The name game

The word is out and the word is pregnant, specifically my wife. Some people congratulated me, some people said they were sorry (for the baby) and others just laughed at me. We have started to brainstorm names at work that will guarantee my children years of being bullied at school and millions in therapy bills after, which will be before or after they become drug addicted strippers with a third grade education. In no particular order, here is the list of the worst names for my children.

1. Louis Lewis

2. Lesbia Anna (I have run into a couple of Spanish women with this name Lesbiana is of course the Spanish word for Lesbian.)

3. Huey Lewis (his brother would be named the news and we would only introduce them together)

4. Jordan Lewis (but only if it's a girl, because naming a girl after her father is a sure fire way to confuse the crap out of her)

5. Dexter (which my wife and I actually like, but only because Dexter is the protagonist serial killer in a television show that we follow (yup, name him after a serial killer, there couldn't be anything bad that could come out of that)).

6. Maria (my wife will have to explain that one to you)

7. Sue (because Johnny Cash says so)

8. aostiuaijt; (because that was just me slamming my fists on the keyboard and not a real name, and let's admit, that's just mean, but oddly not unlike how some people choose their child's name)

9. Shitonne (I swear to you that I talked to a person with this name yesterday, it's as if their name was also what they will be in life)

10. Concepcion (because that's just disgusting)

On the flip side of the previous paragraph, I really like the name Abraham, but to make it cool, I think we would spell it Abe'rawham. It's like Jon. (no h) you know, because we are cool parents and we have to prove it through punishing our child. He could shorten his name to Abe for work and when he is with his friends they can call him Rawham because that's just cool. I have always wanted to name my child after uncooked meat. It is Abe'rawham, or Jessicoldcuts (which doesn't really have the same ring to it.)
I was going to do my year in review, but as you can see, this name thing is really taking up a lot of my time, so I will save you from the torture that is my perspective on 2008 in my life, at least until tomorrow.

...........

My wife is pregnant.
She is due the first week in August.
That little thing developing inside my wife has no clue what it is about to have to deal with..... poor baby.

Everyone needs a friend on Meth

I don't know if this is countrywide or not, but apparently Arizona has a huge problem with Meth. The "Arizona Drug Counsel" is sponsoring a dizzying amount of television and radio ads aimed at meth. I have never even seen meth, nor do I have any friends who have. My experience with meth is limited to commercials sponsored by the state and a conversation I overheard in an Enterprise Rent-a-Car. The conversation I heard took place almost two years ago, but it entailed a friend consoling a mother of someone who was doing meth. The mother said, "He was doing fine, and then he got into that meth stuff..." That was all I overheard, so from that I surmised that meth was a pretty amazing drug. If people would do anything and everything to get it, it has to be good. The commercials about meth have taught me that meth will make you beat and steal from your parents, trip your friend while fleeing from the police so he gets caught first and become a teenage prostitute so you and your boyfriend can support your habit.

Although all these things sound terrible, I am convinced; everyone needs at least one friend on meth. One of the radio commercials talks about this young man that sold all of his personal property, even things that meant a lot to him so he could support his addiction. Who wouldn't have loved to be this guy's best friend at that time? "Sure I'll buy your high-def TV for $25.00.... oh yes I will give you $0.35 for your CD collection. I mean that's a lot of money, but I know you need it." You may be inclined to feel guilty, but it's hard to feel bad when you are playing your new Xbox 360 that you got for $3.24 (what you had on the floor of your car at the time). I, unfortunately, have no friends on meth at the moment and am forced to pay outrageous retail prices for my goods, but what a merrier Christmas it would be, if we all had friends on meth.
Merry Christmas

I have 50,000 miles burning a hole in my pocket

About a month ago I won a work contest sponsored by American Airlines. The prize was tickets to anywhere American Airlines flies within the continental United States. I was kind of bummed that Hawaii was out of the picture because that's the only place in the US that I would really like to go. Just before I turned 19 a buddy of mine said he wanted to spit off the Empire State Building. I thought that was a pretty good idea so on an impulse we drove to New York from here in Arizona. We actually drove to Washington DC first and then eventually made our way to New York. We made it from my parents' house in Mesa Arizona to a Super 8 motel in Washington DC in exactly 36 hours. There are plenty of stories from that trip, but the point is that I got a freeway view tour of almost all of the United States. I would love to go to Chicago because Abraham Lincoln is my hero and I would love to see some Lincoln museums and history, but that isn't a very expensive flight and I thought if I was getting free tickets to anywhere in the United States, I better pick the most expensive place I can think of. I then decided that I would go to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It's not a far trip, but it would be incredibly expensive to fly in because it's such a small airport. I could then go to Yellowstone which I have always wanted to go to again as an adult and to which my wife has never been.
I went a month without hearing a word about these mysterious tickets that I had won, but today the contest correspondent lady came to my desk and informed me that I needed to make an American Airlines account because they would be crediting my account with 50,000 American Airlines Advantage miles (AAA....I smell a lawsuit). Now, I have never used program miles like this, but I was under the impression that it cost 100,000 miles for them to let you on the plane, let alone turn the engine on. Apparently 50,000 miles is enough to get me to Tokyo and back. So now I have a dilemma: I have 50,000 miles burning a hole in my pocket and I can use them to go anywhere in the world. So I present a question to you, yes you. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? I would like to rule out the United States because that is too accessible to waste on this particular opportunity. Mexico is out of the question for the same reason. I have been to Ecuador. I was thinking about a nice relaxing vacation in Iraq or Afghanistan, if nothing else, than for the story, but that probably won't happen. I have already received the suggestion for Amsterdam, but I don't do drugs and have a wife that would be relatively upset if I petitioned the company of a prostitute, no matter how legal it was. Food is a big part of my decision. I was thinking England, but decided against it because a vacation for me involves a lot of food, a lot of delicious food. I am seriously contemplating flying into Spain and spending some time there before heading to Italy for a few days. Those are two destinations that really peak my interest and I speak Spanish, so Spain would be relatively easy to go through. So I hand it over to you....... where do I go?

I don't care so much

I was listening to the radio (which I always promise myself I will never do again, but time and time again, I hope that radio won't be playing the same stupid songs that it always plays) and the three songs that I could stomach before going back to a CD were all about not caring. This theme isn't anything new, we are reverting back to the early 90's which reverts us back to another time and again 10 times over. You know what, if you REALLY didn't care, you wouldn't even have written the song, it wouldn't have been recorded, it then would not have been marketed, and I wouldn't be listening to it. You know who doesn't care? No, you don't, because if they don't care, you haven't heard of them, and anyway, no one doesn't care as much as I don't care. That is why I check my blog 10 times a day for comments, that is why I cry myself to sleep because I still can't get a single soul to follow this blog. I don't care so much, I am going to get a tattoo, and I am sure that I don't care way more than you. I don't care so much that I am writing this post. I don't care more than the most. I don't even care that this just started to be a poem, it's not even a post anymore, so there! I DON'T CARE!

I don't care so much I am going to make a bumper sticker and buy a shirt. Here is a picture.

I don't care if you like it, I don't care. I don't care I don't care. (please fill out the response column below and leave a comment if you would like, but it doesn't matter because I don't care.)

Yes I know, just deal with it

Okay, so the next post down is really long. I recently had to write a persuasive essay and because I have to be a satirical piece of garbage all the time and never do an assignment the way it was intended, but rather pervert it to be fun for me, this is what all of my school assignments turn in to. Keep in mind that I am happily married. I never put my real opinion into these things, but rather just focus on self deprecation and satire to the point of just being insensitively ludicrous.

Just say no

Imagine for a moment that a man just lost his home, his car, his savings, and his family. Everything that means anything to this man is now gone in a flash. Was it the economy? Was it a natural disaster? No. This man got divorced. Divorce in itself is not the problem, but rather marriage is. Marriage is the leading cause of divorce. Marriage is also the leading cause of all of the life’s problems. There are many reasons to never get married including financial stability, independence, and inevitable divorce.
There is no statistic to support that there have ever been two people having the same income for their entire lives and the lack of this statistic leads one to believe that marriage is therefore entirely unjust. One “partner” will always put more into the relationship than the other. One person will bring more time, money, and effort to the contract than the other. Marriage is often referred to as a “partnership.” A partnership is defined as “A relationship between individuals or groups that is characterized by mutual cooperation and responsibility, as for the achievement of a specified goal.” (Partnership) Marriage is a lie. While it attests to be a partnership and a contract, it cannot be a true partnership because as established earlier, marriage is inherently unequal and therefore the contract terms are impossible to complete. Marriage is not fair for the one side that brings more financial stability to the contract. A community property state (which will be discussed in more detail later on) is a state in which after a marital contract has been created, each individual in the contract no longer has any private possessions, but rather they are possessions of the partnership. It is obvious to see that people’s judgment is clouded. Only under circumstances of extreme duress, extortion, or intoxication would people be foolish enough to sign a contract that relinquishes them of all of their personal property to be put into a trust and then rationed back out to them as the community sees fit. This doesn’t seem like a partnership, it seems like a cult. Individualism is sacrificed for the “greater good.” The member in the contract that brings more stability suffers by supporting the dead weight of the other member in the contract, then that person often wants to bring more people into the contract who will not provide any return (income) for at least sixteen years and in most circumstances never will these “children” bring anything but pain, suffering, and more financial instability as they present a risk that most insurance companies would shudder to accept. Financial stability is not the only thing that one will lose when they enter into a marital contract.
Independence is an inherent loss in the marital contract. The forefathers of this great country fought for independence and we slap them in the face when entering into a contract that makes us subject to the whims of another. While I certainly have my views on independence, I will let more honorable men speak for me in this section. Regarding independence, Thomas Jefferson said, “When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the […] bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.” (United)
The United States was in an unfair contract, as is the nature of the marital contract and therefore, rebelled. Even the leaders of this great nation agree that unfair contracts result in tyranny and oppression and must be avoided at all cost. Colonists separated themselves from their marriage with England, but even the separation did not end the contract they had with them; they had to divorce themselves from England and declare complete independence. Wars were fought and won so we could be independent, yet some people insist on submitting themselves to the will of tyrants. To any person who is thinking about marriage I say to you, keep your independence, appreciate it, love it, and never get married. Thomas Paine once said, “He that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from opposition; for if he violates this duty he establishes a precedent that will reach himself.” (Thomas) According to Paine it is my duty to warn, with all the power of my being, that marriage and the relinquishment of independence will be the end of the world as we know and enjoy it. We must maintain our independence at all cost, but if someone does fall in the snare of a marital contract, there is a way out.
Like removing one’s self from a bear trap, divorce will not leave the parties unscathed, but they will be free and they will avoid the greater evil and impending doom that it offers. While in this paragraph I will attempt to demonize divorce, one needs to understand that divorce is a result of marriage and that while marriage should be avoided at all cost, divorce is the only ethical option for someone who has made the foolish decision to enter into the contract of marriage. It was discussed that in marriage all personal possessions become a single community possession, but in divorce those items are unfairly divided right down the middle as if the unfair contract were actually a partnership as opposed to what has been discussed here before. There is no penalty for the breaking of the contract, but rather rewards, depending on who ended the contract and their standing before the contract. Many marriages are entered into fraudulently so one party may exploit the divorce laws and profit. The only way to protect one’s self from the horrors or divorce is to never marry.
Sure there are many who say that marriage is the moral thing to do and that children deserve to have married parents, but I never remember asking my parents if they are married. As a matter of fact, my parents may not be married, but contracts do not dictate who we are and how we behave. Marriage will not keep bad parents from beating their children; the marital contract will not stop neglect and it will not keep parents from leaving their small children in parked cars in the Arizona heat.
Some will say that marriage is a result of love and they want to be around that person and be tied to that person. If one trusts someone, they do not need contracts to assure that they will be faithful. Marriage is a result of lack of trust. It is an unfair contract designed for people who probably wouldn’t follow it anyway. I do concede that for taxation purposes that marriage does seem like a good idea, but at the same time, I contend that the financial loss inherent in marriage is far greater than the small yearly savings through the IRS.
Marriage has too high of a cost to be seriously considered. One will lose their financial stability, their independence and divorce will ultimately ruin them. Marriage must be viewed for the unfair contract that it is and avoided at all cost.

My life as a victim

My wife was reading my last post and mentioned that my remarks about my mother working with me were kind of derogatory. Let me clarify, my parents are the most hard working, incredible people and deserve nothing but admiration and respect (that should suffice).

Since I started this blog I have been fascinated (as a writer) with the genre and the style of blogs. In the last couple of weeks I have been toying around with the idea of creating a fictitious blog to do more creative writing. The character development potential is exhausting to think about and I believe I could make a character that people would actually read about, which is in stark contrast to my blog, in which only direct family show interest enough to read. (excuse the pity party)
My first task in creating this character was to decide the story he would tell. I decided that he would tell the story of murder. I had to think of something both compelling and horrifying (remember, I am writing this fictitious blog as truth. (Can you keep a secret?)) Then I had to think of what would push a man to that point. I don't want to spoil too much of the story, but I sat down recently and hammered out a single sentence for what I would like to see out of each post that I would do. I came up with 52 posts from beginning to end. While I have them in mind, I have not started writing the posts, and don't look for any for another couple of weeks. I am going to write all the posts before I start posting them, because I want it to be a daily affair and I don't want to be caught without any ideas or without time enough to write my fictitious post.
I have designed the blog already. It can be found at http://www.mylifeasavictim.blogspot.com/ . I initially wanted to call it "Killing Time," but I thought that was too obvious (remember, this guy doesn't know that he is a killer right away). I then made the blog, "My life as THE victim," but I forgot the username and password and spent an excruciating hour racking my brain without any avail for the memory.
Dave Barry's first book was called, "Big Trouble" and in the forward he said that he (Dave Barry) doesn't use vulgarity, but in writing the book he found that the characters did. (Heck ya I just quoted Dave Barry, what are you going to do about it?) I am sure that I will find the same situation true. I just can't see a man that has lost everything and is on the precipice of murder, talk like he just walked out of church.

If you have any suggestions please let me know. I have never tried to create such a developed character, but I will do my best and the best that I can hope for is to peak the interest of at least a couple of people who aren't my direct family. (no offense, I love you too)

Welcome to December and remembering how poor you are

Yes, it's December and holiday cheer is being feigned everywhere. For the first time ever, I stepped outside of my house on black Friday. It was pretty much what I expected, people bumping into me at every turn and me wondering if they were trying to steal my wallet. I am not a huge fan of being touched, and when I say, "not a huge fan," I mean I get chills of discomfort when I see someone rubbing someone else's shoulders. When someone who isn't direct family touches me, a current runs from the point of contact to every part of my body and I can't help but shudder (I can shake someone's hand, but that's about the extent of it). So you can imagine that shopping with all those people bumping into me. I was shaking so much it looked like I was having a epileptic fit.
I learned my lesson, no more leaving the house.....ever, or at least not until I am the last surviving human being after a zombie apocalypse. (oh I can't wait!)
I was very fortunate growing up to see how hard work leads to success. My parents don't have the most prestigious jobs in the world, as a matter of fact, my mother works at the same place I do and ....(edited because I am writing this at work). My parents have always worked very hard. When I was born, my family lived in a duplex, we then moved to a small house, we rented a house for a short period of time before again buying a larger home. We then moved again this time to a home that we rented for a couple of years. We then moved into an apartment, my parents worked hard, we bought a house, and since then my parents have upgraded to a beautiful home at which they have stayed for the last few years. That explanation makes my family sound really transient. We are not gypsies or hobos, my family has just had to follow opportunity as it has reared its ugly head.
(back to my point) ..... back to my point........damn.... I forgot, but anyway.... my parents are cool and they taught me that working hard will get me the things that I ultimately want.... they didn't teach me how to remember why that tied in to a zombie apocalypse.... oh well, I guess I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

Things I like more than you

I am a big advocate of advocating things that I like. I decided to spend a couple of minutes going over a couple of things that I think that everyone should check out. (Is anyone sick of my using the same word twice in each sentence yet? I hope so, because I sure am.)
(In no particular order)
1. http://www.retrojunk.com/
I was born in the mid 80's and I remember commercials for all the cool stuff of the day. I remember plastic Transformers toys (which were impossible to get back together once you tried to transform them) flying through the air, with the help of disembodied hands to go destroy (knock over) the enemy toys. I remember the great songs at the beginning of bad television shows, and previews to what seemed to be the coolest movie ever. Retrojunk.com has cataloged Commercials, introductions to television shows, and previews for movies by decade and then alphabetically so you can see how stupid all the crap you were so excited about, really was. It will bring back some fond memories of toys long since lost, but it will also make you feel ashamed at how excited you were over something that now seems so corny.

2. Yatzee
Yatzee?.....really? Heck ya really! You play a round of this with your spouse or friend and see if you don't want to play another. Your constant desire to beat your score and the constant being possessed by the devil and never letting you get a freaking four of a kind, of the dice will keep you playing and hating it for hours.

3. Mike Tyson's Punch Out
I have shamefully admitted this before. I play videogames, and one videogame that I seem to go back to over and over again is "Mike Tyson's Punch Out." All the fights are scripted (the opponent does the same thing at the same time) but this game is still a blast to play, and Mike Tyson is ridiculously hard. I have never beaten this game, nor have I seen it beaten, but even if you could get a single punch off, on Mike, it seemed like a win.

4. The New Dylans
In filing through my brother's CDs I found this band. I am not sure how he heard of them. I have never heard of them outside of their two CDs, but it is great. It's folksy rock with well written lyrics. I have never come across another person who has even heard of them, so I feel it my responsibility to spread the word.

5. Strangers with Candy
This show was the "After Hours, After School Special" on Comedy Central. It's essentially a satire of after school specials, but way over the top. I would advise buying all three seasons of this masterpiece, but there was a movie that came out recently as well. The movie is nothing more than a long episode so it should give anyone an accurate idea of what to expect from the series. The series stars Amy Sedaris. Stephen Colbert plays a hilarious part as a jaded teacher having an affair with the art teacher. (if Stephen Colbert helps sell it). Sex, drugs and racism (everything you would expect from a great “after-school special” are fodder for some great comedy in this underappreciated series.

6. A nice pen
This might be because I am a writer, but I have a thing with pens. I love nice pens. A nice pen can really make you feel good. It makes everything you write seem more mature, better, more rich. I notice that I have better ideas for writing when I do it with a nice pen. Everyone should own at least one nice pen. When you have to sign an important document (like a marriage certificate) you deserve better than a $0.10 Bic. Actually the document deserves better. Do it a favor and sign with a nice pen. It somehow feels more official. It feels more special.

7. Cap Guns
I didn't realize they still sold these things. I just assumed that this is one of those toys that someone used to blow their own finger off and thereby winning millions of dollars and assuring that the future generation would never know about cap guns. Sometimes I like to go into a store and look for the most random item I can find. I was in the toy section in the local Bashas and saw a cap gun. This is the kind with the roll of caps that is pushed from the orange plastic gun like receipt tape as you fire off the small circular pockets of gun powder. My friends and I used to take the cap roll and smash it with a rock, because, let's be honest, bigger explosions are way cooler.

8. Live acoustic music
As I mentioned previously, I am not a fan of karaoke, but I am a fan of one person on a bar stool with their acoustic guitar, even if that person sings worse than a drunken yodeler on her 21st birthday trying to sing Tina Turner songs. There is something simple and beautiful about this style of music, and if you are lucky, you may just hear someone with talent.

9. Showers in the dark
My favorite place to get away when life gets hectic is in my own head. I do this many different ways, but one of my favorite ways to just shut everything out is to get in the bathroom, turn off all the lights, and make sure there is no light leaking in from cracks in the door. I take a nice warm shower and just lose myself in my thoughts. It's soothing to be in pitch blackness, because your mind goes wherever it wants. Thoughts are not influenced by sight (you are not torn to how sucky your house is because you see cracks in the tile), but rather your mind is free to make natural, uninterrupted progressions. The darkness is way more soothing than the shower, but the shower helps to be relaxed as I lose myself in my thoughts.

I was going to do ten, but I was unable to think of ten things and I would rather write a good list that wasn't even, than try to think of some garbage that doesn't really deserve my endorsement (Now that's pride!).

I hate to be a bother, but your existence is embarrassing me

A couple of days ago I had one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life, but first I should say that I am pretty easily embarrassed. I can't watch "The Wonder Years" for more than about 45 seconds at a time, because it is so excruciatingly embarrassing. I feel embarrassed when I feel other people should be, and because it seems more and more that people just have no sense of shame, I spend a lot of my time with my head down and cheeks flushed.
Yup, that is still very hard to watch. I just get chills and goose bumps, then I have to turn it off after only a couple of seconds.

In meetings, whether they are work, church or otherwise, I spend the time with my head tucked neatly in between my legs, embarrassed out of my mind for people who make comments, ask stupid questions or a combination of the two. So it is in this spirit of feeling the embarrassment that others feel so immune to, that my job is trying to shame me to death.
Once a year my company has a work party to show they are not the heartless zombified soul sucking vampire mutants that they appear to be throughout the rest of the year. This year they decided to have us eat at a western themed restaurant and have corresponding activities.
I don't do well with themes. As a matter of fact, I went to Outback one time and when I was forced to order the "Kangaroo Hoppin' Pork Chops" (yes, I would love to order a $21.5o piece of poorly cooked meat and have to sound like a total moron when I order it.) I decided I would never set foot in an Outback ever again (mission accomplished).
Anyway, so we go to this restaurant with sawdust on the ground, which is fine, if it weren't neatly swept into perfect squares around each table (on second thought, no, it’s never fine to have sawdust on the floor). I felt as though it would be a crime to disturb their beautiful representation of filth, but it's like not shoeing away the fly on my food because it would obstruct the overall experience they were trying to create. My boss spoke to the company using "y'all"s and other terms that mad me wish the plastic guns that the waiters carried were real so I could just unload on myself. They told us it was "chow time" using a cow bell. I felt herded. When I got there I looked at the first person I saw and said, "I could not be more embarrassed than if that had been their intent." Bless the heart of the poor employees that have to role-play for $6.00 an hour. I don't know how you do it. You must spend half your paycheck on alcohol and the other half on shame suppressants (if they don't make those then some other drug that just makes you feel nothing or not realize where you are and what horrible things you are doing.)
I spent the 4 excruciating hours sitting on a ledge looking over the city. I couldn't decide whether to throw myself off or just enjoy the view. In hindsight, I probably should have done the former. People were dressing up in old western costumes and getting their picture taken.
And then there was karaoke. You never lose respect for someone quite as fast as when you realize they have no problem making a total ass of themselves in front of hundreds of sober people. I don't drink, nor have I ever, but I can't imagine any drug that would make karaoke tolerable, let alone entertaining. I like the Smashing Pumpkins, but when I heard "Tonight" screeched out by a sales manager I hate myself, not to mention everything associated with that experience. I am sorry Smashing Pumpkins, I just can't be reminded of that experience again. I could go on for pages, but meh. No one seemed to share my anti-enthusiasm. My mom (who also works for the company) kept me sane with doses of cynicism (thank you Mom; you may have saved my life and my soul).
It's hard not to get depressed at events like this. I sit on the outside and think, "Really?....is this what life is going to be? This is the highlight of these people's year? This party that makes me want to shoot myself in the face?"

Repressed memories are like little gifts you get in therapy

I won't say that I had a traumatic childhood, but maybe to someone else it would have been. For every story of playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on each other's face and the subsequent concussion, there are two stories of love and support. The stories of torture are now shared over holiday meals and card games with our wives.
Here is what I remember: I was about 5 years old. Kindergarten was great. My teacher used to give me packs of hockey cards (like baseball cards, but for crazy people who like hockey). I couldn't give a crap about any sport at the time (that hasn't changed) but they were cool and the idea that one day they would be valuable intrigued me. My family had a Nintendo with Dr. Mario(to which my parents were severely addicted (I remember trying to go to bed, unable to do so because my mom and dad were in my room playing Dr. Mario)) and a couple of other games (Super Mario 3 is still the best game ever). My childhood was a time Ghostbusters (the cartoon) Double Dare (Nickelodeon Game show), and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. (I was playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles one time and gave a flying kick the face of one of my brothers.)
Back to the story at hand: I am five and thus is my life. I am home with my brothers and my eldest brother offers me some chocolate. I hungrily take the chocolate and consume the whole bar. It didn't great, but it was chocolate and nothing will stand in between chocolate and my consumption of it (at that time). I don't remember anything after that.
What actually happened: My mother was a drug rep at the time and as such we had an abundant supply of all sorts of fun medicines, including but not limited to, X-lax. I am not sure how it comes now, but in the early 90s X-lax used to come in a series of chocolate looking cubes connected by a thin lining of more chocolate looking chalky substance. My brother wiped off the X-lax logo from the top of each cube and wrapped it in tin foil. He left the house for a few minutes saying he was going to the PDQ (the gas station near our house). He came back and offered both my older brother and I the chocolate. My older brother tasted the chocolate and realized it was disgusting and ate no more, but he didn't stop me from eating an inhuman amount of X-lax. (Thank you) The story (that will soon be told around a table at Thanksgiving) is that I had diarrhea so long that my parents almost took me to the hospital (and of course they had no idea why). It became so bad that my brother actually confessed what he had done (I don't remember, but for my brother to confess, I am sure it had to be really bad).
So what do we learn from this? Older brothers are cruel, but only because kids are stupid (specifically me). I don't know if I gave you a funny story or an idea for future shenanigans, but in any case, there are more torture stories/lessons to come.

Repressed memories

I am the third of four boys in my family and as such, I have a few interesting stories about abuse (torture) that I will be sharing with everyone. I just wanted to write to let you know that I am alive and you can expect a traumatizing story from my childhood tomorrow.

Would you kiss me if I smelled like curry?

I am taking Romanian 201 this semester. "Why Romanian?" You ask, because ASU apparently requires 2 semesters of another Latin based language for a Spanish degree, and Portuguese sounded to easy to me. I though Romanian would potentially teach me more about Slavic languages and thereby help me expand my language base even more...... not true. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, but the first day of class my teacher said, "There will be no homework, there will be no tests, and even though this is technically a Monday through Friday class, I don't want to be here on Friday, so you don't have to be here either." This is like a dream sequence from a college slacker movie. Last semester was all about movies. We watched a plethora of movies that made me never want to step foot in Romania. This semester is split in between movies that make me want to spoon my eyes out with my pencil and going out to eat. We don't eat Romanian food, rather we eat..... anything really. We went the Ethiopian restaurant a couple of weeks ago and today was the Indian buffet. Needless to say, I smell like curry. Curry is one of those smells that just stays with you. If I pass by people and they smell, it's either they didn't bath in a week, they just smoked a cigarette, or they were within a mile of curry. There is no masking it. I am going to have to take off all my clothes and burn them before I enter my house tonight. I will then take a tomato sauce bath and use a steel wool sponge to remove the first 3 layers of skin from my body. It's not that I don't like the smell of curry, but if all you could smell were roses, you would be pretty sick of roses too. The smell of curry is like mold: it sticks to anything and you may not notice it at first, but in no time it has overtaken your home and everything in it. (I need a shower)

Disclaimers give us freedom

It's hard not to think about race and racism (not racist thoughts but rather thoughts on racism) today. I have gone out of my way to avoid being political and even criticize those self important blogs that think that their opinion really means anything. (I am too much of a realist to think that anything written while half awake at work, no matter how I flower it, would affect or inspire anyone or anything to do anything but laugh (I hope).
Disclaimer given, I tend to think the best of people. I don't think people are hate-filled, I think they are stupid. (and no that doesn't have anything to do with politics, just in general) A coworker was talking about the "mortgage crisis" and said, "I am no racist, but you know it was black people (whispered) that can't pay their mortgages." I am no judge of character, but you are a retard. I think it's funny that people believe if they put a disclaimer in front of what they are going to say and then whisper whatever contradicts their disclaimer that what they say is just fine. I am no anti-Semite, but the Jews (whispered) will be the end of this world with their bagel eating, Hollywood owning, only look out for their own, big noses, oh but I am no anti-Semite.
Don't reach too far into this post to take out your preconceived political biases. The post is just about what it is about and nothing more.
Off topic:
As a writer I hate literature classes, because I think that we make geniuses out of average writers by looking too hard for deep meaning. Nothing makes me want to take a gun to my face like a poetry unit in school. I have no prejudices, but it's always some hippie princess who hasn't showered or shaved in months and while the real world escapes her, it's fine because she wants to live in nature with her books and weed.

I wouldn't make you cry if your tears didn't taste like chocholate

I wish I had a post to go along with that title, but I don't. I was driving to work and I thought of the title. I think it's hillarious, but I don't really have any life experiences to share that tie in, but I will probably use it in some unusually cruel poetry.
I will write a longer post in a day or so (get off my back), but for now, I just wanted to share the title more than anything (and this very creepy picture).

Sorry, we don't validate

My wife and I had very similar experiences a couple of days ago. My wife was in her English 101 class when the teacher dismissed the class for a 10 minute smoke break. My wife doesn't smoke, but she stepped outside and was greeted by a young woman (class mate) from Spain. It is very difficult for educated people to come to the United States from other countries, because their years of education mean nothing. I know a pair of botanists from Mexico that stock shelves together at a bay area Wal-Mart. The closest thing they get to their field of study is when they have to throw out the spoiled produce. It's hard to take the same classes again, or worse, to take classes that make you feel stupid because they are so far below where you should be in school. People in these circumstances sometimes have a hard time, because they want to feel better than the students around them. They want to let everyone know that they don't "need" this class, but rather "have to take it" because of social injustice. This was the conversation that my wife had with the young woman from Spain. Apparently she had taken years of college in Spain and wanted my wife to know how much smarter she was than anyone else in the class and she didn't need the class because she is so smart and had gone to so much school in Spain (I am repeating myself because that's what this type of person does..... they drone on and on and on about how much smarter they are) They don't dare want to be dumped into the same classification as the idiots that actually need the English coarse. They need to feel validated, but sorry, we don't validate here. My wife also took two years of college before she came to the United States, but instead of being a topper, she listened and thought, "WOW, I sound like this when I complain about having to take the same classes again?!..."
I work on the phones and being on the phones, I can't see the person with whom I am speaking (shocking right?). Because I can't see the person and the person cannot see me, they feel an inherent desire to differentiate themselves from the other people that they believe I speak to. True example: A doctor calls me and spends more time talking about what kind of doctor he is and how much better he is for going to college than me. Of course he doesn't know that I am currently in college, but he has to feel special. I know that's why I am going to post graduate school, to feel special and to rub other people's nose in it. "I am a lawyer, which means I am better than you; you can refer to me at Mr BAR certified Lewis thank you. (or big douche, whichever you prefer)
Trying to differentiate one's self just makes them sound desperate no matter how much education they have (validate me, validate me, I went to school for a long time, please recognize me). So let me be the first to apologize, "sorry, we don't validate."

This is why I am Jordan and you're an idiot (not you...him)

I have a huge problem with procrastination, confrontation and being overwhelmed. So my thought process goes something like this: "I really don't want to check that message because it's probably something bad.... I really need to check that message, but I will do it later.... now I have 10 messages and I don't want to check them because it is overwhelming and I can't deal with it right now." Ya, that's how screwed up I am.
So I wrote down a list of the 23 things that I needed to get done today and tomorrow and writing a post was one of them. It's my syndrome of not writing for a long time after I write a long post.
Today will be quick, I want to talk about something that happens at work.
People generally don't recognize that their phones have terrible quality and they expect me to hear them as well as I would as if I were in the same room at them, but the problem is, most people don't have a phone that makes them sound any clearer than I would hear someone under water and they refuse to aknowledge it. I love military people because when I need something spelled out it is, "alpha, bravo, Charlie, delta, and so on." Phonetics seem to be easy, but there are people that just don't get it. I was taking a VIN from a customer who gave me the letters phonetically, but like this.
A like Airy
B like Berry
C like Carry
D like Dairy
E like Erie
F like Fairy
G like Gary
H like Harry
I like Eye
J like Jerry
K like Kerry
L like Larry
M like Mary
N like Nearly
O like Oh
P like Perry
Q like Query
R like Rarely
S like Scary
T like Terry
U like You
V like Very
W like Weary
X like Christmas
Z like Sleeping

...... yup....this really happened (not all in one phone call, but it has happened)

This is the point in the post in which I would make jokes about how stupid people are, but do I really need to? (insert jokes here) I am not going to insult anyone's intelligence by actually explaining why this is hilarious. If you have any questions, read it out loud, and then shoot yourself in the face

Bum wisdom

I have talked a lot about my walk to school which is getting much easier because the weather is getting a little nicer. (It's now shorts weather as opposed to "I want to sleep naked in my freezer" weather) The area around ASU is littered with bums (it's no San Francisco, but let's be honest, that's like comparing a flu to the plague.)
First of all let me explain something: There is a difference in between "the homeless" and a "bum." The homeless are that way because they have fallen on hard times and they have lost their home for a short period of time. They live with family or friends for a little while to get back on their feet. Homeless people are just that, homeless. They are upstanding people who just couldn't seem to make ends meet and consequently, lose their home. "Bums," on the other hand are homeless by choice. They are drug-addicting, toothless beggars lying in a pool of their own fecis with fecal matter sprinkled over all of their belongings, whose life is complete when they find a drop left in the hotel 3oz servings or alcohol in a trash can next to soiled pornographic magazine and a shopping cart wheel. These guys are not temporarily homeless.... They are professionals. They take advantage of every charity and charitable person. They ask for change, but when it's anything less than a quarter they yell at you. They say, "God bless you" when you have finally given them enough money to buy that vile of crack they have had their good eye on. (Okay, so living in San Francisco has made me a little jaded)
(Sorry about the ranting) Back to the point at hand. Bums normally just ask for money, but when they decide to actually talk to you, that's when things get interesting. When a bum asks me for money I think, "Dude, I am poorer than you. Not only do I have no money, but I am in debt to the beast that is school. I should be asking you for spare change," and then I quietly mutter, "Sorry buddy," and walk on.
A couple of days ago I was walking next to a bum (correction: I was walking, he was hobbling on one leg and dragging the other like a gimp zombie) and he said, "I went to sleep when i was 21 and I woke up 52. I am scared that if I fall asleep again I will wake up and be 104." My immediate reaction was, "Holy crap, did this guy just do math!? (104 being twice as much as 52). I then thought about what he said and it has stuck with me a little. What am I doing to make today memorable? Am I coasting half-conscious through my life? I often think I have a terrible memory, but is that only because I am not doing or experiencing anything memorable? I don't mean to sound like some introspective, philosophical hippie, so for that I am sorry.
I wouldn't say that his comment is going to make me change my life, but it certainly made me think. It also gave me a really good idea. I am going to carry a bunch of ones in my pocket when I walk to school and when a bum asks me a question, I am going to ask them a random question like, "What advice would you give to the next president?" If they get the answer right I will give them the dollar.......ok so I will give them the dollar no matter what sort of senseless answer they give, but look for more crazy bum quotes in future posts. I don't know if I should make some profound statement about how we should look for inspiration in all things or that genius can be found in us all, but I guess even the worst of us have our day..... so that being said.... keep reading this blog.

I know it's Friday you lazy bastard

The weekend is upon us, and I plan on spending it drinking juice and playing backgammon. (holy crap, I am a 90 year old woman!) The juice is because of the new braces and backgammon..... because it's fun..... shut up, don't judge me! I will also be building a house of cards and watching c-span. (This weekend is going to be awesome). When I am not surfing the internet, playing internet games and writing in my blog when I am supposed to be working, I am a really hard worker and one of the things that bothers me is people finding excuses to do a half-assed job. My brother once told me something that has stuck with me. "You're adopted and Mom and Dad, don't love you." After he told me that, he also said, "I hate people who concentrate on what day of the week it is; it's just a way to get out of work:
1. It's Monday, I can't work I am recovering from the weekend
2. It's Tuesday, I can't work it's feels like Monday
3. It's Wednesday, I can't work it's the middle of the week
4. It's Thursday, I can't work it's almost Friday
5. It's Friday, I can't work, it's the weekend.
6. It's Saturday, I can't work, it's my day off
7. It's Sunday, I can't work, it's the weekend and it's almost Monday anyway.
And repeat.
I try not to focus on what day it is, because it's nothing more than an excuse to avoid work, and when you don't focus on what day it is, the week does seem to go by a lot faster.

Now I get it!

I named my blog "Shoot me in the face" because it's a term that I use a lot. When I close my phone, the message "kill me" shows up on my front display, because that is just how I feel when I get off the phone. I know it isn't true, but I fear that whenever the phone rings it will be someone telling me some horrible news that leads to some huge project that I must complete under an impossible time frame. Shoot me in the face is meant to be said in desperation. Along these same lines... I am in my mid 20's and got braces.....again. When I was a teenager, I had braces and lost my retainer. I was in a circumstance in which I couldn't get a new one for 6 months and my teeth moved from straight, to straight up disgusting. (I am most self concious about my teeth). So I got braces again this morning and will have them on for another year... HURRAY! Here is a picture.

Shoot me in the face.

Yes, but not really

Today is Columbus Day! I am celebrating by going to school and going to work, because apparently those things don't recognize Columbus for the incredible man that he was. He saw an ocean and he said, "ya, I can cross that." If there was a gold medal for oceanic travel, he would have all of them. His memory would compete against current challengers and would dominate them like a 300 pound woman in black leather and latex. Columbus.... this day is for you buddy.... master of the high seas. Your legacy of shipmanship (oh yeah, I said it!)will live on forever. Here you are:
and this is what your profession has become:

Still Alive

I did want to let you know that I am still alive. I am working on school and something really good for the blog, so be patient. Holy crap! just calm down, you will get more. You are like a "shoot me in the face" junky. It's probably better that I haven't posted in a week, you need time to detox. In the mean time, here are two videos that don't have anything to do with one another. The first is a funny video that has to do with the title of my post and the second is a video that I posted to youtube a while ago, just for giggles.





The girl laughing in the background of the second movie is my wife. She can be pretty cruel.

Maybe you can take a picture of this

Okay.... I am shallow (really really shallow), or at least that is what I think of myself sometimes. I have a moral dilemma with my blog that I just can't get over. I want as many people to read my blog as humanly possible, but I don't want to be self important or ..... (can't think of the word..... oh ya....) a total douche.
To get people to read my blog I even thought about going to every blog I could and commenting on their post, eventually leading them to read my blog in return. I am embarrassed to admit, I actually did this, but I didn't get to the comment part, because I couldn't think of anything to post on some random newlywed mother's blog about her baby's spit-up. (That's not exactly the kind of reader that would find entertainment from my blog, or that I would want reading my blog anyway (see.... I told you, that sounds totally self rightious, as if I would negate some person the "great honor" of reading this piece of garbage). The other very common blog that I couldn't comment on is nothing but pictures. I have no idea what to say because they are just pictures. So many people think they are photographers (just like so many people think they are writers........ oh wait..... (sigh in realization of failure).
I am my own worst enemy for promotion. I don't tell anyone that I have a blog because popular culture has made me ashamed that I have a blog. The Twix commercial see below:

This makes me embarrassed that I have a blog. I am not a political review. I don't pretend that I will make a difference or get upset about things that I couldn't possibly understand, being so removed. I just want to entertain, I guess myself, if nothing else. So, what I am trying to say, is that I want as many people as possible see my shame in all its glory. I hate that I blog, but if you want to read it, that would be awesome.

Shut up and be happy.....sweet heart

I just got back from a stretch in civil service. No I wasn't part of the surge in Iraq or looking for terrorists in Afghanistan. I was serving my country as a juror in one of the great municipal courts here in the United States of, trial by jury, America. I have a long post formulating in my head about all the facets of jury duty, but in my pattern of writing a long post only after an appropriately short one (I have to give the one reader that I have a break, right?)
After jury duty my wife and I went to Ikea. Why go to Ikea? because I am sure amongst the millions of wicker baskets, there is something that we need or don't know that we need, but when we see the bottle opener that doubles as a guest bed, we will realize that we need it more than life itself, or the 3.49 that they are charging for it. (That and their cinnamon rolls are delicious) I love shopping with my wife because I don't have to think of anything to say. Conversations are so easy, and they go something like this:
My wife: Oh my goodness! that is so cute, I love that. Sweet heart, do you like that?
Me: I hate it.
My wife then sighs in frustration.
While in Ikea I decided to play a game that all men wish they could play with their wife at one time or another, it's the "let's see who can stay quiet the longest!" The rules are simple: The first one to talk or make any gesture that indicates communication, loses.
I continued to walk through Ikea, holding my wife's hand in total silence and I realized..... I love this. I really like being alone, but I think I really also just like complete and total silence, uninterrupted by someone asking me what I am thinking. I don't think I would like that all the time, but extended periods of total silence are wonderful. I think that so many moments are destroyed (not talking about my life or wife, but just in general) by people talking. Silence helps me enjoy moments so much more. I am not a fan or tours, because when I see something new or for the first time, or both, I want to be able to soak it in without having to either explain it or have it explained away to me. Silence makes life and everything in it so much clearer. If you haven't recently, take some time to drive off somewhere and enjoy some nice silence.

Rob Roddy's new career

I know that Rob Roddy is dead and we will all miss him terribly. Is there a voice on TV or radio as distinguished and recognized as that of Rob Roddy? I don't think so. He got to wear things as flamboyantly gay as Richard Simmons or Siegfried and Roy, but was never mocked for it. Look at this picture! I found this picture on CNN.com headlining the article about his death. THAT SUCKS! I hope they find a more dignified picture of me when I die, rather than one that could be captioned with "You'll be next muahahahahaha!"
This post isn't about Rob Roddy, but rather about voices. I do a mean "rain man." I also sound so much like a radio DJ on the phones that at least 2 people will mention it every day. I do it because it makes the phone conversation fun for me, because there is nothing else that I do on the phones at work that is any fun at all, and so I can mask my homicidal anger towards the people that I talk to and the suicidal dread (could also be embarrassment or shame (our prices are really high)) I feel right before I give someone the price for the product they want to purchase with me.
I was on a call yesterday and my new supervisor happened to be listening from his desk. (I suck at selling stuff so I asked him to listen to a call and give me some tips (I didn't know that he was listening to this specific call)) I answered with my usual fake enthusiasm and continued the call that way until I saw an e-mail notification pop up on my screen with the subject that read, "You sound like a radio DJ, slow down!" I toned down my...... tone but it didn't stop my customer from saying, "You know, you really missed your calling, you should have been a radio DJ." (like 2 minutes after I got the e-mail) I had to put my customer on hold so I could control my laughter at the timing. My supervisor came over and laughed at me as well.
After all was said and done, my supervisor said that I should be more real. My dilemma is that if I am "real" I would have to tell these people how stupid they are and how much I hate them. So I overcompensate. I overcompensate to the point of actually parodying what I think a sales person sounds like. I sound like a radio commercial for used cars.
The point is, when you can't make it, fake it (sounds like a motto for unhappy housewives or bad porn actresses), and when you are told to stop faking it, uh........... I don't know. I don't know how to be real at work, because if I were real, I would really not want to be here. Pretending that I am happy is what gets me through the day. it's what gets me through a lot of things, and I don't plan on stopping because I overcompensate to the point of sounding ridiculous. I guess I am just not a good actor, but the ridiculousness of it entertains me and helps me survive the endless black hole of misery that is a day at work.

The Following Act

I haven't written in a while (I am not apologizing) because I find it hard to follow "Who Wants to be a Racist Millionaire." I really liked that post, and the title alone should earn me an award of some kind. My blog is not a journal or a series of thoughts. I really view it as personal essays and I want them to be good. I am reminded of "Topper" from the Dilbert cartoons. We all know this type of person: No matter what you have to say, he has done it harder, faster, and first.

I am my own topper.

I suggest you look into "Topper" themed Dilbert cartoons on Google or whatever. They are very funny.

Who Wants to be a Racist Millionaire?

Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to "Who Wants to be a Racist Millionaire?" the game in which contestants win prizes for guessing whether a certain act is racist or just plain idiocy (because jerkism isn't a word and my parents don't like when I use the word douchebaggery).

(audience applauds)

Are you ready to play?!

(audience screams)

OK, then let's get started!

Question number one: You are a dark skinned Spanish girl at a restaurant and a man is blocking the way to your seat and his wife's purse and his coat are lying where your bum will be. He looks up at you as you obviously make your way to the seat and he does nothing to resolve your seating dilemma . Is it racism or idiocy?

Is that your final answer?

Question number two: You are a Spanish speaking girl in an English 101 college course and the professor refers to you only as "The ESL (English as a second language) girl." Is it racism or idiocy?

Is that your final answer?

Question number three: This is a visual clue:

Is it racism or idiocy?

Is that your final answer?

You win.... and Johnny, tell them what they have won.
You have won a lifetime of confusion and insecurity about every move that you make, wondering if you, YES YOU, are a closet racist or at least viewed that way by everyone around you.

Ok......seriously, let's talk. All these things really happened. I am white......very white. My wife calls me milk sometimes to make fun of me, that is how white. My wife on the other hand is a relatively dark skinned south-American. (I call her "cow" to get back at her for calling me milk) I am pretty slow to claim racism, because I think racism is very serious, and I think that people are more selfish idiots than racists (I try to think the best of people). I personally feel that racism is used a little too much as an accusation for the cause of idiotic and rude behavior. The guy at the restaurant was just him being an inconsiderate jerk (I think). The teacher that referred to my wife only as "the ESL girl" was racist (there are more examples of her being blatantly racist, but that is the most obvious), and I think that the picture is just flat out hilarious. For those of you like me, who know nothing about basketball, the picture may seem very racist: A white guy in the middle of, and on a pedestal above four black guys. The guy in the middle is Kevin Nash, or Steve Nash, I don't know which one. I know that one is a professional basketball player and the other is a professional wrestler, but not sure which is which. Steve/Kevin Nash is also dressed in a different uniform. He is wearing all white as the other players are dressed in orange (jail jumpsuit colors). Ok, so they are the Phoenix Suns' colors, but still.
The point is..... one can find racism anywhere, but it's not real, unless it was really intended. Some people are jerks, some are real racists, and some are just clueless.

Bad......very bad

THERE! Better. I hated coming to my blog because that girl from the Exorcist was staring at me every time I logged on. She stole my inspiration (and my soul) every time I looked at her. This should help.

Complete and total, unabated FEAR

Today I am going to talk about fear. I love terrible horror movies. I recently watched "Zombies Vs. Vampires." (just to give you a taste of the garbage that I will watch) There are very few movies that have really scared me. Here is the list:
1) The Exorcist (the scene in which she climbs down the stairs backwards still haunts me)
2) Poltergeist (clowns are evil and they always will be)
3) Event Horizon (a little known sci-fi movie that was creepy enough to make my list)
4) The Blair Witch Project (my parents always took us camping growing up so this one hit particularly close to home.)
I think that's pretty much it. The new breed or Japanese horror films like "The Ring" and "The Grudge" is creepy, but easily forgotten. (by the way, my list is in no particular order)

Those movies have genuinely scared me, but it's not just movies that scare me, it's also certain things that you may not expect..... or understand.
I have an overwhelming fear of checking my phone messages. I generally let 10 or more messages accumulate on my cell phone over a week or so before I will finally check my messages, quickly deleting the message as soon as I can trick myself into believing that I already know what they are talking about or it is unimportant enough to warrant and immediate deletion. This is a problem because I work on the phone and people call me all the time to get information or to follow up with me. I try to check my messages every day, but sometimes it is just too much for me. I know it's an irrational fear. I never think some axe murderer will crawl through the phone and start chopping away at my inner ear, but I fear that it will be someone cancelling business with me or complaining about me in some way. I fear that they are calling about a mistake that I made that will force me to admit my ignorance in my job and life in general. I (like most people) have an extreme fear of failing, but (unlike most people) my fear of failure is crippling. I am scared to check my grades at school because I might have gotten something lower than an "A."
So, step aside "Exorcist" failure is my biggest fear.

One thing that is a resounding irritation for many people about the 80's slasher films like "Friday the 13th" was that busty teenage camper-girls would just sit there and scream while Jason made a carving project out of them. They wouldn't run, and if they were lucky enough to last until the end of the movie, they would somehow have knocked the monster unconscious (Sure he could take bullets, but if you hit him in the head with a frying pan, he was out for at least 5 minutes. (shhhh... quietly..... he's not dead)). The protagonist then pokes around the body just long enough to let him wake up. While the audience is screaming, "RUN YOU DUMB B**** RUN!!!" she is still in the fetal position in the tub scared to move or do anything. She won't try to kill him, because she will never really try to conquer her fear. She will stare it square in the face and eventually try to run from it. My fear of failure works very much the same way: I have a crippling fear. I am scared to study for a test because if I open a book I might realize how truly unprepared I am and I will fail the test (wow..... on paper that really looks backwards). I don't think with the words that I am using to express my thoughts currently; I justify it with procrastination, but I know that, fear is the real reason. I am crushed by failure. Failure would be worse than death and the disappointment of family and friends would be worse than execution. I would rather die than fail and have to face those that I have failed. There are many more irrational fears that I have, but I have opened myself up to enough criticism for today..... plus I am scared to continue.