A very Ronstop Christmas

Its that time of year.  Christmas is here.  Its time for giving and holiday cheer :) 
Christmas sucks.  Forget Christmas.  I am bored with Christmas.  Its canceled!!!  You're all ruining it anyway. 
Don't get me wrong.  I am on board with many, if not all, of the basic concepts of Christmas.

I love getting together with friends for drinks and merrymaking.
Mostly the drinks though.  I am not completely sure of all that merrymaking entails. 
I like my family. 
For the most part.
I like turkey and mixed nuts and pies. 
Gluttony is a particular specialty of mine.
I love costumes and themed parties.
Doesn't everybody?
I love trees...
and burning trees in the fireplace.  I like burning trees in the woods too (whilst camping and such).  I do not like forest fires.  I am not sure why I bothered to make the distinction. 
I love hot chocolate (with or without marshmallows)
I love snowballs, snowmen, snow sports and snow forts.
However, I do not care for drivers that go painfully slow on perfectly clear roads.  

I like shopping.
I am a huge fan of giving gifts. 

I am a bigger fan of receiving gifts.  Don't you dare lie and flip this one.  Don't you dare. 

ESPECIALLY LADIES-I know you like to receive gifts. Otherwise, I hereby cancel Valentine's Day as well and you can forget any "Just Because" Flowers. AND!!!...if you liked to give that much...well lets just say that I know something that men like to receive and we're not receiving it in the quantities that we would like.  Trust me.  I speak for us all. 

Its the thought that counts!  What a load of B.S. 
"Well...I thought you wore a small." 
"Well...I think you'll have to take it back."

There is only one woman I like to buy presents for and that's my mother.  Its because she has to like whatever I do.  It is written.  She will like whatever gift I get for her.  Sometimes I like to get here really odd things just to see what her reaction will be.

"Oh, my!" She exclaimed.  "I love these Tweety Bird house slippers"
She loves them because she knows that I didn't forget about her.  I got her Sylvester P.J.'s last year. 

That is not what Christmas is about though.

Do you know why I like A Charlie Brown Christmas?  I'll tell you why.  Its because Schultz knew this shit was getting out of hand and he wasn't afraid to say something about it.  He disguised his views as a child's holiday cartoon but it was much more than that.  Linus's on-stage soliloquy about the birth of our Lord was chilling.  WHY?  We know the story.  We have known the story.  It was a wake-up call because there was too much commercialism in 1965.
Charlie, Lucy and even Snoopy had forgotten what they were celebrating.  Then they were surprised by how simply a brave young boy stepped forward to tell about the most humble of beginnings.  Christmas is not about money or lights or decorations or excess.  A savior was born in a barn.  He was then wrapped up in blankets and placed in a trough or an open box in which feed for livestock is placed.  I think its safe to say that it hasn't gotten better.  A Charlie Brown Christmas is still relevant today.  We all forget sometimes. 

Why do we need a 24 hour Christmas radio station?  I hate "Jingle Bells" and I know that anyone working in retail would agree that "Santa Baby" is the most annoying song ever created by man, woman or beast.  And almost nothing pisses me off more than caroling in November. 
Why were there decorations for sale before Halloween was in the books?  That is just plain ridiculous.  One holiday at a time people.  Halloween is the 2nd largest commercial holiday in this country and its still overshadowed by Christmas.  I love Halloween.  Don't cheapen it with sleighs and candy canes next to the blood and guts in the seasonal aisles.
Why do we wrap gifts?  Many animals are in danger of becoming extinct from deforestation yet we somehow see the need to buy paper with the sole purpose of tearing it to pieces.  Yeah!  Good idea.  I never liked the spotted-owl anyway.  Please do not make me mention how much people pay for gift bags.  I bought a reusable grocery bag for 99 cents.  Try that next time.  The gift bag that keeps on giving-----TO OUR PLANET!
When did Santa come into the picture?  I don't get it.  Kids only like Santa because he gives them stuff.  Your kids would love me if I gave them free shit every year and I hate kids.  Maybe you could have your kids sit and chat with Jesus' at Christmas.  Maybe have Him turn water into toys.  I don't care.  At least we might get some religious tie-in and hopefully Jesus wont be portrayed by fat man who gets his jollies from kids sitting on his lap.  I don't think kids will have a hard time believing in Jesus or his ability to turn hydrogen and oxygen atoms into barbies or Wii's. 

They already believe...
A) elves live at the North Pole
B) reindeer can fly
C) one person can visit all the christian houses in the world in one evening
D) a magic sack can contain all the toys for all the christian houses in the world
E) a fat man can travel through a chimney that birds get stuck in
F) you didn't eat the cookies
G) that Santa has a "Made In China" stamp or sticker book in his workshop
H) ALL OF THE ABOVE

The Grinch could not steal Christmas.  He failed!  "It came without packages, boxes or bags"  I don't want to steal it.  I am canceling it until you people start making some changes. 

blind text

OK! I will give the people what they want.  I mean... I can't give you money, but I will let you in.  I will share some extremely personal life details here that probably wont make me look very good (to the ladies).  I am not trying to look good for dudes though.  Alright.  Get that straight, but some of the guys will identify with me on this.  I hope.  I can't be sure.

The names are made up, but this story is 100% real.  It began this week and is currently ongoing.  It is 10:15pm on a Friday.  I am sitting in my recliner with my boiling (lava hot) laptop lowering my sperm count and attempting to explain how I am a huge wuss.  Let me also explain that I am not upset about the lowered count as I am not trying to impregnate anyone at the moment. 

This is tough.
I have to make some jokes to maintain respect from my male peers.
I have to seem sincere enough to gain support from my female readership. 
I have to stay focused...

Long story short - Too Late!

My friend, Queen Amidala wanted to set me up with a friend of hers.  Shew wanted me to go out with her friend, Jennifer Aniston. 

It's my story!  Deal with it. 

Queen Amidala called me up and gave me Jen's number over the phone.  She said that I should call her and ask  her out for diner on Saturday.  Amidala was a tad bit impatient.  She refused to text me Jen's number and I had to react quickly so I grabbed a pen and began to transcribe the number as it was dictated to me.  I wasn't going to remember it.  Who can remember 7 digits?  I wanted the text because I knew that a text would be much harder to loose.  I am also lazy and finding a pen AND PAPER didn't really fit into my schedule. 

I wrote Jen's number on my hand. 
I showered moments later. 
I forgot about the invaluable (see previous blog) digits I had written on the back of my hand and they were lost.  That was Wednesday.  Fast forward to today and we can discuss the challenges that I faced a few moments ago. There is no discussion really.  I guess I should say, "I will write about the challenges that I..."  You get the point, but I wouldn't be saying that I would be writing. 

Long story short - Too late.

A few minutes ago, I confessed to Amidala that I had lost the most precious number sequence she had ever given me.  She was not pleased with me to say the least, but she gave me Jen's number once again and insisted that I call her immediately.  I absolutely could not.  That's not what I said, of course,  but its the truth.  I decided a text message would suffice. 

I had never met this girl. 
I had never seen her picture.
I had no idea if she would be interested in me. 
She hadn't met me.
Seen me.
Heard my voice.
All I really know is that Amidala wants me to call Jen and I do what I am told...sort of.

YIKES! 

A text would be best.  This is a new era.  This is a new age.  Women are strong and independent and they scare the crap out of me. I shall compose a text, but what do I write?

 ACTUAL TEXT DRAFTS

Hi. This is ronstop. Queen Amidala gave me your number.  Would you like to have diner sometime?
I didn't like that one.  I sound like a dork.  I am pretty sure this is a bad idea.

Hey Jen. Amidala said I should call you but I can't cause I am a huge tool.

Sometimes honesty isn't the best policy.  I am sure this is a bad idea. 

Hi Jennifer.  This is ronstop.blogspot.  Queen Amidala gave me your number.  Can I call you sometime?

I think its quite obvious that I won't have to worry about impregnating anyone anytime soon. Way too formal and passive.  I need to take charge and be more confident.

Hi.  This is ronstop.  DTF? 

Maybe a tad bit too aggressive. 

Hey. This is Ronstop.  I got your number from Queen Amidala.  I would like to call you sometime.  Let me know when you are free if you would like to talk.
That was the actual text.  The really real actual text.  I got tired of anguishing over the perfect language and just hit send.  This is certainly a bad idea.  We will see how it goes.

Oh boy.  My first impression will be via text.  I will tell you that it sounds way better than sputtering out sentence fragments and stumbling over verbal communication.  Sorry, Jen.  You are getting a text...and a blog apparently.  We may have to speak eventually, but it wont be today.

Worth a thousand words

I hope you can read this.  Otherwise I am just wasting my time. 
Now I am just wasting yours. 
Don't read this hoping to gain insight into the human condition.
Don't read this if you have anything to do.  This is not useful in any way. 

I am only kidding of course.  I don't write my thoughts down so that I can read them.  That would be silly.  I write these thoughts down so that others might know what it is like to be in my head. 
I don't suggest wearing your good shoes though.  They are likely to be muddy after trouncing around in there. 
Don't wear your good pants either. 
Don't wear your lucky shirt.
Don't wear your derby hat...interesting.  Why do you have a derby hat?

I want you to read.  Read on!  Tell a friend.  Tell them where nonsense lives. 
You see!  You see!  Right there.  Nonsense is a noun, yes...but it isn't alive.  Nonsense only lives if I tell it to and if you believe it.  The words are right there in front of you and they don't really mean that much, but you have an unshakable image of yourself with muddy feet on a slippery slope wearing an unusually large hat.  You press your hand against something, but you don't feel safe because its sticky.  You want to move but you can't.  You endure the ickiness because you fear what might happen if you don't brace yourself inside of there.

...Keep in mind that you are wearing your lucky shirt.

I...You...We all use language to define and describe our daily lives to each other.  It's funny how words can mean so little or so much and it all depends on how it is used. 

I will refer you back to "nonsense". Synonyms are: Balderdash, Moonshine, Absurdity and Twaddle (SOMEONE FOUND A NEW FAVORITE WORD BTW).

If you shout to your friends, "Hey, Ronstop wants to tell you where Twaddle lives." 
They might think that Ronstop is some kind of pervert. 
Or that he believes in magic, trolls, wizardry, Middle Earth and whatnot. 
I am and I do believe in those things, but that's not the point.  The point is that I feel like nonsense will manifest itself in many ways.  Its most common manifestation (for me) is that of a sprite-like creature standing about 2 feet tall, drinking beer, playing tricks and is hard to catch.  Yeah, I know it sounds like a leprechaun, but the thought of a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is nonsense.  Isn't it?

There is a balance with language...there is always an opposite...kind of.  Language is balderdash.

With "up" there is "down"
"promoted" and "demoted"
"love" and "hate"

"Insane" is the counterpart to "sane"
But why is "invaluable" worth more than "valuable"?
To "incarcerate" means to imprison, but "carcerate" is not a word and "prison" is.

One can only be "reborn" after they have been "born", but I have been "rejected" many times without having once been "jected" (to my knowledge).

There. Their. They're.
To. Two. Too.

Do I have time to address sarcasm?  I shall call it God's greatest gift of confusion.  How amazing is it to say one thing, but to purposely mean something completely different?  It's great, right?  Now say it sarcastically. 
"Thank you for that little tidbit of absurdity, God.  This won't get me in trouble at all.  My mother will appreciate this more than anyone"  Said the boy just before he was sent to his room and simultaneously struck by lighting for having just used a "TONE" with the Lord our God. 

"What 'tone'?" said the boy in a voice that was just a smidgen too patronizing.
"You know the tone." Said God as he smote the boy once more with an inevitable second bolt of lightning.  Then God smiled and contemplated whether or not anyone on Earth had ever used the word "evitable".

I will tell you that there are exactly one thousand words in this blog.  Clever, huh?  Not here...but at the end.  I am stretching it to 1,000 now is all I am doing.  I figure it will be more meaningful this way.  Nothing left to say except that I doubt very highly that there is a picture somewhere in the universe that can sum up these incoherent ramblings.  And I am certain that if there were such a picture, you wouldn't want to look upon it for fear of sacrilege and blasphemy and lightning bolts. 

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then what are words worth?  Not these words.  Others probably.  Other thoughtful words. 

oh, and I didn't count the words.  I've got shit to do.

Dreams Can Come True

Its Sunday again.  Sunday is a day of rest.  Its the Lord's Day.  A day of recovery.  Sunday is the day that I order a pizza and take a nap.  I like to wake up and eat and then go right back to sleep.  Its awesome.  Its really my own version of the American dream. 

I like having stuff to do.  Really, I do. I like to breathe fresh air.  I like to be with friends.  I love to try new things and visit new places.

But, I like having nothing to do just as much as I enjoy being busy.  I worked all week.  I was up late on Friday.  I was outside all day on Saturday.  I'm entitled to relax a bit.  The Purdue tailgating started at about 9:30am yesterday.  TAILGATING! Whew. Thats alot of work.

Eating (chips, dips and linked meats)
Sitting (in the sun)
Talking (to people)
Drinking (a few adult beverages)
I threw a football for at least 15 or 20 mins (2 different times)
Dont forget the waiting in line at the port-a-potties (exhausting all on its own)

I ordered HotBox pizza today.  I love HotBox. I normally get the "Porky the Pie" but I went with "The Hot Chick" today. 

The "Porky" is delicious.
Ham
Sausage
Bacon (lots of crispy crunchy bacon)
I'm talkin' sweet little bits of grease and salt and good-good-lovin-in-my-mouth-kind-of-bacon.  Oh, Porky the Pie you are so good to me.  Its my "Go To" from HotBox.  Its so good that its hard to imagine myself ordering anything else.  

Until that one fateful day..Until today...Until I ordered "The Hot Chick". The chick is for chicken and the hot is for spicy.

I mentioned earlier about the American Dream and I mentioned just a bit about having nothing to do.  Those 2 things go hand in hand.  I think that its really only fair to incorporate Pizza somewhere into that dream.  Pizza is the perfect food and has become a staple in our cultural experience.  People like different toppings. Yes, thats true.  People have different tastes when it comes to crust.  Sure, but everyone likes pizza. 

The thing that I like the most. 
The thing that helps to define pizza as a cultural experience. 
The thing that truly sets pizza apart. 
The thing that makes OUR pizza American is how we get it. 

"Yes, I'll hold." I said calmly into the phone as I have hundreds of times before. And I waited patiently for the voice to return.
The voice came back with purpose.  The part-time teenaged professional offered an apology for the wait and asked the question we both knew he would. 
"Will this be pick-up or delivery?" he said and I tried not to laugh.

Did he not know what today was?  Did he not remember where we were?
"Its Sunday and this is America", I said. "Bring me my fucking pizza!"
"Do you think I am going to leave my house?" I said as venomous sarcasm dripped from my mouth. 
"Do you think I am going to get in the car?  Let me answer for you.  I have no intentions of driving 1.9 miles and wasting 5 minutes of my time (EACH WAY) and coming to you for my pizza."
I know it would be cheaper.  All these pizza places have delivery charges.  Some even have higher delivery prices and you should always tip the driver, but I don't care.

I consider my cell phone a "Magic Pizza Lamp".  They know who I am and where I live when I call. They even know my last order.  All I have to do is give it a rub and a pizza will appear at my door in 45-60 mins. 

I really liked the idea of ordering "The Hot Chick" over the phone even though I knew there wouldn't be any women on my pizza. I didn't mind the taste considering the plentiful and extremely likely amounts of spit or other special sauces on my 'zza. 
Sleep then pizza. 
Sleep then pizza.
I will wake up tomorrow and probably have another slice for breakfast.  I might even pack some for lunch at work.  Dreams do come true.  It's just that now I dream of "The Hot Chick."

Footnote: I always title my blog before I start writing.  I then spend and hour or so trying to make it back to where it started.  Its the first field so it makes sense to me.  This blog was intended to make its way toward fantasy football and those sorts of dreams.  The pic at the top was selected as a fantasy scene.  Again, it was intended to be related to a virtual sports experience.  I couldn't find a unicorn pic that I liked.  I dont know how I got here.  I blacked out from too much pizza I guess.  Time for a nap.

Can't buy me love

Summer is over!  Well it is for me anyway.  I made it. 

No more tuxes for 9 more months. 
No more swim trunks.
No more sun screen.
No more mosquitoes.
No more boating.
No more fun.

I couldn't be happier though.  It was a very successful season.  2 of my best friends got married, but that's not funny.  What is funny you ask?  Well...I am 3rd from the right in that picture posted above and I think that's pretty funny.  Actually looking at this picture makes me think that 2 of my best friends married each other in New Hampshire or something.  That's quite a large wedding party...And what a party it was.  Live music was performed by Toy Factory and The Groomsmen.  There were inappropriate amounts of alcohol and dancing.  And lets not forget there was inappropriate dancing and alcohol as well.

The groom is in the middle of the pic above.  His name is Adam and we have been friends for a minute.  We lived together for a few years after college.  The new Mrs. Adam is also a good friend of mine.  She is actually one of my most loyal readers.  She will, however, be disappointed to know that this blog is a recap of the summer and not all about her.

Your dress looked stunning Sa-Rah!(Mrs. Adam)  Although, I haven't watched enough Project Runway to truly appreciate the craftsmanship or the techniques involved with pulling off such a masterpiece.  Adam, you looked pretty good too.

Bart got married!  I must be careful here.  I can't upstage Adam and Sa-Rah's wedding or I risk destroying all that good-will I established earlier. She can't be mad though.  I gave her wedding top billing. 

Bart's was a destination wedding.  And I guess Aruba and Jamaica were both booked solid, because the destination was a goat farm in the middle of North Carolina.  I thought it was great actually.  The goat smell is barely noticeable after a few moments.  There was goat cheese everywhere and some hilarious conversations and pictures with the goats (and chickens) in the early morning hours. 

Bart served several gallons of home brewed beer at the reception which fit right in with the soul food and the blue grass band.  The brew did help to calm my nerves a bit as speech time approached.  I think I did pretty well, but I was merely trying not to wet myself in front of 120 strangers.  My last memory memory of that night involved drinking wine by the after party bonfire.  My next memory is waking up in a strange bed with my pants and shoes on.  Alone!  She must have snuck out early. 

I think its pretty safe to assume that I hooked up (probably a goat, but I am just hoping for a metaphorical goat) that night. Let me explain why.

Weddings are like aphrodisiac gold mines. Love is in the air and the air is thick in N.C.
I had been drinking and I am always more charming with a BAC of more than .20
I knocked out my "Best Man" speech and didn't wet myself or throw up like I had anticipated. 
I was wearing pants and do I look good in pants.
I was drinking wine by firelight.  I can be very sophisticated. 

Whats that smell?  Its romance.  I am happy for my friends and their success in life and love.  My summer has been spent as a season long celebration with them. I think this is one of the best summers in recent years.  My summer has also been spent depleting my bank accounts, but maybe that's a good thing.  Too much money draws the wrong kind of ladies anyway.  In America, money can buy happiness.  Money will buy a motorcycle or some Cracker Jacks or 2 chicks at the same time...

...but  money can't buy me love.  Congratulations Adam, Sarah, Bart and Kate.  I love you guys and wish you the best.  And since you have all that love, you probably wont be needing all that money.  No sense in wasting it (hint hint).

28 year old disease free male

A few friends of mine have accounts with an internet dating site. I don't actually have friends. It's me. I have an account on an internet dating site. That site will be called batch.com in order protect my innocence. It is a normal dating site as far as I know. There is possibly a whips and chains type of dating site that I will look at or "research" for another blog.

Man or Woman
Seeking Man or Woman.
Age range.
List your likes and dislikes.
Post some pics.
Lie about your exercise habits and your alcoholism.
Blink @ people.

And wammmo! You've got mail and you're on a date. I think that's how it works. I am really not sure. I have never actually used one of these sites before. I mean I have used them, but never have I ever met up with someone from the internet. Well...They aren't from the internet. They are from my home town...great now I lost my train of thought.

I won't lie. I have created a few profiles over the years, but that was purely in the name of science and looking at pictures of available women. I probably wouldn't even create a profile if I could just search the site anonymously. Actually, I bet alot of people initially create their profiles out of curiosity. That's how they get ya. Those devious Batch.comrs. They know that and they are exploiting me in my moment of weakness.

You wanna know somethin' really strange? We are talking about a strange (totally didn't see that coming) moment that happened today. It was instantaneously after completing my Batch.com survey. I saw the profile of a girl that I used to pass notes to in 8th grade. The kind of notes that have circles at the bottom. Yeah, that might not be odd to you, but it is for me. She also passed me a note that said we were getting too serious. Chicks just love to break my heart. What do you do if you see a coworker? Or a best friend? Or your mom or something? Sick! I will discontinue searching for cougars of the 54 year old variety forthwith. There are actually lots of people doing this sort of thing online. It has become sort of mainstream.

I think its funny that you don't need a profile to go to a bar and look at women in person. It would actually be really cool if you could read someone's likes and dislikes from about 5 feet away. I would love to know their exact age and birthday. Maybe they could hand you a print out like the type you get when you are shopping for a new home or apartment. I would like to know a girls relationship status before I bought them a drink or pissed off their boyfriend.

That would make a ton of sense, but my point is actually this: I could spend a whole hour eye sexing the blond in the corner. I can watch her smile and laugh and talk with her friends. I can look at her tank top and short blue skirt without her knowledge, but LuLulaughsalot1234 knows the exact moment I view her (hopefully not a dude) web profile.

It got a little creepy there and I am truely sorry to take you there, but that is what I was getting at. It seems like "real life" should take some lessons from cyberspace and start implementing this bar registration program immediately. What are we waiting for? Just do it already.

And I am shallow. I thought I had shallow tendencies, but I don't. It's the real deal. I really hope we're all shallow so that I don't feel like such a piece of crap for being shallow. I never thought about it before, but looks are important. "I'm not physically attracted" to a person is just another way of saying that they aren't attractive. "There is no chemistry" means they might even be ugly. Where is the sort button to avoid the uglies?

The problem is amplified by the fact that this website forces you to look at them all right in the face. There is no hiding from them. There are pages and pages of these people. 25 results per page. They're like locusts.

A search of non-smoking women ages 26 to 30 in a 10 mile radius of my location yielded almost 300 results. I am a busy guy. I don't have the kind of time needed to look for the inner beauty in all of you. That's how I know we are all shallow. We have to make some cuts people. They can't all be winners or they wouldn't all be on the site. I don't even talk to ugly people in the bar. I definitely don't look at them and I'd prefer it if they didn't touch me. (I laugh every time I read that)

Question: How many pounds are a few extra? I purposely selected "slender" in my search criteria for a a reason ladies. Did you think I would forget and click you because I didn't know I was into fat chicks? I am only kidding, but I am not checking the "curvy" button anymore. That's like playing Russian Roulette.

What is "about average"? Especially when I don't have "AVERAGE" to choose from. That vexes me. I am terribly vexed.

Also, be sure to take a picture of your dog and post it because that is exactly what I wanted to see. Your dog. Not you. Your dog. I hate you! And quit holding babies that aren't yours. It freaks me out and I have to scroll all around to see if the kid is yours and if it lives with you. Don't forget to mention that you are a laid back adventurer that likes to laugh. That should set you apart. Well...that's what I put anyway. I wonder why I am single. Get busy livin'

Who wants to touch me?

I saw a concert last week. It wasn't just any concert. It was Roger Daltrey and Eric Clapton. I know I started off fast here so let me slow it down and explain how I got there.

The tickets to the concert were my stepfather's birthday present. I am a nice guy, but not that nice. I didn't buy 'em. My mom did. And bless her heart she bought 3 tickets. I am still not certain why or how she bought 3, but she did. She said she wasn't allowed to purchase 2 tickets and leave a single seat "hanging". She was forced to buy 3! I wasn't aware of this policy. And Ticketmaster was just as surprised when I called them. In fact, Ticketmaster offered to refund my mother the cost of the 3rd ticket if she chose. I had called Ticketmaster on her behalf because I thought she might like to spend a nice evening out and enjoy the peaceful Noblesville summer with her husband. She chose not to take them up on the refund and so I went to the concert. Happy 3rd wheel birthday to me!

Rock N Roll history 101: Roger Daltrey is best known as the leader of a group called The Who. The Who debuted in the 60's amidst a cultural revolution of sorts. Kids were aware. Sex was free. Drugs were everywhere and an entire generation was misunderstood. Blah blah blah.

I hope my dad is reading this.

"Baba O'Riley" (known better by me as "Teenage Wasteland") is an original Who song that was released in the late sixties or early seventies. Daltrey was already 25 or 26 by that time (picture upper left). You'll never guess what he looks like now...Ok maybe you don't have to. (picture upper right). The song is still good and it rocks pretty hard for being 40 years old. It's a classic and Roger sang it to the best of his ability that night. Daltrey has been performing for...well I don't need to beat a dead horse on this one. He still swings the mic around by the cord. He still laughs and tells anecdotes in between songs. He obviously loves what hes doing. But Damnit! HE'S TOO OLD TO SING ABOUT TEENAGE ANGST! I am too old to sing about teenage angst. No more teenagers for you old man. None. Stay away from the kids or I'm calling the cops.

I liked him, but that's not why I went. I went to see Clapton and Clapton was good. He was also old, but his fingers move like water across the frets and his music is loud. It's Rock N Roll!

Rock N Roll history 101: Rock is intended to be played loud. In fact, the louder the better as it was taught to me. The pain in your ears adds an extra dimension. The decibels are a warning to all and help to better describe the Rock N Roll movement. It's loud. Leave if you don't like it.

I couldn't agree more.
If you can't stand the heat, then get out of the kitchen.
Freedom isn't free.
Have it your way.

Maybe the last couple don't make sense. It reminds me of the time that I went to an Eric Clapton concert.

The concert of a man voted thrice into the Rock N Roll Hall of fame.
The concert of a man rolling stone calls the #4 all time guitarist.
The concert of a man right in front of me... sonofabitch are those people wearing ear plugs at a god$%#@ Eric mother %$#@!*& Clapton concert.

That doesn't make any sense!
You lost me.
You pay to see a living legend perform 20 feet in front of your face.
You buy the ticket plus your convenience charge.
You put on your good Hawaiian shirt and sandals and socks.
You park your car and put on your sunscreen no doubt.
You sip your $12 chardonnay.
You sit right in front of me.
You put in ear plugs???
Maybe Barry Manilow is more your speed. I don't know, but you have certainly lost your way and you have no business at this concert. Did you loose a bet? WTF?

I am surprised all the other people in their row didn't rise as one, and slay them.

Anyway...Clapton rocked and I am quite surprised that his fingers didn't spontaneously catch fire from all the friction. I mean this guy is fast. I could feel the heat radiating off of the guitar and I did wish I had a welding mask to prevent my face from melting off, but that's a small price to pay to see a rock god! I saw Eric Clapton live. He melted my face off. Who wants to touch me?

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

Dr. Seuss is quite a genius!
Quite often he is right.
His observations are quite correct
and quite full of insight.

My first flight was weeks ago.
I left on June, One.
I flew home June, Twenty First.
I'll let you know when I'm done.

This last month has been amazing!
I've been traveling Ronstop.
I've seen pigs while they're grazing.
I used the Raleigh bus stop.

I brewed beer with my friend.
I drank beer with my friend.
My friendliest friend.
A great friend type of friend.

I slept with his dogs.
And we took them to school.
We took flowers to his fiance.
Because she is cooler than cool.

I Was Totally Destroying it.
"It was an absolute pleasure."
That was the band.
I bought the t-shirt to treasure.

I stood on the Redhook ferry.
I stood on the sand of Maho Bay
I stood on the Annaberg ruins
I stood on Waterlemon Cay

My sisters lives in St. John
An adventure I admire.
I love the life she lives.
I helped her change a flat tire.

It gets pretty hot there 2.
I took 2 cold showers everyday.
I sweat through 2 t-shirts.
I wish that I were still there 2day.

Lizards are everywhere!
I'm talking lizards on the ground.
Lizards are floating in the water.
"Push Up" lizards abound.

Oh, Canada!
Oh, how I love your border.
I also love the customs agents,
and how they keep so much order.

I really really liked Canada!
I just wasn't allowed to stay.
So, I went back to Detroit.
And ate some B-Dubs that day.

USA vs. England!
It was Saturday around 2:30.
My parlay bet lost 20 bucks.
But Dempsey's goal was dirty.

Bachelor parties are great in Canada.
Girls...Casinos...Bars
Drinking, but not drunk.
"I'll show you mine-you show me yars, eh!"

Another friend is moving south.
Correction: my friend has moved.
I went with him/drove the van.
That much can be proved.

On the way to Florida.
Hours and hours Uhauling the load.
Truck tire debris is everywhere.
Danger to bumpers on the road.

Swimming pools and one more beach
I threw a new football in the sun.
SPF 30 is my friend.
On the Banana Boat I had fun.

8 Take offs and 8 landings.
I did it all in 21 days.
7 different airports.
4 layovers and 2 delays.

I am extremely tired from the trip,
But I will sleep when I am dead.
Oh! The places I will go!
But for now, its off to bed.

Eastbound and Down...

Smokey and the Bandit starring Burt Reynolds and Sally Field opened to movie goers in 1977. Its a simple "good guy renegade" type vs. "bad guy lawman" type story. "Bandit" as played by Mr. Reynolds and "Snowman" as played by Jerry Reed are tasked with transporting booze over state lines in an inconceivably short amount of time. The real story begins when Sheriff Buford T. Justice gets into the mix and a hilarious cat and mouse pursuit takes off across the country (outside of Justice's legal jurisdiction mind you).

The relevance to me today is quite small, but inescapable. Jerry Reed's hit song "Eastbound and Down" is about the only country song that I know and it is whole lot of fun to sing at the top of your lungs on road trips.

I am not actually on a road trip as defined so eloquently by Wikipedia , but I am on a trip and I am in the south and I am east. My friend Bart lives in Raleigh, North Carolina and that is where I am. And that is why I sing!

to be continued...

You're not an expert

Thank you Al Gore. Thank you for the internet.
The Web
The Information Superhighway
The Net
The World Wide Web

I actually don't care who invented it or propelled it to such popularity. I don't really care what java means.
or HTML
I dont care who invented Napster, Limewire, AudioGalaxy, Kazaa or any other illegal mp3 sharing site. I don't care what mp3 actually stands for.
I don't care why Craigslist is free. I don't care who owns it or really how it works.

I do care that I have The Internet and really can't live without it. This is the information age. I look stuff up when I need answers and I am not going to the Encyclopedia Britannica unless its followed up with DOT COM.
.NET
or .ORG

Thank you, The Internet, because now I don't have to alphabetize shit anymore. Heck, this blog program even tells me when I spell things inkorecktly . There is a little red squiggly line under inkorecktly telling me to rethink my spelling, but it left squiggly alone.

Origin:
1830–40; b. squirm and wriggle
Thank you The Internet.

The Internet is amazing. Think of all the stuff it does for us.

You get the picture. The Internet is useful. Its easier than ever to use and its easier than ever to access. I can get me some interweb (red squiggle) while at work, home or with friends.
I have my Blu-Ray player downloading movie extras for "Avatar".
I have my Xbox connecting to multi-party online games for trash talk with 12 year olds.
The laptop is easily explainable.
My phone downloads apps, sends emails and allows for the all important FB status update on the go.

Here's the thing. I don't have a degree.
I have no certification.
No formal training.
No license.
No Seal of Approval
and No document to attest to my knowledge of or usefulness to the community.

I have electricity, a laptop and a steady internet conncection. That's all that qualifies me to be blogging today. That's all most of us have. That's all you need to be out there and affecting and infecting society. 95% of The Internet's content isn't cited. 85% isn't true. OK OK OK. I made that last part up, but alot of it is just out there unchecked and that's my point. You can publish all kinds of malarkey on the Web.

There are idiots out there reviewing products and movies. People make comments on blogs and youtube videos. Some of its justified, but if you spend $70 on a bike at Wal-mart, it will be a piece of garbage. Don't bother giving it 1 star and telling me the components are cheapo. You're not an expert and I know that because you bought your bike at F-ing Wal-mart. They buy the cheapest items, sell them at the lowest prices and hire people for about $3 an hour. Shut up.

@podracer012 - you don't need to point out when some 7 year old girl is dancing off the beat. Are you psycho? Do you not have a soul? That is not The Internet that Al Gore envisioned. You would be the first Star Wars nerd to know how to dance, but not the first to look at videos of 7 year olds. Podracer012 is a pedophile.

I hope that people find what I write interesting. That's my goal. I am trying to be entertaining. Putting yourself out there for others to criticize is not really that easy. I don't pretend to think that everyone will find this stuff funny like I do, but I would be alright with me if everyone did.

Think before you hit publish or send or submit. Think carefully. And think one thing.

Just because you have an opinion, it doesn't make you right. That's My first PSA

Aaron Chapin Gunyon is about to blog about Facebook

I joined FB maybe 8 or 9 months ago. I had resisted for quite a while, but I finally gave in because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. There are references all through popular culture. All sorts of celebrities, athletes and companies have FB pages. The last straw was when I heard that my 53 year old father had joined. I introduced this man to digital cameras, burned CD's, Homestarrunner.com, and Craigslist. I showed him how to plug his Ipod into his stereo. I told him about the gosh darn internet. How in the hell had this man beaten me to Facebook.

I was being left out. I was being left behind. Enough was enough. This had to stop. So I created my profile and away I went.

I barely even entered my birthday and hometown into the info section. I didn't have time. There was no time. I must go immediately to the "live feed". I have to know why everyone is FB crazy.

Nothing.

Apparently, you need to have friends first. Lots of 'em. And I don't know how, but the machines became aware of my presence and started a suggestions list for me. They put some of my very best friends onto a list and I was thankful. I had almost forgotten them. The snowball occurs once the first friend requests have been accepted. "Bart Renner is now friends with Aaron Gunyon and 4 others." People who know Bart and I then realize that I am out in Facebookland and scurry to add me as well.

The hard part was over. Or was it? Now the FB scavengers and the "Friend Collectors" are out there and they are looking for me. My first college girlfriend requested me. She's the one I refer to as the super-mega-ex gf. She's the one that lied to me, cheated on me and broke my heart about a decade ago. Anyway...request denied. I believe to this day she is really the only person that I have said no to on FB. The story gets better because someone can still write you a FB message even though you aren't official friends and I got a little note like, "Don't be such a fag, Gunyon." (Oh, the one that got away) So, I blocked her as well and reported her to the FB police for cyber bullying:) There's gotta be some law 'round here.

Now, I only mention the "Collectors" because I don't know how its possible to keep up with any amount over 800 lets say. My high school graduating class had something like 750 and I didn't even know all of them. Maybe I didn't sit at the coolest lunch table, but I was talking to lots of people in lots of classes. Are you just bumping into people on the sidewalk and friend requesting them on site?

"Ooops! Sorry, we should be friends."

I have right around 150 friends and I already don't interact with quite a few of them. Whats it like for the collectors? There are people with over a 1,00o "Friends". You win, ok. New high score.

The thing I find the most interesting is that I interact most with people that I already communicate with on a regular basis. I use FB as an additional communication tool, but I also use it to look at pictures of people to see what they are up to.

"The Facebook Pic of the Week" is a program my friends and I started to identify and share the most attractive women doing the most attractive things. We have an email group and different people take turns adding to the mix. Most of the pics are simple. Bikini shots are pretty standard occurrences for the FBPOW. The point that I want to make to all the ladies is that every guy I know is scouring your photo albums for bikini photos. I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. They were doing it before I got here and they will continue to do it long after I go. As long as there is a teenage boy...As long as there is a college boy...As long as there is a man...As long as you put those pictures up, someone will look at them. It would be easier for us and get you more exposure if you would just have a separate album labeled FBPOW.

Aaron Chapin Gunyon likes FBPOW and Can this pickle get more fans than nickleback

I can quit when I want to

I don't watch alot of TV. I don't! I have an HD tv and a newly acquired Blu-Ray player, but I rarely actually watch TV broadcasts. I tend to watch movies or play video games. I still sit on the couch and stare at the TV, but I'm not watching "TV".

This is America and I am an American. Trust me. I know how to sit and do nothing.

Sometimes I carefully venture out into the world network television. I do like some shows. It's just hard because I have so little variety without cable. I guess I just feel my TV is empty without MTV, Oxygen, Lifetime, BET or QVC, HSN, CMT, LOBO or the Speed channel. I guess sometimes I just feel that I am not worthy of television without all of this. Sometimes...

Sometimes I watch some PBS. I dont know why. It's not Sesame St. that gets me. Although that would make sense because of all the puppets and letters and numbers. And that's not to mention the compelling plot lines. I watch The Antiques Road Show. I love it. Those little old ladies get me so excited when their great grand mothers jewelry box turns out to be worth $5,000 and they get me so sad when their turn-of-the-century Tiffany lamp is a replica. The problem with the show is that its on PBS and there are no commercials. No frame of reference for time. I don't even realize I've been watching too long until its over. How is there an expert for 1950's cereal box toys? That fascinates me. This man and his yet unchallenged virginity knows all there is to know about General Mills.

"She's Crafty" is a show made by a woman like Martha Stewart except that she is younger with much less money, less annoying and slightly more attractive. I watched her make a coffee table out old skateboards once. I think its channel 27-2. I dont know what its called though. ION maybe? I watch that show.

Maury Povich is still making men take paternity tests. Apparently, Maury still has an abundant supply of women that can't identify they baby daddy. These women can't be sure who the father of their child is because of their indiscretions. I don't judge them (OK I judge them) but I don't feel like national TV in front of a live studio audience is the best place for them and their families. I think that their problem solving ability may be why they can't can't keep a man past the climax. I saw a woman on Maury who was certain that the 8th-eighth-1,2,3,4,5,6,7-8th man tested was gonna be the one. He was surely the father of her 3 year old child. They had already tested 7 and had gotten 7 negative results! "It couldn't be anyone else." Really!?! Things weren't looking too good for old #8 until they read that "Not Guilty" verdict. She instantly fell to sobbing puddled mess on cue and he celebrated with a victory fist pump. Maybe the will get it sorted out by the time the kid is 18. Maury still makes good TV.

I have recently begun watching episodes of a little known show called "24". "24" chronicles the heroic and seemingly endless exploits of a handsome and resourceful Jack Bauer played by an exceedingly talented Kiefer Sutherland. All of the seasons and episodes are available through Netflix and I can stream them directly to my TV via Xbox live. I watched my first hour on Saturday April 10th. Today is April 29th and I have 1 hour to go in order to complete the 3rd season. So what if I am watching 3.7 episodes a day. Jack Bauer doesn't sleep. why should I? It's not an addiction. I just really like the show. I'll stop. I can stop. Just one more episode and then I am done. Well...Maybe just the first hour of season 4. I just want to know what its about and then I'll be done. Honest.

Rugrats

Do I want kids?

Hell no!

Do do drug dealers smoke their stash? That's a bad example.
Do White Castle employees eat sliders? This isn't helping. Of course they do.
Do janitors keep their own houses clean? I am not certain. I wouldn't.

What I am saying is I am around kids all day. I spend countless hours with them when I am at work. WHY would I want more kids?

Let me start over by explaining briefly what I do. I run a program for kids. Itsa sorta child development program for young children ages 18 months-7 years. You may have heard of it but that's not the point. The point is that for the last 4 1/2 years I have been immersed in kids. I wade knee deep in kids and sometimes waist high for 40 hours a week and I do it Monday-Saturday. I coordinate classes for almost 750 little ones weekly. I have personally taught close to 2,000 classes. I don't meet them all but I have met a bunch and this is what I have learned.

Kids are crazy!
Their attention spans are fragile at best.
Most lack a 2nd grade reading level and some can't even muster the strength to finish the alphabet.
They smell and they produce inconceivable amounts of mucus.
They all look the same.
They scare easily.
They can't speak properly and quite often cant remember their own names.
Their jealousy turns frequently to violence.
They never remember to go to the bathroom before class.
And many of them have light up shoes.

I hate children.

Oh, but they do make me laugh. I met a kid who called himself "Batman" today. All day. It was "Black Batman" actually and I wasn't sure if he meant "The Dark Knight" or if I just needed to watch more cartoons. Batman, as you know, is an Equal Opportunity Crusader, but this kid was white and I thought it odd that his Batman persona was black so I giggled.

Black Batman is the type of kid that refers to himself in the third person. That more than doubles my enjoyment. Now I must call him by his goofball name and he must repeat it right back to me.

"Hey, Black Batman. Go get a ball." I said still chuckling to myself as a tiny 3 year old replies.
"Black Batman will do it."
It's stupid. It also makes me laugh.

Super Heroes actually come up quite often. Spider-Man seems to be popular these days. Spidey-Kids will shoot webs at each other for a very long time if left unchecked.

Sometimes I leave them unchecked.

The best use of the webbing is widely debated, but one of my favorites is when a Spidey-Kid (while playing a "freeze tag" game) will chase and sling webs all over the opposition. S/He could choose play the game, but S/He wont. S/He will cock their wrists back into the standard slinging position with the underside of the arm facing upward to webbify any and all foes. The actual webshot sound varies from child to child and is hard to describe. It sounds similar to a laser "psshow" as you push air from a half whistle into your mouth and past puckering lips.

Its not all bad. There is some satisfaction to what I do.
I get a lot of respect from parents for dealing with their little terrors.
There is a tremendous amount of excitement for me when a kid remembers my name or my class or a game that we've played.
Sometimes the kids say hi to me when I am out about town.
It's especially fun when a child trusts you enough to ask you a question and you just lie to them.

I think I would be a great father.

I pee standing up

Sometimes people ask me how I'm doing. Most of it is just in passing, but I think there are a few people have some small level interest in my daily life. Ok. Its my mother and I am normally quite annoyed when she asks me how I am doing for a lot of different reasons, but I have developed a standard response that seems to work for me.

"My life doesn't suck." could mean different things, but here is what it means to me.

I have a job. I actually really enjoy about 95% of my job. I will admit that sometimes I feel that it would be better without the customers or my boss but it pays the bills. My math skills aren't what they used to be so I will keep telling myself that customers account for less than 5% of what I do.

NOT the point. My bills are paid. That doesn't suck. I have definitely had my bank account overdrawn before. I have had my phone turned off before and that sucks quite a bit.

I have 3 vehicles plus a snowboard and that is far from suck.

The truck doesn't suck at all. It runs! It halls! and I don't put miles on it for road trips and I am seldom selected as designated driver due to the low seating capacity. Being sober around drunk people does suck.

My bicycle would suck if it were all I had to get me around. I have seen the people riding to work in the bitter cold and rain. That probably sucks. I don't know because I am not poor. see paragraph about the job.

Motorcycle! If you know me then you knew that one was coming. Its like riding a wave runner everywhere you go. The only way to put "suck" and "wave runner" in the same sentence (besides this one) is to say, "It sucks that you don't have a wave runner."

I don't live with my mother. I think you get the picture so we can move on.

I can write my name in the snow and I do every year. You have to do it in cursive, but its easy for me because my name starts with 2 A's. There is alot of backtracking with a letter like "K" or an extreme amount of stopping and starting and that sucks.

I have xbox live and no one complains about how long I've been on it.
I have air conditioning.
and internet
I don't menstruate or cry at everything
I have an extensive Jackie Chan collection. I am watching Rush Hour 2 right now and that doesn't suck like most sequels.
I am in a band. The Guitongo reunion tour will be coming to Indianapolis this July. Mike plays guitar. I play the bongo. Together we are...GUITONGO. Remember it takes 2 to Guitongo.

I haven't even begun to talk about my friends. Well...I wouldn't call them friends, but there are lots of people that I hang out with when I am bored. Most of then don't motorcycles or play xbox live so their lives do suck by direct comparison. And I think that half of them must remember to put the toilet seat down if you know what I'm talking about. I would imagine that jealousy is what prevents us from actually being friends.

Oh well.

At least my life doesn't suck.

Results Not Typical

I have recently begun trying to undo what I have steadily doing over the last few years. I have been a good worker bee and I have been accumulating fat stores in preparation for the next drought or famine. I am not certain that bees do store fat. They make and store honey, but if I had said that I have been stockpiling honey I might have too many people stopping by.

Anyway, I have given up! I don't believe there will be a drought or famine anytime soon. So what do I need all this fat for? I have been piling it up and carrying it around everywhere I go. It's weighing me down (pardon the pun) and I have decided to get rid of it. Easier said than done I suppose, but what the heck. I'll give it a shot, right.

Step 1: Admitting I have a problem. Check!
Step 2: Go grocery shopping and acquire healthy food. Oh, this is gonna be easy. Check-o-rooney!
Step 3: ???????
Step 4: Loose weight. Hmmm.

A few days in and I am eating healthier. Oatmeal for breakfast. I have fresh fruits and veggies on hand. This is good. I am feeling good. I feel healthier, but...the weights not shedding as it was supposed to. You see, I had this plan and step 4, as you might recall, is weight loss. something is wrong.

I will tell you whats wrong. I work at soccer arena which has a FULLY stocked concession stand.

I have access to nachos
1/4 pound all beef hot dogs
popcorn(pre-buttered and salted)
candy bars
potato chips
pizza
Keep in mind that there is no wrong way to eat a Reese's.

I have all of this at my fingertips 40 + hours a week. Monday-Saturday. I know what step #3 is.

Step 3: Eliminate junk food. Son a bitch thats gonna be hard. Maybe limit junk food? There's no wrong way! Everyone knows that. It's Reese's special peanut butter blend covered in a light but delicious layer of milk chocolate. They are individually wrapped and placed onto their own little serving tray. Whats not to love.

Giving up junk as I did I figured I should go ahead and up the ante. I will add two more "steps" to my weight loss plan.

Step 4 moves to step 6.
Step 4 becomes: Join a gym. Check. We are back on the right track.
Step 5: Regular workouts. This is getting hard again.

Fast forward a few weeks and I have achieved a small measure of weight loss success...10lbs. You can join my program for $20 bucks a month. Actual results may vary.

54 mbps

It's done! I have it now.

The Internet in all its splendor is now pumped wirelessly through my 758 sq ft apartment. I can download at a breathtaking 54 mbps through my router even though I can only afford 1.5 mbps through my ISP. Oh yes, I've got the lingo down, but I will get to that soon enough. The "modems" and "DSLs" discussion will be attended to later on. The "I've gotta have it now" age is upon me and I love it. I've gotta have it all and I have to have it all the time. I don't know how I ever did without it.

youtube
pandora
facebook
blogspot
woot
fandango
IMDB
yahoo
google
wikipedia
dictionary
ebay
amazon
weather
espn
people of walmart
craigslist

These are all my guilty pleasures. I can't honestly go a day without thinking of or visiting one of these sites. I have never been on crack and I don't really know what its like but I have heard that some junkies would identify with some of my behaviors involving the internet.

I go to a friends to log into facebook.
I stay after work to do some internet shopping.
I do some internet shopping while I'm supposed to be working.
I look at CL posts on my phone during bathroom breaks (It loads much more slowly and there is lots of scrolling, but at least its a connection)

Fantasy Sports
Daily horoscopes
Jokes of the day
Chain letters (well, we all remember chain letters. I missed them when they were gone.)
Viagra and natural all organic Viagra substitutes

I have lived in this apartment for about 5 months and I purposely didn't sign up for cable or internet. There were 2 reasons that contributed to this decision. The most obvious reason would be money. And while its true that cable and internet solutions can be pricey, one will have some sacrifices to make from time to time. I can afford cable. I simply chose not to get it. The second and most important reason was an attempt to better myself. I thought that perhaps I was too dependent on a constant barrage of stimulus in my daily life. I had become too complacent and unwilling to explore the real world around me.

There was a time when I would plop down onto the couch after work and rather than read or go outside or visit a friend or work out or learn a new skill or change clothes or bathe or brush my teeth I would just sit and be paralyzed by the addiction that is modern day electronics. Has anyone else had to go to the bathroom but been unwilling to move from their stupefied state? Has anyone else been so lazy that actual and physical pain sets in before we decide to leave our comfy spot on the couch to use the restroom? I am not admitting that. I am simply asking a question and I am no doctor, but I bet that could be a sign of addiction.

I am streaming Netflix through Xbox live right now. I am typing on a computer that is connected to my brand new wireless network. That network is cleverly named "Ronstop" by the way and I love it. I want to bask in it. My wireless-G router with built-in DSL modem will be on all night. The internet will wash over me while I sleep and it will be here for me in the morning or in the afternoon or in the evening beneath the silver moon. The internet is open 24 hours a day and that is great because I gotta have it. And I've gotta have it now.

My first time

Everyone is nervous their first time and this feels no different.

I was 13 the first time a drove a car. I remember the sickening excitement. Driving a stick. My dad was right next to me, but I was nervous as I stalled out the first 14 times. Oh, I remember.

I was nervous the first time I had to tell my parents about my first "F" on a report card.

First detention.
First suspension.

First job.
First time I quit.

The first time I shoplifted.
I was terrified the first time I was pulled over for speeding. 85 in a 65 and Kevin wasn't helping.

It's hard not to remember the first time you jump into a cold pool or lake. That's why we dip our toes in first.

I remember where I was and who I was with each of those times. There are some things that you just don't forget no matter what. Those traumatic moments stick so permanently into our minds. They become part of us. They define us. Our firsts contribute so much to how we face the rest of our lives. Most of us haven't touched a hot oven twice. We remember our firsts.

Thats why we put so much emphasis on first impressions. You only get one.

My first date, my first kiss and the first note passed in class. I remember all those firsts. The first time I got to second base was interesting as was the first (and only ladies) premature ejaculation. I remember the first time I talked to my girlfriends father when he knew... that I knew... that he knew... we had just had sex in his basement.

The first time I said, "I love you."
The first time I said, "We could be friends." as well as the first time we weren't.

My first blog will be remembered forever. It's not likely to be remembered for its great writing or stellar insight. The most likely reason is its chronological nature. It's my first time. There can never be another. I am nervous. Go easy on me.