R.I.P. Orange Park Spaghetti House

In retrospect, I don't know what the hell was going on. 

Yesterday felt so long. It dragged on forever. Which is what I can't make sense of. Usually it's the bad days in life that do the dragging on. The good days are always the ones that leave you feeling gipped as if the earth started spinning a little faster just because you were having some fun.

I'll tell you, though. I wasn't off to a good start yesterday. That's for sure. I can't think of many (if any) times when I've woken up in my car and felt good about it. I was parked in the Kmart parking lot nonetheless. You never want to be in the Kmart parking lot. ANYWHERE except the Kmart parking lot.

I was feeling horrible about what had happened the night before. I'm not a big fan of what alcohol has been doing to me these days. It's bringing out all of the wrong emotions for some reason. 

The little hangy-ball thing in the back of my throat was so swollen and large that I could have sworn that's where all your brain's negative thoughts go to. I'm sorry. That sounded way too - um - hokey. But I'm just saying that the thing was huge. It was so huge that I swear to God I was almost choking on it.

That hangy ball is actually called your uvula. And with enough dehydration, it'll swell. That's what a night of drinking will get you: a swollen uvula.

So like I said, yesterday felt like a long day. It started off badly. To recap: woke up in my car in the Kmart parking lot, I was feeling depressed from the night before, my uvula was choking me because of how god forsakingly swollen it had gotten, I needed to shave - badly, and I had a nagging toothache. I'm sorry. I should have mentioned the toothache earlier.

The whole rest of the day went well. Let's recap: lounging around Jessica's house all day being cute with each other, quesadilla burger at Applebees with friends, and half-off hookahs at the Casbah because it was Monday.

I guess it felt good to have a long day for a change. This Christmas break is going by way too quickly. Every time I look at the date, my heart sinks a little. New Year's Day is Thursday. That doesn't seem right. It'll be 2009 in two days. 

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Lover's Bowl (For Two) - - $10.05

It seems as though the magic of Christmas starts to dissipate once we find out that there is no Santa Clause. 

That's when the magic starts to go away. 

The excitement of Christmas takes all the way up until college before it leaves. There's no more sleepy eyes and stumbling down the stairs. The mystery of what's under the tree (if there's even a tree this year) is gone. The new gadget you asked for? You got it. Or the boxer briefs you desperately needed? You're already wearing 'em. The Publix gift card? Completely unexpected - But you needed it.

It's Florida. It's 80 degrees. And it's Christmas. 

I want to move up north. I want a miserably cold, hustle-and-bustle, stressed out and white Christmas. I want to dress like Santa for the kids down at the orphanage. I want to put reindeer antlers on a German shepherd named Charlie. I want to gift wrap a tiny little box that's barely big enough to hold the key that's in it. And then my wife's eyes will light up with joy. She'll look at me. And then I'll say "They were having a sale on keys down at Marshall's. Just kidding! Check the garage you beautiful piece of God's creation!"

I'm a walking cliche'. What can I say?

Christmas was good this past year. It was a Thursday. My dad cooked. I ate. We (AJ, Jessica, and I) ripped off our arms and gave them to AMC in return for the privilege of seeing The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

Great movie. Two Thumbs up. A little long, but it was enjoyable and had a Big Fish type feel to it.

Seriously, though. Where do they get off charging a student $10.00 for a movie ticket?! It was 5:00pm on a Thursday. Sheesh.

So onto the best part of Christmas Day 2008. For some reason Japanese Steakhouses stay open 365. It must be that never ending work ethic that the Asian culture continues to live up to. Either way, Jessica and I stopped in to Ichiro to grab some drinks and what we found was *drum roll, trumpets sound* The lover's bowl! In a nutshell, it's a giant ceramic bowl filled to the brim with a very alcoholic cocktail, a flame that burns in the middle, and it comes complete with two giant straws to drink it down with.

The only thing more repulsive than watching a fat woman light up a cigarette is watching two fat women light up cigarettes.

Christmas has certainly come up fast this year. Which contradicts the feeling that I have that Thanksgiving feels so far behind us.

Christmas feels different, too. This holiday season feels more desolate than I can ever recall. It's tough to pin point what the problem is. It could be that some of the longstanding group members in the circle of friends can't be with us this year. Or it could be because the days seem so short and the weather outside is a dry cold. I've even thought that the feeling stems from the prevalance of non-touching buildings in town. There's too much space between everything, it seems. Especially people - and so desolate is the word that fits.

And aside from all of those characteristics, there's more to be remarked about the state of the economy and how it's changing all the headlines in the paper. Money is tight. Cash flow is slow. But still Christmas means cycles of giving and receiving. It's tough to shop on a budget.

Walking through the aisles of the department store I couldn't help but think about how all of my gift ideas felt uninspired. Anything I came up with seemed irrelevant. I wish my gifts could somehow change the recipients' life for the better - in the same way that when I browse the drama section in Blockbuster I'm always trying to find a movie that will ignite my passion for life.

It's hard to change someone's life on a budget.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And for the record, as soon as I can figure out how to do it, my blog will be moving to www.accordingtochuck.com. I'm very excited to have a concise web address. I think it'll be a real hit with all of the support from my readers. I'm almost up to 600 views!

Like sunny-side up eggs hanging on a fuckin' nail

It was sometime between 12:40am and 3:14am when all the wine was gone.

Note to self: waiting around for someone to be missing you is torture.

You know that it was so poetic. There were words to describe your emotions that you hadn't learned.

And you forgot everything that you wanted to say.

You is me.

I've always wanted to casually stroll up to a hooker, look her right in the eyes and say real coyly, "So, uh...when do you get off work?"

I paid a little visit to the sex addicts anonymous website.  They've got a concise 12-question quiz that will supposedly tell you whether or not you have a problem with sexual addiction.  Basically, if you can answer yes to more than one of the following questions, then they encourage you to seek additional literature or to attend a sex addicts anonymous meeting.

Sex Addicts Assessment Quiz:

1. Do you keep secrets about your sexual or romantic activities from those important to you? Do you lead a double life?
   
2. Have your needs driven you to have sex in places or situations or with people you would not normally choose?
   
3. Do you find yourself looking for sexually arousing articles or scenes in newspapers, magazines, or other media?
   
4. Do you find that romantic or sexual fantasies interfere with your relationships or are preventing you from facing problems?
   
5. Do you frequently want to get away from a sex partner after having sex? Do you frequently feel remorse, shame, or guilt after a sexual encounter?
   
6. Do you feel shame about your body or your sexuality, such that you avoid touching your body or engaging in sexual relationships? Do you fear that you have no sexual feelings, that you are asexual?
   
7. Does each new relationship continue to have the same destructive patterns which prompted you to leave the last relationship?
   
8. Is it taking more variety and frequency of sexual and romantic activities than previously to bring the same levels of excitement and relief?
   
9. Have you ever been arrested or are you in danger of being arrested because of your practices of voyeurism, exhibitionism, prostitution, sex with minors, indecent phone calls, etc.?
   
10. Does your pursuit of sex or romantic relationships interfere with your spiritual beliefs or development?
    
11. Do your sexual activities include the risk, threat, or reality of disease, pregnancy, coercion, or violence?
    
12. Has your sexual or romantic behavior ever left you feeling hopeless, alienated from others, or suicidal?

Personally, I qualify. I also loosely qualify as an exhibitionist. Apparently, the definition of an exhibitionist is someone who obtains sexual arousal by exposing his or her genitals to unsuspecting strangers. Me - well, I like to be nude to obtain comedic arousal and the people are usually suspecting. I don't think I have any abnormal fetishes.

How about you? Can you answer "yes" to more than one of those twelve questions? How about just one of them? Were you ever disciplined by your parents as a child for strutting around with a boner? Did your uncle ever shove you into the board game closet and "bat your shit around"? Did your parents ever humiliate you by dressing you in girls' clothing and call you a "faggot" as a form of punishment simply because you enjoyed Barbies and tea-parties as opposed to G.I. Joe and Power Ranger action figures. 

None of these?! Congrats.

Well, I'm not saying that these scenarios have ever been played out for me, but they are associated with causes that may lead someone in a paraphiliac direction. 

For years and years and years I've been held captive by my boners. Take any nice guy out there.  I mean it - take the most handsome, chivalrous, clean-shaven guy out there and send a rush of blood to his penis and he's libel to rape the first woman he sees. Or at least have his pants around his ankles sitting in a computer chair.  99% of guys masterbate - the other 1% lie.

I've done some questionable things under the persuasive power of my penis.

Most recently, after stumbling in from the bar, I emailed a Craigslist prostitute at 3:00am.

And you know, it's interesting - Perhaps interesting isn't the right word -  I guess I could say that it's peculiar how much power sex has.  

I did get an email back from the prostitute. She left her phone number. Of course I didn't call her. 

I'd NEVER call her. I've thought a lot about the idea behind sexual fantasies. The part that gives them their power is just that - keeping them fantasies. 

It's more of a concept than a reality as I like to put it.

Tell all of your friends about www.theworldinaccordancewithchuck.blogspot.com

Viva La (Plagiarism)?

I've just recently caught wind of the lawsuit pending against Coldplay. Famed guitar guru Joe Satriani is suing Coldplay for copyright infringement - stating that the Grammy nominated Viva La Vida is far too similar to his 2004 release If I could Fly.

Now, I must admit that I am quite ashamed. Before coming across this case I had never heard of Joe Satriani.  After a bit of research and a few downloads, I'm convinced that Joe Satriani is indeed a legend of rock. 

Most of his credit is given as a guitar instructor with names on his student list that include: David Bryson from The Counting Crows, Kevin Cadogan of Third Eye Blind, and arguably one of the greatest to ever wield a rock axe - Metallica's Kirk Hammett as well as countless others.

But Joe's own solo career has produced a dozen instrumental albums - all with names inspired by the science fiction genre and all of which have been nominated for a Grammy.  He has worked with numerous notables including Alice Cooper, Steve Vai, Joe Perry, and most recently there are talks of a band forming with former Van Halen front man Sammy Hagar, Michael Anthony, and Red Hot Chili Pepper's drummer Chad Smith called.. um Chickenfoot? The name could use some work, but I'm personally interested to see how it turns out.

So, here's a video I found on YouTube and it is a slightly long clip, but I thought that this guy was pretty intelligent and did a great overall analysis of the two songs as opposed to just playing both songs and going "so there ya go".

So I don't want anyone after having read this to think that I'm suddenly anti-Coldplay.  Quite the contrary.  I'm actually rather fond of them.  My music library includes Parachutes, X&Y, A Rush of Blood to the Head, and Viva La Vida And All Of His Friends.  They have accompanied me on many a long car trips, jogs, and slumbers.

If anything, I hoped to just gather some more attention to good ol' Joe Satriani - or Satch as they call him.

I do think that it is pretty undeniable that the songs have a resemblance.  I wouldn't know which way to go in this case, though. It seems that there are only so many notes and combinations possible so it shouldn't go without saying that these types of situations are bound to happen - and do happen - all the time.  How many times have you heard a song and then said "Gee. This sure does sound like the song Monstrocity Atrocity by The Lamp Situation? Or you know..any other non-fictional song by a real band.

*Monstrocity Atrocity and The Lamp Situation are fictional references. Any similarity to actual song titles and/or bands is completely coincidental.  And if you do find a similarity...well, ya know what you can do with your stupid similarity? You can take a flying [a passing jet liner mutes out most of what he says] ..till the handle breaks off and you have to get a doctor to pull it out again.

Saturday: Waiting and Still Waiting

When you wake up with nothing to do, and when you go to bed knowing that when you wake up you'll have nothing to do - it can depress the hell out of you to Holden Caufield type proportions. 

You wake up. Eat some oatmeal. Fall back asleep. Wake up and drink some coffee. Fall back asleep. Wake up and eat some chicken pot pie. And in between all this sleeping and eating you pick and choose between what to watch on the boob tube.

Did you know that the origin of calling a TV a boob tube is the fact that they used to - or maybe still are - made with cathode ray tubes.  And that if you watch too much of it you turn into a boob. For more information on this type of transformation just consult the beautifully illustrated and classic Children's book by Chris Van Allsburg entitled The Wretched Stone. 

Sorry. I got side tracked. It's easy to do that on Wikipedia. Chris Van Allsburg books should be a whole 'nother blog for another Saturday.

I've got to hand it to Tim Tebow and the University of Florida Gators! Wow. What a game!  I'll admit that I was pretty arrogant going into the game.  The final score was closer than the one I had envisioned. That's OK, though.  I suppose eight games of winning by at least 28 points is good enough of a streak. These Florida Gators are amazing and Tim Tebow is by far the MVP of the entire NCAA. 

(This is where I exploit my latent homosexual tendencies) I fully believe that there is no other quarterback that could step in and do what he does. The guy is an incredible role model. Every interview he is so humble, and he always has so much pride in being able to give all the glory to God. His on field play is unrivaled.  The power with which he runs.  The intelligence he exuberates when he passes.  And the intensity and passion in which he does all things on and off the field. I'm happy for the guy.  I truly am. I can't wait to see his life progress. I used to be a despicable douchebag when it came to Tim. I'll admit that I had something against him because he was such a golden boy, but now I admire him so much that I've actually come to peace with the idea of him ravaging my girlfriend.  Hell. I'd be honored. 

I would, however, expect her to try her hardest to get pregnant because those child support checks would come in handy. And when that man-boy got to the 6th grade and began to tower over me, with a much larger penis and testicles and a canon for an arm - I would tell him the truth - maybe. 

The point of all that was - Tim Tebow is the man and the Gators are the SEC Champions and soon to be the BCS National Champions for the second time in three years.

So back to the other "winners" of my viewing attention.  I watched some scattered episodes of King of Queens: AKA a good representation of my future - you know, just a whole lot of little one liners and lots of sarcasm.  I watched some True Life episodes about three dudes who went to Iraq and came back with some post traumatic stress.  I did a project on that in high school. That's besides the point. I mean, who hasn't for crying out loud.

And then I watched the Lifetime premier of Flirting With 40. 1) I'm probably gay for watching Lifetime. 2) The values that channel represents are just completely out of wack.  In not so many words, the plot goes something like this: Heather Locklear - making a comeback after her recent DUI troubles - is a hot (yes) just-turned-40 year old professional who is divorced with two kids. So she goes on this little birthday vacation by herself to Hawaii and hooks up with this buff (yes) mid-20's surf instructor. Over the course of the next few months she begins to neglect her work and kids to make regular trips halfway around the world to have relations with this guy.  All the while she's a hero of the feminist for being independent. The End. Sheesh.

Which brings me to the last thing I've watched. The wonderful cult comedy Waiting.  This movie might just make it onto my "Comedy Top Ten" list. That list actually doesn't exist, but if it did then - well that movie might make it onto it. I'm just saying. It's that good. When I wasn't in an uproar of laughter - which is really rare if I'm by myself - I was partially inspired. Maybe inspired isn't the right word, but it'll suffice. Just a great cast. What isn't there to love about Ryan Reynolds? Justin Long captures that "I've gotta get out of here and live up to my potential" feeling that I've suffered from since about 11th grade.  Dane Cook is interchangeable with Mike Atkins and his small role provides much enjoyment. And then there's the fact that even Andy Milonakis was able to make me chuckle a bit. He's never been able to do that under his own comic guise. Also, what makes Waiting so awesome is the fact that it is often stated as a dead-on representation of the restaurant worker life.

So boy was I ecstatic to learn that there will in fact be a sequel. Still Waiting. And although it will be absent of Ryan Reynolds, I suspect that it will still be rich in entertainment value.

So now that this posting is coming to a conclusion where am I? Where are you after having read this? I'm afraid I may have just wasted a few good moments of your life. I'm sure you had more important things to do than to read my non-eventful ramblings - especially since there wasn't any underlying theme or any edifying statements. This last paragraph wrapping up the posting still doesn't even correctly culminate it.

Back to the first question - where am I? Another day wasted. Still feeling like I'm stuck in a rut. I've still got this crazy notion that I could someday do some acting.  Any minute now I'm going to start writing this short story/screenplay idea I've got in mind. I think it's quite good.  Usually I have this terrible problem when it comes to my writing. I've got great character development - in my opinion, of course - but I have trouble with the conflicts. The conflict in a story happens to be a rather large portion, so that's the problem. Unless you're writing Napoleon Dynamite. Don't get me wrong. Napoleon had its funny moments, too.  So anywho.  I've got a conflict. I've got some character development.  I think I'm set to begin writing.

I swear that I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place.

I do a lot of thinking and pondering about the future.  This isn't the absurd part.

The part that defines my insanity is the part about wanting a six or seven year old domestically manufactured SUV or having a black cordless phone in my kitchen. You could even cite my need for a breakfast nook or a riding lawn mower --um, a snapper, nonetheless -- as being derangements of my mind.

I've never thought too highly of being an actor.  Not the profession itself - but of me being an actor. I never thought I possessed the talent necessary to persue the dream. But then I thought about it today - just now and very seriously.

And I'm not going to take you for an idiot - I read the biographies of a Mr. Chris Farley and a Mr. Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

They took some acting classes.  They stumbled around some stupid jobs.  They had passion, and they made it.

And when I think about my future I think my window of opportunity to persuing acting just got cracked open a little more.  To go ahead and expand the metaphor: it's getting drafty in here.

Maybe in my biography, if I am ever priveleged enough to have one, it'll talk about my humble beginning. And I don't think it'd be out of the question to say that if Chris were alive today I could have had the opportunity to sit right between him and Phillip and have a drink.