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"I like my life so much bettr since uve been in it."

Is It Really Considered Cheating If...

A married couple from Central Bosnia is divorcing after they chatted each other up on the Internet using fake names. Sana Klaric and husband Adnan poured their hearts out to each other over their marriage troubles. Writing under the aliases “Sweetie” and “Prince of Joy” (insert barf inducing noises here), they communicated in an online chat room thinking they had found a soul mate with whom to spend the rest of their life with.

When they finally met in person for a date, the pair soon realized their online lover was actually their real life significant other! Unlike a Hollywood scripted movie, there was no happy ending. The couple is now divorcing after accusing each other of being unfaithful. That's right, they are divorcing because they cheated on each other, WITH each other and in the process fell in love again with one another.

Sana, 27, said: “I was suddenly in love. It was amazing. We seemed to be stuck in the same kind of miserable marriages. How right that turned out to be. I feel so betrayed.”

Adnan, 32, said: “I still find it hard to believe that Sweetie, who wrote such wonderful things, is actually the same woman I married and who has not said a nice word to me for years.”

Oh the irony, I love it! So the question remains…is it really considered cheating if the person with whom you are having an affair with is your spouse? I don’t know, but the only thing these two should feel betrayed about is their own sheer stupidity. If you ask me, I say these two unfaithful dumbasses deserve each other. And just think of all the money a marriage counselor could of made off of them. Pitty.

Creative People Are Tortured Souls?

“You’re very creative.” She said it with a rather surprised look on her face, but with certainty in her voice. The message was clear – she was paying me a compliment and for that I thanked her. But what she said next, I wasn’t prepared for. She caught me completely off guard. A “umm ahh” wavering in my voice. No words, only nonsensical noises. It’s all I could manage to get out. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to react. She asked me the one question I hate to be asked. How could she just ask me that like it was no big deal? Like it wasn’t going to open up this huge floodgate.

Three little words that only someone who is sworn to a lifetime of confidentiality between therapist and patient should have permission to investigate. And when the interrogation process begins, I should be lying on a nice supple Italian leather couch with my feet propped up in absolute comfort. Then maybe I would be in a state of mind where I could mentally and emotionally prepare a reply. Instead, I am leaning against a lamppost, chit chatting while I wait for the clock to strike seven. On the outside, I remain standing. On the inside, I feel as if I’ve collapsed like a bowl of jelly on the pavement. She’s managed to rattle me to the core. Unbalance me. I wiggle. I squirm. I now feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

“Are you happy?”

It’s all she asked. Of course I take my usual approach when I don’t want to answer a question - I answer a question with a question…“Are you happy?” It’s my way of avoiding the torturous moment or at least postponing it to the point where it is magically forgotten, thus vanishing into thin air. I push the spotlight back on her and force her to endure some of the awkwardness. Just my luck though, it backfires when she responds with a confident and very believable yes. She goes on to say that I don’t need to actually answer. That she just asked out of curiosity. That she heard on Oprah that creative people are really tortured souls. That creative people are often emotionally distraught people. That the internal pain they suffer from comes out in the form of art, music and writing. It’s that expression of pain that forms the tunnel for a creative outlet. Apparently, it’s a tunnel I travel thru often.

So am I happy? I won’t answer that. Am I a tortured soul? It’s up for debate. Although using the word tortured to describe my soul seems rather excessive and harsh. I will say one thing. Some of my best writing has always come when my heart is aching. So maybe she’s right. Dare I say I may even agree with Oprah? Or maybe Oprah agreed with me – I give you a piece of my writing written prior to Oprah’s creative people/tortured soul theory.

2/21/06 - When Words Seem Generic
What is it about pain that produces the most beautiful writing? Someone who has never put more than two sentences together is able to write for a eulogy. A eulogy given with such a profound impact on those that hear it, that you wouldn't be surprised if the tears would flow as effortlessly down your own cheeks as the words flowed from his pen. Is it the longing of what was or what could have been? The struggle of how a different path could have been taken, producing different results? Maybe it's the lose itself and the overwhelming sadness and grief that is left behind? Or perhaps your anxiety, frustration and newly found fears consume you the most? Whatever it is, the overall emotional ache we feel in our own private hearts produces such a gift. When we are alone, more than any other time, is when the emotions flood in. A wave that washes over us. Some destine to swim. Others destine to drown. It is at that moment when he must of picked up his pen and put ink to paper.
(...continues here)

Digital Freudology

Has man always wanted the new, new thing? If that man is me, the answer is undoubtedly yes! If there is only one thing you ever learn about me it’s that I’m a Tech Whore, who has an often unhealthy love affair with the latest and greatest tech gadgets. Some see Tech Whores as shallow, morally vacant individuals, pathetic seekers of self-completion relying on things to make them whole. I however see myself as perfectly normal, just as any sick and twisted mentally unstable person does.

We all have “a little crazy” in us. I just happen to be crazy about tech gadgets. There are people who are at times always looking for something new. But there are also people who are afraid of new things. They are called techno-phobs. They find new things destabilizing and therefore reject them. I’ve come to the realization that there are two types of people in this world…those that crave new technology (me) and those that fear it (my father).

Ever since Freud, psychologists have been telling us that somehow our relationship with stuff is false because it's a displaced desire for human connection. Detachment plus familial alienation equals the transference of affection from people onto objects. What that says basically is that all of our love of things is some kind of pathology, and from an anthropological point of view, I think that's just crazy. If there's anything that distinguishes our species over the last four million years it is that we are object users. We're tool users. We love stuff. Humans are into possession. Chimpanzees, not so much.

Although, there have been civilizations in history where people seemed relatively happy with stability. The ancient Mayans knew about wheels, but didn't feel any need to invent wagons. Today, if there were no economic innovation, can you imagine what would happen? I guess that would be the end of the modern economy. Maybe the Amish are not really “behind the times” like we all think. Maybe the Amish are actually light years ahead! Could their lifestyle give us a glimpse of our own future? Could it be true that in 2010 I will not be spending my free time playing virtual videogames, but rather churning butter?

Ok, this post got a little out of control at the end and I’m not even sure where I’m going with this anymore. But if I could somehow relate this all back to my penis, then my Digital Freudology post would be complete.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

My head isn't all together here. And whenever my head is, that is where my thoughts are, which are tied to the words that are escaping me.

You could say the cat got my tongue. I’ve sat here for 2 hours. Wasted 2 hours of my life thinking of what I wanted to write, what I needed to say. And I’ve come to this conclusion…I want to write nothing. I want to say nothing. Do I need to express myself right now? Yes, of course I do, but I don’t want to share any part of me. Actually, I may not want to share any part of myself ever again. This weekend I was made to feel that every part of me is vile and disgusting.

When I’m quiet and I’m asked what is wrong. I pause before opening up. I ask, "do you honestly want to know?" I ask this because I often wonder if they truly care to know or they are just being polite. I wish I didn’t need to question it, but these days one can never be too sure, so I ask. They reply with a firm yes – assurance that I matter to them. So I proceed to open myself up and not even a full sentence in, I’m insulted and belittled. What I say is misconstrued. I’m tossed into the "typical guy" category, when I always thought of myself as anything but typical. Assumptions are placed upon me that truly shock me because I would hope that by now my character would speak for itself, but apparently nobody really knows me at all.

I shouldn’t need to explain myself. I shouldn’t need to defend myself. Therefore, I won’t. Actually, I don't even know what I would be explaining or defending? I would have needed to have done something wrong to justify an explanation or a good defense. I think a true friend listens even if they don’t always want to, but because they offered to. They should give you the benefit of the doubt and at least allow you to finish speaking before lashing out on you for no reason at all. They should be sympathetic to your feelings, even if only for a brief second before they focus solely on their own emotions. I’ve never asked to be put first in anyone’s life, but I have wanted to have a place in someone’s life. And wherever I fit in was fine with me.

Maybe that’s dumb, I don’t know. But I refuse to be ok with being labeled as the same as every other male jerk in her life, both past and present. Enough about what you deserve for a change. I deserve to be treated better to. Here’s the real kicker, she says she has feelings for me and wants a romantic relationship with me. Now from my past experience, a real relationship has always been based off a beautiful friendship. To have a friendship, you have to like a person. It doesn’t seem like she even likes me? And it was made clear to me this weekend that she doesn't think very highly of me, which naturally doesn't swell my heart with happiness. So I don’t understand how she could possibly want more with me. The whole thing is just really confusing. At least I don't have to try and make sense out of it because she's decided she won't talk to me now. That's one way to solve a problem I suppose.

From now on though, when I’m asked if I’m being quiet because something is wrong, I won’t question them. I’ll know they are just being polite. My standard reply will always be "I’m fine."

SIDE NOTE: I’m leaving for New Zealand today (work) and I expect to be gone for 2 weeks. I’ll return to the States, but not sure if I’ll return to blogging. So if this is my last post, I apologize for it not being my best piece of writing.

I...Must…Resist…The Urrrge!

I’m an addict. It’s been going on for years. I’m admitting it now, even though I’ve denied its existence to many, even to myself at one time. My friends, my family, they all know its presence in my life. They all see the role it plays. The importance I place upon it. They all see how deep I’ve gone. Sometimes the power it has over me is so great that I simple give in and indulge myself. On occasion, I have excluded myself during family events and social functions. Other times I attend, but isolate myself from the group. Like at Christmas when I excused myself early from the dinner table so I could venture off to another room and “get high”. I can’t say I’m proud of that, but I did it. I can’t say my family and friends understand, but they unwillingly accepted it. However, they all agree I need help. I agree, I need help.

I’ve been doing it for as long I can remember. I don’t recall a time when I didn’t crave it. I go thru withdraw when my body isn’t being fed. It’s an uncontrollable craving in my blood. My mind is screaming, begging for it. I must satisfy its wants and demands. I don’t just want it. I need it! So what is my poison of pleasure? If you’re guessing sex, it’s a good guess, but you’re wrong. Some people put dumb in a shot glass. Others put dumb in a needle. I put dumb in a USB port. I’ve said it before – I’m a Tech Whore and I’m addicted to tech gadgets. My latest weakness, the new iPod Touch.

The iPod Touch (www.apple.com/ipodtouch) was unveiled to the public this week. It looks exactly like the iPhone and even operates exactly like the iPhone, minus calling capabilities. The iPod Touch not only gives you music, but also Wi-Fi Internet access. It’s the perfect on-the-go gadget! I’m starting to salivate just thinking about it. Is there something wrong with me? I’m even nodding my head yes to that question.

You see, some people just don’t understand how hard it is for me and Tech Whores like me. We have this overwhelming urge to stay on top of technology. The beauty of technology is that it’s constantly changing and evolving. However, that also makes it increasingly difficult to have the latest and greatest gadgets in your pocket. It’s a never ending battle, but one we fight on a daily basis, the addiction. Best Buy is like a crack house to me, seriously. iPods, cell phones, laptops – they are the crack cocaine. I love getting high! Love, love, LOVE it! Although, the problem is that there needs to be some cutoff level to just how high I can get.

I already have an iPod, a black 5th generation 30GB video iPod to be exact. It’s only about 2 years old. It works fine. It’s integrated with my car stereo. It travels to the gym with me. It’s by my side at work. It's never caused me problems or given me heartache. Really, it’s been the perfect girlfriend. I hate to dump her. She’s still sexy and quite young. Logically, I can’t justify buying a new improved model. Emotionally, I want to! I want to bad! Temptation is a bitch and I’ve been tempted by the forbidden fruits before – the MotoRazr2. It too just came out and even though I already own a MotoRazr phone that isn’t even a year old, I still want the new one. Maybe I'll just cheat a little and borrow someone else’s iPod Touch and MotoRazr2 to fool around with. Nobody has to know. I can still get my high that way without actually buying the drugs. Slimy? Maybe, but it’s the level addicts go to when they “need a fix”.

How long will I hold out, only time will tell. I…must…resist…the urrrge!

TigerBeat Presents “Nerds On Desks”

Oh Stephen! You sexy, sexy beast! Thank God for the Internet because without it, we may have never laid eyes on this softcore porn photoshoot featuring Apple’s very own CEO, Steve Jobs. You may remember a similar layout featuring Microsoft’s Bill Gates (2/19/05 - Sexy Bill Gates Photos Exposed). What is it about nerds posing on desks in the ‘80s? Was there some type of weird “geek meets faux wood” fetish that sprung during that era?

Who took these circa 1985ish photos and why has yet to be researched. Of course that information isn’t all that important. The real important question is, are those super tight jeans Jordache or Sasson? Inquiring minds want to know. One thing is for certain, he looks dreamier than Greg Brady! Ahh, I think I may be swooning here. All we need now is some sexy shots of Linux’s Linus Torvalds to make the nerd herd complete.

Oh no, I just realized something. I was wondering why this photo looked familiar and it finally hit me! My Dad looked EXACTLY like that when I was born. The hair, the beard, even the clothes. EXACTLY! Freaky. And no, Steve Jobs is not my father. Umm, right Mom?

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Net Addicted Hubby Has Hand Amputated!

Remember the Lorraine Bobbit fiasco? She caught her husband cheating and decided to eliminate the problem once and for all…by cutting off his penis! Well, I suppose that’s one way to solve infidelity in a marriage. Of course, two wrongs don’t make a right, but try telling that to a psycho holding a butcher knife. I’m sure someone out there has kept a national record of cheating statistics - the percentage on average that people cheat in a relationship. If such a record exists, I’ve always wondered if there was an immediate decline after Lorraine Bobbit’s story spread. Let’s be honest, no woman in history has managed to scare the shit out of men more than her! And it is rather sick, but somewhat understandable, that most women cheered and laughed when she “cut it off”. To this day, I still cringe when I hear her name.

Well move over Lorraine, there’s another psycho bitch in town and her name is “He Ling” from China. She has amputated her husband's right hand after catching him video chatting to girls at a local Internet cafe. Let me remind you – he was chatting, not cheating. Her husband, Jiang Ming, had promised he would spend time with his new son in preference to the net. Apparently that promise was not fulfilled to his wife’s liking. So a chopping she went!

"I was on the Internet and suddenly felt numbness in my right hand. The arrow on the screen stopped moving. Then I found that my right hand was on the mouse pad and blood was shooting out.”

Despite his injury, Ming asked the judge to be lenient with his wife (cough, dumbass). He admitted that he broke his promise so it was his fault (cough, pussy whipped). The judge has yet to announce his verdict. It’s true, a woman can train and control a man. Although, owning Rambo’s meat cleaver certainly helps the process along.

So let’s get this straight. Cheat = have penis chopped off. Surf the net too much = have hand chopped off. So what happens if you surf the net for porn? Is it a 2 for 1 deal/punishment? Say ba-bye to hand AND penis? Well I suppose that would be called being proactive, as it would also solve an excessive masturbation problem one may encounter in the future.

Hey, here's a noble idea...don't get married. Your penis, your hand and all other body parts will remain attached to your single status body. I imagine you will also retain your sanity. I'm sorry for Ming's sake, my advice comes a little too late.

Crocs Breed With Uggs = Cruggs?

Ok, so I’m not a fashion expert, that’s my sister’s field. However, I do know when a woman is well dressed. And trust me, she’s never wearing Uggs, Crocs or Cruggs. A few years ago the term “fugly” was coined. Fugly is the product of combining f*cking and ugly. When something is f*cking ugly, it’s “fugly”, which is the best word I know to describe this…

The only thing in the world I hate more than Crocs are Uggs. Uggs, quite simply, are ugly. It’s how I feel they got the name Uggs, short for ugly. They are so hideous that I would be forced to breakup with a girl if I discovered she owned a pair. If you don’t know what Uggs are after all these years, then you will need to ask someone because frankly, I can’t stomach describing them. Yes, they are that bad. I think I threw up a little in my mouth just mentioning them. Honestly, I don’t understand why the fashion police haven’t taken the necessary measures to arrest all those who have bought Uggs and stop all those who may THINK of buying Uggs. If you ask me, the illegal substances (Uggs boots) should be banned worldwide.

Now there is good news and bad news. First the good news. To my knowledge, Uggs sales are down. They are no longer in Vogue. Although to many, they were never fashionable to begin with. I hardly ever see them on the streets anymore and that definitely makes me happy. My eyes can finally stop bleeding. However, just as I was cheering the death of Uggs, along comes the Crocs, those rubbery looking gardening shoes. Apparently they are very comfy, but when has any girl choosen comfort over fashion? Think about it. Stilettos were made for a reason. They can’t be comfortable, but they sure are sexy as hell and attract men like magnets! Whereas Crocs are comfy, but have men screaming and running in the opposite direction. I ask you, which scenario would you rather have occur?

Let me paint a clearer picture for you, ladies. Think back to college when you sat down in class, looked over to your left and realized the cutest guy was seated right next to you. How excited you were! You smile, he smiles back. You let your eyes wonder, dropping over his body where they eventually bulge out of your skull and hit the floor when you see what’s happening south of his ankles. That’s right, he is wearing the official lesbian footwear – the original Birkenstock sandals with the thick gray wool hiking socks. Nothing says fashion plate like sandals and wool socks, right? And if I’m not mistaken, isn’t the point of wearing sandals to let your feet breathe? And isn’t the point of wearing wool sock to keep air from reaching your toes? When you combine sandals and wool socks, you’re only confusing the hell out of your feet! I recall a few dudes who decided to mix it up a bit and pair their black Adidas sandals with their white gym socks. Always a real “girl getter” look as well. I suppose in college everyone gets a “sloppy card” – sloopy dresser, sloppy drunk, sloppy kisser, sloppy seconds. Maybe back then your game was good enough that you could pass with the sloppy card, but your college days are over. Welcome to the real world. In the real world, sloppy doesn’t get you laid.

It seems there is a cold hard reality that we must all face, the birth of Cruggs. Crocs and Uggs have been bred together to bring us Cruggs. Fulgy indeed. It was only a matter of time before the two met, fucked fugly style and spawned this vile demon bastard footwear. Cruggs were recently spotted in a Houston store window where I’m sure they set off a chain reaction of uncontrollable vomiting among window shoppers. I don't know how much Cruggs are selling for, but I do know that owning a single pair will cost you your dignity. They will also leave you feeling sexually frustrated because it’s certain you won’t be getting any as long as you strutting your stuff in Cruggs.

I’m actually looking forward to Fall, when all the cute girls will be stepping out in sexy knee-high leather boots with the thin little heals. Mmm, my favorite! But for now while the weather is still warm, I say if you want comfort, go with flip flops. After all, what goes best with flip flops? A bikini. And remember for a bikini, less is best. Bless you string bikini and flip flop ensemble. Bless you.

***NOTE***
This post has been sponsored by the “Just Say No To Cruggs” campaign. Remember, Hugs Not Cruggs.