Hey guys, look at me, I'm blogging again, weeeeeeee...

Since I'm such a gifted writer, it only took me a little over a month to figure out what my next blog post would be about...

The difference of getting "dressed up" between guys and girls. 

I know what you're thinking...this is going to be good. Yeahhhhhhh, about that, it probably won't be.

Ok, so, for most girls, getting "dressed up" (like, for a date or a party or a night out with her bitches) involves a series of very specific steps that will then most likely all culminate with the disastrous revelation that she's too fat, her hair's not straight enough, her boobs aren't big enough, or something of the like. Am I right, ladies?

And, like I said, this is AFTER a strategic protocol is followed to try to ensure that these lowly feelings don't arise. A protocol that involves showering, shaving, plucking, lotioning, nail painting, hair blow drying, make-upping, booze drinking, magic potion drinking, jumping jacking, etc. (yes, I know some of these aren't real words). For some of the exceptional loony bins, it may even involve fake tanning, bra stuffing, spanx wearing, cosmetic surgery, or whatever else you might associate with excessiveness and an overall plummeted self image.

The likely end result after all of this prep work is a girl that looks as good as she can possibly look...or, at the very least, as good as she can possibly make herself look depending on her skill set. We're not all the best at makeup application, hair styling or making mountains out of mole holes. I think what I mean by that is it's hard to make boobs look big when they're actually small. Boy is that a good way to butcher the original intention of the phrase.

The point is, usually, a girl will still not be quite satisfied with her appearance even after working really hard at it. She always sees something negative or something she can improve.

Don't get me wrong, this is not always the case. We all know hideous looking girls or extremely overweight girls that somehow lack common sense and have an over abundance of self confidence and think they are the hottest thing since, well, anyone.

And, then there's the hot girl that thinks she is hot and knows that other people think she is hot and so, she likes to flaunt it around. Barf. But, the fellahs love this. Not good relationship material gentleman. But, yeah yeah yeah, a good show, nonetheless...I get it.

These last two paragraphs nicely sum up all the types of girls I never want to be friends with.

Uh oh, I'm losing track of my point. Ok, back on topic...girls try hard to make themselves look good, but they still don't think they look good enough.

Now, guys on the other hand...
The short version of this is a guy only has to roll out of bed, run his fingers through his receding hair and put on some clothes that are maybe clean to think that he looks like a shining star that every girl would want a piece of.

Have you guys ever seen that photo of the difference between what a girl sees when she looks in the mirror and what a guy sees when he looks in the mirror? Oh, ya know what, I'm on the internet machine right now, so let me just go ahead and google that shit for you. Here:

So true. I think this pretty much summarizes up all my points quite nicely.

If a guy is really trying to look good for a special lady, sure, he may try hard, but a guy's version of trying hard is so much easier and takes so much less effort than a girl's version of trying hard.

Guys don't typically highlight or dye their hair or blow dry it or straighten it or curl it or pin it up or whatever the fuck we do. Guys wash it, maybe...let it air dry...and put some gel in it...again, maybe. Guys shave their face, maybe. Guys may also shave their balls like once a week. Girls shave a million different things all the time. And, if you're a girl with a stache or those weird sideburn things, forget it. Then you're doing the guy shaving aaaand the girl shaving and things are just a big ole' mess for you.

Guys will put on a button down shirt or a nice t-shirt. A nice t-shirt, CHRIST. Imagine that, ladies. Guys will wear jeans 9 times out of 10. Oh, and most likely, some sort of flat, comfortable sneakery type shoe. Basically, for a guy to look his best, he has to be clean, somewhat well kept and have on a decent looking outfit. Maybe slap on a watch if he's feeling really spiffy. For a girl to look good, she has to come up with some sort of outfit that is much more like creating a cute, one-of-a-kind ensemble and much less like throwing together whatever is clean at the time. This can involve jewelry, scarves, hair accessories, high heels, uncomfortable clothes, makeup, belts, cardigans, hats, you name it.

I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

I think what all this is leading to is...this is precisely why guys should try their best to make a lot of money and pay for every date. I'm not really sure what else we possibly could have learned here.

The end! :-)

"Walking" the Youngin'

Just look at this sorry ass picture and you tell me if that looks like a dog having a good time. 

Head down, sauntering forward very slowly, hanging back just as far as her leash will allow her...all the tell tale signs of a dog in a gleeful state of mind about their walk. 

We're in Florida people...in NOVEMBER...so, the weather here is beautiful, breezy, not hot or humid. We're walking on quiet, palm tree lined streets where friendly people go by and wave and smile happily...and where Pippi can see other small dogs (usually also in pink accessories, which makes her feel comfortable) and socialize. She even has on a harness to ensure I don't pull too hard at her delicate throat. She has it made in the sun. This is cream puff status right here. Did I mention we rode in a golf cart first before the walk to try to get her amped up for the actual walk?!? 

Like, I imagine this must be how hard dorky guys try when they want to get laid by respectable, non-dorky women. Probably not good to bring up sex analogies when I'm talking about my dog, but you get the point. I don't want to have sex with my dog, you crazy monster.

Anyway, just to give you a little background on Pippi (the moment you've all been waiting for), she is actually quite hearty for someone so little in stature (7 pounds). Now, when I use the word "hearty", I am using it in the sense that you already know she's 7 pounds. So, like, she's hearty for 7 pounds...get it? Knowing this background, she has more leeway room.

It's kind of like being a "good" driver when you're Asian. If stereotypes aren't failing us (when do they really ever let us down?), you're probably not that good of a driver...but, like I said, you have way more leeway room to suck ass. There are a plethora of other similar scenarios I can unfold for you, but I don't want to piss anyone off here...well, apparently, I don't want to piss any white people off...pissing off the Asians was fine I guess. It's ok, you rear-ended my car (case and point, bam), so we're sort of even.

Anyway, you're smart people, so you get what I'm laying down. Basically, the Youngin' (a.k.a. Pippi) is a little weakling, but she is a terrier, so she has some fire/spunk/personality. Therefore, you'd think she'd be able to get through a 20 minute walk with a little excitement and pizzaz and show a little damn appreciation for the person walking her. 

No no no. Not in Pippi's book. I might as well be walking a decrepit 15 year old pug...or a dog with a serious case of mono. It looks like I'm torturing her by making her do the worst thing in the world. It's like I told her right before the flipping walk, "when we get home, I'm not going to feed you, and bonus, I'm also going to kill every chameleon in the state of Florida so that I can take away the one thing you love the most in life".  

That's what it looks like. In actuality, I'm obviously doting (get it yet Steve?) over her, singing her sweet nothings, coddling her, picking her up at random so that she gets to take a break from such an unusual and cruel form of punishment, etc.

Now, she does get hot easily (she's like a little furnace), and she has a thin trachea...so, to her credit, with lots of walking in warm weather, she does have breathing trouble. But, these aren't really excuses given that I'm not making her walk a marathon in 90 degree heat. 

So, what gives? She never used to be quiiiite this bad before. I mean, she was always kind of a little fickle pants, but never to this extreme. I'm dog sitting this weekend, and Pippi has been living with my parents in The Villages while I live in St. Pete. Therefore, I have no say anymore over how spoiled she gets. Welllllll, here is why she seemed extra bad:

Oooooooooh, well, excuuuuuuuse me! Now she's accustomed to and prefers walks at fancy pants recreation centers (like Seabreeze and Lake Miona), so neighborhood walks are no longer on par with her high levels of expectation. 

O-M-G! Really?!? Really? Really?

Dawes - A Little Bit of Everything

With his back against the San Francisco traffic,
On the bridges side that faces towards the jail,
Setting out to join a demographic, 
He hoists his first leg up over the rail.
And a phone call is made, 
Police cars show up quickly.
The sergeant slams his passenger door. 
He says, “Hey son why don't you talk through this with me, 
Just tell me what you're doing it for.”

“Oh, it's a little bit of everything, 
It's the mountains,
It's the fog,
It's the news at six o'clock, 
It's the death of my first dog, 
It's the angels up above me, 
It's the song that they don't sing,
It's a little bit of everything.”

An older man stands in a buffet line,
He is smiling and holding out his plate,
And the further he looks back into his timeline,
That hard road always had led him to today,
And making up for when his bright future had left him,
Making up for the fact that his only son is gone,
And letting everything out once, His server asks him,
Have you figured out yet, what it is you want?

I want a little bit of everything,
The biscuits and the beans,
Whatever helps me to forget about
The things that brought me to my knees,
So pile on those mashed potatoes,
And an extra chicken wing,
I'm having a little bit of everything.

Somewhere a pretty girl is writing invitations,
To a wedding she has scheduled for the fall,
Her man says, “Baby, can I make an observation?
You don't seem to be having any fun at all.”
She said, “You just worry about your groomsmen and your shirt-size,
And rest assured that this is making me feel good,
I think that love is so much easier than you realize,
If you can give yourself to someone,
Then you should.

Cause it's a little bit of everything,
The way you choke, the way you ache,
It is waking up before you, 
So I can watch you as you wake.
So in the day in late September,
It's not some stupid little ring,
I'm giving a little bit of everything.

Oh, it's a little bit of everything,
It's the matador and the bull,
It's the suggested daily dosage,
It is the red moon when it's full.
All these psychics and these doctors,
They're all right and they're all wrong,
It's like trying to make out every word,
When they should simply hum along,
It's not some message written in the dark,
Or some truth that no one's seen,
It's a little bit of everything.

Ok, so this is what happened...

It kind of goes like this:
Blah blah blah, one thing lead to another, yada yada yada, craziness/confusion/fast action ensued (a.k.a. I went on one interview and looked at one apartment and had to make moves at lightning speed...something I am no longer accustomed to in any way, shape, or form due to the relaxed nature of the last year of my life)...aaaaaaand now I live in St. Pete and have a full time job! Ta da!

The main reason it was crazy fast is because the job I got is through a temp company, and those people are always crazy movers and shakers...and want you to like basically commit to starting the job and giving away your first born child before you even go on the damn interview. It's kind of like having to pay for the milk before you even see the cow. Oh, wait, nevermind. I'm pretty sure that's inaccurate.

So yeahhhhh, in summary (this will not really be a summary of any kind), the whole theme of my blog is no longer relevant. FAIL. It was so creative and original before too. Now it's just gonna be some played out shit like "I have a regular corporate job, am sleep deprived, overworked and underpaid, I'm trying to pay my bills, keep up with my chores, party like a rockstar sometimes, and not get pregnant." So yeah, pretty much living the dream...just like before...only in a different way this time.

I'll probably keep the same theme to my blog for posterity's sake. And, if you're just starting to read my blog now and are all confused, well, you're way behind the times anyway, so eff you!

I no longer live in a retirement community with my parents. I got out before I turned 30 BETCHES!

Ok, this was supposed to be a nice post about the newest update on my life and feature some photos of my new apartment...but, that went downhill quickly, and also, I have no photos to speak of. Well, you can't win 'em all.

Sooooo, in my next post, I'll write more about my new job, life, and upload some photos of this pli-zace.

Until then, toodle loo!

Update!

Ugh, worst.blogger.ever.

I'm really just writing to say hey, I'm still alive and kickin'. I wish I could say I've been part of some noble cause lately like ending world hunger, promoting world peace, eradicating teen pregnancies, or curing cancer, but really, I got nothin'.

I've sort of been working, applying to jobs (I need more money, in a more regular fashion), and exercising. I've also sort of been drinking a lot...but, what else is new? We all need consistency in our lives, right?

Here are some random/unimportant things to clutter up this (devoid of direction) post:

~ I realized recently that I have 44 photo albums on Facebook and almost crapped myself. I mean, that's just not right or acceptable or non-egotistical in any way. Look at me in these 44 fucking albums everyone...aren't I cool?!

~ I have the itch to get another tattoo. I'm wondering if going from three to four crosses over into "trash" territory...probably...although, I suppose placement/size/design is largely the key to remedy that.

~ I've really been digging the Avett Brothers' new album "The Carpenter". I even ordered an Avett Brothers t-shirt off their website because I'm rad. I'm pretty sure no one around here has a flipping clue what it means and probably just assumes I'm really tight with my biological bros. That's good enough for me!

~ New episodes of pretty much all my favorite shows start this week. I'm kind of feeling like I need to be showered and get all my homework done in time so my parents will let me stay up late to watch them. Um, what?

~ I finished reading that book that I ranted about in a previous post..."I hope they serve beer in hell". They might as well have just called it, "I hope I don't ever have to read a book so stupid ever again in my whole life because I'm pretty sure if I had to take the SATs again, my test scores would plummet just from reading this book alone". I heard that was an alternate title they didn't go with. Anyway, obviously I didn't have to read the whole book, but oh well, I did because I'm stubborn. I will not read the rest of his books. Stupid frat guys. I mean, if I were lying in a hospital bed with nothing better to do and someone wanted to read his other books aloud to me, I might listen, but I will certainly and by no means be making an effort to read such horrible filth on my own. I do have some standards.

~ My brother and his girlfriend are moving out of The Villages this weekend to a cute suburban area right outside of Orlando. She got a better job, and it's obviously a much better location. I'm happy for them. They are good eggs.

 ~Pippi continues to chew on dried bull dicks/spinal chords like it's her only lot in life (uhhh, if you don't know what the hell this weirdness means, you're not very good at reading my blog posts). It's pretty much her favorite thing ever. She comes to bed smelling like a miniature pony at low tide. It's kind of gross, but it's ok because I love her.

Ok, I think that meets and possibly even exceeds my own expectations for this post. What about you? Gooooo me!

One Year

I've been feeling a bit sentimental lately. I think it stems from my CT trip and seeing old friends, doing familiar things, feeling nostalgic, walking in the woods (gay, I know) and all that. I'm not even supposed to be getting my period right now, so it's not that, ha. I think I need to get out of The Villages before I turn all faggot-y. I have to live around people my own age and have promiscuous sex and stuff that young people do...yeah!

But, anyway...

Almost exactly a year ago was when big decisions were made and I moved to Florida. It's not easy to look around at the life you've so painstakingly built, the person you've built that life with and shared everything with, all your possessions...and decide you need to vacate.

But, I guess sometimes that happens and such is life. During those rare moments of absolute clarity, I think deep down, on a subconscious level and perhaps even a molecular one, we are all aware of what we need the most. As humans, when we are in tune with ourselves, we can know...and we can make the most educated decisions because we have known ourselves, inside and out, our whole lives. And amidst the chaos and the tough decisions to be made, it's nice to at least have that one constant...you.

It's so easy to go about your daily life as just that...your daily life. The little routines, the monotony. You can do that for weeks, months, even years. And, don't get me wrong, it can be great and full and peppered with many wonderful things. But, it's easy to get wrapped up in all of it and have blinders on and not look around and not think any new thoughts or see anything new or really do anything different. Until one day, for one reason for another, it hits you that you have to make a change. And perhaps it's not so much a unique revelation as an unraveling over time, of sorts.

Time does heal all things. Or maybe not "heals", per se, as the layers of emotion can thicken and then even out and you can go about your business almost as you had done before...but, the scar will always be there, even though it may be small. A little mark the world has imparted on you.

And, I'm happy to be where I am today. Even though you don't know what's going to happen, life is a journey along the way. I'm happy to have change, be living in a new place, keeping in touch with my good friends, be around family, meeting new people, dating. And, I'm happy I didn't "settle down" too soon or have kids or have mortgage payments. Everyone is different, but I think I've made the right decisions for myself. And really, that's all you can ask for.

Life is short, but it's also the longest thing in the human experience, and so I don't think there's any need to rush anything or overanalyze or overplan. You can't forget about living along the way. I think the best way to be unhappy or full of hope that won't be fulfilled is to have unrealistic expectations. You have to live in the present with pure body and mind and try to enjoy every moment.

So, that's what I'm trying to do. Tomorrow, who knows.

Photos from my CT trip

I decided to stop being lazy for a minute and post some pics from my recent CT trip. I think I took around 200, and even though most are on Facebook, I'm posting a few selections here as well for posterity's sake. Enjoy!

During a walk on the Litchfield boardwalk with Ms. Danielle A.

Mike and the 3 Danielles in Danielle M.'s boat...Woodridge Lake in Goshen (I know it's blurry, but I love this one)

My feet :-)

Nicole and Blake at the Ben Taylor concert at a winery in North Stonington

Hiked up to the Hublein Tower with Nicole!

All the Keiler girls reunited for the first time in a while!

Impromptu roadside photography with D. Andrews on the way to pick up the other Danielles from the train station

View from Blake's parent's house

Sunset!

Nicole and me at the Ben Taylor concert

The famous Westy!

Nicole picking wild flowers :-)

Random wonderfulness