I know it’s been forever since I’ve blogged, but I keep forgetting about the shit I want to talk about, or I just simply don’t have the time to type out my thoughts, well, until now.  I was in some sort of awesome mood when I woke up for some crazy reason.  It could have been because I slept for about 9 hours or so, or could have been because it didn’t hurt too bad to walk on my fucked up left foot (that shit didn’t last too long, by the way, but it’s getting better), but in either case I started to think of what a perfect day for me would entail.  It was quite crazy.  I was noticing that one of the only things that make me truly happy is daydreaming.  I find myself daydreaming a lot.  Mainly, it’s all about how I wish my life could be… pretty much retired with the freedom to do what I want when I want.  I wonder… how many other people daydream like that or as often as I do?  Is my life actually that bad?  I mean, it’s not freakin’ awesome by any stretch, but it’s not as bad as it could be.  Nevertheless, I find myself lost in this imaginary world where I am always happy.  It’s tripped out.

Today, my daydream was my perfect day.  It would start with me hitting up one of my favorite golf courses to hit some balls off the driving range or actually play a round, then from there do some laps in a pool, then after that hit up the gym and rock out some cardio, then finally spend the rest of the day watching films and listening to podcasts.  This perfect day of course is on the condition that I stay in the immediate area of far west Texas / southern New Mexico.  I’m sure I could think of awesome things to do in my other favorite cities, but I kept this mornings’ daydream to my area today.  The other thing I was thinking about was how active I have really become and want to do.  Granted, I’ve been golfing (or attempting to golf) for about 6 or so years now, but a lot of the things that bring me joy involve being outdoors.  Swimming, golfing, walking, boating… what the hell?!  I hardly ever watch TV anymore.  Not that I ever really did, but I’d much rather read a book or do any of the sports that I mentioned above over watching a mindless TV program.

What the hell is wrong with me?  Wait a minute, fellow Needles, don’t answer that.


I think i’m losing my mind

Well, curiosity has gotten the better of me as of late.  I want to see if I can look like a severe health issue struck me, much like it did with Reverend Gonzo once upon a time.  I’ve already been going to the gym consistently since around October, with the exception of the few days before and after Thanksgiving, the same for Christmas, and when my POS back decided to be a bastard 2 weeks ago.  I’ve also been attempting (not well, mind you) to rock out a low carb diet, as this is the method that has worked with me to lose the weight.  Now, I’ve added another instrument in this experiment of mine.  I’m using the MyFitnessPal app on my Vibrant.  For those that don’t have this thing, it’s pretty insane.  This app tracks your meals of food, water consumption, as well as any cardio work and strength work that you do.  It does some more shit too, but overall, this damn thing is quite evil.  I’m sure this is definitely going to help me out, and with the use of this madness, I can’t wait to really put boots to asses, as Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson says it.

So, here’s the plan… My day is going to start at around 3:35am, I’m going to show up at the gym by 4am, rock out 30 minutes on the elliptical, get home, eat a meal of breakfast food, get ready for work, at lunch walk 30 minutes, then after work do 20-30 more minutes of elliptical and add some weights.  Sounds like I got hit too hard upside my dome, huh?  Not only that, but I bet you’re wondering what the f word is making me do this…

Well, I’ll tell you this.  It’s a mixture of two things.  Spaceballs 2 is one of them.  I’m going to be joining up with a weight loss contest at my ol’ man’s workplace that will pay me a gangload of cash money for losing the most.  Secondly, I’m pretty curious to see how I look like a twink.  ROTFL!  Ok, I fucked myself up with that shit, but seriously.  I haven’t been thin and whatnot since I was around 7 years old.  That was 24 years ago.  That’s a long time to fuck around.  I figure it’s about time to see how many people I can terrify when they see me again for the first time, much like what happened to me with Gonz those few years ago. 

So, with that said, I’m going to start my journey in honest starting today.  I have to take it easy at the gym as we’re going to play a show tomorrow night, but I’m already planning on making up for it by doing at least 30 minutes on the elliptical on Saturday and Sunday.   I’m also sorry to make this blog entry as a fucking fat club, biggest loser, whatever you wanna call it blog, but I thought I might as well talk my shit here so that you can bust my bawls if you find me fucking up on this schedule.

What do you think?  Am I insane?

Welcome to the REAL world

So, Lunchbox, T.W. McMeatwhistle, and I were at the gym this afternoon, as been the usual lately, when T.W. and I filled in the conversation we were having at work about playing at a venue here in town to Lunchbox, it was brought up that I am a Negative Nancy/Debbie Downer.  Of course, in quick fashion, I cooked up a response as per my custom, and attempted to explain myself.  It didn’t go over so well, or rather it fell on deaf ears.  See, what some people perceive as being negative, I see as being a realist and seeing shit for what it is.  Call me crazy, but this is not a happy world we live in.  Life sucks.  That’s the fuckin’ truth, my friends.  I don’t see how some people can’t see it.


I will admit, some people have it pretty fuckin’ sweet.  I’m not going to be dumb and say they don’t, but the majority of people aren’t so lucky.  I happen to be at the bottom of the barrel of the unlucky.  That’s the way I see it, because that’s the way it is.  Why bullshit myself?  I have too many examples to count to back up my argument.  It does nothing but cause more pain when reality comes knocking to remind myself of the reality that is life.  I hope you don’t take what I’m saying like I’m suicidal again or that I’m feeling sorry for myself and want pity.  That’s not it.  I’m just saying that I know my place in this world.  I’m not a leader.  I don’t think I inspire anybody, nor do I want anybody to blow shit up my ass and try to inspire me.  I keep my head down, and keep on moving.  I see things for what they are.  If that means I don’t try and pretend that something will happen if I hope hard enough, then so be it.  I’ve learned ten times over… fuck hope.  LOL.  Funny to me, and true.  Again, I’m just going through with the motions and trying to keep in the shadows.  I know my place.  I just try and use the time I have and bury myself in the things that make me happy.  Stuff like music, podcasts, movies, daydreaming about things I’ll never have, and lusting to holiday in my favorite places keep me happy… not the hand that was dealt to me in this world.  I suppose that’s how I bullshit myself now that I think about it.  Who knows?  Maybe I’m the idiot.

starting again just to fail in the future

Have you ever actually noticed or cared about the difference between want and need?  I never really had until talking with my sibling yesterday.  We’re both fucked in the cash flow department and essentially the shit really came down to wants and needs.  Sure, there are a lot of things I want, but there are more important things that I need and thanks to the things I’ve wanted and gotten, I’m fucked now with the things I need.  Ain’t that about a bitch? 

Last night kinda opened my eyes to start fresh again… with everything.  I’m done spending bullshit money.  Hell, aside from my birthday celebration, I’ve already been doing that for months now.  I have no choice.  I have to start doing this shit to dig myself out of the nice hole I’ve dug for myself yet again.  Good thing for me, I’ve grown older and somewhat wiser.  I really don’t go to bars anymore.  In fact, I can honestly say I fucking hate the idea more than I used to when I would go to them.  Why the hell am I going to spend a shitload of money to get drunk, be around assholes I can’t stand (hipsters, douchebags, popular people, mexi-guidos, etc…), and listen to shit “music”, when I can have a way better time buying booze cheaper, staying at home, listening to music I deem to be good, and if I get wasted I’m already home.  Can’t beat that shit, if you ask me.  Then again, I’ve always been like that.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.  Aside from when I hit up Phoenix and/or Vegas, I’m pretty much an antisocial hermit.

This brings me back to wants/needs… As I was talking to brother (she’s actually my sister, but I call her brother.  Long story) about the bad ass Tony Lama boots I saw at the factory outlet that thought that we had just talked about hit me.  Sure, I want those boots, but do I need them?  No.  Furthermore, when the fuck would I wear them?!  I don’t fuckin’ go anywhere.  By choice, I don’t, by the way.  I’d buy them just for my own enjoyment.  To say that I have them, I guess.  In short, that’s a stupid reason to buy something like that.  I guess I could wear them to work and show up Twinkie McMeatwhistle.  LOL.  But, no… I don’t think I’ll get them.  Instead, I’m going to get back to righting this fucked up proverbial ship of mine again.

It’s nothing but a struggle with me.  In the immortal words of one Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr. “If it ain’t one thing, it’s the muthafuckin’ other…”  Once I try and get back on a good financial footing, I find a way to fuck up.  I start going to the gym, and without fail, some part of my body breaks down and I have to stop going, but I pick up the bad habits that make me have to work twice as hard there.  It’s frustrating.  I’m stuck in this vicious circle, but for some dumb reason, I keep trying to fight out of it.

Now, my resolve is to get back to the gym starting today… fuck my dumb back.  I don’t give a fuck if it’s sore, or in pain, or whatever.  I have to go back.  My other resolve is to not spend as much money on bullshit that I don’t NEED.  I think I’m going to do good… at least I hope to.  And hell, if not, I’ll be sure to be bitching about it here… where nobody but myself reads this shit.

Thinking back…

So, Gonzo and I walked at lunch the other day, and while walking and talking a thought occurred to me.  I really don’t have clear memories of my past.  And no, I was never kidnapped, pretty much the majority of my life is traumatic, and I’ve never been in a coma… So what is it?  Could I have drunk all of my memories away?  Hell… maybe.  Does anybody else have this problem?  It kinda sucks, to be honest.  I had a pretty cool childhood and teenage life.  I mean, i know that the family did roadies to California twice to check out the House that Walt built, Knotts, and Universal.  I don’t remember a solid memory of any of that.  Worse yet, i was between the ages of 8-11 when these trips happened!  Worse yet, i really don’t remember much from my trip to DisneyWorld during the christmas holiday of 1997 either.  I remember bits and pieces, but not a whole lot.  In writing this now, I really don’t remember a lot of things, even recent shit.  Could i really have drunk my memories away?  Hell, if that’s true, that really fucking sucks.  Well, wait… there’s a lot of horrible shit in my life that I’m glad I forgot.  No names and times mentioned.  heh.  I really gotta make a better effort to try to remember more significant things and people in my life.

Tippi Toes and the 702

I’ve been meaning to type this blog out for a while now, but I’m barely getting around to it… actually this is two blogs in one.  This is the tale of a phrase I started using last year for masturbation and the question that I asked Gonzo last week after thinking about it… Why the fuck do I, or rather we, still go to Vegas?

First off, yes, the phrase I’m talking about is “Tippi Toes”.  I don’t blast it out on twitter too much, but it’s become lexicon for me in my real life.  Sometimes people actually ask me what the hell I’m talking about when I bring up tippi toes, so I figure it’s only fair that y’all know as well.  Tippi toes came to be on December 10, 2010 in, where else, Las Vegas.  The family and I went there to celebrate my 30th birthday (the day before) and my grandparents’ 55th wedding anniversary (the day after).  Now, usually, I’m hitting up Vegas at least a few times a year, but times like these are always special.  Being my 30th birthday, I wanted to make it extra special, so I planned out a visit to the House of Blues to see my favorite band, Steel Panther.  I was fucking geeked for the two months leading up to seeing them and when the day finally arrived, the excitement was nearly too much to bare.  We drove into town that day and I had planned out to take a nap before the show, but I think I only managed 30 minutes of downtime before I gave up and headed out to Mandalay Bay for the fun times.

Now, as I told the tale to the band the week after this happened (fictitious tale…for the most part, before you actually ask):

I walked from The Venetian where I was staying over to Harrah’s and got onto the Monorail.  I walked through MGM Grand and eventually walked over to the tram at Excalibur over to Mandalay Bay.  As some of y’all know, this picture below is what you see going down the escalators…

I stopped in at the restrooms right across from Mario Barth’s tat shop

…and I was still so amped up I needed to rub one out!  This is when I made my way into a stall, rubbed one out, then when I dropped the salt bomb, I made sure to get on my tippi toes to make the feeling that much better.  That’s exactly what I needed.  I walked out, a bit calmer, but still super pumped to see Steel Panther!  My Steel Panther tale is for another blog, though…

To be Continued!!!!

Hahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!  Needless to say, I happen to reference rubbing it out with my homies all the time, and no, rubbing it out didn’t happen!  BUT, if you happen to see tippi toes in the stalls of public restrooms, you pretty much know what’s happening there.  Somebody is gettin’ one off.  And now!!!  Any time I mention tippi toes, you will know what the hell I’m talking about.

SO!!!!  Now, back to another thing dealing with Vegas… Gonzo and I were talking about a lot of things over last week, and the question popped into my head:  “Why the fuck do I still want and need to go to Vegas??  It’s never been marketed to me, and even more so now it’s not.”  Gonzo told me, essentially, he goes to hang out and drink.  Basically so do I.  That’s the short answer though.  I kept thinking about it and Goddamn, Vegas has really changed since the first time I showed up there in September of 1998.  Back then, Vegas was geared a lot more towards families, there were not too many shows on the strip, and the casinos were big as fuck.  I’ve gone at least once each year since, and each passing year things change there.  I won’t really bore you with that, but now Vegas seems to be geared more towards guidos, clubbers, and general douchebags that spend (in my opinion) way too much to have a good time there looking popular.  I’m sure you’ve seen them when you’ve gone there.  Hot chicks in short dresses, douchebags looking like Ronnie, The Situation, and Pauly D… Basically, horrible.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I love me some drunken debauchery, but I’m not going to waste a shitload of money to dress like an asshole, and over spend money to booze it.  That is what is basically happening in Vegas now with the multiple clubs in each casino.  More power to the hotel/casinos though!  Who wouldn’t steal from the people willing to pay for that?  They obviously are making as much money from that as gaming because they are taking casino floor space away from that and giving it to the “Ultra lounges” and clubs.  Think of it, all of casino floors have been shrinking at the strip casinos and the thing they are pimping out now is the club nightlife.

But again, we (Gonzo and I) still go.  Hell, the last time I was there was mid September, and Gonzo is going there tomorrow night.  I can’t really speak for Gonz… but I when I go, I am hitting up my favorite restaurants (another thing I left off that Vegas is focusing on)… which are BLT Burger, Grand Luxe Café, KGB Burger and Toby Keith’s, and also actually paying for booze directly instead of wasting time and money on gaming to get my comp drinks there.

That’s really why I go.  Sure, I’m the nearly out of place asshole in my Heavy Metal & generally idiot T-Shirts and cargo shorts, but I have a great time enjoying the madness in my own dumb way.  I can’t wait to go again, by the way.  I’m planning on a Steel Panther lost weekend, and I would love to have all of my Fanther friends to hit it up with me, so I’ll be sure to let y’all know about it so that you can enjoy the madness with me!

Hippie thoughts!

So, the good Reverend and I were having a meal of food yesterday at our designated lunch time, and he told me that he had watched the film Dances with Wolves over the weekend.  In our opinion, this film is quite badass and still holds up today.  I immediately started thinking about how badass it would be to in the rolling hills of the American frontier with nothing but a cabin/house/whathaveyou with the obvious items needed for survival.  Jokingly, but sorta true, I also suggested my Kate Winslet with some water based lubricant be included in my survival essentials.  After blasting that joke, I really did start to think a bit more… What the hell would I really want to take if I were to have, let’s say a 2 month excursion out where Lt. John Dunbar, Dances with Wolves if you will, kicked back with two socks and the Sioux American Indians?

That’s the thought that was on my mind most of yesterday.  It really excited me, to be honest.  Not in that way!  Wait… yes in that way too. DAMN YOU, KATE WINSLET!

Jokes aside, I think I would really enjoy that time out in nature.  I wouldn’t have much of a problem because I’m a loner anyway, and I’m really a nature-hippie at heart, so I think I would have a lot of fun.  All that I would really need would be about 3 or so 500 page college ruled spiral notebooks of paper, about 4 pens, and about 10-20 books to read.  I think I would really have a great time getting up, getting inspired by the landscape, writing stuff out, reading during the middle of the day, probably writing more towards the end of the day, and repeating that for 60 days.  F yes.  That’s awesome to me.  If I ever become rich, I’m setting this experiment up.  Who would stop me?  I wouldn’t have any debt to worry about… if I still worked, I’d take that time off, or kick rocks with the gig altogether… It would be me, baby Jesus, and the joint our ol’ man created for 60 days of fun times.  A mind cleansing that, in my opinion, we all need.  Your thoughts?

Well, signing off… i’m Tipping Toes.