2005 update....as of now.
Mood:  caffeinated
oRPHAN and I are now romantically attached and are more than happy with that situation, as we have both found a happiness we didn't know was possible in each other. I have a year of school left and plan on purchasing a home of my own once I've graduated. I figure I've got a pretty good deal layed out for me. Purchase the home via the V.A. loan and then make the monthly payments with my disability sum whilst I gain my living funds through work. As is the plan oRPHAN and most likely lOVECHILD will be living with me and will be able to help with utilities. That's the plan, lets see how much a year can deviate it's course.

oRPHAN and I recently took in a chihuahua puppy which has been dubbed "Killer."



Being unsure if I've made the following updates and too lazy to go and check....


I've since mended my past grudges and have revived my friendships with bRAIN, kID vID, fRACK,lUNY, and aRTAP. This has taken a suprisingly and previously unnoticed weight off of my shoulders....chest...whatever body area you wish to use. As cliche and silly as it may sound, I have discovered that grudges stubbornly held on to are like poison for the spirit. It was suprising how much better I felt once I had reconciled my differences with each of the afformentioned people. The only grudge I really hang on to now is against pHANTOM, and even that is slowly dying. It is hard for me to hate her when I sit back and look at what a pitiful, pathetic individual she really is. I was so hurt and tortured because she had lied to me and hidden who she really was. However, all that hurt and pain was from my own pride. I was really angry at myself for being duped, and as time wore on the anger grew more as I realized I had been duped by someone so ignorant and low. I am no longer angry. I've learned my lesson and have moved on. Now I just feel pity. I pity her and the life she has chosen to live. She will never be truly happy, and that is really very sad. She doesn't have enough strength to be her own person or be comfortable as and individual. She has crucified herself to the same crusty old cross that her mother, aunts, and grandmother have hung from for years. Her spirit is forever fouled with bitterness, unhappiness, and lack of identity. I doubt that her spirit will ever be fertile again, and if it does become so, I fear it will be too late in her life to be able to do anything about it. Too soon she will realize that physical and material worth and acceptance is of little use. There is so little time for us to live before we our energy is snuffed out, there is no time to waste. I fear her life will be wasted away faster than she will realize. Too bad. Luckily, that poison which taints her life has been removed from ours. Everything she and I shared involvement in has taken a drastic turn for the better since her removal. The workplace is much more easy going, light hearted, and successful. Home is no longer a four letter word...though in acutallity...it is...a four ..letter word.....you get my point though.


On a somewhat, though not all together, different note. My new relationship is quite agreeable and obviously late in coming. oRPHAN is everything I've ever wanted in a lover. She is my best friend and my dearest love. I feel no need to hide anything from her and no subject is taboo for our conversation. When we talk I feel as if I am speaking with an equal rather than a pompous ass who feels they are above me in some way. Our sex life (yes, I have one finally) is amazing, adventurous, and bountiful. My family and friends have all made clear how much more they enjoy her over my previous "romantic" companion, and have made known how much of a positive change they have noticed in me thanks to her. I've heard "I was wondering when you two would get together, ya'll are perfect for eachother" more times than I care to even begin to count.


Changing the subject completely, my longest (no pun intended) friend, tHOR, and his now wife, (I married them together a couple of weeks after Katrina hit) lUNY, have had their first child. Her name is Eliana and she was born on Halloween of 2005. Having known tHOR since we were about three, he is the closest to a brother that I have. His child, in my opinion, is technically my neice. I will ensure that she is treated as thus.


All else I can think of is my chrismas gift list of doom. so here goes:

- (gen5)30gig Ipod mini (744 songs so far and haven't even made a dent in the fucker)

- a matching set of concrete cast gargoyles and pedistals to grace either side of my bedroom door.

- an inflatable love doll sheep (don't ask)
- a skull headed cane
- an electronic dart board

When Will I Remember to Forget?
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Roads - Portishead
Its been two nights now that I've been having these debilitating dreams of Phantom.

The first one was just simple jealousy bullshit, but last night it was rage, pain, sorrow, longing....all the feelings that should not be associated with my thoughts of her or her name. She should be dead to me. Her name a bitter curse that I dare not utter lest it poison my tongue as it leaves my mouth. Why then does my mind not lay her to rest in the cursed earth of the darkest pits of my thoughts? Why does my heart not murder her thought and dump the remains?

She pulled her usual bullshit Friday night during Orphan's BD party. When Phantom doesn't get what she wants she makes sure everyone else has a bad time. Neither Orphan Or I have heard from her for shit. I don't know about Orphan, but before I finally sent Phantom the last letter stating where I stood on the whole "leave me alone" front, the only time I heard from Phantom was when she wanted something. She couldn't be bothered with calling be while I was in Florida after our breakup (though I called her everyday for 4 of the 5 days I was there). She couldn't be bothered with me when I returned nor the two weeks after while I was still living in the same house with her. She was always too busy to spend any time with me, talk with me. Unless of course she needed me to do something. Contact with her was limited to lists of things she needed done or fixed and short phone calls asking if she could have rides to work and to the mechanics while her car was being repaired. The time I got to spend with her included dead quiet hours at work within 5 feet of each other and heart wrenching car rides, whose silence was just as deadly. When finally my heartache and my longing for her was too much for me to handle, and I called her and asked for an audience, she was too busy dancing in New Orleans with her new "friends" to be able to grant such a lofty request. She could call me when she got home. 4 hours later (3:30am, I waited when I had been up since 8am and had to wakeup again at 8am for work) she had finished her fun and decided to call me. As I began to tell her how much I couldn't take the hurt and how big of a mistake I had made, she cut me off and told me that she was perfectly happy with the decision and that it was for the best. I felt cold in my chest. I told her that if that was what she wanted then fine. Explained that I had to go to bed to go to work the next morning, that I would finish getting the last of my shit out of her house, and that I was sorry for thinking that what I had mistaken as something important was actually nothing at all. The next evening, when I show up at her house to get my shit, she had left me a note. Its contents you may think would be something if not apologetic, at least soothing. Its contents were a list of things she wanted me to do for her including installing a flood light, nailing down floor molding, and fixing her lawn mower. It was here that I decided to ignore my pain and want for her and to not show her any more weakness. It was also here that I began feeling as if I had been confused or duped over during the course of our 8 year relationship. I mean, how can someone have loved you and wanted to have a family with you if, only three weeks after you split up for the first time ever, you can so easily thwart the heart-broken pleas for forgiveness and retribution from the one you had pledged so much love and need for less than one month earlier (I have the numerous confessions of love and happiness on tape)? And then to add insult to injury to this person that you supposedly wanted to spend the rest of you life with, your next contact with this person is a fucking list of shit you want him to do for you. Here let me rip your heart out and rip it to pieces and than ask you to fix my fucking lawnmower. So the next day I awake a new person, comfortably enshrouded in my cloak of denial. The next week or two go by OK. I try to act like we were friends, I forced playfulness and idle chatter, I blocked out anything else that she could harm me with...except.
I hear word that she is not just dating but fucking the guy down the street like a fucking rabbit. I of course don't at first believe this, not the woman who definition of passion and sensuality were non-existent. From the woman who told me that it hurt if we had sex for longer than 15 minutes and who said she rarely thought of sex at all. I just passed it off as rumor, or at least I thou gt I did. However, I was wrong. I remember feeling as if I had been jolted awake from a dreamless sleep. I remember realizing that my entire body was tensed and shaking uncontrollably as I held the the truth in my hands. It was not a rumor. Within a month, maybe a week or two over, she had shed her deep love and plans for me that had been 8 years in the making. Within a month. She had lied to me about her feelings, she had lied about her plans with me, she had lied about the sex, she had lied about her attraction to me and who I was, she had lied about who she was. The woman I had loved for so long and had sacrificed most of who I was in a vain attempt to please her constantly updating list of demands of who she wanted me to be, didn't exist. She was some construct. I had been duped, for what purpose I have no idea. My thoughts of the person she really is resembles a chameleon. She doesn't really exist. The person who embodied the constructed woman I loved does not have a real personality. She clings on to those who will care for her and put up with her constant rudeness, cruelty, and demands, and then does what she can to create a personality that is as closely compatible as she could get. Her entire lifestyle, interests, clothing style, everything has changed into what is compatible with the club hopping people she is hanging out with and fucking now. She does things that she always was against (contact lenses, smoking cigarettes, sexual escapades with damn near strangers).

I don't know this person. Its not that I have a problem with this person she has become, other than the fact that she lied to me and ripped my heart out for no reason other than she had already started the fucking chrysalis into the new personality. Which brings us back to the party.

Phantom was not invited to the party. For various reasons other than, but not more important than, my disdain for her presence. It was a given that she would not be there. Syn, wasn't invited for similar reasons. We wanted no fucking drama at a party whose intention was to have a good time in celebration and fore go the fucking drama we've been involved in. However, that was not to be the fate of the party. A couple hours into the party Phantom phones Orphan to bitch her out about how they were supposed to be friends and that why wasn't she invited. This friend who has never fucking lifted a fucking finger to contact, hang out with, call for a talk, anything "friend"-like, is now upset that she wasn't invited to Orphan's bd party. After thoroughly making Orphan feel like shit, amongst other problems that came about during the party, Orphan retired early from a party in her honor. 20 minutes or so later I receive a call from Phantom. She wants to know if we are ever going to be able to talk again and that she doesn't want me deleted from her life, and other such bullshit. I, being hardened and trained well by my revelations of past hidden abuse was now ready to fire back on her with her own ammunition. I was just as cold hearted in my reply and care for her false concern as I had been treated before. The conversation was quick and doubtful how she expected it to turn out. I envisioned her at home alone with no one to go show off her newly constructed personality. I envisioned her pissed because her treatment of others and myself had finally culminated into her exclusion from those who once cared for her and now were turned away from her presence. I envisioned her this way and I felt guilty at how happy it made me. I wanted her to feel rage. pain. sorrow. longing. I wanted her to feel as lonely as I did that night waiting by the phone and how alone I felt after we talked.

I'm the lucky one. I have those that care for and/or love me and that will help me heal with genuine concern and comfort. She has mannequins that echo as they have been programmed to respond. She will find false comfort in a group of her peers. Constructs just like her, and there will be no redemption or peace. Torment and toil barely hidden by false happiness.

I'll remember to forget the false love she gave me eventually. I'll exorcise the ghosts she planted in my heart and mind to haunt me. I'll one day be able to give those who love me the full extent of my love in return. And hopefully, I'll learn to forgive her and not take pleasure knowing her fate is full of cold nothingness.

Aching and betrayal; Fear and loathing.
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: Superman - Eminem
So I received this letter from Phantom telling me how she still cares for me and wants to still have contact with me and all that shit. This would have been quaint had it not been that I had recently learned that she has fucked the guy down the road so many times in a week or so than she has fingers and fucking toes to count on, and thats not counting the shit she'd "possibly" done, or has done since, with certain of his friends. Now I have thought through all the details (a hundred fucking times) and have found many areas of that situation that I should be mad or jealous of. The fact that he is one of two jock ass-holes I couldn't stand in high school. Or maybe that I was such a disgusting monster in her eyes that she could barely touch me, however now she's ready to be a random piece of ass at a phone call for this guy and his freinds. Obviously I was wasting my time trying to make only her happy, and instead should have been making myself happy and fucking every girl that wanted me and then dropping them off, at least I'd have the same experience this guy has so that I too would know exactly what to say to get laid and know how to keep them coming back whenever I call them (ok so I'm a little pissed on that part). Basically a number of other break-up horrors that I should be enraged over. However the only thing that really gets me is that I feel like I've been lied to and denied the person she really was. This person filled the stories of her time before me. This person snuck in and made appearances every time I was gone,whether I was out of town, in the ARMY, whatever, whenever I was gone this person appeared. Now its this person who is sending me letters talking about how she still cares for me when she probably just got done fucking this guy's brains out two or three times the night before. And as stupid as it sounds, its not really her fucking this guy 100 fucking times in a week that really bothers me, its why the fuck couldn't she have shown me this person she obviously really is. What was so fucking awful about me that I wasn't good enough to know the real her; and if I was so horrible that she couldn't really be herself around me than why the fuck did she even want to be with me, why did she let me go on trying to make this one person happy when that person was just an illusion. What the fuck kind of sick game is that. When this question has been put to others I usually get something along the lines of: Because she felt like I was in love with a specific person and as long as she acted that way I would stay in love with her. That she doesn't have enough faith in herself to be herself and before I loved her, and now that I'm gone, she has no self respect for herself anymore and that she is acting accordingly. That this is not what she wants to be. It reflects how she feels about herself. Shit I even had someone tell me that the "bootycall" comment in her letter was a sub-consious invitation for me to abuse her (yeah thats a little too deep for me too, drugs have ruined all of our brains). I'm not sure what to make of answers like that. Either way, I feel helpless, betrayed, and pathetic. I don't know what's worse, that she was playing some sick fucking game with me and really wants to be treated like a stupid, easy piece of ass or if she is doing all this as a reflection of how she feels inside now. Both seem pretty fucked to me and I can't begin to figure out how I would handle either of them. This is already more fucking space than I was wanting to devote to this. This was my reply to her letter. I just want her out of my fucking life. I can't fucking go to sleep at night without fighting through the mental images, and graphic scenarios. I'm bombarded with the putrified remixes of every good or bad memory I've ever had with her, all mentally remastered for the optimal disturbing factor. If I could just erase her from my mind, like that movie about Cum-spots on the Mind of Sunkist Oranges or whatever. Cut her the fuck out, maybe I could enjoy every second of my life and not just the ones where I have company or mental distraction. I hate being alone now.

Get in the Pit and Try to Love Someone
Mood:  chillin'
Now Playing: My Band - D12
A seemingly calm conversation that, while a couple of coy little comments flew under the radar from both parties, was fairly reserved and unaggressive was shattered horribly when the subject turned to Orphan and her not acquiring a rear view mirror for her truck. The spat turned into Syn degrading into a blind and mostly unintelligible rage that involved him hurrying randomly around his premises grabbing random shit that obviously belonged to Orphan and carting them down to my car the whole time bellowing vulgar insults and debasement's toward Orphan seasoned with various "you ruined my life"-esqe declarations. This had the possibility of being a moving experience if it were not for the semen like foam that kept ringing his mouth and flying from his lips nor the fact that for half of the fiasco he stormed around the area with his belt dangling from one belt loop down to his feet. Though it was a sad moment and I would hope that Syn weren't going through such a hard time I could not help but find the theatrics of the whole thing a bit comical. However all humor was dropped when Syn began getting into Orphan's face to curse her out. I was extremely uncomfortable with his backing her up against a wall with violent hand gestures in her face. I tried to pull him back but he shrugged me off, I felt forced to throw him bodily away from her and keep myself between them lest he do something that I would make him regret. After much drama and ridiculous statements I finally got him in the house and a bit calm and was able to get Orphan and I away and comfortably to the nearest bar for a drink. Not sure how to handle the situation.

So this is Chris-mas
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Let's Give Them Something - Bonnie Raitt
It’s a brand new mutha fuckin day. I don't remember the last time I was this happy for each new day. Whether or not I know I have to work, bust my ass with shit work, or just sit back and relax all day, I'm in a good mood and loving life. I've been hanging out with my sister Orphan and friend Fred D a lot recently. Both have been really great friends and have helped relieve me of my brain dead twitch period in which I was hopelessly (and ignorantly) stuck in a quagmire of my own unfounded depression. Like any reformed addict who, once clean, runs naked through the streets screaming out warnings to the alien centipede people that keep crawling over your chest and comforter early in the morning, I feel as if my the quality of my existence has been increased 110%. I don't have enough thanks to give to all those (family, friends, love interests, kinky animals, and that crusty, old homeless crack head at the gas station last night) responsible for the elevated quality rating in my world right now. I have been keeping fairly busy and haven't been getting a lot of sleep, due to the late nights of fun and work and the early morning wake-up calls. In a THC induced stupor a "Monster House"-esqe plan has sprung forth for the remodeling of my house. As far as I can tell the bedroom will be decked out to resemble the inside of a coffin, with the pleated and buttoned cushioning on the ceiling (blood red satin with a sheer black fabric over it. Black drapery will hang down over blood red walls from the ends of the ceiling cushions. The floor will be carpeted with a dark red or black carpet which will climb and cover a 4' tall stage, that will big enough to fit my bed and give me about a two foot step surrounding it. The bathroom, which is what we are working on now, is being almost completely tiled with this great fucking ceramic tile that looks like rusted old metal paneling from an old ship or insane asylum. The main part of the house will be split into three areas. The living, the dining, and the study. The Living and study areas will be set with a floating wood paneling that will be laid in a dark/light pattern for a wooden pinstripe effect. Any visible walls in these areas will be painted a deep royal purple. The study however will have little of this as most of the walls in this area will be completely covered in floor to ceiling shelving; all stained a deep cherry or mahogany. The dining area will be made to look like an old soda shop or diner. It includes the kitchen, breakfast bar, and dining room. The floors, counters, breakfast bar, as well as the backsplash will be done in a black and white checkerboard pattern. The cabinets will all be painted black with blood red doors and a diner style booth complete with padded L-shaped booth chair. The trim that runs the whole main room will be painted blood red as well so that each area will tie in. It should be a lot of work and a lot of fun and it will make being stuck out if bum-fuck Lacom-pton again a little easier. I may be alone but at least I'm not alone. Rock over London, Rock on Chicago...Allstate, your in good hands.

It Hurts
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Bad Day - Fuel
I've never felt so empty and lonely in my entire life. I battle constantly for control of my emotions lest the tear me apart, but when I can't hold on to them any longer and finally try and let them free I'm instead rewarded with a cold emptiness in my chest and a feeling like I can't belong in this existence and consciousness. Everything that I thought I couldn't take anymore seems so trivial now. All the bad memories and hurt feelings that flooded my view before seem to have disappeared from memory and all that is left is the happy times, the great times. What little of the unhappy times I remember just seems to there to bolster my thoughts of a new beginning; a revival. There is no revival however, no chance of salvation. The damage has been done. I'm still too devastated and destroyed to really decide if this was not a mistake. At night when I'm all alone in that room that used to be ours though, it seems like the worst fucking mistake I have ever made. I want to rush to her and fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness, beg for her mercy, and beg for her to love me like she once said she did. How she said she did. That thought circles in my mind as well. She said that she would always love me, that I made her happy, that I was to be her husband and father of her children. She said she loved me and that we would work whatever problems we had out. Because she loved me. Two weeks was all it took to change that. I understand that we said it was over, and that we said it couldn't work anymore. I realize that I am the one who first suggested it, but I could have been wrong. I might have been wrong. It is clear though that that isn't the case however. Life is a beautiful new horizon for her. She adventures forward into a bright sky, treading over the dark, cold pit that I've buried myself in. That’s when the anger begins to gnaw. Anger at the wasted energy and emotion I'm throwing at her, that I ignorantly seem to hope to make her remember how good the good memories were and how trivial the bad ones were. Then I sit stunned as those hopes, that should have been boulders smashing into her, wisp by her as barely a breeze. It’s just that easy for her. The anger burrows deeper. Why am I stuck in this rut? She doesn't love me, she doesn't want my love. I curl into this pitiful ball in this fetid shit-hole I've created for myself and cry out to be saved by a false savior who no longer cares for me and is just realizing that she probably hasn't for quite some time. The anger metamorphoses into shame. Shame at how pitiful and weak I seem to have become, yes, but the brunt of it is at the ones who do love me. As this disgusting, blind fool claws at ghosts of the past another sits patiently by my side and caresses me. It is she that tends to my never ending, self-induced wounds as I tear out at the shadows. It is she that smoothes back my hair and sings her lullabies to the whimpering child that I have become. While I writhe in my selfish heartache, she packages hers up and sets it aside so she can be my strength. The deep shame drills into my guts and my heart, pain in hopes that sanity will return to me. And sanity is exactly what I have misplaced. All the pain and disregard and lack of respect that I received as payment from the she that has left, I have never received from she who watches over the raving husk I have now become. All of the adoration and love and passion that I had always wanted in return for my own, she is bursting to drown me in. Instead of worshiping her greatness and caring and love, I give her a mewling child to watch over and comfort. The shame becomes so deep it awakens the pain again, and I can feel the cold, empty pit in my chest again. And where is my old friend. That which has always got me through every problem I felt I wasn't strong enough for. Where is the hate? Where is the raw fury that before has always been my stand-in for any form of negative emotion. Now when I need it the most, in my most desperate hour it has forsaken me. I'm alone. Alone without the love I've struggled for so long to attain. Alone by my blindness and senselessness to the ones who are waiting to give me that love that I have so craved. I am left less than alone by my own self-loathing. Its funny, life is supposed to be beautiful, but all I see is rot.

School's Out For Mother Fucking Summer
Mood:  irritated
So its the end of the first week of Summer break. Monday I had to take the hour drive to school yet again to load up the school's scrap metal yard into my Sculpture instructor's truck and unload it in the junk yard. "Why?" you may ask, "as part of my grade" I would then reply. This was all fine and dandy though, I wasn't bitter about such blackmail because I had a three month break, which was sorely needed. I spent tuesday, wednesday, thursday evening, and friday morning involved in large amounts of yard work. Friday evening I headed out from the house on my way to clean my mothers home. About 5 miles from home this stupid bitch pulls directly out in front of me causing me to slam my goddamn car into hers. I was cool, inside I wanted to rip her fucking eyeballs out and squeeze the jelly out of them and down her fucking throat while simultaniously ripping her fucking nipples off with needle nose pliars, but I kept my cool. I called the cops they came out and immediatly she goes off. "Oh, he was speeding. Yes sir. He had to be going like 40 or 45." Nothing can describe the rage I felt. The cop asks her "Maam, do you realize that the speed limit on this street is 45 miles an hour?" and the bitch says "Oh, no I didn't, but he was speeding he was going faster than that." That fucking whore even went so far as to tellt he cop that she pulled out in front of me in the first place because I was going so fast she didn't even see me. But I kept my cool. To add insult to injury, the cop doesn't even ticket her. But of course I've saved the best for last. when it was all said and done, she gets in her car and drives away, a small crack in her front bumper. I, however, wait in the fucking blistering heat for the tow truck seeing as how the front right of my car was mashed into my fucking wheel. yippie, mother fucking skippie.

Fun with Tumors!
So not long ago I went into Charity Hospital (cause I have no health insurance) to check out the odd lump on my throat. After a number of visits and a needle biopsy, it was found to be a benign tumor of my right parotid salivatory gland (I don't know man, I have a cyst on one of my other salivatory glands as well. What the fuck?). So it was decided that the tumor must be surgically removed. Now this was discovered about a month or two before this last semester was going to end. I was scheduled to come in for CAT scans and checkups as well as for preparations for surgery. Now because it is a tumor, the only times I could come in for this craziness was during the cancer clinic days which were only Mondays and Thursdays at 8:00am.

So every Thursday for three weeks I missed school, which was two or three hours away from Charity hospital, slowly getting behind in my work and having to argue with a non-understanding professor about my absences. This is where it gets fun.

So for three weeks I miss school. On the third week, I'm thinking to myself, "yes, bring it on Doc. I'm off next week for spring break you can schedule me for appointments every damn day for all I care." In which case the Doctor comes forth with, "so we are going to schedule for two weeks from today to come back in." Now what the fuck is that shit? out of a five week period, one of which I'm actually out of school, they schedule me for every week that I will have to miss classes. So whatever, just a fluke, I'm not bitter.

So School finally ends and I have a two and a half week period before I start my summer classes. I had specifically scheduled the surgery to be the first week (Wednesday) out of school, so that I had ample time to recover before I started class. However, they call me the evening before to tell me that the surgeon had to cancel, but would free up his entire schedule the following Wednesday to perform my surgery and nothing, NOTHING BY THE GODS, barring some unforseen emergency on that EXACT DAY AND TIME would keep him from this. So my surgery was rescheduled for the week before the week that I start summer classes, but that is cool because the surgery is on a Wednesday and the summer classes didn't actually start until the following Thursday, still leaving me a good amount of time to recover before classes.

So the morning of surgery, AS I WAKE UP AT FRICKIN FOUR IN THE GODAMN MORNING AFTER A NIGHT OF NO SLEEP OF ANY MENTION, I head to the hospital with my parents and girlfriend to go under the loving gleam of the scalpel. All was going well, I suppose, I strip down, don a gown and hair net thing, and wait in this ward bed for my moment. The surgery, which I was the first one scheduled for 5:15am, was delayed a bit due to a gunshot victim from the night before. However, a little later in the morning a lady finally comes with a gurney, and after my farewells and what not, am carted up to anesthesiology (hmmm...I wonder if that word has been butchered?) for my final paperwork and for the bombardment of drugs. Now, luckily, I was told to wait on the drugs until a Doctor could look at my CAT scans again to see if they wanted to remove the cyst as well as the tumor because I may need to sign another permission paper, which I must be uninfluenced for. I say luckily because, as I lay on my gurney in naught but a gown and hairnet, protected from the world by a sheet and some foil blanket, a Doctor comes in with the greeting, "I have some really bad news." After I fight the urge to shit all over myself over a statement like that, I ask what said news was. Turns out the Surgeon's father had had to be rushed to the ER for an angiogram and that the surgery would have to once again be rescheduled, this time it is for the 9th. This date is the first full week of summer school, insurring that I miss at the very least two days of class.

All of this is just further proof that the Wallace name has just been fucked in the luck department since William!

PHUK:TH4:P071C3
I took off work last Saturday in order to attend the Big Easy Brewery's Brew Off. The fee was $10, and the idea is that the local homebrewers go to a commercial brewery and take part in brewing a commercial beer. We were given breakfast, lunch, and all the Big Easy beer we could drink as well as 5 gallons of the wort. I had an ok time, but I was extremely fucking tired. You see, I had woken up the day before at 8:00 am and had never gone to sleep that night due to a late F/X session. Now granted I was able to pass out on a bench in the brewery for about two hours, but in the long run it didn't help. Anyhow, I left the Marrero based brewery an hour or two before sundown with heavy lids and a camoflaged bucket of wort. I headed to Metairie in order to take pictures of my father's bike and of a drawing I had done, however my father was not there when I arrived. I entered into his house and took a number of pictures of my drawing then went back to my car. On the ride back home however, a cop caught me passing a car (behind a number of other cars that had just passed me) going 86 mph on the 55 mph Causeway bridge. I pulled over at the nearest cross section only to be told that the cop had somehow gotten a "call" stating that I was driving as if I were under the influence. So he demands a field sobriety test, which I passed without error, yet he still didn't feel "convinced" that I should be on the road. So he ordered me to call two people to come out to us, one to pick me up and one to drive my car home. He then gives me a ticket for the speeding (reckless endangerment ladies and gentleman; 24 mile long bridge + 55 mph x it's own private police force = BULLSHIT!), and to add on to it my license had expired on my birthday last month. Now for round two, I had called my girlfriend and asked her if she could get someone and pick me up. We live maybe 20-30 minutes away from where I was, and I assumed that she would just go next door to where my mother lives and get her. However, as logical assumptions always seem to go, she did not do that. Instead she calls one of our friedns that lives 30-40 minutes from our house in the opposite direction from where I was waiting. After about an hour or so of sitting in my car, as my annoyance at my situation marinated into the beginings of anger, the cop approaches my window again. Right as the motherfucker is asking where the fuck my ride is, my girlfriend and friend pull up, which prompted the cop to give the cute little fucking comment that "it would be easier to just arrest me". Cock sucking pig.

But I'm not bitter. I'm just looking ast a manditory court date, a fine that I don't even want to try and imagine its cost, and the possibility that my license will be suspended. So what a merry fucking weekend that was.

On a better note, Elric's (my ferret) surgery was not mortal, he seems to be recuperating well, and the results from the tumor that had been removed came back benign. So at least I didn't have to kill anyone. I feel I have bitched enough. That is all.

Quit while your a head.
It is currently 4:48 in the morning. I got home from my F/X meeting at about 3:30. I made my first head cast tonight. It wasn't that bad for my first try, though I have thought of some ways I may do better on my later attempts.

I'm tired.

I woke up yesterday morning at 8:00 in order to take my ferret, Elric, to the vet for surgery. He made it through ok, but the tumor they had to rumove was much larger than the vet was used to seeing. They sent it off to be analyzed. I have to be in Marrero at 6:30 this morning for the annual Big Easy Brewoff, and I have not slept. Yippie fucking skippy. I will sleep well tonight...and have beer fermenting. What more could a simple space monkey like me ask for.

On a brighter side, I'm being attacked by grossly enlarged glands. I have had one on my neck since I was about 13 or 14, and a couple of months ago I discovered another one there. This made me nervous so I visited the doctor. They ran my blood and CAT scanned me and all that fluffy goodness, and the results were fine. Just need them to be drained or removed or whatever. However, now the glands in my arm pits seem to be slightly swolen. What the fuck is that about? All I can say is that it better not be cancer or some fucked up terminal illness. I just started getting back on track in life.