1/31/2005 - Sixty Eight Percent Slut

I usually shy away from online tests that purport to give insight beyond that which you already know. Y'all know the ones, such as "What Reindeer Are You?" and "What Flavor Of Ice Cream Are You?". Here's the answer: You've got too much time on your hands, and your underdeveloped self image is being manipulated by the profit-minded. Risky? Yes. Do I do the same? Well, duh!

At any rate, I took the above test (and, no, the test was not found by any web search that included "slut" in the search expression), and I am 68% slut. Judging by some of the other scores and averages on the site, I'm pretty damned slutty.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. What good is it to be a slut when you're all alone? It's like being an astronaut at the grocery store. Skills are not being put to good use. My super slut powers are useless here!

Additionally, does this imply that I should date women with the same score as myself? Heavens, I don't want to date a woman that would score 68% on that thing! It's okay for me, but not for any woman I date.

Actually, if I were able to find a woman that scored the same as I because she answered the same questions the same way, I would be okay with that. While I'm adventurous, I am faithful, and I have some rules that I'll never violate. For example, I'll never ever date a friend's ex-girlfriend, no matter what. I did that once in high school, and then she left me. Probably because she didn't want to date a guy that would do such a thing.

Isn't that just like a woman?

1/30/2005 - EVERYTHING SUCKS!

Everything sucks. I'm serious. Everything.

I'm sure that some things don't suck, but I choose right now to focus on everything that does suck.

The reason is actually quite simple. It's purely chemical. I drank some alcohol last night. CC had to cancel, so I went out with my singer and had some beers. I know my limit. Three beers over the course of an entire night. I'll feel it the next day, but it won't be bad.

I had four beers last night. I was thinking that I'd tear it up and at least have some good memories of Joe and I acting crazy. Dance with some ladies, tell stupid jokes, and have some funny story to tell the next day.

That didn't happen. I was just in a bad mood. Joe had a great time, and met some honey. Me... I sat at the table thinking "I really just want to go to bed." What a wet blanket!

I woke up this morning and started getting ready to go to church. A little salvation should buck me back up, right? I started thinking about it, though. I really didn't want people to be nice to me, and people at church are going to say "Hi! How are you? It's so nice to see you!" I didn't want my fellow Lutherans to hear me say, "Don't talk to me, sunshine. I'm so not in the mood."

So I skipped church. It's a lousy reason, but seriously, I'm just in a bad mood, and I want to baste myself in anger and frustration for a few more hours.

I'm not usually such a jerk. Actually, I think I turn here to write about it every single time that I feel like being a jerk.

So here's a list of the things that suck.
Work
I'm getting pulled in two different directions, and I feel like if I don't satisfy both, then the one I don't satisfy is going to go away, then the one I do satisfy will end, and zap, I'm out of a job.
Additionally, I'm one to evaluate everything individually, and I don't try to use cookie cutter approaches to anything. I had the impression that someone was trying to use a cookie cutter approach, and was reading my dissention as ignorance. Hey, you're trying to Kentucky Fry a turkey - it's close, but it's just not quite right.

Relationships
I've given up on K-3, not gonna try anymore. I've been that way for a week, and she asked me on Friday "What has been wrong with you this past week?"
"Aw, crap. You wanna fight with me, too?"
"Yes, actually I do!"
"Good, cuz I'll fight!"
"Then fight with me!"
Oh, sweet Lord, I was so incredibly turned on by that. I didn't fight with her, though, because the dam was going to break if we fought, and there were other people there. The scenario would have either ended with us hating each other, or there would have been extreme nudity. The breaking dam will have to wait.

My Shoulder
I was so frustrated with feeling frustrated that I started lifting weights. Exercise when you have that "everything sucks" feeling is the best thing you can do. So I got some weight ready, and started lifting. Near the end, my right shoulder started to feel a lot of pain. Spend approximately fifteen years using a mouse, and something ends up out of place in your shoulder.
Because of the pain, I couldn't finish. Work through strain, work through pressure, work through aches, but the second you get a sharp stabbing pain, you should probably take that as a sign.
That really made me mad. I was incapable of doing the one thing that was really going to help me.

So, to cheer myself up, what did I do? I went out and picked up The Passion of the Christ to watch tonight. Cheery, eh?

1/29/2005 - I'm Just A Piece Of Mead

I started my Christmas 2005 Mead this morning. Ten pounds of honey for three gallons of mead, and a few teaspoons of lemon juice to take the edge off of the sweetness. It's a very simple recipe, but the magic comes in the aging.

I have four bottles of mead left from my last batch, which was started in March of 2004. Two of these bottles are going to be cashed like a paycheck tonight with my dear friend CC. That will leave two more bottles.

The significance of mead in my mind evolved from some of the old folklore. Long ago, in a land far far away, the father of the bride would make a batch of mead for the newlyweds. The belief was that, by keeping the new husband drunk on mead for the next month, it would influence the gender of the first offspring - a son. Honey wine for a month - The Honey Moon. That's where the term "honeymoon" comes from.

The concept of wanting a boy over a girl is misguided, but the concept of mead and romance is a natural match in my mind. The mead that I consider my specialty is a sparkling mead, which can best be compared to Asti Spumante. I have not yet met a woman who tastes my mead and says anything other than "This is fantastic!" I've had men say that my mead is good, too, but that kinda sicks me out. (shudder)

Mead is romantic. Mead is like love. It is sweet. It is complex. It is hard to come by. It takes a lot of time. It's sticky. And if you're not careful, it'll make you feel like throwing up.

So I have four bottles, one pint each, two of which are going to be emptied with my alter-ego this very evening. That leaves two. Two beautifully aged pints of mead.

I'll probably drink one of the remaining ones alone, pretending that the dearest love of my life actually exists and is sharing it with me, our fingers intimately interlaced, feeling her breath, her pulse, as the rest of the world slowly grows fainter until BAMMO, my daughter walks in and says "EW! Inflatable doll, dad? That is so sick!"

Just kidding. Lol.

The final pint of mead will be saved.

1/26/2005 - My Next Ex-Wife

I have an interesting story about how my path first crossed with my next ex-wife, but I will tell that story another time. A few of my close friends have already heard it, but the story is best relegated to a separate post.

I will name my next ex-wife "M-Word", although her name isn't quite Mary. I'm only taking the time to name her because I think it's fun to make up names for the ladies in my life, but M-Word hasn't even officially entered my life.

However, this post isn't about all that. It's about this: I emailed a picture of M-Word to my friends, saying "Meet my next ex-wife. Whoever I pick to be my best man is also expected to console me during the inevitable divorce."

While having lunch with my friend Inigo today, he asked "Why do you assume it's going to end in divorce?"
I looked at him, wondering how a man who has known me nearly 5 years could ask such a newbie question of me. "C'mon, man," I sighed. "My pickup line is 'How many divorces do you consider to be too many?'"
Trikky, also at lunch with us, had stated that, since she had been there for me through the last divorce, I can count her in through the next one, too. What a dear.

I tell people that I laugh, because if I didn't, I'd probably cry. Whenever I say that, there's a really awkward silence, which seems to imply that they think I'm dead serious.

Philosophy time, sexy readers. If I didn't laugh about it, I'd probably just go eat some chocolate, or listen to some techno, or maybe trim my toenails. I'm over the divorces. I put in the introspective time, and it was a lot of very deep introspection, which culminated just over a year ago when I realized that my introspection was part of the problem in my life.

So now I joke about it, solely because I think it's funny. My past experiences with women can be compared to that fly that keeps whapping against the window, trying to get outside. The fly doesn't realize that 1) he's only hurting himself, 2) the window, even though he doesn't understand why, is still not going to let him through, and 3) the fly's probably better off hanging out inside for a while. Just land on someone's food for a little bit, and maybe the door will open later.

I think that, if the fly stopped for a minute and thought about it, he'd laugh, too. "Dude... I kept hitting the glass. Repeatedly! Never did it occur to me 'this doesn't seem to be working out'! Isn't that hilarious?"

Laugh, sexy readers. Seriously.

1/23/05 - F* Brad Pitt

Okay, Brad Pitt and that girl have split up, and now all of the ladies are daydreaming about having Brad Pitt. I feel like it's my responsibility to drag the ladies back to reality.

Ladies, any man can look like Brad Pitt. It's all Hollywood, honeys. Trust me on this. I was looking in the mirror this morning, and I thought to myself...

"If I had a hairstylist... and some Hollywood makeup artist... and a personal trainer... and a better body... and if I were better looking... I could be just like Brad Pitt!"

Ladies, stop deluding yourselves.

1/12/2005 - An Update On My Life For All Of The Loyal, Sexy Readers Who Might Care

There are big things going on in my life. It's all good. I like excitement. I'm not complaining. I hate complainers. You know what's worst about complainers? The way they constantly complain! There's something wrong with this, or there's something wrong with that. Blah blah blah. Something's always wrong.

You know what else I hate? Slow drivers! And bigots! Oh!Oh!Oh! And homosexuals! And intolerance! And the Dutch!

I'm just kidding about all of that. I don't hate much. I'm indifferent about most everything. I have a picture for MSN Messenger that looks just like that little blue Sorry! game piece that Messenger uses, except it's got this indifferent look on its face. That's how I am about everything.

Have you ever heard people say the phrase "You got to stand for something, or you'll fall for anything"? I'm not so sure that that's true. Especially seeing as how most of the people that say that are repeating a stock phrase. Sounds to me like they fell for something.

Okay, so here's the update on my life:

My Car

I have a car. It's in the shop.

Before I explain why it's in the shop, I need to convey some of the background information. I know how to do the routine maintenance stuff on my car. Oil changes, spark plugs, belts, hoses, filters, etc. However, I seem to feel no need to prove this by actually doing routine maintenance. This wouldn't be a big deal, but it is compounded by the fact that, since I can do it myself, I will also refuse to pay someone else to do it. I'll keep driving the car with a dirty air filter and old plugs, always thinking "I'll get around to it some weekend".

Now... as for why it's in the shop... they need to rebuild the engine. Yep. Take my advice, folks. Change your oil. Seriously.

However, instead of stressing too much about any car issues, I kept a nice mellow going. Whenever I started feeling uptight, I thought "Okay, Jay, this is a life lesson, so you just need to take the lesson". I did have a moment when I thought "Calgon, take me away!", which made me think of that hot mom from the old Calgon ads in a bubble bath, and I was immediately happy again.

Women

I met a girl last weekend. Boo has named her "Everdina". I think Everdina is a Dutch name, and I think that this new girl is actually Dutch (I think everyone in West Michigan is except me, but it's all good, because I actually love Dutch people).

Now! I swore off of women and started playing a video game over the past couple of weeks. This is a difficult proposition for me, since I deliberately avoid...

• video games


• Star Trek conventions


• role playing games


• trading cards


• taking The Lord of the Rings seriously


• gratuitous use of pointless technology

...for the same reason I avoid smoking pot. I'll get too into it, and then lose touch with reality. The video game I've been playing is one of the Lord of the Rings role playing games, so I'm socially devolving with remarkable momentum.

However, Everdina is an artist. She actually is an art instructor at a university. The thought of spending time with someone who could potentially understand how I feel about music is intriguing. Additionally, someone that could potentially show me how visual arts can capture and express things the same way music does is intriguing.

So I'm intrigued.

How did this all happen? I was at the bar with my friend, Pete. Pete is a black belt in something.
"Hey, Jay! You know how to hit someone so it really hurts?" WHAP!
"OW! You hit right on the bone!"
"Hahahaha"
"Okay, hit me agai..."WHAP!"OW! Dammit!"
"Yeah, if you visualize blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah." Fascinating. " We should do shots of tequila, Jay!"
"No, man. I've never had a good experience with tequila."
"Bartender! Two shots of tequila!"
Bam!
Bam!
We've both got a shot of tequila in us now, and it seems funnier than it should.

Somehow, time passed, but I can't say for sure what transpired until three attractive women appeared out of nowhere. They were talking about this or that, asking us questions, and somehow during the conversation, I hit Pete in the face. It just seemed like the moment to hit him had ripened.

"Are either of you artistic?"
Pete looked at me. "He's a musician."
The blonde who asked the question looked at me. "So would you call yourself an artist?"
"I can't say I'm good at visual arts, but..."
"Oh!" I think "visual arts" was the secret word. "You're perfect! Would you like to meet someone?"
"Yeah, sure."

They took us back to their table, and I was introduced to Everdina. I think I was introduced as a person with artistic tendencies, but I'm not convinced that anyone who contains any amount of tequila can appear artistic. I'm sure I said about 700 stupid things, as well. Everdina was attractive, intelligent, and an interesting conversation partner.

?!?

Aren't all women at bars obnoxious? "Party! Whoo-hoo!" I was expecting to meet some drunk girl, say stupid things to her while she said stupid things to me, maybe make out, get her number, leave, be hungover the next day, hold on to the number for a week, and then throw it away when the realization hit that I couldn't picture her as anything but some drunk chick I made out with. I had it all planned, and it wouldn't interrupt my video game. Yet, horror of horrors, I felt like I had an enjoyable conversation with her, to the extent that I had the following conundrum:

I was talking to Everdina, and yet another attractive woman (the Mystery Woman) was in the conversation with us. As the three of us were talking about art, music, performance, etc, the girl on the other side of the table called out...
"Kiss!"
I stopped. Not that I was opposed to that, but it seemed hard to switch gears so rapidly.
"All of you! Kiss right now!"
Oh! Not opposed to that, either! Yet I was speechless, stuck with the feeling as if the boat I was on was traveling to Jamaica, and I packed for Alaska. Do I throw the bags overboard and go to Jamaica?
The girl across the table then slipped and fell off of her chair. Okay. The decision's made. Someone's already gone to Jamaica, but I think that Everdina and I were still on track for Alaska.
"I better get her home," said Everdina.
"Oh... you're leaving?"
"Yeah, we have to drive out to [one of those cities near the lakeshore, I can't recall which one for sure, but I think Saugatuck]."
"Say... can I give you a call sometime?"
"Of course."

Everdina took out a little piece of paper and wrote her number on it. It looked like a real phone number, with ten digits and everything. They left, and Everdina came close for a hesitant hug, like one would do when they want to give a hug but they're not sure if it's appropriate. She started walking away, and I think one of her friends kissed me, maybe on the lips, I'm not sure.

I've since made a real date with Everdina, and I'm stuck with another conundrum. I'm really quite interested in getting to know her, but I've sworn off of women.

1/4/2005 - With Time And Effort, I Get Most Of What I Want

I'm pretty clear about what I want out of my life. I spelled out some of my desires in Rant. So how have I been doing on those things?

- Still short on the cash, and DisneyWorld isn't looking that promising. 0 for 1.
- I haven't gotten my grades in the mail yet, but I saw them on the online system, and they're all A's. I have a 4.0 average, and I've made the Dean's List. 1 for 2.
- I got a 2 pound beef tenderloin roast, and I had the whole thing for myself. I meant to share it, but that didn't work out. Rather than feel bad about not being able to share, I'll mark that up as a win. So I'm 2 for 3.
- Sex. Yeah, like that's gonna happen. I've actually had three pretty good opportunities within the past week, but it would have been "Aw, dammit" sex instead of "Fluffy clouds" sex. 2 for 4.
- Performing. We had a New Year's Eve show, and it went fantastic. The proof is right here. The only show that was more satisfying was the one in Eastown, which, incidentally, is where my path first crossed Boo's. This would be 3 for 5, but the show was so satisfying that I'm counting it as 2, so I'm 4 for 6.
- No one has told me any jokes recently, but I've read some online, so I'm going to count this one as a desire that has been met. 5 for 7.
- The very day I desired the peanuts, a big container of peanuts appeared at my client's office. 6 for 8.

So my life is 75% good, which is pretty decent, all things considered.

About that show, I just can't stop thinking about how great that felt. I'm so madly and passionately in love with performing that I could just cartwheel right here. Nothing else mattered. Have you ever looked into someone's eyes, and felt such a deep desire for that person that you knew at that moment that you had fallen irretrievably in love? I haven't, but that's how I feel about music. If music had a body, I'd pour a bottle of baby oil all over it, and we'd just slip around all naked for a few hours.

1/4/2005 - Client Conversation

I really like it once the client relationship reaches a point where we can talk on a personaL level. I have one particular company that I've worked with for five years, and the main contact person for me is a fellow that I have worked with since he started with the company two years ago. We had the following conversation yesterday in the middle of our weekly planning meeting:

Client: "Why are you so tan?"
Juan: "Because I went tanning."
Client: "Ah... new lady in your life?"
Juan: "Actually, quite the opposite. I've had quite a bit of difficulty with the ladies lately, so I did it to relax. I'm swearing off of women."
Client: "Oh! So does that mean that you went out and bought some Bette Midler CDs?"
Juan: "I haven't switched teams, if that's what you're asking."
Client: "Okay, good."
Juan: "Yeah, I haven't reached that level of frustration yet."
Client: "Yet?"

This conversation was carried out while all other meeting attendees watched and enjoyed the show. I like being a consultant.