Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Over the last three or four weeks I've encountered some serious bastards in the truest sense of the word. Two to be exact. Actual bastards. I am sure you still aren't understanding. Two actual bastards, like kids born out of wedlock. I was talking to a group of friends and was talking about one of the kids and said, "yeah, he's a bastard." And then there was a long pause. "No, literally, he's a bastard." I guess it's one of those words that isn't good even when it's used correctly. I guess there are a lot of bad words that aren't good even when used correctly, but bastard shouldn't be one of them. It's not the kids fault. It must be weird knowing all your life that you really are a bastard in the truest sense of the word. It's like an original sin that baptism can't wash away.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
I was never one of those kids growing up that said they wanted to be a fireman or a police officer or a doctor. Those are your typical jobs that kids say they want to be. All of them good, respectable jobs. I don't really like fighting crime or fires or putting my life in danger, so that rules out policeman and fireman. But I don't know why I never considered being a doctor. I'm not afraid of blood, I like helping people, and I like making a lot of money. I thought about what it must be like to be a doctor at the gym this morning when I was looking at the equipment to see how to do a particular exercise. You always see those "consult your physician" before performing this exercise stickers. It got me thinking how annoying it must be if doctors actually got those phone calls. No one would ever want to be a doctor. "Hey doc. Sorry to bother you, but I am about to do this cable cross thing at the gym. You think I can handle it?" "Hey doc, yeah it's me again. No I am fine. It's just that I got this girl over and there's a good chance that we could... you know. Do it. Just making sure if it's okay for me to pop this Viagra. And uh, yeah, do I need to call you next time? It might be in the morning if I am lucky." "Hey doc. Sorry this is the last time. Bout to go on this roller coaster." No wonder no one wants to be a general practitioner anymore.
Monday, October 4, 2010
I went out to San Diego this past weekend for a good friend of mines wedding. Everything about it was beautiful, the bride and groom were beautiful, the weather, ceremony.... all of it absolutely amazing. Unfortunately I was having one of those nights when no matter how much I had been drinking, I wasn't getting a buzz on. Naturally, it hit me all at once at the end of the evening. Not something I am proud of. But it reminded me that no matter how drunk I get, I always find my way home. And in my case, I not only find my way home, I always get undressed and in my bed, cell phone always plugged back in, wallet always on dresser. And that's when I thought about that footprints prayer. It was after I passed out that Jesus gave me a piggy back ride home. And then wrote on my face in magic marker. Psych, that part didn't happen.