Ass load of fun

Money may can buy whiskey, whores and drugs. But stupidity is free.

Best 5 minutes I ever spent

I dare anybody not to watch this all the way through.

Playtoy of the year

Seems like the new Playmate of the Year has been chosen, drawing hordes of camermen to document the event which -- to the surprise of none -- had nothing to do with her face.



From Reuters:
"A former Walt Disney World dancer who used to dress up as Cinderella and Snow White was named Playboy magazine's Playmate of the Year on Thursday. Kara Monaco, 23, an aspiring actress from Lakeland, Florida, received a check for $100,000, a car and a sports motorbike from Playboy Enterprises Inc. Monaco, a blonde, hopes to leverage her new role to boost her modeling and acting career."

Deadline

Stupid deadlines. It's Thursday -- as you can obviously tell by the header -- and my obligations are like a mountain lion on a jogging trail, watching me run along in ignorance, knowing I will be too tired when it matters most.
It knows I need money to live, and that's why it can afford to wait.
But what it doesn't know is that I am too tired and distracted to play with it today. My mind is 250 miles away with my family and my heart is on the edge of an implosion that must be close to what meth addicts feel right before their hearts explode.
But as much as I like to blame circumstance, it was my choice to snap my fraternal tethers and move to Houston. Why I chose this quagmire as my launching pad to a new career I will never know.
Maybe one day, someone will explain it to me.

So far away from me

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it also breaks it.
I just got back from a week-long visit with my parents -- first my dad, then my mother. Both experiences were like stepping into a hot port-a-potty.
The visits home make it more apparent than ever that life as I remember it is not encased in amber.
My father is no longer the healthy man from my youth. He is now partially hunched over, the victim of a cruel spine. Two of his vertebrae have fused together and he spends most of his time partially hunched over, making it impossible for him look up at anything.
Mother is still looking good. She just bought a workout machine that my brother and I put it together-- despite the sabotaging of technical writers that obviously didn't use English as a primary language.
She doesn't need the machine though, never has. Her metabolism, which is about the same as a meth-addled hummingbird, has always kept her light on the scales and high in the ranks of middle-aged envy.
She will probably just use it because it makes her think of me.
Seeing my brother also made me a bit sad. Seems like he is having trouble finding a good girl, but I told him it took me almost 30 years, even though I wasn't exactly trolling the halls of my elementary school, which really makes the figure closer to 20.
But we are all just hanging on one day at a time.