Brain Sausage

Hello all!  Happy New Year!  This blog is moving to (yeah, If you want to give me flak for this, please do) MySpace.

http://www.myspace.com/roachy10

Please make a note of it.

Last night, I had so much sushi that I FREAKED OUT!

Not really, but isn’t that more exciting?  Just the idea of eating so much sushi that I put on a halter dress and black garters, went down to Halsted, and sang "Sunny Side of The Street" for nickels?  Or ass sex?

Hammerfall is a Swedish Heavy Metal band that rules.  They strive for the finest power chords and drum fills while pining for the fjords.  Seriously, listen to their song "Let The Hammer Fall".  Pretty soon, your pants will explode and form a giant cucumber of love.

Christmas!  Did you know there’s a war on Christmas?  Everyone’s blogging about it!  FUCK THEM ALL.  Both sides.  Oh, wait there’s only one side?  And the one side is Fox News and Bill O’Reilly?  Well…then fuck him with a holiday tree.

ONLY 3 AND A HALF DAYS OF WORK UNTIL MY XMAS VACATION!!!!  I am gonna eat so much sushi.

I just realized something.  If Hitler had a profile on Friendster, he’d have a shitload of Testimonials that read like this:  OMG, this guy is the sweetest guy!  We really have to hang out more often, A to the DOLF!!!  He’s SO Nice!!!!  Seriously, BFF!

And most likely, he’d really get off on it.

Try to think about things that do not involve:

-razor blades

-hollow point bullets

-avian flu

-smallpox

-bottles of sominex

-mixed with bottles of wild irish rose

-secret cutting

-fleshy nodules that keep growing

-milk overdosing

-stampedes

-rape faces

-mutilated children

-the last house on the left

-the last hours of anne frank

-food poisoning

-anthrax

-scott stapp

Merry Christmas Eric!

You were AWESOME in your interview at the Number 1 place to work in Chicago!  You reminded them so much of the last guy in that position, and they LOVED him!  But, oh no!  Some fuck named Kent or Brock or Dylan with a really nice striped shirt and a Sigma Nu sticker on his VW Golf and "advertising experience" snuck in there and took the job!  His hair was so perfect!

Back to Square One, fuckers.  Know where I can find some ether?

Wow.  Well, I feel much better.  I think that my horrible Thanksgiving and my repression of emotions was the true cause of all my angst (and ennui) yesterday.  I still hate my job, but it’s not my problem.

Last week my grandmother died on Monday.  Right before Thanksgiving.  Angelina and I had planned on going to St. Louis for the weekend anyway, but now there was a whole different vibe to the entire trip.  Obviously.

We got in on Wednesday.  We did a relatively normal Thanksgiving on Thursday.  We also watched our wedding video, and it really hurt that Grandma was not there to see it.

The wake was Friday.  Which, if you’ve been to a Lutheran wake, is exactly as exciting as you think it might be.  There’s about a 20 minute period of crying, and then people show up.  And at that point it kind of becomes a very low-key party.  At one point, we were talking and such with a large group of family friends and I looked at Grandma.  She looked lonely.  But, then again, she wasn’t really there, now was she?  I dunno, I don’t know if I would hang around my own wake.  I suppose I would, just to see what you people say about me.  I wonder if it’s embarrassing at all?  No one talks about the terrible things you did at your wake.  Unless you’re Irish.

Anyway, Saturday morning was the funeral.  It was nice, as funerals go.  I couldn’t get through the hymns.  Kept breaking down.  Then we went to the cemetary.  And then lunch and Angie and I had to hit the highway.  I made it back to Chi in time for the show and afterwards proceeded to get massively drunk.

I had shows Sunday and Monday too.  Yesterday was Tuesday, and I thought my job was the problem.  No.  It’s A problem, but an easy one.  The hard one is the fact that my Grandma is gone.  The hard one is that my Mom, because of her grief, treated Angelina and I as if we were 10 years old.  The hard one is the fact that it really sucks to repress your emotions.  Weddings and births get weeks and months off from your work life and personal life.  Funerals are lucky to get a day.  Why is that?  Why do we compartmentalize grief?  Grief is such a difficult and complex series of events and emotions…it essentially is the exact opposite of falling in love, I suppose.  I don’t know, maybe I’m full of it.

I miss you and love you Grandma.

Emily Matia.  1915-2005.

I know, I know….everyone hates their job.  It’s just temporary.  It’s just to pay the bills.  I’ve only been at this particular workplace for 3 years…there are poor souls out there in dead-end jobs that end up DEAD.  Usually from a heart attack in the company cafeteria.

I can’t take it.  I hate it.  I’m 30 and I’m in a rut and I feel like I’m 50 and all I want to do is be in my play, drink, and sleep in every day.  This is some unhealthy behavior.  I take no joy from my job.  There is nothing to look forward to except my morning constitutional, lunch, and getting home from work so I can not do anything for anyone anymore.  It’s sad, man.  I used to CLAMOR to get out of the house….I LOVED being out.  Now, all I want to do is get home, put on my robe and be ALONE.  I don’t want to do internet research on corporate giving clubs.  I don’t want to look up anything on Fark.  I DEFINITELY don’t want to get involved in some kind of inter-office war between my boss and another higher-up.  I don’t want to be rated on a 5 point scale, I don’t want to talk about the weather, I don’t want to hate riding in elevators, I don’t want to go out in the cold everyday and ride that fucking subway until I want to go Bernie Goetz on some rancid crackhead and then get chased by the cops, Falling Down style.

I think my time at the AMA is at an end.  I have not enjoyed this job.  FOR THREE YEARS I HAVE WANTED TO SHOOT MYSELF IN THE LEG JUST TO GET LONG-TERM DISABILITY LEAVE.  I’ve wished for some sort of windfall, the lotto, anything.  But there’s nothing.  There’s nothing to do but get out.  I really can’t afford to quit and have nothing lined up.  I do have an interview on Thursday…but I can’t help thinking…what if I fuck it up?  What if I’m just not good enough?  What if the only place that wants me is the AMA?  I know I’ll be crushed.  And you know what…I’ve been crushed enough, goddammit.  I got married to a wonderful woman that because of her job I never get to see.  My grandma died the Monday before Thanksgiving.  I’m depressed, tired, and I feel like a fat loser most of the time.  THE ONLY TIME I TRULY FEEL ALIVE IS AT MY SHOW AND AFTERWARDS WITH MY FRIENDS.  The rest of the week…walking dead.  Is this it?  Is this what I have to look forward to?  Did I fuck it up?  A theater degree…jesus.  Do you know I had a full ride?  A FULL FUCKING RIDE, MAN.  And I blew it on a theater degree from a third rate university.

I guess I didn’t blow it.  My life would be completely different if I had done something else.  But, what the fuck do I do now?

Sorry, all.  This one was pretty depressing.  I sound 14 years old.  Maybe I should post some of my bad goth poetry and pics of my latest DISTURBED t-shirt from Hot Topic?  Christ, I’m fucking pathetic.

First of all, why the hell does Friendster make it so hard to update your blog?  Am I doing something wrong?  It should be one click and BOOM, I’m updating…not click, wrong page, clear history and cookies, click, 404, wrong page, refresh, scream under breath, click, Bollo’s blog, read something funny on Bollo’s blog, laugh, do work, click, Fark, read comments on a Boobies post, laugh, sneak a peek at some boobs, clear history and cookies, click, 404…and give up.  Aren’t we in the future here?

Anyway, I cannot wait to get back to the show on Friday night.  I have missed it all week and I want to hang out with the cast and do a kick ass show and drink at the bar and all that.  I missed all those motherfuckers.  Please come see Top Shelf, it will titillate you and make you chuckle hard.

FINE, WHAT ELSE…

Oh, since I’m about 2 years behind the times I’m finally playing through the Halo One Campaign levels.  I love this game.  It’s fucking incredible.  I love an FPS (usually the simplest of genres when it comes to storyline) that actually packs in suspense, hard core action, and jump-out-of-your-computer-chair scares.  Last night I almost peed when the Flood (a race of slimy Lovecraftian devils that want all other living things to cease living) popped out at me.  Talk about scary Nam type shit, man.  But, it’s the little touches that really make it…for instance, you walk through one door and there’s a crazy marine sitting against a wall shooting a pistol at you saying things like "They’re…they’re MONSTERS!  They’ll get you too, we’re all…GONNA DIE!"  I shot him just to put him out of his misery.  By the way, this game is already filled with crazy aliens to kill BEFORE the Flood shows up, the Flood are like a suprise bonus.  YAY!!!

I’m totally addicted and I want to beat it on Legendary status.

That would make me cool, right guys????  Right??????

Thank god I’m married.  I’d never get a date.

Top Shelf

Hey all.  Sorry I haven’t posted in a while.  I owe you wedding and honeymoon pics and dissertations on Breaking Bonaduce and My Fair Brady.  But, I’ve been a little busy.  I’m in the final stretch of rehearsals for the Factory’s latest opus (please click link above for info).  It’s going to be funny.  I’m attempting to grow a porno ’stache.  That is REALLY going to be funny, as I have the testosterone level of Rachel McAdams.  If you don’t know who that is, you aren’t up on your pop culture as you need to be.  Take two Star Magazines and call Ivan Drago in the morning.

Please check out the show if you can.  It’s going to be funny, and I can guarantee drinks across the street afterwards.

Well, I am back.  Here I am.  The honeymoon is over.  Well, the physical honeymoon is over.  Let’s run it down, shall we?

The week and a half between the wedding and the honeymoon was interminable.  Horrible.  Seemed like a year.  I was losing it, and so was Angie.  We wanted nothing more than our resort, a pina colada, and nothing to do for 6 days.  So finally, last Thursday we boarded the plane for Cancun International.  The flight was relatively smooth.  However, we got to Cancun and proceeded to freak out.  Angie had never been out of the country before and I forgot what it was like when I had gone overseas.  Customs forms and standing in lines.  We figured it out and made it through with no problems - didn’t even get the ol’ rubber glove (damn it).  We were then assaulted by men trying to sell us things…very Vegas like, just with Mexican accents.  We were then whisked to our van and headed to the resort.  After a couple of hours we were there.  Beautiful small resort done in a while stucco Hacienda style.  Gorgeous.  We got a golfcart ride through the resort and got to our room.  Note:  everything in Mexico is tiled.  No carpet.  That is because it is MOIST.  You will always sweat, even in airconditioning.  They had done a beautiful swan on our bed made out of beach towels.  Pics will be posted soon.  Hilarious.

It was the Jacuzzi Suite.  Fucking rad.  A tub right next to the bed.  Perfect.  The toilet ran if you didn’t jiggle the handle.  But, no big deal.  We got dressed and went to the Mexican restaurant.  Note:  El Dorado Resort is all-inclusive with 4 restaurants and 3 bars.  So, you really do walk around with a drink in your hand the whole time.  The Mexican restaurant has a bar, so we went early for some drinks.  Then, the eating.  Everything was done in a very euro 4 course style.  It really taught Angie and I that in America we eat way too fucking much.  The food at the Mexican place was great.  That night I proceeded to get hammered.

Friday was fabulous.  First, the gigantic breakfast buffet with Roberto the omelet man.  UNREAL.  We laid around on the beach, we went to the SWIM-UP BAR (Note: awesome…if you have not drank a Pina Colada in a pool yet, do so soon), we went to the bar with swings (literal board and rope swings) and met Marco our favorite bartender (mixes mean mojitos…ALLITERATION, BITCH!).  We ate at the Asian restaurant that night (so SO good).  I discovered a Mexican beer better than Corona…Sol.  Try it.  A very light lager, perfect for the summertime.  We also discovered that we were extras in Dirty Dancing.  See, any resort has scheduled activities every day that you can do if you want.  There’s also a show every night.  Friday night’s show: Caribbean Dancing.  This was truly the gayest thing I may have ever seen, and I’ve seen Cats folks.  I can’t really do this justice in words, so there will be pics soon.  Angie and I laughed so hard we cried.  Once again, hammered.

Saturday we took a trip to Playa Del Carmen.  This was a "shopping" trip.  First, we were herded to a cheap-ass jewelry place to be sold crap.  Angie and I bought nothing.  This was some of the worst jewelry I’ve ever seen.  The mark up was HUGE so they could haggle it down to still ridiculous prices.  Fuck it.  Then on to the Playa.  It’s a nice place, but you will have to deal with the shops and hawkers.  I bought Angie a silver and amber ring and matching bracelet.  We got a good price, I guess.  We ate some pizza at a restaurant called Sur (quite good) and went back to the resort.  Now, Saturday night was Karaoke night.  I sang "Summer of 69" and tore the place up.  Our new pals from California loved it.  You must note that this resort had ages ranging from 25 year old newlyweds to 70 year olds on vacation.  Lots of Europeans and Canadians (surprisingly).  But, no actors.  So, my karaoke…well, it ruled.  We retired early for our Sunday, which was huge.

Sunday we were up super early to get on a tour bus to the Mayan Ruins at Chichen Itza.  We loaded up and went to the Ik Kil cenote first.  A cenote is a natural landfall that exposes a freshwater hole beneath.  Beautiful.  And then…the ruins.  This was truly one of the most magnificent archaeological things I’ve ever seen.  Our tour guide, Don Juan (no shit) was incredible.  We then climbed the great pyramid.  The view from the top reminded me of the Rebel Base on Yavin IV…because I’m a huge geek.  It was simply astounding.  Pics coming soon…because words can’t do it justice.  The trip that day was 13 hours long, so we got back, ate, and passed out.  Exhausted.

Monday we slept in, ate, drank, I got a massage, Angie got a facial.  The last night was champagne night so Angie and I had about a bottle a piece.  Glorious.  I also had one of the finest pieces of Mahi Mahi I’ve ever had.

Then on Tuesday we flew back.  Smooth as silk.  We then went to Simon’s, because we were clamoring for our friends.  Wednesday we had off so I did laundry and the dishes and watched the Cards choke the last game played at old Busch stadium.  Oh well.  Go Astros.  I can’t root for the White Sox, it’s like cheering for child molesters.

Seriously, best honeymoon ever.  I love you, Angelina.