Grolsch and Guy

I haven't blogged because I've been short on time this week. I actually got some time to myself tonight, but I'm not enjoying it because I'm too wound up from the previous few days. I know what you're thinking - Jayvin, you need learn how to relax. No, I don't need to learn how to relax. I need to get in my truck and go get some beer. I think that will help settle the mood swings. I've gone from normal to elated, depressed to furious, with a large dose of frustration, all in two days. And now I have that "vaguely dissatisfied" feeling that everybody hates. And that really makes me furious. So I guess I'm not vaguely dissatisfied, am I?

Well, I'm back with the beer. I got Grolsch, a Dutch brand that I useta drink in school. Haven't had it for a while. It's a lager, mild but with a little bit of a tang, in case you care. And I know you do, since you're reading this, so I'll elaborate: You can chug a gallon of that stuff before you know it. I wonder if the thought was on Grolsch when the phrase "Dutch courage" was coined. The clerk who sold it to me tried to pronounce it and I laughed. The clerk who sold it to me also works at the store where my ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend is the manager. I really glad he (ex of ex) wasn't there. Because I am seriously in the mood for a fight, and someone, somewhere, needs his eyes scratched out. It might as well be him. Anyway, I started drinking Grolsch in college when Guy Al Ejel turned me on to it. I miss him a lot. He was killed in a car accident on Aloca highway near our dorm. It's been a while since I thought of him. I remember so many people that have come and gone from my life. You never know who stays and who goes, whatever the reason. It's been a surprise, the people with whom I still have contact. Depressing. Maybe the beer wasn't such a good idea after all.... But I'm still gonna drink it and remember Guy. Assalamu alaikum, my friend.

Life For Rent

I haven't ever really found a place that I call home
I never stick around quite long enough to make it
I apologise that once again I'm not in love
but it's not as if I mind that your heart ain't exactly breaking
it's just a thought, only a thought

but if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
well I deserve nothing more than I get
cos nothing I have is truly mine

I've always thought that I would love to live by the sea
to travel the world alone and live more simply
I have no idea what's happened to that dream
cos there's really nothing left here to stop me
it's just a thought, only a thought

but if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
well I deserve nothing more than I get
cos nothing I have is truly mine

while my heart is a shield and I won't let it down
while I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try
well how can I say I'm alive

but if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
well I deserve nothing more than I get
cos nothing I have is truly mine

Sentio Interruptus

I forgot what I was going to blog about. A Loyal Reader told me that the links on my posts were f'ed up. I thought that as long as they linked to the page that I wanted, they were fine. Nooo. Apparently I have to make them a part of the text, and open another browser window and change color and so forth. It ain't like I just started this last week. The whole point of using this service was so I didn't have to learn HTML. If I wanted to learn HTML, I'd get my own, hosted website, and call my geeky friends who know about this mess to program it for me. So I hope that we are all pleased with the links. You people should know by now that I have a rather stream of consciousness thing going on in the brain, and you're distracting me.

No, I don't have ADD. Or OCD or other cute acronym-labeled mental disorders or complications -not that there's anything wrong with that, as many fine upstanding well-adjusted people do have those things, and I love them dearly- I just need to focus when I write, so that's it's coherent and on track. And what's with the acronym thing that we have going on? Maybe I'll just leave that for another post, because it's too long of a subject to write about just now, so I'll skip it. And really, I do love my geeky friends, and there is a proportionately large number of them. They like to talk about Trek and BSG and relevance on the socio-political scene. Don't get me wrong, I like to talk about those things as well, and I hold my own with any geek, anytime, anywhere. I get on good with geeks, yet I am not a geek. Stop with the pishing, geeks, because it's true. I have fashion sense. Yes, when necessary, I can dress you up and take you out. (Your wives, too. Oh yeah. That cute little outfit- my idea.) Besides, geeks can't be gay. It's just not possible because the rest of us would get all Queer Eye on him before he got the chance to be geeky and gay. Name one gay geek that you have ever met. See? Can't, there ain't none. Hey, what about a Queer Eye for the queer guy? We could save thousands of zipped up geeky homos before it's too late! Where was I? Oh yeah - I don't complain about having to wear a suit. In fact, I know how to buy a suit- and matching shoes, shirt and tie. I quote Monty Python because I want you to feel comfortable around me. There! I admitted it. I don't own any type of Python anything. Haven't seen them since college. Never played D & D, never built a computer, never went to the science fair. Went to the county fair. Love that roasted corn and turkey legs; man I hate waiting all year for that. Why am I dumb enough to wait all year for some damn corn? And then pay half a mint to park and get in the gate for the privilege? But that's another post so, I'll just save it.

If I remember what I was going to write about to begin with, I'll let ya know.

Don't Ask Don't Tell

Don't ask don't tell (About the aliens)

I didn't intend to write about ET today, but here it is. There's such a stigma on the whole alien thing, that no "reasonable" person would ever seriously discuss it. It's for hacks, freaks, and flakes. But what if it's not? I realize that the subject of alien encounters is very off-putting for a lot of folks, but hey, it's my blog and you don't have to read it! Besides, it's still conspiracy week, so just play along. Mmkay?

Let me start by saying that I have never seen/been abducted by/received an anal probe from an alien, that I can recall. But I know someone who has. She's totally convinced that she saw one and that it communicated with her briefly through telepathic imagery. I don't know about the probe - she didn't mention that. But I heard the story twice. The second time, I specifically asked her to tell me again, just so I'm clear. She felt that she was part of a group being selected for something, and she had a health issue that caused her to be spared abduction. She says that she didn't think that they were going to hurt her either way. She told the story as if she were talking about what happened at afternoon tea, and made no preludes or apologies for it. Now, this is some one that I am very close to and have known for many years. I only heard this story a couple of years ago. If it came form anyone else... But I suppose you can make anything into anything, given enough imagination. According to Melinda Leslie, there are 58 common factors abductees/encounters share. Forty-two of them seem hacked, freaky, and flakly, but I don't see you checking into this alien crap, so the gracious Ms. Leslie has done it for you. Yeah, I noticed the "52". I guess she added some. I hope to God that this was done with at least a touch of satire.

I've read eleven books on the subject of aliens on Earth - from Roswell to abduction accounts, and I still can't decide if I believe it. The most convincing accounts are culled from the Roswell Incident and medical examinations that reveal certain types of scars. In a number of cases, tiny metallic objects have been removed from the extremities or head of the abductee.

A few who know me will already know this: I have two symmetrical scars on the back of my head. I've had them since I was at least 14. No one in my family recalls me having any type of injury or surgery on my head. About three years ago, I went to the ER with swelling in my mastoids. I was examined by two doctors, who questioned me about the scars. I couldn't tell them anything, and neither could my mom. I wouldn't let them examine me further.

If I had to tell my family, it would go something like this: I've been abducted by aliens and they sliced open my head. They implanted me with something a la X-Files and I'm going to die from cancer.

NAWW! Really, I'm just gay.

Fun And Conspiracy

So it's late and my sense of humor gets strange according to lack of sleep. If you are in a management position, like me, here's some friendly advice from the rum and monkey folks:
What to do if you've hired a Fundie.

What kind of criminal are you? No, really. What kind of criminal are you? Take this simple test and discover the criminal inside.

But now, back to the conspiracies. Check out Conspiracy Planet. You'll be glad you did. Then look at what the mainstream media has to say. It's so f***ing annoying how the mainstream media condescends to report on alternative news. I, of course, don't slant anything since I'm such an impartial observer. I merely see and report, just like Court TV!