thinking about what I wanted for my next tattoo for some time now, and had dropped off some sketches with Jen about a month ago to see what she could come up with. Not having heard back from her, I decided to stop by Green Man in West Hartford to see if they could come up with anything. In some quirk of fate, Jon (one of the owners) had just gotten a cancellation, and we came up with a design and I just went ahead and got it. He did an AWESOME job, not only with the actual tattoo but with the design as well. Check it out!

I'll definitely be going back to Jon from now on, he was really good to work with and really listened to what I wanted and wasn't afraid to make suggestions as we went along. Next up is a matching Fenhuang (Chinese phoenix) on my left arm.

Thursday Night Limerick

There once was a man from Montana,
Who wore nothing but shorts made from bananas,
He went to the zoo,
To his clothes he bid adieu,
When he walked past the gorilla cabana.

More like "Mass Trans-Shit" am i rite?

I just had the distinct displeasure of driving on three of Massachusetts' highways, two of which were narrowed down to 1 lane at several points for no apparent reason. OK, at one point there were a bunch of dudes jackhammering, so I'll give them that, but that was the exception - there were about 20 miles of highway on 495 that were whittled down to one lane apparently for the sole purpose of allowing state police officers to park their cruisers in two lanes of traffic without worrying about getting hit.

Way to make my commute longer and in general more shitty Massachusetts, thanks for that.

The roads in Connecticut were smooth, fully open, and much easier to drive on. At least I think they were, I dozed for most of that part of the trip.