Two quick thoughts for today,then you can go back to whatever you were doing

THOUGHT #1
I think the guys from the Discovery Channel's "Monster Garage" should meet with the "Queer Eye" guys, and have a party or combo/hybrid garage/style show.

THOUGHT #2
From a Dove Chocolate wrapper: "Footprints in the sand cannot be made sitting down." True, unless you've got feet growing out of your ass.

My favorite quote I heard today
"(sigh) I'm nobody. There are guys in the background of Mary Worth comics who are more important than me."
-Frye, "Futurama"

I finally bought the man-purse, dammit. Yes, after over a week and a half of bag-related stress, I have finally chosen a man-purse. And I am happy. I am one happy, bag-carrying motherfucker.


I think you should know what I went through. During the last ten days or so, I made three trips to Sports Chalet, one trip to Big Five Sporting Goods, one trip to the luggage store downtown, and over five hours online looking for a goddamn bag. Jesus, I had an easier time deciding on a tattoo!

Maybe it’s a commitment thing. Maybe it’s a pickiness thing. I’m almost sure it has something to do with women. Huh? Yeah. You heard me.

I’m picky as hell when it comes to women. And I think that sometimes my pickiness gets in the way. So maybe I was trying to divert my pickiness energy elsewhere, in order to be less picky with women. Follow me so far? Good, cuz I’m confused.

Picking a bag should be simple, and not some freaking ordeal. I just wanted a bag that looked good, was strong, elegant but not too feminine, wasn’t stupid, would last many years, would be there for me when the apocalypse happened, and looks sexy wearing a vinyl catsuit.

Okay, that’s the pon farr talking.

Why did it take almost two freakin weeks? Because I’m a picky mothertrucker. Picky with women, picky with backpacks.

OK, enought with the bag. On to another subject...the woman with the orange sweater…

I kinda want to ask her out. I think it would be totally out of the blue, me asking her, because we really didn’t talk that much. But heck, she’s cute and the next time I see her again will be February. I mean, what’s the harm in asking, right? And February is three months away. I mean, the way things are going now, the apocalypse COULD happen in three months. And what if it did? If the world cracked open and I was being sucked into the earth’s molten core, I would hate my last thoughts to be “Man, I should have asked her out.”

In fact, I think everyone should do that. Just for fun, everyone should imagine that tomorrow the earth is going to open up and swallow you into a red hot fiery death. Fun, right? OK, I’m sure the first thought would be “where’s the fire extinguisher” or “are my boxers lined with asbestos” or something along those lines. But if any of those thoughts are “why didn’t I ask so-and-so out,” then I suggest you stop imagining the world’s end and ask that person out.

Okay, it doesn’t mean that I’m gonna ask her out, but it’s a fun exercise.

Man, I love it when women walk around in their underwear.

Huh?
It's the pon farr.

Okay, so like, I met this, she was, it was...OK we did this show, and the person, she...she's really pretty. She was wearing calf-high boots and a black skirt that went to her knees and it had a nice, tasteful slit on the side and she was wearing this orange sweater and she's just really pretty. So I looked and looked and looked and I didn't see a ring on her finger, so that's a good sign right there, hope hope. And she's like, I dunno. Nice. It seems. And I think if she's not married or engaged or seeing anyone, well, that would be a good sign right there. And if she didn't just break up with someone really serious like, then that would be good too. And man, if she thought I was attractive and would want to go out on a date with me, then maybe, just maybe (i'm not guaranteeing it, though), I will belive in a god of some kind. Maybe.

I generally don't have much of an opinion of Oprah Winfrey either way. I was never a fan, but then again, I never hated her.

Until a few minutes ago.

I'm usually up late (reading, e-mailing, or just lying on the floor contemplating the apocolypse, which may happen really, really soon), and I usually have the TV on in the background. So here I am, just puttering around my apartment, when she comes on, and I hear that she's going to go shopping at Costco, where you can find the best bargains ever. I agree with that.

What pissed me off, though, is what happened afterwards. It just seemed to me that Oprah was just an ultra-rich woman marvelling at what us common folk have to go through. She kept saying how amazing it was, and was in awe of the ultra-huge bargain sizes of everything. She was also amused that you could buy Cartier watches, jewelry and toilet paper at the same place. "Truly one-stop shopping" she said. And then she asked for the bargain designer clothes section. Like she can't afford the full price ones. Yeah, Ope, we can dress just like you without having your income. Surprise.

Oooh, what really pissed me off was when she went to pick up a jumbo box of Tide. She thought it was "cute" that it had it's own handle. Cute. Yeah. It's cute when you're hauling your entire family's wash to the 24-hour laundromat at 2am.

THen she joked about the junk food aisle, where she looked at food she said she wanted to eat but shouldn't buy. She looked at the chips and drooled and talked about how much she wanted to eat them, then she said "OK, back to reality." So she went off to the gourmet section to buy lobster tail, giant prawns, and white wine. Who's reality Ope? Not ours.

C'mon, when is Oprah Winfrey ever going to use her Costco card again? You think when the cameras turn off she's ever going back there? And if she ever does go back there, you think she's just going to pull up by herself and drag her own cart around and lug cases of water into her basket?

It reminded me of when the press saw George Bush Senior buying groceries at the local supermarket, and how fascinated he was at the price scanner. We have to go through this shit every day, it's not fascinating to us, it's common, everyday stuff. Both Bush and Oprah made me realize how out of touch with everyday people they both can get.

I was really happy though, that when she wrote a check for her purchases, they asked for her ID and phone number for check approval. Yeah, Oprah, there are some things your fame can't get you past.

I'm having a crisis
I don't know why I'm having this issue, but here it is: I've been trying to buy a new man-purse/backpack. I've been searching and searching. I've been searching for over a week and can't decide on one. I don't know why. I want something that's not so overwhelmingly big like a messenger bag, but also something that's not so small that I can't carry anything. I've found several nice bags, some shoulder man-purse type things, some sling bags, and some smaller messenger bags, but i can't decide! I want to get good value for the money I'm spending. I want something that will look pretty stylish and last for a long time. Something that is not too corporate looking, something that's not too fancy looking, yet something a bit eye-catching, something that people will say "hey, nice bag, I need one of those."

For shit sake, it's just a f***ing bag!! Why is it so goddamn difficult!?!?

HELP ME FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Sometimes I just want to stop what I'm doing and yell "Ow! My balls!"
Especially when there's nothing happening to my balls.

Dude, I was at this party tonight, and it was at this house in the valley, and the dude who played Cousin Oliver from The Brady Bunch lives there! He was there! He still looks like Cousin Oliver, but older and with facial hair! Dude! Dude! For real!

Damn this pon farr thing! Damn it all to hell!
I rented a Lara Croft game for my playstation2. I tried playing it, I really tried. But I can't. And not because I'm not good at it. It's because she's so damn distracting. I mean, c'mon, those jeans. And the noises she makes? I can't. I just can't.

I can be soooo dorky sometimes
One of today's headlines read "Palestinians Install New Cabinet," and all I could think of was "...and it matches the wallpaper."

My dad's warmth overwhelms me!
Yet another internet chat with my dad:

Me: Hello.
My dad: what's up?
Me: Nothing. I'm at work.
My dad: okay, bye now dad

And he signed his last message, just to make sure I knew it was him!

What the hell happened to Liz Phair? She used to be cool!

Same thing goes for Mickey Mouse. In his black and white movies, he was more rowdy and ready to roll. Now he's a happy people pleasing ass-kisser. What the fuck?

A memo to a certain breakfast food
Dear Egg McMuffin,

Did you feel that? That was your sorry ass being kicked by the McGriddle. I bet it hurt. You should just take your lame self off the breakfast menu, because you are not wanted here. Sorry, McMuffin, I never liked you then, and I don't like you now.

I have now found a purpose for my hypnotized chicken army. They will invade all McDonalds and destroy every last Egg McMuffin. Then they will steal all the McGriddles and then bring them to me, where I will make them a new home. In my belly.

The streetlamps on this particular street were really short, maybe just bigger than a person. I though it was funny, so I pointed it out to her.

She looked at them. Then she laughed really hard.

Yeah, that's my kind of girl.

Too bad we're just friends.

The skinny on a lightweight problem
All of a sudden, Dr. Phil is on this crusade to keep America obesity-free. He wants the country to get off their fat asses and drop a couple of pounds, for chrissake. I can understand why. We are the most powerful, wealthiest nation in the world, yet we have the most overweight people with the unhealthiest eating habits. We can't have that happening, now, can we? We've got an image to uphold. I think it's a government plot to create more soldiers. But I digress.

Doesn't it just seem natural? Didn't our parents want us to have everything they didn't have? They didn't want us to suffer as much as they did, and they didn't want us to starve. So, what's the problem? Success means not having to suffer the indignity of unneccesary physical labor and never having to worry about where the next meal is coming from. Americans just take it to the extreme.

But I'm not going to write about the overweight problem. I'm going to write about my weight problem. Yes, I have a weight problem, but it's not viewed as a problem by the rest of the country. I have a hard time maintaining my weight just like anyone else does, but in the opposite direction. I have trouble keeping my weight up.

Now, people always say "I wish I had your problem." I get very offended when I hear that, and I'm not fucking around here. A weight problem is a weight problem, regardless of which way the scales go. My story reads like an overwieght person's problem, but instead of the word "fat," replace it with the word "skinny." Everything else is the same. I had the nagging relatives, friends who poked fun, and the terrible self-image that goes along with a weight problem.

It started with my mom. She would look at me and berate me for being so thin. "You're not eating enough," she'd yell. "Are you anorexic?" "Look at you, you're wasting away."

And I would hear it from other relatives. "Oh, my God, you're too skinny" would be the FIRST thing I'd hear at family gatherings. And they would say it with such horror in their voices that I felt like I'd done something wrong. "You're losing weight!" "Oh, my God, you're skinnier than before!"

Then the comparisons. "Look at your brother. He looks normal. But you...why aren't you eating?" They'd compare me to cousins, and other people my age. "Look at him. He's not skinny. You should be like that."

I couldn't explain it. I eat, yes I eat. I eat when I'm hungry, and I stop when I'm not. Maybe I have a fast metabolism. Maybe I have a small stomach. But it was impossible for me to eat the way everyone else did.

"Finish everything on your plate."
"I'm full."
"Come on, you have to eat everything."
"I can't."
"Look at your cousin. His plate is empty. Your plate should be empty too."
Like there was something wrong with me.

My stomach was full. I wasn't hungry anymore. I was stuffed. Yet saying I was full, or I couldn't eat any more was not believable to them. Somehow I was lying, or being stubborn.

It came to the point where I feared going to family gatherings because the issue of my weight would come up. I would try to make my way to other rooms or out of sight, or hold a plate of food so no one would bother me about eating. My mother was convinced I was anorexic. How's that for fun? I'm a teenager, I'm struggling at school, I just want to go home to relax, but my mom thinks I have a psychological disorder.

As I got older, I would just lie.
"You're so skinny. I think you've lost weight."
"That's impossible because I've gained five pounds since you last saw me."

That would shut them up.

But the worst thing about it wasn't what they said, but how I felt. I thought I was ugly, like those pictures of Civil War soldiers, bony, almost skeletal. That's how I saw myself. I was some strange caricature with a huge head, big glasses, braces, and a lollypop stick body. "So that's why I'm not popular. That's why I can't get a date." And the comments from family never helped. The worst thing you can do to an awkward teenager is point out how awkward they look.

So you go around thinking that you are not right. I tried working out, weight gain powders, eating calorie-laden food, hoping my body would change into something acceptable. But it didn’t matter, because I didn’t feel acceptable, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried. I was lifting more weight, I was punching and kicking the bag harder, I could do more sit-ups, but I still felt like a tiny, invisible person, never looking the way I was supposed to.

It took me many years of really looking at myself and at the scale to realize that I really wasn’t as bad off as I thought I was. It took me a long time to convince myself that, as far as height and weight proportions, I’m really not that much underweight. I’m not the average weight for my height, but I’m not grossly underweight, that’s for sure. I do eat. It’s not like I’m refusing to eat meals or puking in the bathroom.

Every once in a while, though, the old feeling comes back. Sometimes I freak out when my pants feel loose. I mean, REALLY freak out, like "holy shit, something's wrong, something's wrong, somethings wrong" freak out. But I know I'll eventually gain it back if I just eat right.

But what really pisses me off is when I try to buy new clothes. I went to Old Navy to buy jeans once, and I asked for a 28” waist. They said they stopped making that size. “Maybe online, but we don’t carry them in the stores.” And it’s not just Old Navy. Levi’s, Banana Republic, all of them stopped making my waist size. So, for a moment I'm pissed off at the world. Fuck you, I like my skinny ass, now make me a pair of jeans that fit!

Why does it have to be that way? When I went to Singapore, I was at least a medium to large! Here in America, I couldn't fit into a large unless it was a children's large! But I have to remember: this is America, success equals bigger.

My name is Kennedy. I lose weight really fast.

No, you don't want my problem.

A man's thought on menstruation
There's "On the rag." Or, my leastfavorite, "I'm bleeding like a stuck pig."

Why do euphamisms for the period sound so vulgar? The female body is only doing what it's supposed to be doing. Be proud of your womanhood! Don't be ashamed! Start using the phrase "My uterine lining is finished with its tour of duty."

See? Pride. And a little patriotism.

Just trying to help out my sisters out there.