Love On A Budget

This is something that will sound like complaining, but it's not. I'm genuinely amused and touched at the thoughtfulness of my girlfriend's Valentine's present, even if the postage had to have cost way more than the actual gift. The gift was a box with two cans of Piroulines, which are creme-filled wafers that she knows I love, and a card. My gift to her was a dozen roses, chocolates, and a stuffed teddy bear. Slightly more expensive. But like I said, I'm not complaining, I know she's struggling with her three jobs and many bills and car and house payments. Plus, she is taking me to a spring training game in Memphis between the White Sox and Mets at the end of March, and those tickets were $50 each, so that certainly evens things out. If you ask her, maybe that even balances on her side, since she paid for the tickets and has to sit through a whole baseball game as well. She may punish me after the game for putting her through such torture. But hey, sometimes I like being punished.

Things are calm right now on Planetdre. "Jacob" decided that he had more things to clean up at his Montana residence, so he's staying there an extra week at least. He's on schedule to be back rooming with me and looking for work next week. I've readjusted to having my own space, but I miss him too, so I'm actually looking forward to him coming back. Our paths had led us to making less and less time to chat since we left high school, so we've certainly talked more this year already than we had most other years. Living together for a few weeks would ruin a lot of friendships because they were built on drunken socializing and not real companionship. But we've known each other so long that the bond only strengthened. As for class, everything's moving along smoothly. I did very well on the first tests of all three of my classes. I'm especially enjoying the media class, because every theme and lecture is so familiar to me. The material is basically a primer on the messages we receive every day from the TV, radio, newspapers, internet, etc. And I've always railed against some of those messages and how ignorant they are. I'm more confident than ever that my next step after getting my associates degree is to go on to pursue a broadcasting degree, because media seems to be a natural fit for me. Endless yapping and rambling--that's the ticket! As for my job, people are getting canned around me at an alarming rate, making me think that I need to refresh my resume and find a way out before I'm escorted out the door. And as for my family, my aunt is recovering from a hysterectomy, so keep her in your thoughts and prayers, if you're so inclined.

Deep Freeze

The weather here in Chicago and my friend "Jacob's" job prospects are both under a sheet of ice right now. He left in frustration this past weekend to go back home for a week, tend to his personal business there, and bring back some more clothes and other items, including a new computer for me as thanks for my generosity. But I can't help but wonder what he thought was going to happen when he decided that he was going to come down to Chicago, find a managerial job, and start over at the snap of a finger. The man has lots of experience, finding his way up the ladder to a manager's job at Best Buy straight out of high school, but he's got zero education. He's very bright, brighter than me by a mile; he was able to amass enough credits so that he needed one class to graduate high school his senior year. But he took college classes briefly after that, and he's always said that he quit because it was just too easy and boring. And here he is, never expecting to have to prove himself in life, thinking that he would always have things go his way, from helping his mother move to Wisconsin and open an internet cafe, to buying a house in Montana with his girlfriend and opening a restaurant. I would dare say that Jacob has never had to struggle like this ever. I'm not just talking about the job search, which has resulted in one interview in the last month, but the emotional toll of the whole sad mess concerning the skank he was living with. He hasn't opened up much to me about what he's going through, but I know when he first got here, that first week he stayed with me, he was hardly eating and he was sleeping maybe three or four hours each night. He caught up in both areas by the time he left (and boy, did we eat well every night, whether it was pizza, gyros, nachos, or humongoid burritos), but he was a bit of a mess, and his plan--ignore any interview requests he gets in the next week since he's not here in Chicago, come back, stay here until he gets a job and finds an apartment--seems a little strange. I'm not sure what he should do. I don't know what the hell I would do in his situation, besides crack up and commit to a psych ward and mumble about white trash for the rest of my pathetic existence. All I can do is offer any help I can, which right now means letting him crash on the couch and occasionally buying him groceries. I still remember something he said about me when we were in fourth grade. I had a personality book with favorite likes and dislikes that I filled out, and there was a page for my best friend to fill out about me. One question he had to answer about me was what he admired most about me, and he said that he thought I was gutsy and went after what I wanted (which at the time was a Puerto Rican girl). I've carried that with me throughout the years, and it's a small part of why I'm so outspoken today. And I think when Jacob comes back, I'm going to talk to him about that and how we can maybe figure out a way to both be gutsy and take the world by storm and give a big middle finger to all those who have screwed us over.

So my house is empty once again, and I'm kinda amused at the various things I had to adjust to having a roommate. I had to take the phone into my bedroom any time my girlfriend called, which I'm not used to doing. But I wouldn't have wanted Jacob to hear us cooing and getting all mushy. Hell, I never lived down kissing "Giselle" in front of him at the lunch table our junior year. I had to put on my robe after every shower instead of running out of the bathroom naked and getting dressed piece by piece. I had to pick up my clothes after taking them off for the shower instead of letting them lay on the floor. I had to keep my computer on after using it so that he could check his e-mail. And, his last night here, after he had pork nachos, I had to learn the next morning to keep a can of air freshener nearby at all times. I'm sure my girlfriend is happy that I'm getting some of these lessons of cohabitation out of the way before she moves here. But all of it was worth it for that one Friday night a couple of weeks ago. A woman Jacob went out with several nights prior texted him, warning him that he was going to receive a drunk dial in a half-hour. He looked at me perplexed and asked, "What is a drunk dial?" Amazingly, in all his years, Jacob had never been the victim of a drunk dial. Even I've been drunk dialed. Sure enough, a half-hour later, around midnight, the girl called him and spent the next hour detailing to him her frustrations about her job, her attempts to get home on public transportation after a night of boozing, and her fears that he shared too much information about her to his roommate ("What did you tell him? What did you tell him??"). She even wanted to speak to me at one point. Then, after he talked her into bed, she asked if he was going to come over and "take advantage of me." I don't think he realized that was an invitation, and he ended the call soon thereafter. Predictably, she called back. But she was so out of it, she was telling him about the "snow monsters" outside her window. They haven't spoken since her apology call the next day. But the inconvenience of having him stay here was worth it just to see him squirm through that drunk dial. He never experienced that before, and he was wondering why she chose him to receive it, repeating to me over and over, "We went on one date!" Obviously, I told him, he was the closest thing she had to a man right now. It was another scenario that pointed out to me how lucky I am to have my girlfriend, the sweet, sober angel that she is, and how much I do not miss dating.

Super Bowl XLII

New York Giants vs. New England (-12.5)

Well, the two weeks of endless hype is finally over, and I have to somehow justify this bullshit pick. Actually, I don't have to, since no one is reading this. But anyway, after bouncing back and forth about how I would pick this, here's my analysis: I can't go against the Patriots to win the game because they're clearly the better team. They set records, they didn't lose, they had a season for the ages. However, they seem to carry themselves as if they believe they have already won the Super Bowl. From the arrogance over the nature of QB Tom Brady's foot injury, to the smugness about the Spygate situation, to the fact that they didn't bother to have a walk-through last night, the Patriots seem to think that they have every right to win this game. The Giants didn't even expect to be here, so they carry themselves very loosely. All the pressure appears to be on New England. As a result, I will predict the Giants to take a first-half lead as the Pats play tightly and a little afraid to fail. But I see Giants QB Eli Manning letting the moment and his inexperience get to him, and a few second-half turnovers turning the game the Pats' way. On top of that, the Pats won their previous three Super Bowls by three points each, so that 12.5 points look a little large to me. I'll take the Pats to make history, and the Giants to cover the spread.

My Pick: New England 33-27

Unfair Card Sharks

This is really old considering it was on the sports blog Deadspin in October, but those of us who play online poker should be even more wary of shenanigans than usual. I know I've gotten some bad beats before that made me scream in frustration, "Is this faggot seeing the cards that I can't see or what?!?"

A Moment Alone

I never thought that getting a second in my house by myself would be something I'd have to treasure, but that is the case now that "Jacob" is about to start his 3rd week sleeping on my couch. The only update is that he is currently on a job interview that he set up last week, so he's been looking forward to this for a while, and he seems very confident that he will get the position. He's been keeping himself busy in the meantime dating and hanging out; in fact, I slept by myself in the house last night because a woman called him at about 6P asking to see him, and when he expressed concern about going out with bad weather in the evening forecast, she assured him that he didn't have to go home in the cold and snow. He is Romeo right now, for sure, and as jealous as I may be, I hope he's enjoying himself. I actually will miss him when he leaves because it's been one big slumber party, playing video games, laughing and joking and carrying on loudly. My girlfriend has suggested that this is good practice for a married life, having to share my space with someone. It's not really the same, however, because at no time can I take my fantasies about my girlfriend that I have in the course of a day and store them up and bring them home and release them on her. But one great thing about all this is that Jacob has decided to pay me back for my good deed by giving me a used computer from the internet cafe that he and his family own up in Wisconsin, instead of selling it to me as he originally intended. He knew that my computer was old and needed replacing, and now he's had two weeks of dealing with it personally to know just how shitty it is. But with the new computer added to my recent purchase of a DVD recorder with VCR component so I can transfer my porn--er, uh, I mean sports tapes--to disc, I am finally flying towards the 21st century. Maybe I should learn how to drive and really move towards becoming modern...

This Week On "The Odd Couple..."

"Jacob" is still here at my apartment, and it's Wednesday morning. Thank goodness we get along so great. Thank goodness he has good hygiene.

Jacob has had trouble finding work because after he got a rental car Monday, he found that many places that he drives to looking for work refer him back to a website and encourage him to apply online. That kinda defeats the purpose, no? He's amazed at how difficult it is to talk to someone face to face. Welcome to the 21st century. It appears that he's staying here at least until this weekend. What he wants to do is secure work, go back to Montana, pack up his shit, and come back to Chicago with employment, which will allow him to get an apartment, which is infinitely easier to find than work. He doesn't want to go back to Montana until he has a gig lined up here, but it's not easy finding work, as my thirteen months unemployed can tell you, and he's getting frustrated. What he's also getting is lucky. He's found time to line up a date with some woman he met online, so I'll actually have the place to myself this evening. See, anyone can hook up with a chick except me. I couldn't get dates when I was looking, and I had a place of my own! But before he does that, I'm putting that SUV he rented to use by going to get some furniture and groceries. And the adventure continues...

NFL Conference Finals '08

Here are my playoff predictions for today, in much less detail since I'm here with "Jacob" playing video games:

San Diego @ New England (-14)

Basically, that line is large and disrespectful to what the Chargers have accomplished this postseason. Despite injuries to QB Philip Rivers and RB LaDanian Tomlinson, the Chargers seem to have the swagger to go into New England and give them a good game. Plus, the Patriots can only have pressure building as they get closer to a perfect season. We'll see if they can put together a good enough performance to move into the Super Bowl.

My Prediction: New England 31-20

New York Giants @ Green Bay (-7.5)

I can't see Green Bay losing this game the way they're playing. RB Ryan Grant is a beast, and QB Brett Favre is playing smart and focused football. This team is scary because no one expected them to gel like this when the season began. However, this point spread to me is also ignoring what the opponent has done. The Giants continue to steamroll over anyone in their path in road games this year, and I'll take them to stay close in a fun cold game.

My Prediction: Green Bay 34-29

2008 Is Off To A Crazy Start

When I woke up yesterday morning, I didn't expect to have a roommate that day. Hey, unusual things happen at unusual times.

"Jacob" is sitting in my living room as I type this, and he just woke up. He had moved last year up to Montana with his girlfriend to open a restaurant, and things seemed like they were going well. Last month, he called to inform me that his girlfriend had stolen $2,000 in cash as well as one of their dogs and flown back to Chicago, where she grew up (and coincidentally where Jacob and I grew up, although we didn't know her at all--he met her online when they lived in Wisconsin four years ago). Why? Well, she left a note calling him all sorts of bad things, but she really didn't explain anything. However, a few days after she left, Jacob received e-mails and chat logs from...wait for it...the wife of the guy Jacob's girlfriend left him for! Apparently, she and this moron were writing love letters to each other and plotting this whole thing. They used to date before she met Jacob, and I guess it was a situation where she came from the gutter and got homesick. She also used to be a druggie, and Jacob found out later that she had recently started that shit again, courtesy of the boyfriend of a worker at the restaurant. So she just totally fell off the wagon and lost her fucking mind, and now Jacob's in deep doo-doo because he can't keep up his house payments and business payments thanks to the stolen money. He exercised some bad judgment. coming to Chicago to look for work and plan a move back here, and oh yeah, to screw the wife of the guy his girlfriend left him for. (They started talking on the phone about stuff and wound up forming some kind of connection, which I thought was a bad idea from the get-go.) Well, the wife announced after a few days that she's moving to Detroit with family, and he decided to get out now since there obviously was no immediate future for them. Did I mention that the girl just had this moron's baby??? Can you say Springer? Thankfully he had a friend whose house he could crash at for a while. He's my best friend since 1st grade, so I couldn't turn him down when he asked to stay with me until next week. Plus, there's some karma at work. Someone was a Good Samaritan to me on Thursday night, so it was my turn to pay it forward. Some guy gets off the train every night at 11:00, the same time as me, and Thursday night was under 10 degrees. So his wife was there waiting to pick him up. I've never spoken to the guy or anything, so I just watched him get into his wife's car, wished I had someone picking me up, and started my usual three-block walk home. Suddenly, the guy rolled down his window and yelled out to me, "Want a ride?" I guess he always noticed that we walked in the same direction every night, so he thought it would be a good idea to take me home since we were all going that way. Turns out they live like two blocks from me. I was very thankful for their good deed. And now I'm doing my own good deed for my buddy. I'm not even going to talk to him much about his fucked-up situation, because I think he needs to clear his head for a while. We'll just laugh and catch up on shit, and of course watch football on Sunday. Speaking of which, my horrible picks for Sunday's games will come up tomorrow morning, so if you want to know which teams to pick against, stay tuned.

NFL Conference Semis '08

I'm so excited for some playoff football (and thrilled that I went 8-0 last week against the spread and over/under) that I'm going to open myself to ridicule and post my predictions for this weekend's games. They feature the four best teams in the NFL by far coming off byes last week, so that will give you some insight as to where my picks are leaning.

Seattle @ Green Bay (-9)

I like to check the road record of the visiting team versus the home record of the home team as a way to slant my pick one way or the other before I even dive into the stats. The Seahawks were 3-5 on the road this season, and the Packers were 7-1 at home. I don't care what the numbers say, I can't possibly take the Seahawks to win a playoff game on the road with that kind of record. As for the actual in-game analysis, I like the Seahawks to actually hang in and keep it close. Four years ago, in another Seattle-Green Bay playoff game at Lambeau Field in Wisconsin, QB Matt Hasselbeck excitedly yelled upon winning the coin toss to start overtime, "We're gonna take the ball, and we're gonna score!" He promptly threw a touchdown pass...to Green Bay defender Al Harris. The point is, they got to OT with the Pack at their home field. The running games should cancel each other out because Hasselbeck and Packers QB Brett Favre are so in love with their arms that they won't hand off very often. WR D.J. Hackett was used as a deep threat last week in Seattle's win over Washington, but he's questionable this week, and that will hurt. But with the Pack missing a defensive back, Will Blackmon, I expect a shootout between these two passing games, with coach Mike Holmgren's old squad coming out on top over his current one.

My Pick: Green Bay 27-20

Jacksonville @ New England (-13.5)

The war of words has been thick between these two teams. Earlier in the season, when Patriots coach Bill Belichick and his staff was caught videotaping signals, Paul Spicer and the Jaguars were one of a few teams publicly saying that the Patriots have a tarnish on their accomplishments because they were cheating. The Jags' web site even had an asterisk next to the Pats' record with the footnote "Cheated in one game," but that's been since removed. So this game should be emotionally charged unlike any other, especially when you throw in the undefeated record itself. How much pressure do you think the Pats will be under, knowing that if they lose in the playoffs that 16-0 record will be one of sports' biggest jokes? The Jags' 6-3 road record this year also scares me. But in the end, what scares me more than anything is the Pats' passing attack, with QB Tom Brady and the real MVP, WR Randy Moss, as well as those other receivers who seem to get open when needed. Oh, and the Jaguars' passing attack, which, like Santa Claus, doesn't exist. I expect Jacksonville to run the ball a little better because they're much more committed to the ground game than New England. But it won't matter when the Patriot missiles take the field and light up the sky with their aerial attack.

My Pick: New England 34-14

San Diego @ Indianapolis (-9.5)

My pick to repeat as Super Bowl champions, the Colts open their playoff push with the return of Future Hall of Famer Marvin Harrison at WR. He was missing the last two months of the season with an injury, and he was missing when the Chargers beat the Colts in Week 10, a game in which Peyton Manning threw an unprecedented (for him) six interceptions. The Chargers still have the DBs who caught those picks, including stud Antonio Cromartie, who had three of them, but the Colts now have the aforementioned Harrison, a clean field (they're playing in a dome in Indy, not in the muddy, rainy conditions that they played in Week 10 in San Diego), and the focus and determination that QB Peyton Manning summons when he needs to. Manning used to be one of the biggest choke artists in big games, dating back to college at Tennessee, but he seems to have turned it around and become a lot closer to clutch than choke. As for the Chargers, their win last week over the Titans cost them TE Antonio Gates, who won't play this game because of a sprained toe. Gates is the Chargers' most consistent receiver, and QB Philip Rivers should struggle even more than he did in last week's ugly victory. DT Raheem Brock is back for the Colts, and defensive MVP Bob Sanders is healthy, adding more help to the effort to stop RB LaDanian Tomlinson, who would appear to be San Diego's only hope. He won't be enough.

My Pick: Indianapolis 24-10

New York Giants @ Dallas (-9)

That stat I had last week about how QB Eli Manning and the Giants seem to have much more success on the road may not apply for this game, because the last time the Giants lost on the road, it was Week 1, at Dallas, and they gave up 45 points. Only one team had more yards per pass attempt than the Cowboys all season, and that was the record-setting Patriots, so it's not like Dallas fell off after the Giants game. No, they're still pretty damn good, despite a couple of bad games to end the regular season. I think the whole team should have spent their bye week in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, to rest up for the playoffs. (BTW, there's one really simple reason why Cowboys QB Tony Romo has been catching hell for taking a trip to Cabo during his bye week, and that's jealousy. Every man and some women in the media wish they were fucking Jessica Simpson. They're not. Romo is. So they ignore what everyone else on all four teams who had byes last week did during their week off, and they focus on what Romo did, because they're totally jealous. It's a complete joke.) Manning and the Giants got off to a very slow start in beating the Buccaneers last week, but because the Bucs didn't have the offensive weaponry to take advantage, the Giants had plenty of opportunity to mount a comeback. They shouldn't have that chance against Dallas. Terrell Owens will see the spotlight shining and a national TV audience, and suddenly, the ankle pain that kept him out of the last game the Cowboys played will magically disappear, and he'll catch his usual two touchdowns and do his usual silly celebrations. The man legally patented the phrase, "I love me some me!" for Chrissakes. He won't resist the chance to perform. And Romo wants to throw every ball 99 yards for a TD just to prove that fucking Jessica Simpson is not a career detriment. He should have WR Terry Glenn, who hasn't played this season, as an extra weapon. The Giants have a couple of defensive backs missing who played in that 45-35 loss at Dallas. If they gave up 45, what will their backups do? I expect lots of blitzing from the athletic Dallas defense, forcing Manning to get rid of the football way quicker than he wants, resulting in mistakes and turnovers galore. And no more Yoko Romo references suggesting Jessica is destroying the Cowboys.

My Pick: Dallas 38-20

"Lynch Him In A Back Alley"

Boy, is there a lot of discussion surrounding golf analyst Kelly Tilghman's joke about what other golfers should do to Tiger Woods. Naturally, I couldn't resist adding my two cents.

I find something wrong with the actions of absolutely everyone involved, as well as most of the people commenting on sports talk shows the last few days. The analyst herself was wrong for saying something so stupid, but ESPN midday radio hosts Mike Tirico and Scott Van Pelt were wrong yesterday for saying that they knew Tilghman personally and can vouch that she didn't really mean anything by saying it. What? When did they become her PR reps? Mike Wilbon, a host on ESPN TV show Pardon The Interruption, is wrong for saying virtually the same thing, that he knew her and knew that she didn't mean anything by it. Dan Patrick on his radio show is wrong for adding this whopper--by saying that Tiger should be lynched in a back alley, where most lynchings historically have not taken place, Tilghman showed that she didn't realize the significance of what she was saying and therefore is only guilty of ignorance. Being retarded is not an excuse. Everyone in the KKK is retarded, and no one gives them a pass. However, Al Sharpton is wrong for demanding her job without knowing anything about the context of the comment. He didn't even know that Kelly was a woman. She certainly should have been censured and penalized by her employer, but I don't think she should have been canned. And speaking of her employer, Golf Channel, they're wrong for suspending her two weeks only after Sharpton got on CNN and started bitching and moaning. They were standing behind her, acknowledging her horrible judgment yet supporting her, before Rev. Al threatened boycotts of sponsors and the like.

But I reserve my harshest judgment for Tiger himself and everyone who took the angle that everything should be okay because Tiger said he didn't have a problem, and if the target said "no harm no foul," then it's all good, right? Hell no! See, this is why people like Sharpton and Jesse Jackson exist, because if left up to the individuals slapped by racism, so many of them would rather avoid conflict and back off than challenge the oppressor. Put it another way: How many Uncle Toms have said in the past, "Oh no, massa ain't mean no harm! He's a jus' whoopin' me and my old lady 'cause we deserve it! I ain't got no beef with massa! He treat me good most of the time! Even let me eat my suppa in the kitchen sometime instead a in the back yard!" Of course Tiger is going to say he has no problem with the comment, because he wants to be the mainstream superstar loved by white folks as much (or more) than blacks, and he can't be that if he starts having problems with innocent little "jokes." Hell, he says he's not black anyway, so maybe he thinks the joke isn't racial at all. I heard the point brought up that Tiger can show his disapproval when he is really upset with someone's words, like when he didn't comment immediately after Fuzzy Zoeller's moronic jokes years ago. To me, that proves that he doesn't have a problem with black jokes against him. Where I grew up, the words Fuzzy said would have been followed by an assault and battery, not by silence. Or at least a confrontation along the lines of, "Are you crazy?!?" But that's not Tiger's style. Might lose a few sales of some golf shirts or caps if he shows displeasure with the massa's harmless jokes. But imagine our world if King, Abernathy, et al., would have accepted put-downs and insults as just "misspeaks" in the 1960s and decided to let it go, like Gandhi Tiger. We'd still be drinking from dirty water fountains and pissing in filthy bathrooms.

Finally, with all these people making wrong assumptions and statements, I'd like to get off my soapbox and be wrong for a second as well. I heard three different black men yesterday alone defend Tilghman as a friend who didn't mean any harm--Tirico, Wilbon, and Charles Barkley, as a guest on Dan Patrick's show. That's not counting Tiger's defense of her as a friend when this first happened. When I saw pictures of her just now while I was searching for information, I assumed that her being thin, blonde, and white and having all these black guys being her "friends" meant that she was one of those chicks that couldn't get enough of the dark meat. It's Kim Kardashian without the ass! But actually, something else interesting kept coming up in my search engine--"lesbian." Apparently, she's been long rumored to be either bisexual or all-the-way gay. And that makes just as much sense, when you think about it. What would black men love and defend as much or more than a blonde white chick who plays golf? Why, a blonde white chick who plays golf and brings her girlfriends into bed with them, of course!

Wrong of me? Yep, very wrong. True? Absolutely.

Hmmm...

From my blog post "End Of The CEDA Era," at the end of 2005: "...I am not going to ever forget my time at CEDA. What a perfect impetus to push me through school and urge me to keep going and make education a priority. Cause if I don't, I face a future of jobs in which my diligence and perfectionist nature cause me to be fired perpetually because I didn't produce enough mistake-filled, hurried work to satisfy the assholes in charge."

From my blog post "32 Years Of Anonymity," a few weeks ago: "My supervisor Lucy...has been on my ass virtually every day for the past two months because my items per hour was below 90. But when she thrust the November numbers in my face showing me how many other people in my workgroup have better IPH rates than me, I noticed something in the total items column: Only one person in my workgroup nailed more than 10,000 items total last month, and that was yours truly. Then I remembered that I was on vacation for a week in November because I spent several days in Memphis after Thanksgiving! You'd think Lucy would be thrilled to see that bit of information when I pointed it out to her. Her response: 'It doesn't matter how much work you do.' I never thought there existed a job where someone could be told that it didn't matter that they produced more work than anyone else."

Yeah, guess I haven't figured it out yet. Quality work, bad. Fast, crappy work, good. Note to self--make that my new mantra...

Wild Card Weekend '08

I'm so excited for some playoff football that I'm going to open myself to ridicule and post my predictions. (For the record, I'm sticking by my preseason prediction of Colts over Cowboys in the Super Bowl.)

Washington @ Seattle (-3.5)

The Sean Taylor Tribute Train should stop here. The Seahawks have a passing game led by Matt Hasselbeck that spreads the ball around to whomever happens to be open, and the go-for-broke Redskins secondary will get frustrated trying to cover everyone. Shaun Alexander and Maurice Morris should provide enough running to keep the Skins off-balance. Plus, I can't possibly go with Todd Collins. That's like taking the hot pitcher in baseball who won his last four starts despite not having pitched in the majors in eight years. That would be crazy.

My Pick: Seattle 24-17

Jacksonville (-2.5) @ Pittsburgh

This smells like a trap. The Steelers suffered some huge injuries recently, such as their leading rusher, Willie Parker, breaking his leg, and their left tackle and return man ruled out for this game. Add to that the Jaguars walking into snowy Pittsburgh a few weeks ago and stuffing their nuts down the Steelers' throats, and that places the Steelers, 7-1 at home this year, as underdogs. David Garrard's playoff inexperience may lead to him making mistakes at QB for the Jags that he hasn't made all year. I actually will pick Jacksonville to play their style and win the game, but Ben Roethlisberger and the Steelers' underrated passing game can stay in the game and put them in position to steal it late.

My Pick: Jacksonville 30-28

New York Giants @ Tampa Bay (-3)

My friend "Jacob" can swear that I've been preaching one simple observation about QB Eli Manning and the Giants for two years now: They play much better on the road because he's so fragile that he doesn't do well in front of his home crowd. And the numbers bear it out--3-5 at home this season, as opposed to 7-1 on the road. This ain't the same Tampa Bay defense; they're older and not nearly as dominant. Yes, they're #1 in pass defense, but they used to back that up with hard run defense as well. Not anymore. Brandon Jacobs and the Giants running game will handle the line of scrimmage just enough to allow Manning to hit Plaxico Burress for a few long bombs, and that will be enough to scoot past Jeff Garcia and the predictable Bucs offense.

My Pick: Giants 17-16

Tennessee @ San Diego (-10)

The bettors are in love with the Chargers, and I can see why. One of the preseason favorites, the Bolts are finally playing like it, especially on the defensive side, where it took three-fourths of the season to figure out that maybe Shawne Merriman blitzing and wreaking havoc instead of being passive and playing back on his heels is the way to go. Meanwhile, the Titans are hurting. QB Vince Young had a sore quad, their only deep threat, Roydell Williams, is out for the playoffs, and their stud RB and defensive tackle, LenDale White and Albert Haynesworth, are both dinged up. And this may be the most fiery and personal matchup. Merriman was injured during a game between these two teams earlier in the season on what he thought was a dirty play in retaliation for Young being hurt. The Chargers will be geared up, and I don't think the Titans are healthy enough to do anything about it.

My Pick: San Diego 27-6

The Most, Uh, Unique Christmas Gift Ever

My dad had been calling me and leaving messages almost every day back in September when I started going back to school, and I didn't have time to call him back, so he took it personally and began to do weird things trying to make me jealous like calling my aunt daily and sending money to her oldest son, who attends the U. of Illinois. He was used to me eventually calling him back so he could resume browbeating me about not keeping up with him more, but this time, I wasn't in the mood. So I had not talked to him since this past summer when Christmas rolled around. But he told my aunt that he would make a special trip out to my uncle's, where the family gathers for Christmas, and he would have a Christmas gift for me whether I wanted to see him or not. And oh, did he have a memorable gift for me, or make that clear plastic bag of gifts:

1. A bottle of British Sterling, quite possibly the rankest dollar-store cologne I have ever smelled
   
2. A disposable camera
   
3. A 4-pack of AA batteries
   
4. A Southwest Airlines napkin
   
5. A picture of his mother, and not a glossy picture, a Xerox copy
   
6. A Xerox copy pic of his brother
   
7. A couple of handmade fliers for his band and/or his various other hustles
   
8. $40 cash (complete with totally useless deposit slip, like I'm a fucking bank)
   
9. And finally, an empty manila folder

I couldn't do anything while taking each gift out and displaying it for everyone except say, "Tonight, all of you thank your God that your dad is not my dad."

My girlfriend is here for the next couple of days to ring in the new year with me. There's no better way to get the taste of that Christmas out of my mouth. (Although out of curiosity, she sprayed that cologne in the air, and now that taste and scent may linger well into the new year after all.)

Happy 2008 to everyone.

32 Years Of Anonymity

That's two years in a row now that someone wondered why I didn't make a big deal of my upcoming birthday upon finding out about it. This time, it was my team lead at work, Tasha, who doesn't know a thing about me and never expressed a desire to. "You gotta tell us about things like that," she cooed. "We're like a big family!" Yeah, right. All In The Family, maybe. When I told the people I used to work with on 1st shift that it was my birthday, the reactions ranged from surprise, of course, to pity that I was spending my birthday working. But it's all good. I wouldn't have done anything today but clean the house anyway. What am I gonna do, go out clubbing?

The fact that no one knew my birthday was coming is but a small piece of my daily routine. I'm Mr. Anonymity. I'm the modern-day Mr. Cellophane, for you fans of the musical Chicago. Every day I trudge to work or school or both, and I trudge home, and I barely say a word or have a word said to me. Really, I might be known by some as That Weird Guy With The Headphones, because for almost 20 years now I've hardly been out in public without my headphones on, usually big ear-covering ones too, "kickerboxes on your head," as a former co-worker once called them. The bigger the headphones, the less I have to hear, plus they double as great earmuffs for those Chicago winters that my girlfriend will get to experience when she moves here in the next few years. I could be some cult figure like the loudmouth preacher downtown with the portable loudspeaker or those guys that dress in silver and gold bodypaint and do mime performances on the corner. There might be some punk band in Wicker Park whose members dress in baseball caps and huge headphones and nothing else, as some odd homage to that eccentric fat guy who always looks like he could kick the world's ass. But I would never know. And that's how I've always wanted it. Speaking up and making my presence known is not something I like doing most of the time. After I got to know my co-workers at my jobs, I wound up loosening up and being the class clown, so to speak. But my demeanor is the same for most of the day--head down, no smile, walking with a purpose, going where I gotta go, doing what I gotta do. Sealing off the whole world in a way for various reasons, be it shyness or lack of social skills or lack of confidence or, in those really special moments, hatred of the entire human race. (If you've ever wondered why I refer to myself as Planet Dre...)

My latest problem at work may not be directly tied to my attempts to be anonymous, but it's loosely connected. See, my job is rather simple when you break it down: Type in P.O. box number, scan a header ticket to start a batch, open all the mail sent to that box, enter the check amounts, run the check through a check reader, scan a separator ticket between each check, end batch, move on. Boring, I know. But apparently, the way I do my job is not satisfying this items-per-hour ratio that's been established by people above me who don't do this job and therefore don't know how impossible it would be to keep up that ratio for all 7 or 8 or however many hours you're working. The ratio is 133 items per hour. That means that in addition to checks, you can staple the material inside an envelope that has no check inside (we've been getting a lot of Christmas cards lately, for instance) and add that to your batch at the end when you close it, and you can also add the unprocessable items for those checks that may have something wrong with it, like a missing signature or it was sent to the wrong P.O. box, so it's not just 133 checks per hour, it's 133 items. But seriously, if you sit down and start working on a bundle of mail, like I do, you run into missorted envelopes in the wrong bundle, you run into a large amount of material that has to be taped together because the automatic mail opener sliced the pages up, you may have to photocopy an envelope because if it's cardboard (FedEx, DHL, etc.) it's too big to fit into the image machine...you run into a lot of shit that takes up too much of your time to process 133 items per hour. It's impossible. The way that co-workers are getting around this number is that they're pre-staging their work, meaning they're opening the envelopes and taping letters and making copies and all that good stuff before they ever start to type in boxes and check amounts. That saves time from their items per hour, but it doesn't get as much work done because they're spending hours pre-staging and not working, whereas I just sit down and work because that's how I prefer to do it. My supervisor Lucy, this ogre of a woman who obviously got off the first boat from Russia years ago hoping to wrestle bears in America for money or something, has been on my ass virtually every day for the past two months because my items per hour was below 90. But when she thrust the November numbers in my face showing me how many other people in my workgroup have better IPH rates than me, I noticed something in the total items column: Only one person in my workgroup nailed more than 10,000 items total last month, and that was yours truly. Then I remembered that I was on vacation for a week in November because I spent several days in Memphis after Thanksgiving! You'd think Lucy would be thrilled to see that bit of information when I pointed it out to her. Her response: "It doesn't matter how much work you do." I never thought there existed a job where someone could be told that it didn't matter that they produced more work than anyone else. Did I mention that I haven't made an error in my mail extraction job duties all year? I tie this to anonymity because when you're just a number in a humongoid company like J.P. Morgan Chase, no one has time to listen to individual issues. Something like this should be handled on a case-by-case basis, and someone should have the common sense to back off the most productive worker in the workgroup instead of smothering him daily just because his items-per-hour number is low. Since I produce more than workers who work more hours than me, it seems that the items per hour isn't that damn important. Oh, and Lucy showed me the numbers for December 1-15 just to bitch at me more about how my IPH hasn't improved since she started yapping at me. Guess who's done more items than anyone the first 2 weeks of December as well? But of course, how much work you do doesn't matter. How retarded.

So in this, my 32nd year on Planet Dre, I vow to work even harder in college and continue my push towards (hopefully) Columbia College and a degree in radio. Anonymity has worked well for me for the most part, but I'm starting to get a little tired of it. I can see a time where I shed my cloak and reach for the spotlight and let the world see and hear what my warped mind is creating. The right time, the right place, it all has to come together in a perfect mix of my guts, someone's need to smell-la-la-la-la what I'm cookin', and a whole hell of a lot of luck. But every day that I am told that my hard work doesn't matter because it doesn't fit the mold, I get closer and closer to being ready to leave behind my carefully constructed wall of anonymity and go for what I want.

And If You Thought That Last Post Was Full Of It...

...I'll be taking psych class as part of my load next semester at the esteemed Harold Washington College, where I sit four mere classes away from my associates degree. So get ready for more armchair mental games from moi. Hey, maybe I'll finally find out why "Karen" did what she did to me, since she never got the guts to tell me herself, or as she put it in a letter once, "I don't have to explain myself to anybody." This semester that just ended last week was difficult for one reason--biology class. Not only was this a topic that I had no interest in, but the teacher insisted on making her students tie bits and pieces of information together with cognitive thinking, and after dealing with the jackasses at my job for forty hours a week, I wasn't always up for that. Okay, I was never up for that. I had to walk out of a couple of her classes because I just didn't have the desire to sit through another hour of her voice pushing me closer and closer to sleep. I had a B at midterm for that class, but I did so bad on the cumulative final that I bet I got a C as a final grade. Oh well. One science requirement is dead, and the second and final science requirement will be on the schedule for next semester--Public Issues in Physical Science. Hey, it's not a lab at least. The computer class was a breeze, and the speech teacher was open-minded enough to disagree with nearly everything I talked about, yet still gave me nearly perfect scores on all three of my speeches. She was fun. I wanted to take a TV/radio class she's giving next semester that would seem perfect for what I want to do after I get out of Harold Washington, but she's only offering one time frame, Monday nights, and I have to work Monday nights. So instead I'm taking a mass media class someone else is teaching that she says is very similar, in addition to the psych and the physical science. That will leave me one elective that I'll gobble up in the summer, then I'm done with the associates classes. I already visited the Columbia College website and asked for information to be sent to my house, so I'm sure I'll have plenty of contact with them as I try to arrange my records to facilitate a smooth transition there. As for the next few weeks before the spring semester, I have to clean house and get ready for my girlfriend, who will visit for New Year's. It would be nice if I got Christmas presents before next week. And there's laundry and grocery shopping as well. But I'm actually glad that I'm keeping busy like this--less time to sit around and let my brain ruminate about dark things or, worse, get bored and gamble. Or think about my 32nd birthday, coming up Saturday. Where does the time go. I'll be spending it working, which is actually fitting because that's what I've been doing seemingly nonstop the past two years. And the world keeps turning...

"He Took It In The Butt"

That was the headline in the Trentonian newspaper last week when Roger Clemens had his pristine name dragged into the steroids circus surrounding Major League Baseball. I just thought that was funny. I had one small thing to add to this, then I'll crawl back in my hole. I just watched Mike & Mike In The Morning, a sports talk show that also airs on TV, and they had callers commenting on whether they believe Clemens, who vehemently denies using steroids or HGH, or think he's lying like so many other ballplayers have when confronted with evidence. The very first guy who called said he was giving Clemens the benefit of the doubt, and so did the last guy who called, and I think the segment that I watched only had three callers. Mike and Mike wondered why they didn't hear this kind of benefit when Barry Bonds denied his intentional steroid use under oath before a grand jury a few years ago ("I thought it was flaxseed oil"). I have an answer--he did receive the benefit of the doubt, from a large number of black people. I remember all the polls that came out back then charting the racial divide among people who believe that Bonds was innocent. It was like 50 or 60% of all blacks polled, as opposed to something in the teens for whites. But hardly any of those blacks were taken seriously. Those polls were trotted out by sports talk people as some sign of the apocalypse, or worse, a sign of the bad role models those poor black people were choosing. But they didn't actually speak to those black people to find out why they felt that way. And here's Mike & Mike wondering why Clemens is being trusted and believed while Bonds wasn't. Um, I don't recall them taking calls from Bonds supporters, and neither did any other sports talk show I listened to. They didn't want to. He was a dirty black guy breaking the all-time home run record, and he didn't deserve supporters. But here's a bunch of white darlings loved by the media, like Clemens and Andy Pettitte and some little scrappy guys who would have never put up the numbers they did if not for juicing, and the media in general seem to be falling over themselves trying to cushion the blow and accept their word as bond. Makes me shake my head. And for the record, yeah, I believe they're all guilty, Bonds and Clemens and all the other idiots writing personal checks to clubhouse guys and putting "STEROIDS" in the memo line. I don't think they're conjuring up evidence to get back at any of them. I just think that some athletes are so addicted to winning at all costs and so used to getting anything they want any time they want that they believe that if they keep saying they're innocent, the whole thing will eventually go away. And for that, I think they're all floating turds, black, white, Latino, or green alien.

Cursing And Blow Jobs--The Planet Dre Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving went very well for me. It was my first outside of my own family, with people I had never met, so as past posts will tell you, I was very nervous. But they knew how to treat a man well, because no more than two minutes after I entered the house of my girlfriend's uncle, he handed me the television remote. Now THAT is how you welcome someone to your home! Yes, football was on from that moment until I left. Now, my girlfriend had explained that she didn't recall football being part of the family's past Thanksgivings, but as it turned out, the men of the house were just like most other men--get the ball rolling on a sport and they fall right in line. The first NFL game was already playing, but they didn't know it, so when I found the channel, all of a sudden here goes the football talk. Who's my favorite team, what about that Terrell Owens, etc. Turns out there's even a daughter in the family who's a Cowboys cheerleader, and they spotted her during the Kelly Clarkson halftime show. See, how did these folks get along before me???

The meal itself was outstanding as far as the quality of the food. There were some cheese products missing that I had become accustomed to at my uncle's house, like macaroni and his wife's spaghetti bake. That helps to break up all the seasoning that you get in the turkey and dressing, which starts to taste the same after a while. And speaking of the turkey, they bought a special kind this year just to piss me off--it was Cajun-flavored, which meant that it was infused with jalapenos before they even stuffed it and put it in the stove. Gross. I needed a lot of dressing to make it palatable. But it was very well-cooked, and everything else was just fine. My girlfriend created a sweet potato casserole with mini-marshmallows on top, and that was better than I thought it would be. Me and yams usually don't get along.

My girlfriend's mother was a very sweet lady, even more quiet and introverted than my girlfriend. I didn't know what to expect, but she couldn't have been kinder. She was going to meet us for dinner Saturday night after Thanksgiving, just the three of us, but unfortunately she fell ill. So I'm still waiting to be grilled. But she doesn't seem like the judgmental type, so as long as she never reads this blog, I believe she's not going to drill me with questions about who I am and what my intentions are with her little girl. So that bullet was dodged. Really, that was my biggest worry--I didn't want to underwhelm her mother because I know that no matter what she says, my girlfriend would take her mother's intuition about me very seriously, and I wanted to make a great first impression. (My girlfriend would later go on to tell me that her mother informed her of her impression of me over the phone--"Very, very, very bright!" Can't get much better than that.)

After going to the next-door house of a family member and taking a tour as a way of walking off the meal, we settled in for a game of Taboo. There were four team members on each side, and my girlfriend was on the opposite team, but her mother was on my team. I was told that these games got so loud and outrageous that sometimes they would videotape them and watch them afterwards, and I thought that this was a good sign because I have lots of experience with loud and outrageous board games thanks to my family. However, I forgot that my girlfriend's family, while loud and outrageous, was also religious. So when I accidentally said some of the Taboo words and exclaimed "Dammit!" or "Aw hell!", I didn't think one second of it. After we lost, one of my team members went around the table pointing out various funny things each player said or did during the game, and when he got to me, he said, "And homey here, with all the cursing!" I turned to my girlfriend and asked, "Did I curse?" She said that I may have said dammit or something like that. I was shocked that they saw that as cursing. It's not like I was at the bowling alley or something. If they want to see me curse, they should come there. They'll hear me make up new words, tell God to fornicate with his son, and many other colorful phrases. But when I thought about the game afterwards, it dawned on me that no matter how loud and crazy it got, indeed, no one was cursing. That's amazing and noble and very frightening all at the same time.

My girlfriend and I made out on her couch that night after driving back home, and she initiated giving me oral sex for the first time. It came out of nowhere, and I didn't expect it because, despite getting the results from the free clinic, she indicated that she didn't know when she would be ready to take that next step with me. I surely didn't want to shove it in her face and say, "I'm clean, bitch, now suck it!" I've been very patient with her thus far, knowing that she had never been with a man before me, and I was willing to wait as long as it took for her to get comfortable. Well, she got comfortable quickly, and I haven't stopped smiling since. Really, oral sex to me is the 2nd most intimate thing a couple can do next to only intercourse. And to do it with someone I love and respect and don't have to worry about how many other dudes she's done this to is such an awesome feeling. Now, the last time I got either oral or vaginal sex was two years ago with "Grace," the one night stand, so this was also a big deal because now when I fantasized or daydreamed about receiving head, I didn't have to try to force my girlfriend into the picture. I had my own mental picture now of her looking into my eyes while swallowing me. That's a very big deal to me. I hate having memories of meaningless physical encounters as my only concrete thoughts about the sex I've had. I'm so ready to write new thoughts into my memory, with the woman I love. That's as descriptive as I can get when I explain why it meant to much to have her give me head. I want her face and her body to be what I think of when I think of physical intimacy, and that's why this was so big. Now, I couldn't return the favor because Aunt Flo was in town, but I'm determined to become good at giving my woman oral sex since I was so bad at it all the times before. Plain and simple, I didn't have the patience to keep at it and learn how to do it right. I just took out my cock after a few minutes and fucked whoever I was trying to eat. But since that's not an option with my virgin girlfriend, I will have to stay down there and figure out how to get 'er done, so to speak. Maybe when she visits me for New Year's, she'll leave her aunt at home...

Full Plate

My plate has been full lately, and it will continue to be for at least a few weeks. On the horizon right now is a flight to Memphis to spend Thanksgiving with my girlfriend and her family. I depart this afternoon after speech class. I think I'm masking my nervousness about meeting her mother for the very first time by being very horny and thinking about my girlfriend constantly the last few days. But I do miss her and I will be glad to see her and spend some quality time with her. The proverbial full plate should be literal on Thanksgiving, if they eat like a Southern family should. Just hope they're ready for some football. When I come back to Chicago next week, I'll walk right into some kind of competition at work to find the person who best knows the standard operating procedures. They gave me a cheat sheet to study last night, as if I don't have enough homework with three classes this semester. I'm probably leaving that at home and not taking it to Memphis. As for the classes, there's a presentation we're supposed to be giving in biology next week, but I don't have the contact information for my partners in this group project, the class didn't meet yesterday because the teacher wasn't there, and I won't be there for the Wednesday class because I won't be in the state. Don't know how we're gonna work that out. I'll have my final speech to do next week, a nine-minute rant about alcohol (yes I chose that subject on purpose). And there will be final exams in two weeks for biology and computer class, the biology one being cumulative. Somewhere in there I will have to wash my clothes and shop for groceries, and in the two weeks that I have free between classes ending and Christmas I have to shop for gifts before my girlfriend comes here for New Year's. Whew. But here's one good thing about keeping very busy: Two different people came up to me at work last week and asked if I was losing weight. I'm certainly not trying to, but it's hard to sit and overeat with three college classes and a full-time job. I just don't have the time. I know my cookies and chips miss me, but I'll have to get reacquainted after I finish accomplishing the things in my life that I want to accomplish.

Happy Thanksgiving to anyone reading this. Whether we know it or not, we all have much to be thankful for.

Planet Dre's Trip To The Free Clinic! (Pt. 2)

I walked in to the clinic and was surprised to see five other people in there. The place was like a vacated saloon last time I was there. I had to wait for a guy to figure out what he wanted from the receptionist before I was able to approach her and tell her that I was there for my test results. After taking my ID and the blue card the doctor told me to bring back with me, the receptionist told me, "You're 76. We'll call your number." She then proceeded to call number 77 thirty seconds later, and some Hispanic guy who had been there when I arrived went through the heavy door to the back. Wha?? The guy came back out almost as soon as he went in and relayed the news to someone on his cell phone, ignoring the fliers that say cell phone use is prohibited. The security guard, however, tried for a full minute to wave at the guy and get his attention in order to tell him not to use the phone. Guess he felt that walking over to him and stopping him for some reason wasn't an option. A few minutes later, my number was called by an attractive black woman in a business suit, and I followed her to the back and into an office with the word "Counselor" on the door. Here we go, I thought to myself.

She smiled the whole time as she quickly told me that everything came up negative--the chlamydia test, the gonorrhea test, the syphilis test. She placed the HIV test results in front of me and pointed to the part that said "FINAL RESULT NEGATIVE--No antibodies to HIV-1 detected." She happily informed me that I was totally clean and explained that these results do not necessarily indicate that I don't have HIV since it takes three to six months for HIV to show up on a test. "So if you've had recent contact with a possible source of HIV, you should come back for another test in April next year." She asked why I had testing done, and I explained that it wasn't a recent exposure but rather the desire to give my girlfriend peace of mind by letting her know I was clean. "And to let yourself know, right?" the counselor said. "Oh, I already knew I was clean," I replied as memories of bareback sex with "Karen," "Giselle," "Sarah," "Grace," and The Co-Worker Who Shall Remain Nameless flashed through my mind.

I asked for a copy of the STD results before I left, and after five minutes, I was on my way home. I texted my girlfriend after I left and told her "YOUR BABY IS TOTALLY CLEAN!!!" Her response was simply "YES!" Nothing more needed to be said.

Planet Dre's Trip To The Free Clinic! (Pt. 1)

Since it was located in the heart of the hood, I expected the clinic to be dingy, infested-looking, and crowded with people who look and sound like they are on death's door. But it was not like that at all. Perhaps it was the time that I chose to go, that being midday on Halloween Wednesday. But this joint was totally empty, save for the security guard watching daytime TV, and the waiting area at least was much cleaner than I imagined it would be. The actual exam area didn't look very antiseptic. The receptionist couldn't have cared less about anything, taking a clipboard with the form and a piece of paper with the number 25 and giving it to me with the enthusiasm of a sloth. But I wasn't there for the bright sunshine and cheery faces. I was there because my girlfriend, having intimate knowledge of the carefree unprotected sex I insisted on having with every partner I've ever laid, has informed me relentlessly of her desire to learn how to please me orally since we're not going to have intercourse until marriage as well as her insistence that this oral pleasing ain't going on until I get tested. Honestly, I never had any intention of getting tested because I didn't have any symptoms of anything and because I can't mentally connect the sexual lifestyle I had to something dangerous like syphilis or HIV. It's not like I was paying $20 for a crack whore in the alley up the ass or fucking drug users or doing boys on the down low. I was just a shy guy meeting women online and hooking up. How could I catch something from that? Of course, intelligence says that it's certainly possible that one of those women did some things with others who weren't so clean and caught something even they didn't know they had and passed it on. So, since it's free and since there's a clear peace of mind that comes with the results, I had not excuse not to go get checked out. Plus, there's blow jobs as a reward in the near future. Blow jobs! Yay! I miss those.

I filled out the form and got the attention of the receptionist away from yapping with some other women long enough to take back the clipboard. "We'll call your number," she monotoned even though there was ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ELSE IN THE BUILDING. I had to chuckle at that. The ensuing fifteen minutes gave me a chance to look around at the feng shui. There was a television, about 19", sitting on a metal cart, and as noted, it was tuned to some Springer-like daytime show. Below it was a VCR with a couple of tapes whose covers looked like something straight out of an '80s ABC Afteschool Special VHS series. The titles had something to do with AIDS and STDs, but I don't remember them exactly. I wondered who would actually pop those tapes in while waiting to get tested. Sitting on the receptionist's "window" (just a wide hole cut out of the wall) were free condoms and lube, which I left for someone sexually active to take, and surrounding the window were various posters and fliers. One specifically told women to use the bathroom before the actual examination, and another specifically told men to wait to use the bathroom until after the examination. I found that very curious, but I didn't ask anyone why this policy existed. The posters were typical urges to get tested and protect yourself. Some were slightly offensive (why does the cartoon drawing of a black couple discussing getting tested feature the woman with huge hoop earrings and the guy in a hoodie holding a fucking basketball and looking away as if he's not paying attention at all?). One made absolutely no sense to me. It showed two Hindenburg-like air balloons hovering over a grassy field filled with cows. One dirigible was slightly larger than the one below it, but it looked like a photo trick where they just took a picture of the same balloon and made one pic smaller. Below the balloons but above the field of cows was the caption: "IT LOOKS BIGGER WITH A CONDOM ON." Then below the field of cows in much smaller print was: "It also protects against unwanted pregnancy, STD's, etc." I will go to my grave not understanding that poster. First of all, um, no it doesn't look bigger with a rubber on. If rubbers were that thick, there'd be even less sensation than there already is, and there's hardly any sensation now. Second, how dumb do you have to be to be fooled into thinking that a cock is bigger than it is once a rubber is applied to it? That goes for the guy and the chick he's with. "Looks like my thing grew to double the size, don't it baby?" "It sure does, my big hunk of man!" And I have no idea where the field of cows comes in. But before I could whip out my camera phone to capture this image and show it to my girlfriend, I noticed a flier that said: "NO CELL PHONES ALLOWED." Not wanting to find out if the security guard was in a good or bad mood that day, I decided to leave my phone in my pocket.

Sure enough, fifteen minues later the receptionist called me by number and motioned me through the heavy door. After a minute of standing there looking goofy, a nurse showed up and led me into a room, where she proceeded to mumble instructions to me that I nearly didn't understand. "Mubmmumfph," she said while flexing her fist. Oh, I thought, she must want me to flex my fist to get my vein to come up so she can draw blood. But after tapping my meaty arm at the inside of the elbow joint for a while, she gave up and said, "Mmfrtnneuish," while turning my hand to the backside and tapping it. Before I could totally understand what she wanted, she found the vein and in one quick motion swabbed my hand, produced a needle out of nowhere and jabbed it in. I almost didn't close my eyes before she inserted it. She took a cotton ball and held it, then told me "Holm mmem," which I took to mean "Hold this," and while I did, she applied a Band-Aid and sent me back into the waiting area. "Will there be any more shots I have to get, or is this it?" I asked. "Heh heh. Monnmkobehj," she said.

About ten minutes later, my number was called again, and my swollen hand and I wandered behind the heavy door again. An older Asian woman, 50s or 60s, in a torn white doctor's smock waved me to the back. Once I got back there, I looked at the four or five offices that sat empty and stood there for a full two minutes assuming the doctor would show up and lead me to the exam room. When she didn't, I walked back to the front and interrupted her munching on a candy bar and chatting with the receptionist to ask exactly where the fuck she wanted me to go. "Oh, I'm sorry, Room 6," she said laughing.

Not long after I entered Room 6, the doctor entered, sans candy bar. The following is made even funnier to you the reader (but not me the victim) by knowing that I had absolutely no idea what an STD exam consisted of since I'd never had one. I honestly thought the blood that had been drawn was the extent of it and that the doctor was just going to chat with me and get information on my sexual history and stuff. She sat down at her desk and spent five minutes asking me questions about my sexual history and stuff, all but one or two of which were answered by me, "Nope." No drug use, no sex with men, no previous STDs, nothing that would add risk factors to my situation. She stopped at one point, looked up at me, and in all seriousness asked, "Why are you here?" I said, "To get tested for STDs and HIV. I have had unprotected sex before." "When was the last time?" she asked. "About two years ago," I answered. She laughed and went to the end of the list of options for that question, the last option stating, "> 2 mos." "I guess that's more than two months, huh?" she snickered. I nervously smiled.

At the end of the interrogation, she asked me to sit on the examining table. I had to ask her a couple of times what she said because my brain wasn't ready for that. But I only sat there for maybe 30 seconds while she washed her hands and put on clear gloves. Then she told me to stand up and pull down my pants and underwear. I obliged. She briefly explained that she was going to feel for abnormalities like lumps and whatnot before she gently grabbed my sac, pushed up my overlapping belly and looked at my pubic hairs, and not-so-gently pulled back my foreskin and felt my limp penis. Once that was over, I started to bend down and pull my pants back up but was stopped dead in my tracks by the doctor producing a long metal needle-looking device. I couldn't get a word of protest out of my mouth before she said, "Relax, take deep breaths, don't anticipate pain." Then, even swifter than the nurse drew blood, she stuck this object inside my dickhole, took a sample of whatever lives inside my dickhole, and took it out. "Good job," she said as I attempted to breathe. I'm so glad that didn't last very long, because that pain was one of the most intense sensations I've ever felt, and I couldn't have taken more than that split second without fainting and dropping to the floor. It wasn't helped by the fact that, again, I had absolutely no clue what was about to happen. If I could have been a little prepared, it might not have been so traumatic, but then again, maybe this is how the clinic chooses to take the sample because too many guys were getting the yips and not holding still during this procedure in anticipation of it.

In any event, I sat in the waiting area numb, wide-eyed and disbelieving of what just happened. The doc told me to wait for my number to be called again, or else I would have torn out of there like a bat out of hell. I didn't know what I was waiting for. Keeping you in the dark seemed to be the standard operating procedure here. I did snap out of my trance long enough to notice someone actually come into the clinic to get her results, which strangely enough, relieved me because if what just happened to me wasn't supposed to happen, then nobody would be returning. Or something like that. Ten minutes later, number 25 was called yet again, and I returned to the scene of the crime, Office 6. The doc in rapid fire explained that all of my preliminary tests came up totally clean, that I was to return in two weeks with ID and a blue card she gave me to get my full results, and to "go home. Go trick-or-treating." I smiled because when you're told that you seem to have a clean bill of health, you're supposed to smile. But I actually was somewhat irritated by having to go through all of that to be told I'm clean. I already knew I was clean when I walked in there.

I had to wade through a bunch of kids at the front door when I left who started trick-or-treating early. The clinic has its blinds down and no signs anywhere, so I wondered if those kids even knew whose door they were knocking on or if they just wanted candy from somewhere, anywhere. The first thing I did when I left was text my girlfriend and tell her, "I just got straight-up violated on this STD test. (The doctor) gave better hand than 'Karen,' and I was going to move out of state with her!" But that was just a dig at Karen. In reality, it didn't feel good at all, it wasn't fun, and I now have even more incentive to never stick my cock in anything other than my virgin girlfriend ever again.

Pt. 2 to come this Wednesday.

3 Things

The blogger Grizzbabe, apparently the only person who still reads my blog, inquired last post about my girlfriend, asking that I provide more details. I decided to do that in a +3/-3 format, where I reveal 3 things I love and don't like about her. I decided to provide an actual event for each characteristic, as a way of providing some insight on her. Right off, I want to say that the list of things I love--her intelligence, natural beauty, ambition, sobriety, and the fact that she supports me and loves me, for example--runs far deeper than things I dislike, but I wanted to pick 3 things I loved that were unique to her and showed who she really is.

3 Things I Love About My Girlfriend:

1. She is legitimately innocent. She couldn't harm a fly. The combination of her being left-handed, which gives her a level of goofy that's inherent in all left-handers, and innocent results in some real rollercoaster conversations covering all kinds of subject matter. The foremost examples to me of her innocence concern her discoveries of sexual terms that she had never heard before and her subsequent surprise at what the terms mean. Her most recent example was me offhandedly mentioning salad-tossing and her stopping me in mid-sentence to softly say, "I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing it doesn't have anything to do with salad." I don't know why I find that so fucking cute, but I do.
2. She is very levelheaded. She doesn't do a damn thing without thinking it out and planning it beforehand. I can imagine some areas where some spontaneity would come to good use, such as in the bedroom, but I haven't experienced any problems with her yet. Short of actual penetration, which she is waiting for marriage to experience, anything I've wanted to do with her physically she's accommodated. The levelheadedness comes in when I feel the urge to open her legs wide and drive my penis into her. This is the action that has led to feelings of paranoia and mistrust on my part in all of my past relationships. If she had let me do that like all the others, then there's a good chance that mentally I would have seen her like all the other sluts no matter how civilized she acted afterwards. But she has made the decision that no matter how much she loves me, she will not let anyone break her vow to herself to wait until marriage to make love. I respect the hell out of that resolve. It feels great to be involved with someone who's going to stay the course through the hard times and be my rock and rein me in when I get too wild. Another example is the fact that she has a plan to save a certain amount of money before she sells her property and moves here and marries me. Not before she reaches that goal, though. She admits that she's not the best at saving money, but she knows what she wants to accomplish before she starts her new life here, and she's driving towards that goal.
3. She is the embodiment of that "Lady in the street/freak in the bed" mentality that so many try to emulate but fall miserably short. (Speaking of "Karen," I recently saw a picture of her, and whoa, is she not aging well.) My girlfriend has a voice like honey and a demeanor so professional that she has the respect of all of her contemporaries. She is quick to smile and help anyone in need. My family loves her. Even my aunt, who has never liked any of my girlfriends because they were dating me and blew a joke my girlfriend made to me that I repeated to her way out of proportion, couldn't stay mad at her and constantly asks when we're taking the next step. I didn't even know that she had very large breasts after the first few times we met because she doesn't wear revealing clothing. She doesn't have to throw her body parts out in public to be a woman. Yet in private she is (after a period of time to loosen up) loving, giving, communicating her needs, and not just willing to do what it takes to keep her man happy, but is eager to learn the different ways to do it well. She recently wrote a letter expressing how much she is looking forward to learning how to please me orally in every way possible as long as I want it. My hands were shaking after reading it.

3 Things I Don't Like About My Girlfriend:

1. She's insecure. This is truly the pot calling the kettle black, but I see how maddening it can be to love someone who is so hard on themselves. When she says that she looks in the mirror and sees something different than the woman I saw on our first date, it perplexes me. She says she felt beautiful and confident that day, but she can't replicate that feeling. She looks the same to me. She just today sent me a critique of her writing that her online teacher gave her, and she warned me that it was kinda harsh. It really wasn't. She just tends to take criticism a little personally, and again, I realize that I'm the king of taking things too personally. But I see how it affects the person on the other side, because I don't know what to tell her when she's feeling down on herself. And since we're long distance, I haven't found out yet whether my arm around her shoulder or tongue on her neck will make any difference.
2. She's a workaholic. This drives me crazy. Yes, she owns her own house and car and has to work hard to maintain these and her other pleasures, like movies and books and cooking. But she had not taken a full week off her primary job in so long before last month that her company had to go out and hire a temp just to do all the things she does in her absence. They don't do that for anyone else in her office because the other workers have backups. No one backs up my girlfriend because she hasn't needed one all these years. She has two other part-time jobs in addition to this full-time one. Her downtime currently consists of a few nights a week, Saturday evening, and Sunday. She has caught a 6:45A plane back home on Monday morning after spending a weekend here with me because she intended to work that day. I don't imagine I would ever go to work the same day I fly home from a leisure trip. The number of vacation days she had earned when her bosses counted them all up was staggering, but she only used a handful. That dedication to her job is admirable, but I worry about her having enough energy to enjoy our downtime once we are together and sharing a large amount of downtime.
3. Since I can't think of anything else I dislike, she loves spicy food, and I hate it. I see a lot of meals in our future where my sinuses get cleared from all the peppers. Damn Jamaican/Southern heritage. There was some dish she cooked me where she asked how was it and I said, "Would have been great if not for the spices." I get the feeling I'll be repeating that sentence many times.

No Gnus Is Good Gnus

This post dedicated to Jrbour Jump. (Why is his profile missing from Wikipedia's Great Space Coaster page? Or did I imagine him being on that show when I was a kid?)

I'm putting out a general post on my life even though there's no actual news to report. But as busy as I am at work and school, I know I could easily go without making a blog post until the semester ends in December, and the 3 people out there who read my blog may get worried if I wait that long.

• At home, the animals living above me continue to be on a rampage. A few Saturdays ago I turned on my bathroom light, and I heard a sizzling noise for about 5 seconds followed by a burning smell. It took a while for me to figure out that some water had made its way into the globe that covers my light bulb and the sizzling was the electricity burning off the water from the bulb. If that globe had not been there, the water would have been all over my floor. Apparently they haven't been trained to bathe in the actual bathtub, but rather anywhere in the bathroom will do. Later that night a boy who looked to be about 15 banged on my window and asked me to buzz him in because he had accidentally locked himself out upstairs. Thinking that this wasn't unusual considering who my neighbors are, I buzzed him in. A second later, feeling uneasy about my decision, I called my aunt, who owns this building, to basically ask her if I should have done this. Her son said that she and her husband just left. The reason they just left is because my other first-floor neighbor, a fat white guy who may be even nerdier and more introverted than me (complete with cat), had called my aunt complaining about some menacing-looking young black guy banging on his window. Oh, and he called the cops. My aunt explained to me that no, I shouldn't have buzzed him in because technically no one needs to be in that apartment that late except the two people on the lease, an old woman and her old man. Their kids are the problems, and they're not supposed to be there. But call it a hunch, I don't think they will leave anytime soon. My aunt told me at the beginning of the summer that they were about to move. They're still there. And I bet everyone will know when they actually leave because of the property damage they will cause to the house as a parting gift. Speaking of the house, I will get a little help in keeping cold out as well as (hopefully) hundreds of flies on a random evening invading my kitchen. My place as well as every other apartment in the house will be getting brand new windows. This was supposed to happen last Saturday, but instead it will happen this Saturday. But I won't be home to oversee it because...

• At work, The Powers That Be decided to move my off days from Friday and Saturday back to Tuesday and Wednesday. The explanation I was given was that they need more people working from Thursday through Monday because that's when most of the mail we process arrives, and since I have hardly any seniority, I had to go. I'm not happy about this at all because Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays just feel like off days more than the other days of the week, and it seemed to have a negative effect on my attitude to have to come to work on weekends. The streets are desolate, the other people I commute with seem to have dead souls like me, and the people I work with aren't happy either. No one, not even a homebound grump like me, wants to work weekends. I had already conceded missing most of the football season working Sundays. But now by working Saturdays, I can't watch college football either, nor can I watch the handful of Saturday night NFL games at the end of the season. Plus, my girlfriend was using her free weekend minutes to talk to me on Saturday mornings, when we're both alert and awake, as an alternative to talking when I get home from work at 11:15 every night. But now we will have to cut off our Saturday conversations because I have to get up around noon and get ready to go to work. Sigh. Life ain't fair. The only positives I can take is the fact that now Tuesday and Wednesday after class, instead of hustling to work, I can come home, chill, study (if I feel like it) and talk to my girlfriend that evening at a much earlier time than usual. The folks at work are also on my ass about my productivity numbers, but I feel that since I'm error free and don't waste time yapping with other co-workers, they should take it easy on me. It's not like I'm trying to be slow, but I am trying to be meticulous. I will not screw up trying to go faster thanks to their pressure. If they hate how slow I work, they need to stop giving me bonus money for being error-free. Also at work, they had to send several people down to the Dallas office a couple of weeks ago because for some reason they were backed up. It was a 2-week stint, all expenses paid, hotel, 3 square meals, and I believe a $70 per diem. I would have loved to go just for the adventure aspect. Alas, I am in the middle of classes. And speaking of classes...

• At school, I'm performing better than I hoped I would. The biology class is where I thought I would really get creamed, but the 2 major tests we've had, I've pulled a B out of both of them. If the teacher hadn't posted an online study guide for those tests, I would have gotten Cs at best. The lecture with this teacher is just dreadfully boring, and the teacher is kinda hot, so it must really be bad for me to be nodding off every single class. She's really thin and likes to wear shirts that are short-sleeved to show off her guns and are too small for her so that they raise up a little at the slightest movement, showing off a peek at her abs. And she just had a kid, so she's really anxious to show off her abs. Even when it's been chilly, she just happens to have a shirt on a size too small. And I'm still one step away from snoring during this class. The computer class is a breeze for now because we haven't gotten to the real hard stuff yet, like Excel and lite Web design. That teacher doesn't care about anything, man. He starts his lesson on time, he ends it on time, and if you missed something, tough shit. But that's cool for me, because I can go in there and study biology and surf the net and do whatever I want. The speech class has been fun, not because I like standing in front of a room full of people I don't know and speaking, but because the teacher in that class is a world-class goofball and she keeps things light. It's scary sometimes how much she reminds me of "Sarah" because she's also from Kentucky (Sarah spent a lot of time in Kentucky as a child) and has that same accent and off-the-wall sense of humor. On top of that, she drifted off one day talking about a good-looking black guy she saw on a TV program, so just like Sarah, I bet nothing gets her off like a big black cock up her ass. But since I'm pulling an A in that class, I won't have to resort to that to get a good grade. Oh yeah, and I'm taken. Speaking of my girlfriend...

• She has wondered why I haven't made any posts about us lately, and I was proud to tell her that it was because since she's not psychotic and I'm not nearly was whacko as I was, there's just nothing to make a post about. It's not like we have a big issue to resolve and I need to post and figure out which way to go. (I mean, besides the possibility that we'll decide to get married next year. But that's a little issue, not a big deal at all.) Everything's going well with us, as well as a long-distance relationship can go where we sometimes don't find time to talk to each other until midnight or 1 in the morning. The next big deal on our horizon is Thanksgiving, when I travel down south and meet...her family!!! (Cue screams of horror.) And speaking of horror...

• My football picks against the spread so far this year: 38-43. That's under .500, and that's pathetic. If I were still gambling, I'd be crying in my cream soda. And speaking of sports, I don't know whether to be impressed by the Colorado Rockies making the World Series by winning 21 of their last 22 games (or something like that) or sickened that they happened to get hot at the right time and win a very weak and winnable National League. One thing I do have to chuckle at: that's somewhere around 50 years now that the Cubs haven't won a National League pennant, and now the Rockies join the Padres, Diamondbacks, and Marlins as expansion teams since then that have won a NL pennant, and I might even be missing a team or 2. And next year will be 100 years without a World title for the fuzzy Cubbies. Lovable losers? Well, that's half right.

Blacks In The News, Or Why Obama Won't Be President

These are the 3 most prominent news stories involving blacks in America right now, and in my mind it's proof that the way the media portrays us (not that we don't bring it on by acting like this), a black man will never be elected to the highest office:

1. O.J.'s Legal Woes: The Omen II. The media coverage of this has been laughable, along the lines of "Now O.J. will finally get justice dealt to him!" and "How arrogant of him to think he can cheat the legal system yet again!" This story was so hyped from the moment it broke, and I believe it was because most folks assumed O.J. was in hiding all this time, ashamed to be in public since his acquittal on charges of murdering his ex-wife and her boyfriend over a decade ago and subsequent loss of a liability suit filed by the boyfriend's family. I really think people were shocked that he was still a part of society and that this issue, comparatively small, would be the Big One they were waiting for that would lock this animal up for what he did to those two innocent people. Look, I have bad news for all of you who think this is justice: The white girl ain't coming back. She's still dead. That's not going to change, so quit making yourself feel good by staying on top of this non-story. One black guy got away with two killings. Get over it. Considering the lynchings of innocent black folks back in the good ol' days, by my count that makes the score several thousand to 2. You're still leading.

2. Speaking of race wars, Free the Jena 6. My girlfriend tried to convince me that this is nothing but a justice issue, but here's what I see when I look at it: Blacks rallying around black teens who beat a white boy unconscious. Great. Nice thing to throw support behind. Of all the black folks in America who could use support from our "leaders," let's go rally not for scientists trying to cure diseases, or philanthropists donating needed money to serious issues, but let's go to some backwater town in Louisiana to hold hands and sing for some kids who answered racial tensions and violence with more racial tension and violence. Yeah, they got charged with a higher crime than the white kids who beat a black kid previously. But they beat someone unconscious. The white guy attended a party that night, apparently, so the theory I've seen in some places is that it couldn't have been that bad. I don't care if he starred in a porno that night, he was beaten unconscious. I used to be guilty of getting caught doing something I shouldn't when I was in school, pointing to someone else and saying, "So-and-so did something bad too!" That was nothing more than trying to take the spotlight off what I did wrong. I didn't want to be responsible for my actions. By making the rallying cry "Free the Jena 6," the people in charge of things down there make it seem like they want these kids absolved of responsibility. That would be a miscarriage of justice, too. And by the way, I haven't seen much of Jesse Jackson in recent years, but he made his way out to a high school in suburban Chicago a few years ago to support some teenagers who were expelled after a gang brawl at a basketball game. And there he was along with Al Sharpton in Jena last week. Really, Jesse, you have nothing better to do? And I've seen this situation referred to as the jump-off for a "new civil rights movement." Wow. Branche, Abernathy, King, and so many others marching for equality during the '50s and '60s, and some kids committing battery and assault is on the same footing? Did I miss something??

3. The role model that is Isiah Thomas. All those years kissing Magic Johnson and cultivating an image as a sensitive young man with a quick, heartwarming smile, and because he and the New York Knicks refused to settle a harassment lawsuit with a woman, Anucha Browne Sanders, who had a laundry list of complaints against Zeke, all the sordid details are spilling out under oath in court. What a jackass. The funniest story told during the trial to me is the tale of a female intern getting drunk while hanging out with Isiah and the guys, then watching Stephon Marbury pull up and wait for her to get in his car and fuck him, as if this is the only way he can get some tail even though he makes millions of dollars and isn't totally ugly. The only way this would be slightly cool is if Starbury had the song "Bitch Get In My Car" by 50 Cent playing during this episode. At least then it could be ironic and witty. But without that, it's just sad. The only other thing I have to add to this is that I think about Isiah's backcourt teammate all those years with the Pistons, Joe Dumars. He was a class act, even when the Bad Boys were slamming my beloved Bulls into basket supports and on the floor in the name of competition, and even when Isiah and the other Pistons were tucking their tails between their legs and running off the court once the Bulls finally were able to knock them out of the playoffs in 1991. Dumars is now the Pistons' general manager, and we never seem to hear anything about him. I wish that he would get some of the press coverage Isiah is getting right now, not for doing bad things, but for doing the right things all these years. What a breath of fresh air it would be to see some media coverage about a black man that had nothing to do with a courtroom or a rally for violent teenagers or sales of a rap album. But that would mean that those in charge of media coverage would have to acknowledge blacks as deserving of such coverage, which means it won't be happening soon.

The Shortest Football Preview Ever

I wanted to type this before the first game of the NFL season last night, but I didn't have time between my classes and my job. It's going to look like front-running on the heels of last night's game, but I honestly was going to make this pick anyway: My Super Bowl pick this season, because absolutely no one else is picking the Colts to repeat, is the Colts to repeat and beat the Cowboys. I'm picking the Cowboys because someone has to go to the Super Bowl from the NFC despite none of the teams deserving to go. I'm picking the Colts to win it for one simple reason: Peyton Manning appears from a distance to be an anal, repetitive, ultra-competitive asswipe, and I think he's going to take the chatter around him that the Colts can't possibly repeat and use it as motivation to become even more anal and repetitive. No one masters his offense at QB like him. Not even close. And yes, the Colts defense looked great last night against the Saints, but even if they didn't, I would pick Manning to lead the offense over the entire AFC whether the defense wanted to come with him or not. His kryptonite all these years had been the smashmouth defense of the Patriots, and not only did he overcome them in last year's AFC title game, but they're another year older and missing some key parts due to injuries and suspensions. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing stopping Peyton Manning from winning as many Super Bowls as he wants except himself and his offensive teammates, all of whom seem to be as focused and driven as he is. And that, my friends, is nightmare fuel for the rest of the NFL.