Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Dear Disappointed in Des Moines,
To all the worried people out there who thought I got back together with the ex-roomate, let me put to rest your fears and disappointments. I must apologize for the delay in posting, but there are circumstances in life which over ride even the best of plans, and there are events more important than psychological angst publicized to the world (hi Sweden) via my blog. To quote Plato, 'all good things must come to an end' yet we wonder if ever bad things must at some point take a hiatus themselves. Don't go google it up, Plato did not say that. If you were even thinking it what are you doing on my site?
I did not get into this opening of my soul on my own accord for the literary experience it would provide. I was thrust upon a situation as if the fates themselves had cut short the string of my relationship. And from the begining the happier days for me would conversely be juxtaposed as less than pleasant days for you, the random readers and watchers, the curious and afar. And so, my absense from posting, though some what is regrettable is a sign of change like the warm winds blowing across the plains and chasing the artic cold back into the dark recesses of winter to be forgotten for another year. This is the end.
Billy Joel quoted among many things that 'life is but a series of hellos and goodbyes, and now I must say goodbye.' He also said 'pual at the bar is a friend of mine, he gets me my drinks for free' but that really has no relevance here. Although I do know a bartender names Paul, and he charges me $11 for a vodka tonic. But that is for another day. And so my goodbye, my page turning has begun.
December 24th I quit my job, the hell that it was. December 26th, as the roomate slept on her parents laundry room floor recanting Mr. Matthews lyrics 'don't drink the water,' I packed up my things and deadbolted my door one last time, as I moved out. No note. No warning. I picked up and left.
I started this blog for a few friends and family members, and somehow ended up with the rest of you. Like a cult following, ok not one of those successful cults that worship comets, but a lesser cult in its early days, you read and posted encouraging tormenting ideas of revenge. For some freakish reason you even read on holidays, and I am not talking about Arbor Day and Canadian Boxer Day. So I wondered what it was in my story that made everyone so interested. As the trash can was taken away, later to be joined by the light and heat, you cheered. Like Monday Night football you were there for me.
But one person was not. And his name is Stephen Victor Brown III. In the back of your physics book, the part you never opened because you never had time to cover it are a few rules of nature that like the coefficient of drag we must compete with on a daily basis as we try not to fall upward. One of those rules is the wingman rule. Like the wingman who takes one for the team by hooking up with the ugly girl so his friends can have a good two hours of drunken memories they will never recall, the wingman is the guy who to keep the laws of physics balanced as to not upset the gods must always remain single until his time has come and there is a rotation in the offense. At that point, and only at the point does this player get to move to a central position allowing for a substituion to come in as wingman. Think of it as your five man face off line in foosball. When playing by Ryan's basement rules, which are the widely accepted rules of competition, the five man line can not score. It is their responsibility to move the play forward and set up the front three man line for all offensive opportunities.
[sorry have to get my laundry]
foosball... So the wingman in the dating scene is not allowed to partake in a relationship when the other consenting members of the party are themselves involved. It is kinda like that a bubble can only be touched by six other bubbles on its perimeter. Anymore and the situation, the bubble, will implode on itself. And so it was to be, that four years ago, three of us found ourselves in the preludes of relationships. At any given time in the history leading up that our late college years the spectator would only find one or at best two of us in some sort of torrid on again off again/random hook up affair, leaving the playing field open to snatch up ones position of choice. Let it be known that four years later, as one friend went off and got married, the second got engaged, I had moved in with my first full-time-live-in-female-roomate, and then Steve goes and gets a girlfriend. And the bubble imploded. Life, for a split second nearly ceased to exist. And then we realized it wasn't as earth shattering as we thought. The out come was just my ex simply changing her voter registration card to say roomate instead of girlfriend. And thus was born the life of jonah. Yet I do not hastily judge you, for had Janice not run away, we would have had a wingman for life, captaining that five man line like no other. He was like that bench seat on the merry go round full of galloping horses. But alas, he choose to leave our fraternity of Chasing Amy haters and beer pong water filled cup practicing foosball team.
sidenote: he left after we advised him not to ask his then girlfriend of a whole almost week or so to move in with him the summer that was still eight months away. Oh the irony of the situation that we do not learn from. For a few days later they broke up, and were roomates happily ever after. And my eyes were blind to all of this.
And so I moved. I headed west like Horatio Alger. I no longer have a job I hate and no longer come home to that roomate on the sofa, who like that mildew on your shower wall just will not go away regardless of the begging and Ajax. Some find answers in just wearing flip-flops, and some have blogs. Mine was a story of the latter. A story too good to be believed, yet fatefully sarcastic. And so, lik Jerry Springer, my final thought for now, or maybe for good is to always study physics for one day that which you failed to see will fall on you like an Acme anvil. No matter how good your situation, you can always have the upper hand, for thou who controls the remote is emporer of the world in the game of Risk.
So I thank you all for letting me be Doogie Howser, and click away on my keyboard as the world looks on reading over my shoulder of my days events to be for ever chronicled in my journal. For my detractors, my nemisis', I leave you this recognition. It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, get fired from your job and still be at home living with your parents.
I raise another frosty ambler glass of beer as I look back upon that which is now in history books. Take care of yourself and take care of each other. Except you Steve, you jerk. Ok I am joking. But watch out I will be objecting at your wedding. That or I am painting a tux on my body and streaking across the altar with a big foam finger that says you are #1.
To all the worried people out there who thought I got back together with the ex-roomate, let me put to rest your fears and disappointments. I must apologize for the delay in posting, but there are circumstances in life which over ride even the best of plans, and there are events more important than psychological angst publicized to the world (hi Sweden) via my blog. To quote Plato, 'all good things must come to an end' yet we wonder if ever bad things must at some point take a hiatus themselves. Don't go google it up, Plato did not say that. If you were even thinking it what are you doing on my site?
I did not get into this opening of my soul on my own accord for the literary experience it would provide. I was thrust upon a situation as if the fates themselves had cut short the string of my relationship. And from the begining the happier days for me would conversely be juxtaposed as less than pleasant days for you, the random readers and watchers, the curious and afar. And so, my absense from posting, though some what is regrettable is a sign of change like the warm winds blowing across the plains and chasing the artic cold back into the dark recesses of winter to be forgotten for another year. This is the end.
Billy Joel quoted among many things that 'life is but a series of hellos and goodbyes, and now I must say goodbye.' He also said 'pual at the bar is a friend of mine, he gets me my drinks for free' but that really has no relevance here. Although I do know a bartender names Paul, and he charges me $11 for a vodka tonic. But that is for another day. And so my goodbye, my page turning has begun.
December 24th I quit my job, the hell that it was. December 26th, as the roomate slept on her parents laundry room floor recanting Mr. Matthews lyrics 'don't drink the water,' I packed up my things and deadbolted my door one last time, as I moved out. No note. No warning. I picked up and left.
I started this blog for a few friends and family members, and somehow ended up with the rest of you. Like a cult following, ok not one of those successful cults that worship comets, but a lesser cult in its early days, you read and posted encouraging tormenting ideas of revenge. For some freakish reason you even read on holidays, and I am not talking about Arbor Day and Canadian Boxer Day. So I wondered what it was in my story that made everyone so interested. As the trash can was taken away, later to be joined by the light and heat, you cheered. Like Monday Night football you were there for me.
But one person was not. And his name is Stephen Victor Brown III. In the back of your physics book, the part you never opened because you never had time to cover it are a few rules of nature that like the coefficient of drag we must compete with on a daily basis as we try not to fall upward. One of those rules is the wingman rule. Like the wingman who takes one for the team by hooking up with the ugly girl so his friends can have a good two hours of drunken memories they will never recall, the wingman is the guy who to keep the laws of physics balanced as to not upset the gods must always remain single until his time has come and there is a rotation in the offense. At that point, and only at the point does this player get to move to a central position allowing for a substituion to come in as wingman. Think of it as your five man face off line in foosball. When playing by Ryan's basement rules, which are the widely accepted rules of competition, the five man line can not score. It is their responsibility to move the play forward and set up the front three man line for all offensive opportunities.
[sorry have to get my laundry]
foosball... So the wingman in the dating scene is not allowed to partake in a relationship when the other consenting members of the party are themselves involved. It is kinda like that a bubble can only be touched by six other bubbles on its perimeter. Anymore and the situation, the bubble, will implode on itself. And so it was to be, that four years ago, three of us found ourselves in the preludes of relationships. At any given time in the history leading up that our late college years the spectator would only find one or at best two of us in some sort of torrid on again off again/random hook up affair, leaving the playing field open to snatch up ones position of choice. Let it be known that four years later, as one friend went off and got married, the second got engaged, I had moved in with my first full-time-live-in-female-roomate, and then Steve goes and gets a girlfriend. And the bubble imploded. Life, for a split second nearly ceased to exist. And then we realized it wasn't as earth shattering as we thought. The out come was just my ex simply changing her voter registration card to say roomate instead of girlfriend. And thus was born the life of jonah. Yet I do not hastily judge you, for had Janice not run away, we would have had a wingman for life, captaining that five man line like no other. He was like that bench seat on the merry go round full of galloping horses. But alas, he choose to leave our fraternity of Chasing Amy haters and beer pong water filled cup practicing foosball team.
sidenote: he left after we advised him not to ask his then girlfriend of a whole almost week or so to move in with him the summer that was still eight months away. Oh the irony of the situation that we do not learn from. For a few days later they broke up, and were roomates happily ever after. And my eyes were blind to all of this.
And so I moved. I headed west like Horatio Alger. I no longer have a job I hate and no longer come home to that roomate on the sofa, who like that mildew on your shower wall just will not go away regardless of the begging and Ajax. Some find answers in just wearing flip-flops, and some have blogs. Mine was a story of the latter. A story too good to be believed, yet fatefully sarcastic. And so, lik Jerry Springer, my final thought for now, or maybe for good is to always study physics for one day that which you failed to see will fall on you like an Acme anvil. No matter how good your situation, you can always have the upper hand, for thou who controls the remote is emporer of the world in the game of Risk.
So I thank you all for letting me be Doogie Howser, and click away on my keyboard as the world looks on reading over my shoulder of my days events to be for ever chronicled in my journal. For my detractors, my nemisis', I leave you this recognition. It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, get fired from your job and still be at home living with your parents.
I raise another frosty ambler glass of beer as I look back upon that which is now in history books. Take care of yourself and take care of each other. Except you Steve, you jerk. Ok I am joking. But watch out I will be objecting at your wedding. That or I am painting a tux on my body and streaking across the altar with a big foam finger that says you are #1.
Saturday, January 03, 2004
sorry, sorry, sorry. blog will be updated this weekend i think.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
So the roommate for the most part is now never home when I am home. There is evidence to show that she comes home during the day after I leave for work, but sadly she no longer joins me for a monday night football game or political debate on c-span. Surprisingly this past weekend I was alarmed to hear her walk in the apartment and right into the bathroom where she decided she would take a shower. This is only curious because one well she is not liked around these parts, and two because she specifically took the shower curtain away from me after realizing that I wanted her to actually pay me back all the money she owed me. She has no towels, no shampoo, no shower curtain at the apartment. And while she could have brought one or both of the aforementioned items, it is highly doubtful that she took my shower curtain down and put hers up proceeded to shower and reciprocated the action involving the shower curtains. So perplexed, I decide to go into the kitchen and just run the hot water, after all my sink does get cold. After she could no longer stall and had to leave the bathroom she quickly ran out and was never to be seen from again, as she is now home getting cancer from the nuclear reactor that graces her towns sky line like a majestic mountain of concrete and reactor fuel. Curious about this anomaly, her visitation, I pondered where has she been taking showers for the past several weeks and what was she planning on doing in the apartment? And so the speculation begins, and none of it good for her. Either she was coming back thinking I was not there and planned on doing more in the apartment, i.e. steal/ruin the remaining items of mine. Or she could have been planning on writing an apology note. Or, and this is the fun part, whom ever she has been doing what ever she has been doing with, is no longer mr., or in all fairness ms. right. She obviously spent the night somewhere. Woke up and was not capable or allowed to shower there and had absolutely no other alternative than to venture back behind enemy lines and attempt to shower in my apartment. For she has showered somewhere else every other day yet was not successful in finding a place to partake in her daily hygiene ritual. Just to be scientific historians let us look at all the possibilities.
a. she woke up someplace showered, and on her way from point a to point b she fell into a puddle of mud and had to shower again
b. she woke up and decided to tell whom ever she was with that so no longer cared for them, and rolled over and continued to sleep on their sofa, then came to my apartment to shower
c. she really has no friends and has been sleeping in the park for the past two months
d. whomever's place she had been staying at either had no water and/or they were leaving for an extended period of time and for some unknown reason she failed to shower prior to their departure.
While the last one is not so funny, it is the only perceivable theorum. And so let me remind the viewing audience and everyone else who is playing the game that like any televised football game use of or distribution of my items, which include my shower curtain is prohibited without prior written consent of the owner of said items.
a. she woke up someplace showered, and on her way from point a to point b she fell into a puddle of mud and had to shower again
b. she woke up and decided to tell whom ever she was with that so no longer cared for them, and rolled over and continued to sleep on their sofa, then came to my apartment to shower
c. she really has no friends and has been sleeping in the park for the past two months
d. whomever's place she had been staying at either had no water and/or they were leaving for an extended period of time and for some unknown reason she failed to shower prior to their departure.
While the last one is not so funny, it is the only perceivable theorum. And so let me remind the viewing audience and everyone else who is playing the game that like any televised football game use of or distribution of my items, which include my shower curtain is prohibited without prior written consent of the owner of said items.
Friday, December 19, 2003
Like a velociraptor, her head on attack is a ruse, a cunning attempt at trickery (if you saw the movie) to deceive and throw me off kilter. Changing the lock was a nice move, yet you have doubled down the stakes in this game, and as we know I watch more espn2 poker than you do and am the crowd favorite. At this point I am going to cautiously address matters as the potential for her to now be reading this is higher. If that is the case, what do you think about buying a tshirt and helping me out? You are famous.
Of all the things I miss, the thing I miss most is my foosball table. A christmas or two ago she got me a foosball table, so I could practice for my upcoming reign as supreme world foosball master. In exchange she got a diamond necklace. There was a small matter with the foosball table being broken, so I tried to return the table, but the store never picked it up, however they did refund the money. I never got my replacement foosball table and that nearly brought me to tears. It is bad enough to come between a guy and his cable but to not even grant conjugal visits with a foosball table, now that is unacceptable.
To think back and have no other recollections of things that are to no longer be, than to miss my foosball table, makes going home to her plants, since she is rarely there, much more enjoyable. Oh to my two man defense and my five man line, how I will miss thee. Our relationship never had a chance to grow and blossom into anything meaningful in the short time we had. As your side board was broken, you were cut down in your youth never to see your prime. If I had the chance to have you, the reassurance that I could come home and always know where my foosball players where (because you have a bar through your torso and you can't run away) would have been a pleasant juxtaposition to the daily displeasure of what ever the live in roommate's escapade was.
Oh to say I miss your company, conversation, warmth and general pleasantries would be a farce too great for even the most skilled conniver to speak. For my true love sits in a corrugated cardboard box, on a store shelf under the classification of recreational activity. Oh to my foosball table, I miss you so.
Of all the things I miss, the thing I miss most is my foosball table. A christmas or two ago she got me a foosball table, so I could practice for my upcoming reign as supreme world foosball master. In exchange she got a diamond necklace. There was a small matter with the foosball table being broken, so I tried to return the table, but the store never picked it up, however they did refund the money. I never got my replacement foosball table and that nearly brought me to tears. It is bad enough to come between a guy and his cable but to not even grant conjugal visits with a foosball table, now that is unacceptable.
To think back and have no other recollections of things that are to no longer be, than to miss my foosball table, makes going home to her plants, since she is rarely there, much more enjoyable. Oh to my two man defense and my five man line, how I will miss thee. Our relationship never had a chance to grow and blossom into anything meaningful in the short time we had. As your side board was broken, you were cut down in your youth never to see your prime. If I had the chance to have you, the reassurance that I could come home and always know where my foosball players where (because you have a bar through your torso and you can't run away) would have been a pleasant juxtaposition to the daily displeasure of what ever the live in roommate's escapade was.
Oh to say I miss your company, conversation, warmth and general pleasantries would be a farce too great for even the most skilled conniver to speak. For my true love sits in a corrugated cardboard box, on a store shelf under the classification of recreational activity. Oh to my foosball table, I miss you so.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
I came home one night after a long day of work to find my apartment complex was having a holiday party, complete with food and beverages. It is a little surprising to walk in and see about two hundred people in your lobby celebrating and not realizing what is going on. It would not be long before I would realize the festivities were foreshadowing my entrance to my actual apartment. As I slipped my key into the deadbolt and heard that joyful clunk releasing the latch, I knew I had a wonderful night ahead of me. Like fire shooting out the windows of my room, finding the deadbolt unlocked never made for a good evening. I entered the abyss to see she had claimed her portion of the remaining furniture. Like the moon retreating far longer into shorter nights, this signaled a changing time that was forth coming. And so I dropped my bags and headed downstairs to see my kingdom celebrating the good news before me. As if they had some advanced knowledge today's precursor, the festivities were not for a random friday night in december, but instead for my triumph. Her potted horticultural remnants and other items lay scattered across the battlefield, yet victory is not entirely mine yet. She has retreated to the hills of Columbia, as I am encroaching from all sides. But for tonight the lager flows and its amber color glistens like the golden bounty pillaged from a far off village. Ah sweet nectar.
Monday, December 15, 2003
welcome to our Texan friends at UTexas. And also a hi to UMKC Med School readers, who say "Monday night football is genius" and also said they were going to buy some shirts and that I am amazing, or something along those lines. Thanks for the plug, the site traffic is definately picking up with the car people, you rock. Oh and hi to everyone I went to high school with but have not spoken to in many years, or ever, if you are on my list of 50, ryan has 49, haha. hi janice. but seriosly, a new post is coming shortly.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
[tshirt resolution is higher than shown here]
Priceless shirts and other merchandise are now up. If you have any requests, i.e. I want the picture on the front instead of the back, or you see a shirt you want in one category but not another, or something like that it is an easy change, just let me know.
Support the overthrow. Buy a shirt.
It takes two to tango, and she has finally decided to join me in this dance of jilted emotions and combative neutral zone infringements. I returned home after leaving my monetary request to find a semi vacant hall. Like smelling egg rolls from over a block away from a chinese street vendor on a cold brisk December afternoon, the senses were acute. This would not be my typical pleasant return to my abode. After requesting money that she owes me, one thousand dollars to put a rough estimate on it, she leaves me a lengthy somewhat haphazard threat claiming my immaturity and that I was "nickel and diming" her. I always misunderstood that phrase. I thought it referred to small and petty costs. Apparently one thousand dollars falls within those parameters. So I pulled out the calculator and sure enough I was nickel and diming her somewhere to the effect of 20,000 nickels.
Then she had the audacity to claim that she could in return be charging me for an equal number of expenses. I ask you this, ladies and gentlemen of the jury; if she could not even pay for her own hair dryer, how can the defendant claim to have any expenses that even remotely parallel the evidence laid out before you.
As I wandered the now cold and uninviting rooms of my apartment I would find the shower curtain missing and my sheets curiously had met a similar fate. And then the attack that broke all the rules. The Geneva Convention does not even atone for such retaliation. She took my coaxial cable from my tv. The world series of poker and jeanette lee would only now be distant memories as espn-2 like every other channel had been cut down in their prime and faded to black.
Like war bonds for an invading allied force, please buy a shirt today and help us regain our freedom we hold so dear. Our freedom to watch Law and Order no matter what time of day it is. Help bring our cable back.
Then she had the audacity to claim that she could in return be charging me for an equal number of expenses. I ask you this, ladies and gentlemen of the jury; if she could not even pay for her own hair dryer, how can the defendant claim to have any expenses that even remotely parallel the evidence laid out before you.
As I wandered the now cold and uninviting rooms of my apartment I would find the shower curtain missing and my sheets curiously had met a similar fate. And then the attack that broke all the rules. The Geneva Convention does not even atone for such retaliation. She took my coaxial cable from my tv. The world series of poker and jeanette lee would only now be distant memories as espn-2 like every other channel had been cut down in their prime and faded to black.
Like war bonds for an invading allied force, please buy a shirt today and help us regain our freedom we hold so dear. Our freedom to watch Law and Order no matter what time of day it is. Help bring our cable back.
