Little Lion Man. (Vegas Trip Part 1)

The following is all true, all hyperboles and figurative language aside; Delivered in the order of occurrence as best as I can remember. The people are real. The stories are real. (Times are estimated. After the first 300 miles you don't really care anymore.)

7:00ish PM Friday 6-18:
We begin our assumed 18 hour journey to the land of Las Vegas. I spent the first 3 hours completely unconscious in a state of partial denial that this car wouldn't be escaped until we were an entire 3 states away. Although Texas is more of 6 to 7 states. Especially going out west. Amarillo smells like cow manure and wildfires. Mixed together. Basically it smells like the entire city is covered in flaming piles of poop. Go Texas!

12:30ish AM Saturday 6-19:
Franklin has driven the entire first leg and we are now in the land of Albuquerque, New Mexico. While it stinks significantly less than west Texas, now I have to drive for at least 4 hours until Kyle starts his driving right before Arizona. This did NOT go as planned. While I had slept for around 3 hours. I neglected to mention that I had not slept for an entire 25 hours prior to entering the car. Yes, I was driving cross country, on 3 hours of sleep, at night. Don't worry we all make it out alive in this story as far as I know. *crosses fingers*

4:30ish AM Saturday 6-19:
I have been driving for around 4 hours, and we are approximately 3/4 of the way to the Arizona border. By some magical Full Throttle-Starbucks-Dr. Pepper mixture I had managed to keep everyone alive and I was so overly caffeinated that I was wide awake. I was in a crazy sleep deprived state of hilarity, and in my Rambo-ish state I decided  I wanted to drive us through the NM-AZ border to the first rest stop. What I did not know at that time was that AZ does not have rest stops...anywhere.

7:30ish AM Saturday 6-19:
I have now been driving for 7 hours..I hate myself and I hate Kyle. At this point he has been asleep for around 6 total hours so far. Franklin and I are still partially aware and able to drive with his sorry butt passed out in the back seat like a coma patient. We began to go into survival mode and questioned how neccesary he was, and where we could throw him out if need be. We didn't, yet.
Franklin has not slept yet and I haven't had near enough. Luckily, there is hope in the distance! What is that shiny golden sign on the horizon? McDonalds, can it be?. Their terribly unhealthy Egg Mcmuffins may have saved us all, and I forever owe my sanity, and life; to a breakfast sandwich.

Roadtrips are a strange strange place.

(Will be continued soon!)

Sic Transit Gloria

I remember the very first thing I ever wrote on my own.
It was called "The End of Me" and it was an emo expose' on my terrible sophomore relationships.

You see, I was a smaller and less well versed Matthew McCounaghey from Dazed and Confused my early years of high school. So essentially I spent more time changing girlfriends than I did in actual relationships.
Almost a sweet lou.
High five if you got the movie reference!

But I'm afraid that that particular song is forever lost to the world of myspace. It would be retrievable if I didn't think I was hilarious in high school, and made my password virtually un-guessable. It is probably has something cheesy to do with my ex, but the options there are endless.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to high school and tell myself something intelligent that would help me in the future.

Like, "Hey, cut your hair. You look like an emo Ellen Degeneres."
Or, "Hey, Hawthorne Heights SUCKS. Stop pretending they are a legitimate form of music."
Or, "Okay look. There is a young child on this earth named Justin Bieber. Find him and punch him in the throat."

Jk. I wouldn't punch a child. Unless it stole my wallet.

However, in all seriousness I don't think I would change a thing in my life. I seem to be a magnet for writing material. By writing material I mean: bad relationships, losing my wallet, hitting an immigrant with my car, helping my ex ex move, and playing nerdy video games.

Yep, I'm a professional. Don't try any of that at home. You may die.

It is funny though that somehow amidst all my strange life occurrences writing has been one of the very few stable things. Which as you may have noticed by my writing, I treat my life like Taylor Swift. If you don't want to be mentioned in it you best not date me, befriend me, or doing anything remotely funny out of the corner of my eye. Yeah, I see you over there. *begins scribbling on napkin*

So now that I have thoroughly isolated myself, I'm off to Vegas!
Prepare for a slew of random tweets and posts, and the potential for me to come back with a tat on my face.
Muahahaha!

Another Girl, Another Planet.

Love, love, love.

That's what makes the world go around isn't it?

Actually it's the conservation of angular momentum, but that doesn't really matter does it?

Let's just say that it's love.

Plato suggested in his Symposium that men and women were meant to be one, because before they entered this world they were one creature. Essentially, he believed that husband and wife were originally a 4 legged, 4 armed, hermaphrodite. Sexy huh? While you may be sitting there saying, "that is absolutely ridiculous." This is where the idea of soul mates comes from. Plato knew how to get the ladies.

If you think about it and apply it to your life, it is hysterically disturbing. Next time you are checking out that special someone at the coffee shop just imagine yourself merged with them into some crazy dual-human monster. You'll think twice before flirting I can guarantee it.

Is it really so crazy though?

Well, yes, but uh...how do I transition after that? Anyway.. whether we put it on God, Plato, natural selection, or christianmingle.com doesn't really matter; because we believe them all for the same reason. We were meant for someone else. We all somewhere in our core want love. Even if it is off of eharmony, or at one of those AWFUL church singles group conferences.

Seriously, I will sooner die than ever go back to one of those again. Our church had to create a cowboy and indian style caravan around our women to protect them from the crazies. It was like that one awful dance in junior high where no one wanted to dance, but the parents working the refreshments stands made you.

Either way just love everyone a little bit, and it'll make the world a better place. 

After all, you may have been meant to merge into a superhuman monster with one of them.

Sigh...love is so beautiful.

Dismantle, Repair.

Life is a complicated ordeal sometimes. It is full of ups and downs, and twists and turns.

However, most of the time it is like the video game Minecraft.

What's that you say?

Only the best thing ever. 

It is essentially a 2-bit pixelated haven of freedom. The premise is as follows: You are a guy in the world, and you can make things out of everything around you. Oh yeah, and zombies come out at night to kill you. That's it.

There isn't any deep plot where you find out you were the man who shot Kennedy, or some crazy "get to Lvl 85 so you can kill a giant dragon that respawns every single Tuesday" mentality. It's just you, your imagination, and zombies. Just like real life!

You see every morning you wake up to a new day. A beautiful beginning where you go to your job to build your future; for yourself, your children, and the ridiculously large amounts of pets you'll accumulate because of sed children. We all do it every single day, and hopefully we find ourselves happy in our daily life activities. However, what happens when the sun goes down? Freaking zombies.

Not literally. Although that would be a thrilling lifestyle. I am speaking of Mind-Zombies. 

They are the terrible voices in the back of your head telling you, "you suck," "you're fat," and "no one loves you." Those racing thoughts that come to you right before you fall asleep. All they want is your imagination and your hope. They want to take the piece of you that wanted to be a baseball playing astronaut, and make it into that creepy guy at work no one invites to parties.

Don't let them do that to you. 

You are worth so much more than a life full of regrets and second guessing.

Be strong like Christina Aguilera.

Because you are beautiful no matter what they say, and words can't bring you down.

Now go out and be somebody!

Or build a giant castle with lava towers and a moat...because that's what I'm doing.

I'm going to call it "Lancetopia", and you have to know the password to get in.

It's 'taco.'

I Miss You

If life is like a box of chocolates, then I love the chocolate covered pecan-cluster.
It is the perfect mix of flavor to me, and there is only one in every box.

Sometimes life gives you lemons and you have to make lemonade, but if life gives you a pecan cluster just eat the delicious thing before some jerk steals it. I am that guy that everyone hates around Valentines day, because I take a bite out of every single chocolate in the Nirvanaesqe heart shaped box. Do I finish it? Not if I don't like it. Why would you finish eating something that tastes bad? Who am I Bear Grylls? Take your self righteous chocolate judgement somewhere else people.

However, no matter what. I know that I want to find that pecan-cluster, and enjoy it's nutty goodness.
Forrest Gump had it right.
You never know what you're gonna get, but when you do find something good take it.
Of course that doesn't apply to everything.

I think Johnny Depp is a good actor, but kidnapping him wouldn't be a great move on my part.

So don't take my crazy idea too far, because you'll end up in prison.
Just be passive like me, and blog about your life in a delicously chocolatey allegory.

So pecan cluster if you are reading this just know that one day we will have a wonderful 80's movie montage together. I would like it to be kind of like the one in Footloose except there would be 2 of us frolicking through a strange factory for no apparent reason. That's what love is right?

Whatever, Kevin Bacon rules.

Feeling This

Good day to you ladies and gents. I believe I owe everyone a bit of an apology..I was a tad detained this weekend, and I was internet retarded. The lack of wifi was a detriment to my blogging career it seems. However, it was nice to see some of the threatening texts I received informing me if I quit writing that bad things would happen to me.

Does that happen to Tom Clancy? 

"Make another Rainbow 6 or I will beat you with the toaster." love, your biggest fan.

I suppose so.

With great power comes great responsibility. 

I think the dead uncle of Peter Parker said that, and he was right.

High five Uncle Ben. I'm sorry you had to die in the first half hour of Spiderman.

So, what did I do this weekend? Well, I would love to tell you.

I helped my ex ex (yes two exs' were intended) move into her new apartment.

Is that bad? 

Because I feel like in the scheme of things that comes across as mildly strange.

It wasn't. Does that make it stranger? Dear Lord, I am in some kind of strange inception loop.

Strange within a strange.

It was a grand ole time though. 

I learned that I am evidently fantastic at carrying heavy items backwards.

If that is indeed as valuable a skill as I believe, then I can probably single-handedly take over Uhaul.

It was strange how awesome everyone was to me though. (strange within strange within a strange) Not because they aren't always cool, but because we kind of go way back, and I haven't always been the man I should've been. Not very many families I know are that fun to hang out with all the time. Seriously, it was like I was on some white version of a Tyler Perry show. So if you are reading, thanks for being great.

So in short my weekend was a nice adventure into nostalgia.

I missed it, but in the future I promise to never disappear for any amount of time without a legitimate excuse. I won't go all Dave Chapelle on everyone, promise. However, be looking forward to this weekend's post, because I'm going to Vegas baby. Hello, Mr. Papa Georgio!

My goal is to either get one of friends drunk and married to a stripper, or to convince Criss Angel to do an illusion where he disappears into my pocket. Then I can bust him out at parties, and be like, "Hey everyone check out my pet Criss Angel." Then he would be like, "Are you ready?" And everyone would say, "yes!" Then he would appear in a random photo on the wall, and everyone would freak out, and scream "get out of my picture you time-travelling demon!" And he would eat the nearest camera, because that's what Criss Angels do.

*Sigh*

The awesome things I would do with a pet magician can keep my mind busy for hours...