The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

With some help from craigslist, I bring you...


26 year old, single Black female seeks intelligent, non ghetto, attractive white or hispanic male who can tell me the following things in his initial email to me:

-whether Sn1 or Sn2 mechanisms are preferred with tertiary alcohols
-who Jack Johnson is/was (and NOT the singer)
-how Jeff Buckley died
-who Paul Mooney is
-if he thinks George made a bad choice marrying Callie
-what naan is
-who said "Sex without pain is like food without taste"

If you can answer those questions (without sending me the words VERBATIM from Wikipedia and if you are under the age of 35, but older than 25), there is a good chance that you and I are very, very compatible. Those questions will easily let me see how much we have in common. :)

I am quite interested in seeing what this ad brings me. :)

(Update: after spending a few minutes on Wikipedia, this ad is starting to like a Double Jeoprady! board. "I'll take 'Quotable Quotations' for $2000, Alex." #1 and #5 are giving me some trouble, if anyone out there wants to lend a helping hand, I'd be appreciative.)


Thursday, March 22, 2007

You've heard of some crazy sports bets, like the guy who legally changed his name to "Peyton Manning" after the Super Bowl. But this one seems a bit nuts (pardon the pun) to me...

Celebrate TAMU's victory over Memphis by making a t-sip SUCK YOUR DICK!

This dumbfuck lost a bet that the Aggies would lose to Louisville... now were leaving him hog-tied in a hotel room this evening ;o) ...and the little bitch has to suck off every Aggie Cock we send him!

If you're an Aggie student, send a cock pic (to prove you're 6inches+) and we'll send you the hotel address.

Come on over after the game, have a beer, and put this sip in his place!

After the loss tonight, I can only imagine the revenge this guy is gonna get...

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

The next stop on the Hipster Wannabe World Tour, coming next month:

Nashville, Tennessee!

That's right, your friendly neighborhood brown boy is going to the Volunteer State to see country music, farmer's daughters and G. (And yes, I am a glutton for punishment.)

If nothing else, I have a chance to check out The Roots. This should be fun.


Monday, March 19, 2007

Wanna chat with me sometime?

Copy and paste the following URL into your browser:

If you're lucky, you may find me around...

(Hat tip: Pop Candy)


Sunday, March 18, 2007

Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear him.
But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes
sinners and eats with them."
Then Jesus told them this parable: "There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them.
"Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
"When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.' So he got up and went to his father.

"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed

"The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned
against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your
"But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.
"Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'
"The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'
" 'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' "

-Luke 15:1-3, 11-31

I heard this reading this morning at Mass in College Station. Yesterday, I made the three-hour drive to go see an old friend of mine. The plan was for a day (and night) full of debauchery, alcohol and other such things. One problem, though: she never answered my calls or text messages. So that left me with a night to kill in small-town Texas. I headed over to an area of town known as Northgate, apparently the town's answer to 6th Street.

After enjoying some surprisingly decent Mexican food, I ended up at a newer bar in the area, The Corner. (Not to be confused with this Corner.) During the hour or so I spent there, I wound up making four friends for the night, two local gals, and two guys who were in from Fort Hood. During the night, I ended up celebrating an Asian girl's 22nd birthday, seeing a little person at a tattoo shop, witnessing one of the ladies in the group (a 26-year-old newlywed whose husband was in Belfast, according to her) stripping a doorman down to his boxers, and having a paisley shirt I was wearing critiqued by several girls.

I ended up heading back to my motel room around 3:00 a.m. The next morning, after packing away the unopened box of Trojans as well as my other things and checking out of my room, I headed by the local church to see when Mass was. Turns out it I was just in time for the 11 a.m. Mass.

After hearing the above-mentioned parable, it hit me. What the hell am I doing? What would posess me to drive three hours in a futile attempt for booty? (Sadly, the was the second time I've done that in the last few months.) More than anything, this is probably the reason I'm looking for someone new, just so I don't have to go through all this just to find someone to be with.


Wednesday, March 14, 2007

(or, I'm Big, I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide Worldwide)

Thanks to the good folks at gVisit, I've been able to figure just who exactly visits this here blog. According to the site, the most recent visitors hail from:

1) Corpus Christi, Texas
2) Laconia, New Hampshire
3) Leeds, England
4) Herndon, Virginia
5) Lima
6) Nagasaki
7) Brooklyn, New York
8) Johannesburg, Gauteng
9) Redmond, Washington
10) Ft. Worth, Texas

With three of these cities, I'm fairly sure who's visiting. Everyone else? No idea. If you're a lurker, drop me some love, eh?

(I never knew I'd be so huge in the Northeast...)

Monday, March 12, 2007

In the latest of hare-brained schemes ways to cope, I got an idea in my head that I thought would bring about a great sense of closure.

A gravy boat.

Sometime this afternoon, the following monologue occured in my head:
I know what I can do! I can show that this whole wedding thing doesn't
affect me by getting them a wedding gift! Nothing says "I'm over it" like

Earlier tonight, in a fit of obsession, I searched for their registry. Three websites later, I found their gift list at the Big Home Goods Store. (Even more irony in all of this is that my aunt is currently employed there.) I was thisclose to actually going through with it, before calling V and having her convince me it was a bad idea. (The key lesson in all of this, kids, is that I can't make up my own mind.)

So maybe I'm still not over it. But I now know what ELSE I won't do.


Sunday, March 11, 2007

I knew this day would come eventually. I had tried not to think about it too much beforehand. Now that it has happened, I can't get it out of my mind.

She's getting married next month.

The other night, my folks called me. The usual catching-up chit-chat preceded the announcement. My mom told me that they were at a condo association meeting, and ended up running into her. She told me about it matter-of-factly, and I tried to not let it hit me so much. But, by the end of the phone call, they could tell I wasn't taking it well. After hearing about it, I did the only thing a guy could do in such a situation.

I called my girlfriends.

Took me a few tries to get someone to answer, but eventually V picked up her phone. I talked with her for a few minutes, then my doorbell rang. My folks came by to visit. "I didn't know this would make you upset," my mom said. And they say mothers have a special bond...

The next thirty minutes or so consisted of stories of other members of my family and their experiences with marriage. They led off with a story about my dad's brother, who had three exes of his get married months after he broke it off with them. He's currently a fifty-something retiree living in Austin who plays lots of tennis. ("Guess I need to start shopping for racquets," I said, trying to create a moment of levity.)

They told me about how they found out (only a couple of hours before), the plans (wedding in Austin, honeymoon in South Padre*), and her plans (moving out of the condo my parents own at the end of May). We talked about if I still felt anything for her (no), whether if I was jealous of her (yes), and what I would do if extended an invite (show up and go apeshit... j/k).

I asked snidely, "Is she pregnant?"
"Not that I could tell," said my mom. Part of me was hoping she'd say yes, so at least I could have some twisted form of vindication.

My dad suggested we share a drink. He suggested bourbon at first, but settled for the Jose Cuervo left over from my housewarming party. No "lick, slam, suck" action here, we sipped like gentlemen. After that, and some hugs, they went home. And I went back to calling V. She told me about a time when she went through something like this. Her plan of action? A hyper-focus on herself and making changes. She cut her hair really short and starting working out quite a bit. (Unfortunately, I had my hair cut just a few days ago. Any more taken off, and I'd have the Britney.)

The first full day after hearing the news, I went into work for some scheduled overtime. The slow pace of a Saturday gave me a lot of time to sit and think, which wasn't quite what I needed at that point. As I left, I saw a friend of mine come in, and told her about what happened. "I'll either spend tonight listening to a melancholy CD, or go out and get shit-faced," I told her.

After fighting traffic thanks to the good people at TXDOT, I went with the latter. A work friend was celebrating her 31st birthday at one of the city's finer hipster bars. Two gin-and-tonics, a crown-and-coke, and lots of old-school rap helped make the night go by. (During the night, I was reacquainted with a Universal Truth, brought forth by BBD: Never trust a big butt and a smile.)

The greyness of today hasn't helped my mood much. Mass was bad, if only for the internal distraction of the situation (and the external distraction of a baby shaking her plastic keys like maracas). Hopefully Kevin Durant can help lift my mood today...

(break while watching the last 3:00 and OT of the UT-KU game)

Durant lifted my mood, Rick Barnes didn't.

Anyway, now comes the hard part: actually moving on from a relationship that ended almost a year and a half ago. But how? Burning all reminders of her? Deleting e-mails? Contacting Dr. Mierzwaik? Maybe I'll try the hyper-focus on myself.

I'll start by finishing the pizza in my fridge.

(EDIT: corrected spelling error, and added the following rant...)

*South fuckin' Padre? Who has their honeymoon there? Could they not afford a casino bus to Louisiana or something? How ghetto is that?

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Earlier tonight, a girl who I used to have a crush on told me that she thought I'd make a good priest.

After that, should I:

A) stop hanging out with this gal?
B) make an appointment with the seminary this weekend?
C) accept the compliment and move on?
D) do something else entirely?


Monday, March 05, 2007


All hot women are, in some way, evil.

My life would be so much better if I had learned this years ago.