A Letter To My Future Girlfriend

This is meant to be a love letter, but I’m thinking that if you ever read this, it may lead to you replying with a breakup letter. It does feel really weird writing to you, especially considering you do not yet exist. Or rather you exist, I am just unaware of your existence. The future tells me that will change. That we will meet. And in time, we will fall in love. Or so that is what I am supposed to believe will happen. I am hopeful that will take place. That I will find you and we will have this little fairytale romance, the kind that you read of in old leather-bound books and see on the big Hollywood screen. The kind of love the world is envious of and wishes they have what we share. The kind of love that your parents, grandparents and older relatives tell you about. The kind of love that you roll your eyes at as if to say those times just no longer apply to current day living. It’s 2009, not 1950. Needless to say, times have changed, dramatically! Chivalry is just about dead. Young people don’t court one another anymore. They don’t write love letters. They don’t perform small gestures of kindness. They just don’t pine after one another. They don’t allow nature to take its course and progress a relationship naturally, effortlessly. Instead we have drunken one-night stands. Start a new relationship before a previous relationship ends. Try to find function in dysfunctional toxic relationships. And sometimes we even shack up together or throw a kid into the mix thinking it will further a stagnate relationship or salvage a broken one. The worst of all, marry and divorce in less than 5 years. Now that really fucks things up! It should be quite clear. Living together, having a baby, or buying a diamond ring isn’t the quick and easy solution to your problems. Those are surfaces patches, mere makeup that covers the wounds left blistered and bubbling below the surface. We make poor choices along the way thinking somehow we will magically learn from our mistakes, but more often than not, we just seem to repeat our past. All of us, to some extent, fall into these same patterns. While we may toss aside a heart as if it was yesterday’s trash, we often look back, but we rarely turn back.

I’m not really sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You see, at one point in my life I was a hopeless romantic. I understood love, had it, and really found the whole idea of being in a relationship quite easy. I never grasped how my friends could have so many love issues! All the drama, it seemed so exhausting and so not worth it. I felt they made things more complicated than need be. That if they would just learn to relax, stop over analyzing and go with the flow, that simple love would come their way too. Love would sail into their life like a gentle wave blowing in to meet the shore. Of course nobody ever tells you that eventually the winds pick up and that once gentle wave crashes into a pile of jagged rocks leaving you bleeding for weeks, months, sometimes years on end! Sure, they may try to warn you of that. But until you experience that pain firsthand, no amount of fair warning will prepare you to weather an unforecasted storm of that caliber. That is a journey you have to sail alone. So we take time out to lick our wounds before boarding the ship once more. Eventually, we are off to sea again in search of new fish. Any captain will tell you that rough patches are inevitable, and so too is the case in love.

Maybe it’s just me, but everything seems so rushed and prematurely forced. We try taking the next big step and often leap into things before we have completed the baby steps that are needed to stabilize the very ground we walk upon. It’s like we are treading thru quicksand and sinking faster by the minute. We are in a race, but to where I do not know. There’s no solid foundation to this "relationship". We jump into bed with someone before we even form a friendship with them. We want to run before we learn to fully walk. Our footing is unstable and with every shaky unsure forward step we take, we seem to tumble backward and fall an even greater distance behind. And instead of the relationship progressing, it seems to digress, or just falls completely apart. We lay there face first in the dirt wallowing in this vicious cycle of springing from one relationship to the next as if it was a game of hopscotch. I seem to lose more than I win and with each defeat, I find it harder to pick myself back up. I’ve already lost the spring in my step and I’m starting to lose my hop as well. Sometimes I wonder if all the energy put into this love crap is worth it. The cynical side of me says nothing lasts forever. So why bother to continue playing? Cut your losses now before you become too attached or even addicted to the game. Save yourself the heartache that is sure to follow. Be smart. Play it safe. Stay guarded.

I’m not a commitment phob, but can we slow this down just a tad? Let me wrap my head around exactly why you chose me. Part of me secretly does not feel worthy of this honor. I feel nervous and pressured when you want to "have the talk". Why I may not always understand a woman’s urgent need to hold the official girlfriend title, I am more than happy to give it to her, when it feels right. I can ask you to "go with me" on the back of a bubble gum wrapper 6th grade-style, or if you like, you can just read the signs. Don’t worry, they will be loud and clear. I will show zero interest in seeing other people. I won’t shut up about you to my family, friends, and co-workers. And the most obvious sign, I will casually introduce you as my girlfriend when bumping into an acquaintance on the street. I won’t even realize I’ve done it. I will just blurt it out and think nothing of it. That is when you know you have me. Well that and the swoony love sick look on my face the moment you enter a room.

Although my eyes may sometime linger, I never will stray. So rest soundly at night knowing that just like a good dog, I too will be loyal. You can count on me to be there. I can weather the storm. And I will go above and beyond my call of duty to make you aware of how much you mean to me with tokens of my love and affection along the way. Even after the initial/beginning stage of our relationship passes, I will do my best to keep it fresh, exciting, and more alive than ever. I do this not just for you, but for me as well, for us. I will work hard so that it never loses that warm, fuzzy feeling you’ve grown accustom to. The butterflies that flutter in your stomach and that tingle that shoots thru your body with just a touch of your lips, I will make sure those sensations linger on. I’m not sure if I can defy the laws of nature and rekindle all the feelings that a budding summer romance possesses, but I will do my utmost. I am willing to try. And with today’s standard of easily disposable relationships being the norm, my extraordinary effort should speak volumes.

I honestly love romance and I enjoy chivalry. A woman takes care of me, so why can’t I take care of her? I don’t see the harm in that. So let me spoil you some. It makes me happy to see your face light up, especially knowing I’m the one who placed that smile upon your pretty little face. Small surprises not just on your birthday or calendar marked holidays, but I’ll celebrate you on some idle Tuesday afternoon. Because I believe that one of the best parts of having a someone is letting them know they aren’t just anyone. They are the one. And why can’t I make any day of the week special? So please accept the yellow gerber daisy I lay on your bedroom pillow early Sunday morning before you wake. Please accept the note attached and feel me in those words. And don’t get frightened when I say I’m making you breakfast in bed. We both know I can’t cook, but for you I’ll really try. Please accept the smiley heart I draw on the foggy bathroom mirror when you are in a rush for work on a hectic Monday morning. And when Friday night rolls around and you tell me you feel like having Italian for dinner, don’t question why I want you to pack a weekend bag. Don’t question the International plane tickets for two. And don’t question that I love you.

All I ask is that you recognize these gestures and not take them or me for granted, as I promise to never take you for granted. I do my best not to show it, but if you get to know me well enough, it will soon become apparent that beneath a tough guy exterior I tend to be a little more sensitive than most men. I’m not sure if that is something I should apologize for, but I think it’s something you need to be made aware of. As a result of my soft interior, I find myself getting hurt more easily than perhaps I should allow myself to succumb to. Although when you open your heart and your life to someone, you also open yourself up to complete vulnerability. It comes with the territory, but I think I can handle it. I know at first I may come off as secretive or guarded, but please don’t take it personally. It’s just who I am and in time I will come around. I have good reason not to trust women and question their shady ways. I’ve been led on, lied to, deceived and belittled just to name a few. Although it is not fair and I do not wish to make you "pay" for the mistakes previous women before you have made with me, you must understand that these are things that have left scars on my heart and questions on my mind. So while I may keep you at a distance until a certain level of trust is formed, I warmly invite you to discover every aspect of me and my world. I wish for the same opportunity to present itself with you and I eagerly anticipate seeing all the beauty that surrounds you as well. I pray that you will be patient with me and trust in me as I wish nothing more than to trust again, this time in you.

My confidence will grow when you’re near me and your presence in my life alone will be enough to make me want to be a better man. The man I once was and the man I know I can once again become. I want to be the one that makes you happy and causes your heart to smile. That would be your greatest gift to me. Let’s celebrate together on some idle Tuesday, to the beginning of a new relationship, complete with swoony love sick faces.

PS (Will you go with me?)

***UPDATE***
See this post featured as a 20SB February Blog Carnival Winner.
http://20sb.blogspot.com/2009/03/february-blog-carnival.html

Look-alike Contest

Most people would consider it an insult to be compared to a dog. But to be compared to my Bulldog Diesel is a huge compliment! Or at least I think so. It’s a proven fact that he is the most awesome dog in the entire world! So why wouldn’t you want to look like him? He’s a 45 pound chunk of meat packed full of power, personality and charm. The ladies want to be with him and the guys want to be him. He’s a stud. What else can I say? I’m sure you lay awake at night wondering how you could be just half as awesome as my dog. Well wonder no more. Now is your chance to compare yourself to the one and only D-Dawg. I’m holding a Look-alike Contest!

Here are the official rules...

1. Take a snapshot of yourself with your best Diesel "sleepy face" – that means tongue out.
2. Send it to diamondkt@gmail.com Subject: Look-alike Contest
3. Please specify your name/alias or if you would like to remain anonymous.
4. Also include your website/blog address so that I can plug your site for you.
5. Check my blog periodically to see all the entries and help vote for the winner.

Right now, there is no entry deadline, but I’m thinking I’ll accept the first 20 submissions and then end the contest. So what is the grand prize? Well unfortunately you don’t win anything, but you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you cheered an awfully sad guy up. I’m on day 12 of homelessness, been slapped with a $4,000 repair bill to fix the natural gas leak at my house and my home owner’s insurance isn’t paying a single cent to help me out. Plus, I’m still crunched over in pain due to a whole mess of stuff going on with my left lung. Wow, I really sound like a mess. However, if you send me your silly photo, it will help me smile again.

Cheer a boy and his dog up. Send a little happy our way by entering the Look-alike Contest and share a giggle with the world.

7 Things I’ve Learned In 7 Days Of Homelessness

Just the title of this post feels surreal. It’s like I’m doing some type of granola girl experiment, to experience homelessness firsthand. I wash off all my makeup, toss my razor in the garbage, and throw up the peace sign for my iPhone. It will be the last self-portrait snapshot I will take before isolating myself from the life I once lived. I’ve decided to embrace the tree huger within me. I’ve decided to be homeless, something most people don’t usually actively choose to do, but rather fall into due to a series of bad decisions and/or bad luck. I slip on my Birkenstocks and grab my eco-friendly biodegradable backpack. From here on out, my home lies across my shoulder blades. I will carry my world within the zippered contours of that pack, praying that the weight of the contents alone won’t drop me to my knees. Nobody said being homeless was going to be easy, but I’m prepared to take on all the hardships it brings, or at least that is what I naively tell myself so I can make it. To fully embrace my new found "bum" title, I attempt to style my hair in dreads in order to fit in and look the part, but quickly realize that particular hairstyle will come naturally to me in a matter of weeks without combing or washing my hair. So why stress over it now? I decide to allow Mother Nature to take her course and bring the filth to me. I take to the streets with a camera crew as my shadow. They follow me day and night for the tell-all exclusive, so-called special coverage of what it’s REALLY like to be homeless. Months of candid footage is caught and then pieced together for this never seen before primetime event! It will air for the first time in a 20/20 segment narrated by the one and only Barbra Walters, and staring me of course! Ok, so there really isn’t any TV debut. And I’m not some new era Gen-Y hippie chick, nor do I want to be. The story you just read is factious, but my tale of homelessness is not.

A full week has already passed. It’s been 7 long, stressful days of being homeless. And I’m sorry to report there is no end in sight, at least not for the time being. Chances are that it will be another handful of days until I can even think about moving back into my house since the gas leak was found. So today I take time out to write. As I’ve said before, writing is therapeutic for me. And being able to write helps keep me sane in an often insane world. We are only a month and a half into 2009 and so far this year hasn’t been kind to me. I could mope about why exactly that is, but honestly I’m even sick of hearing me complain, especially since I’m not normally a complainer and I tend to get annoyed at those that complain a lot. Basically, I hate myself right now for belly aching. So I’m sure your ears, or rather your eyes, are bleeding from my recent bout of negativity. From this day forward, I’m going to make a conscious effort to stop being such a pussy that bitches and moans every time God takes a massive dump on him, which unfortunately for me seems to be quite often. Wah wah. Boo hoo. Play your violin, David. And cry me a river while you’re at it. I’m going to man-up. Suck it up. Buck up. And do my best not to fuck up in the remaining 10+ months left in 2009.

While I have every right to be in a foul mood, I do realize that things could be a lot worse. Underneath my piss poor bad attitude, there lies a kinder, gentler dude. One who is very gracious, thankful, and even feels somewhat blessed. I have always had a talent for being able to find light in the darkest of situations. So this time around needs to be no different. I’m going to try focusing on the positive points from this. The little lessons I have learned along the way, which coincides nicely with my list of 7 Things I’ve Learned In 7 Days Of Homelessness. Some may borderline on ranting, but you forgive, right? Besides, if you were me, you would need to let off some steam right now too.

1. Happy Birthday Diesel!
This is a shitty way to celebrate my BFF’s (AKA, my dog Diesel) 2nd birthday today. However, I’m determined to show him a good time. He actually seems like he is stressed and depressed since the evacuation. He cried/whined the entire first night. He won’t sleep, barely eats (losing weight) and wants to just lay around all day. When he’s sad, I’m sad. I took him to the pet store and let him pick out a squeaky stuffed monkey and a bag of pig ears to lift his spirits. Then off to the dog park to roll around in the mud and kick it with his hommies. So far, so good.

2. I love women.
It’s Fashion Week in NYC right now and I’m missing out on all the beautiful women! NYC is home to some of the most beautiful women in the world, but this time of the year, it’s an especially beautiful city to be in. Runways models from Milan, Paris, and around the world gather for Fashion Week...with or without me standing by drooling at their drop dead good looks. But let’s be honest, to get a super model to give you her 7 digits, you better have at least 8 if not 9 digits attached to your name, if you know what I mean (cha-ching). And something tells me that "I’m currently homeless and living with my Mom" isn’t exactly the opening line that will sweep them off their feet.

3. Palin for President? Kill me now!
I’m aware the 2009 Presidential election is long over, but apparently my Dad can’t stop living in the past. I’m forced to swallow the vomit in my mouth when he goes on and on about how great and "smart" (his word, NOT mine) Sarah Palin is! And brace yourself, he also tells me how she would make a better president than Obama! My Mom nods in agreement? How did these people give birth to me? Seriously.

4. Ashamed To Carry Your Name.
Growing up, I always felt it was a compliment when people told me how much I reminded them of my father, his mannerisms, looks, etc. I felt so proud. I wanted to be just like him. Today, I don’t feel the same. There is turning point in everyone’s life when you are able to see your parents for who they truly are and not just the super heroes we made them out to be when we were children looking up to them. I’ve come to realize my parents are only human, just like everyone else. They too have flaws and make mistakes. I wish I could forever keep them in this warm fuzzy image in my head, but sadly I can’t, reality won’t allow it. That is something I’ve had trouble accepting, but I’m willing to accept it. Now this next part, I can’t accept for the life of me. What I’m about to say pains me to acknowledge. I’m embarrassed for him. Actually, I’ve never said this before and it makes me nauseous to say it outloud, but I’m ashamed to call him my father. I feel like something terrible is going to happen to me for admitting that, but I simply can’t bite my tongue any longer. For the past week I’ve been biting my tongue until I could feel the blood begin to drip down the back of my throat. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut simply because this is his house and I have no right to make waves. I have no right to speak my mind when he has allowed me into his home in time of need. So for that very reason, out of respect for the help he has given me, I remain silent with the taste of coppery blood behind my lips. I have to leave the room when he refers to our President as "black lips" and tosses around the term "fag" like it’s as common place as asking how your day was. I’ve always know my father was raciest and homophobic, but I don’t need to hear it. I’m sorry, but if there is a heaven and hell, I think God would be more willing to accept a man who loves another man into heaven before he accepts a man who displays his hate towards others. And as far as the "black lips" comment goes, Obama isn’t even black! Really, he’s not even the first black President. He’s half white and half black. So he’s as much white as he is black. If you want to be politically correct, he’s the first half black President. Regardless, homophobes and raciest make me sick.

5. Where the hell are we? No cell phone reception and dial-up Internet!
Correct me if I’m wrong, but it is 2009, right? So...dial-up Internet still exists? Really? Next you’re going to tell me that people still use AOL. Please wake me if I’m dreaming because it feels like a nightmare living in a house that isn’t equipped with high speed Internet access. To make matters worse, I can’t even get decent cell phone reception! And I miss my TIVO. I can't rewind, pause or fast foward live TV anymore - rrr! How do these people survive? I know my parents live a little more out in the country, but this is ridiculous. I’m an urban boy. It’s just how I roll. And I can’t adapt here.

6. Just like an MLB player, I’m on steroids too.
Before anyone sends me an e-mail lecturing me how steroids will shrink my penis to the size of a baby carrot and I’ll have uncontrollable roid-rage, let me stop you. I’m not taking steroids to become some super buff meathead with a three-inch thick vein popping across my forehead and a grotesque case of back acne. I don’t know about you, but a teenie weenie and back acne isn’t something I pine for. I’m secure in my manhood. I don’t want to dwarf him, nor do I want to super size him either. I am not taking steroids illegally. I’m taking a light dose as prescribed by my doctor for pain. Without getting into all the details and to keep myself from whining once again like a little girl, I was treated for bronchitis twice in one month and it has since turned into pneumonia. So right now, I can’t breathe out of my left lung. From what I gather, that’s kind of important. Plus, I’m in a lot of pain and not even able to sit upright without it hurting. Today I think I’m going to wrap the left side of my ribs up like the Karate Kid after his "sweep the leg" incident. And yes, I’m a hot mess.

7. Homeless people are too hungry to be funny.
Comedian Chris Rock once said..."If you see a homeless man with a funny sign, he hasn’t been homeless for very long. A REAL homeless man is too hungry to be funny." One good thing, I haven’t gone hungry. In fact, my Mom has been making me dinner, a nightly home cooked meal! Something I am very appreciative of being the cooking challenged bachelor that I am. Another infamous saying, author unknown..."Laughter is the best medicine." Please, spare me that line. Anyone who says that obviously has never been put in a situation where they don’t have a home to live in. I’m not laughing. I find nothing funny. It pains me just to smile. If someone fell into a mud puddle right now, I don’t think I would even crack a smile, let alone giggle silently to myself. And no, that’s not the steroids talking. They have yet to kick in and increase my already angry, frustrated, sad and hopeless state of being. But when they do, it’s going to get uglier. Don’t worry though, I’ll spare you the details via blog.

In closing...

It’s true I’m not drinking my own urine to stay alive. It’s also true I don’t have track marks on my arm, a dirty beard full of lice and I’m not shaking a tin cup for spare change...still, I’m technically homeless right now. If it wasn’t for my family and friends, I would be sleeping on the street. Well, ok, I would find a dog friendly hotel to stay in. Still, feeling displaced and not having a bed to call your own is a situation I would wish on no one. So while this may not be full-fledged "homelessness", it sure is a little taste of it. And I can tell you this, the taste is bitter! I may not be suffering in every way that a homeless man of 10+ years suffers, but I am publishing this on dial-up! Some would consider that suffering BIG TIME, including myself! (note the sarcasm)

I’m Homeless

I’m homeless. Those are two words I never thought I would say. Those are two words nobody ever wants to say! For many, those are terrifying words that rank right up there with "I’m dying", "I’m pregnant" and "I’m gay." My puppy and I are out on the street. The homeless CEO and his four-legged BFF. Pathetic. That’s not a sexy image and neither of us is enjoying our new status quo. In a matter of minutes, we went from lounging on a big leather couch infront of a roaring indoor fireplace, to roaming the streets on foot with not much more than a knapsack filled with a few toiletries and a couple cups of dry dog food to get us thru the cold winter night. We make a sad looking duo with our long faces and heavy hearts. Thankfully though, we found someone to take pity on us and take us in for awhile. Now before anyone jumps to conclusions and scoffs at what a loser I must be, let me clarify a few things. We aren’t homeless due to any fault of our own. I wasn’t some idiot who signed a subprime loan and then couldn’t make the minimum mortgage payments. I wasn’t someone who faulted on any bill or broke the law in anyway. Diesel and I are good law abiding citizens, for the most part. The exception being that sometimes we are partners in crime. Every now and then I run out of a doggie bags and he decides to take a second dump on a walk. So we look around all nonchalant to make sure nobody saw the dumpage occur, then we scoot off leaving a poop trail behind - shh. Hey, shit happens. What do you want me to do?

For the first time in a long time, I’m lacking direction and have lost control – two aspects of my life I’ve always had a handle on. I feel completely confused and super frustrated. I have been given little explanation to what exactly is going on, but yet I’ve been interrogated with an abundance of questions, most of which I have no answer to. The miscommunication is not helping resolve the issues and the uncertainty of the situation surmounts with each passing day. It’s Day 3 now of being homeless and I’m not sure how much more I can take! I’m already beginning to crack!

In short, we weren’t evicted from our home, but we were asked to evacuate! Without getting into a ridiculous amount of unnecessary detail, apparently there is a natural gas leak outside AND inside of my house! And according to the gas company, the level is so high that it is unsafe to be in or around the premises. Therefore, we were forced to evacuate immediately. Actually the evacuation process was so rushed that before I could even gather a handful of belongings, my entire house was roped off with “DO NOT ENTER” red tape. I had to step over and bend under streams of tape just to walk out my front door. For a half second, it seemed kind of exciting. Then the reality of it hit me. How lucky I was that my house didn’t blow up at the flick of a light switch. How lucky I was that I hadn’t died in my sleep from the fumes. Most of all, how lucky I was that I didn’t come home to my best buddy lying dead on my living room floor! I can’t bear to think of that scenario!

In a way, I guess I saved my dog’s life because the night before we had a bad wind storm that knocked the power out. No power = no heat. So I had come home on my lunch break to check on Diesel since his ears felt cold that morning. I had planned on taking him with me to work (yes you can do that if you’re the boss) just so he wouldn’t freeze in the house without the furnace kicking on. However, upon pulling into my driveway, I discovered there was a mini circus going on. Everyone from the gas man to the cops, to the DEP (Department of Environmental Protection) to a bunch of other guys with fancy marked trucks were on hand. So you can imagine my surprise when I hadn’t a clue what was going on. Everyone was walking around with meter readers and caution tape. They were talking on cell phones and walkie-talkies. They were pulling out maps and marking various locations in my backyard. It looked like a crime scene. And once they roped off my house, it looked like a murder had been committed. I suppose in a way, it could have been the death of me. Maybe God likes me just a little afterall. I’ll come out of this a changed man with a new appreciation for the little things in life we all take for granted, like a roof over our heads and soft bed to sleep in. You really don’t realize how good you have it until it’s all ripped out from under you in a matter of minutes. You learn to be humble and gracious awfully fast. You’ll also find out who your true friends are and you’ll be reminded that your family is always there for you in times of need. And for that, I’m in debt to them for their kindness and generosity.

As you know, today is Valentine’s Day. And to help lift our spirits, I’m romancing my dog with a bouquet of sticks. I don’t care what crap Hallmark tries to sell me, a bouquet of sticks is sure to make him swoon. I wish I was in the mood for love instead of wanting to bash my head thru a brick wall right now, but as they say, this too shall pass. But until it does, Cupid can shove an arrow up his...well you know.

I haven’t been given a time frame on when, or even if, we can return. Of course we would like to settle back into our home again. But if advised, we may be looking for a new home. Therefore, this will be the last you hear from me for awhile. In order to make it thru this tough time, I’m forced to take a virtual hiatus. That means there will be no blogging, no tweeting, no Facebooking, no e-mailing, no IMing, no surfing, no nothing! I need to return to primitive days (you know, the 80s before the Internet went mainstream) and meet my basic needs. I have to focus on food, water, clothing, shelter and safety. My #1 priority right now needs to be me and my family (by family I mean my puppy). So the digital world will need to keep on spinning without me. It’s hard to imagine, but I think it can manage. Can I survive without a digital connection? I don’t know, but it will be rough! Until I return, I’m asking you to help keep cyberspace alive. Take care of my baby for me and I’ll see all of you soon, hopefully.

Oh yeah...Happy Valentine’s Day. And if anyone wants to get me a gift, I would welcome a cold beer right now. I think I could use it.

***NOTE***
You can also see this post featured on the frontpage of BrazenCareerist.com

Blogger Mobile No Likey Me

Hey, this isn't as much of a blog post as it is a question to all of you out there reading my little corner of the web.

Has anyone been able to get Blogger Mobile to work?

The instructions are pretty straight forward and I followed them, but nearly 24 hours later and I still haven't received my confirmation code to claim my blog and start posting via a mobile device.

Not me, obviously.

How Blogger Mobile Works:
1. Send an MMS or email with the word 'REGISTER' to go@blogger.com from your phone.
2. We'll reply with the address of your new mobile blog, plus a claim code.
3. Post to your new mobile blog, or use the claim code to link your phone to a different blog.

I thought it might be semi-interesting to upload photos of my stupid face at work to my blog via my cell phone, but apparently Blogger is trying to save me from myself and is not allowing this activity to take place. So, you've been spared. You can thank Blogger for that.

If anyone has any success with this, let me know because I'm feeling like a big tech failure right now. And being the geek boy that I am, that is something I'm NOT used to or comfortable with.

God It’s Killing Me!

Bragging is the art of tooting one’s own horn. It’s patting one’s self on the back. It’s not a sexy act. In our society, being modest and humble is preferred. Boasting is cocky. It’s self-absorbed arrogance. It’s grandstanding. It’s showboating. It’s running your mouth and being an attention-whore. It lacks many favorable qualities, but most of all it is the definition of total disrespect and is a poor display of refined gentleman-like behavior. My Mamma raised me better than that. Or did she?

I believe in the art of discretion, especially when it comes love, sex and relationships. Still, I’m struggling with the overwhelming urge to brag in tasteless and vulgar frat boy fashion! God it’s killing me! I have an extra swagger in my step today and I want to tell the world why. I want to gloat in the worst way! But I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t and I keep my promises. I gave my word that it would be treated with the utmost discretion and all her secrets are safe with me. I even swore on my dog’s life that I wouldn’t tell a sole. Now you know I’m serious! If nothing else, karma alone will force me to keep that promise.

I may not always be that trusting of others, but I’m good with trust. Trust is something I am capable of. If you put your trust in me, you can sleep well that night knowing that when you awake, I’m just as trustworthy today as I was yesterday. And I can promise that you can trust me tomorrow and the days that follow as well.

So if I have to stitch my mouth closed with duct tape, so be it. If I need to tie my hands together to keep from expressing the words I am unable to speak of, so be it. I have to hold strong here. I can’t fall victim to the accolades and knuckle bumps from my buddies that are sure to follow if I blab. It’s not that I would thrive off of their jealousy or envy, but it would feel kind of good, as terrible as that is to admit. Although, if I would be praised right now, that would make me the equivalent of a dog. I don’t want to be a dog, so I’ll just keep this to myself, enjoying the inner glow and ego trip while it lasts.

The BarackBerry - The Hottest Most Secure Phone Ever

Remember this...11/18/08 - Say Bye To His Crackberry? If Obama Has To, Yes He Can. Well when Obama was sworn in on Inauguration Day, the skepticism began. We all know how hard it is to kick a habit, especially when that habit has developed into an addiction! However, the President has managed to kick his bad smoking habit, but he simply could not part with his precious Blackberry/Crackberry. Can you really blame him? My body begins to convulse a little when I even THINK about having to give up any of my tech gadgets. When you have geek in you, it’s very difficult to part with those devious digital devices we’ve grown to not only love, but depend upon. It’s our lifeline to the world. It’s how we stay connected. And at times, it’s how we disconnect from the outside world. We’ve become so engrossed in our little toys that if forced to part with our favorite tech gadget, it almost feels like we are being asked to give up our first born. So in that sense, I understand and I sympathize with our President. I feel his pain and I am happy to report we have found a solution to that ache in his heart. It’s official – President Barack Obama can keep his Blackberry! Ok, it’s not exactly the same phone he’s been using, but this new Crackberry wannabe is better, or at least is supposed to be.

Move over iPhone. The latest must-have gadget for international men of mystery is the BarackBerry. The President of The United States is now the proud owner of a secure, souped-up, high-tech personal digital assistant (PDA). It comes fully loaded with encryption devised by NSA which gathers intelligence from cyberspace. And no, I’m not making this up. It’s real life 007 stuff! And we all know how I wanted to grow up to be James Bond! These days, apparently all you need to do is run for President and you can live the life of 007. How badass is that? If there’s one thing I love about Barack Obama it is that he’s a tech geek at heart! You can put a geek in the White House, but you can’t take the geek out of the boy? Errr, nevermind. That’s not how that saying goes, but close enough, you understand what I mean.

The buzz about Obama’s BlackBerry replacement is almost as exciting as the Presidential dog, which I may remind you he has yet to deliver! Tick, tick, Mr. President. We are still waiting with baited puppy breath. Puppy Promise aside, let me give you the lowdown, or rather the download (hardy har har), on the BarackBerry.

It has been appropriately nicknamed the "BarackBerry", but the real name of it is the Sectera Edge. It is made by General Dynamics, the military contractor, and developed specially for the NSA. At the touch of a (red) button it can switch from an ordinary PDA to a secure communications device. The screen of the Sectera Edge turns red when used in classified mode and can then communicate only with similar handsets. However, Obama is more likely to use his top-secret smartphone to receive messages from his two daughters than from Vladimir Putin. Still, you have to admit that you would feel pretty sexy and important carrying around that special high-tech phone, not to mention sly and all secret-like! Coming in at around $3,350 for the device alone, the Sectera Edge does not run cheap. Keep in mind though that the price includes the option to exchange secure e-mail with government personnel – ew ahh. The downside, it will not be possible to forward Presidential e-mails to third parties. I guess I won’t be receiving any of those annoying e-mail chain letters with dancing Care Bears and animated glittery stars from the Pres then anymore. I for one am thankful for that.

The search for a secure Blackberry-style phone came after Obama told his advisers that he was determined to hang on to his lifeline to people outside the White House bubble. "They’re going to have to pry it out of my hands," he said. There had been security fears about terrorist hackers being able to pinpoint the President’s location, but Obama has overridden these concerns. By law, all but the most personal e-mails will be stored in the National Archives.

Now the burning question, how can I get my hands on a BarackBerry? Unless you are working for the US government and you have some insider ties, you’re shit out of luck.

***NOTE***
You can also see this post featured on the frontpage of BrazenCareerist.com

Life Is Good

Sometimes all it takes is one good day, one good girl, or even just one good moment to bring you to an epiphany - life is good. I wish I could romanticize this with poetry. I wish I could interlace all these wonderful words of wisdom with sentiments so deep they would make the strongest man weep. I wish to take that concoction, blend it well and serve it up nice and thick. Words would fall from my lips, touch your heart and inspire your soul. As a wannabe writer, I want to move you. But alas, I come up short. The above scenario plays thru my head accompanied by several fairies, a magical wand and a handful of pixie dust. However, that is fantasy and not real life. Real life is reality. My reality is there wasn’t a single moment where the sun and the moon collided. There wasn’t a single moment where the earth shook and the stars fell from the sky. Water didn’t turn into wine and any other unexplained miracle did not occur. Life was simply kind to me, a rarity of late. I’ve been sort of stuck in this funk for awhile now and these last couple of days has helped shed that dark cloud. I can see a little clearer. I can breathe a little deeper. I can (hopefully) get back to being me.

It’s often the simplest things that make me happy. I’m thankful I’m still able to appreciate those tiny moments that many overlook and take for granted every day. Small fragments of life that normally pass you by on some idle Tuesday, you need to embrace those. Like last week when fresh fallen snow blanketed everything in sight, I smiled at Mother Nature’s beauty while others bitched about their personal inconveniences. Last night while riding in the car with my dog, I sang Jason Mraz’s "Lucky" to him. He gazed over at me with his sad saggy puppy dog eyes and let out a tiring sigh, as if to say he is embarrassed for me. I’m not ashamed to sing it though. I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend.

So why the sudden happy heart? Well let me break it down for you...

My MMA Debut Ends In A KO!
Saturday night, after just a few months of training, I entered my first competitive MMA fight! I’ll admit, I had a lot of pre-fight jitters. The nerves were really starting to get to me, but that’s normal because before a basketball game or a boxing match, I would always get like that. Plus, I know I’m not the best fighter out there since I’ve only been training for a few short months. I wasn’t cocky, but I was confident. I predicted a win and a win via KO. I’m happy to report that BOTH of my predictions came true!

My opponent, with 7 fights and 2 years of experience under his belt, was brazenly arrogant and thought he was better than he really was. Apparently, he believed he was the second coming of the Karate Kid when he tried some fancy spinning leg kick. I caught his ankle, knocked him off balance and took him to the ground. Then he was pretty much helpless because his ground game sucks. With his back flat on the mat, I pinned his arms down with my knees and just pounded him bloody with multiple straight punches to the face. He couldn't defend himself and the fight was stopped before it became more brutal, a little over a minute into the first round. However, perhaps the ref didn't step in fast enough because on one of the last punches I threw, he was knocked cold. Even if he hadn't gone unconscious, it would have still been ruled a technical knockout simply because they had to stop the fight. I did not come out unscathed though. He had caught me with a few good shots earlier in the round. So my left eye is a little beat up. Although it was fun and I would do it again, I didn't feel my best the next day. I was soar and had a massive headache, but that is expected. Other than that, I would say my debut went well. I’m going to upload the video of the fight for those of you who have an insatiable thirst for violence.

Sixburgh
(I hate cutesy cliché names and writing that made me cringe.)

Sunday night, I threw a kickass Super Bowl party that would have made Martha Stewart proud. I celebrated with 25 friends as our beloved Pittsburgh Steelers won their 6th championship. Almost as exciting, I won $200 in my office football poll in the process! Suck on that Arizona! And yes, Diesel madeout with every single girl that came to my party. No shocker there. Seriously though, Bruce Springsteen? Who in their right mind wants to see someone older than their Dad rocking out? The dude is 60! Other than "Born In The USA", can anyone even name another song of his? I can’t, but if you can, then you should be ashamed of yourself. That is why you invite girls to your party who end up kissing each other when they drink too much. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the girl-on-girl halftime show in my living room. It was a great replacement for The Boss. And I’m sooo thankful that this year’s Super Bowl party was nothing like last year's tortuous episode of the giant double D boobs that simply would not shut up! (2/5/08 - The Clueless Never Score)

15 Minutes Of Virtual Fame
Monday morning, I awoke to learn that I made the #9 spot on the "Top 10 Gen Y Blogs" list from RyanStephensMarketing.com

9.) The Rest is Still Unwritten - Tech News and Random Ramblings from a 20-something year old bachelor.

And yet that description doesn’t even begin to encapsulate what David’s blog is about, which for me, his words (always completely transparent) embody his raw journey through life. I’ve recently become acquainted with David’s work as we have seemed to travel in different circles, and I’m glad I have. He discusses stuff other people are scared to put on paper, and makes ambiguity enthralling. This post is one of my favorites that resonates in so many ways.

In addition to that, I was also pleased to discover that my "First Kiss" post was featured on 20SB. What was a little odd was that I was happier for Marissa’s post to be featured than my own. If you’re not reading her already, you should because you don’t know what you’re missing out on. You just want to squeeze the adorableness out of her, take it, stuff it in your pocket and carry it around with you the rest of the day.

Read the "First Kiss" posts from Marissa, me and a few other talented bloggers on 20SB.

I’m A Hot Mess
Just before Christmas, I had caught the flu. By New Year’s, that had turned into bronchitis. And now, I’m happy to report (not the sarcasm) that bronchitis has turned into phenomena. Basically, I’m a hot mess, once again.

Ok, that last one shouldn’t count because being a hot mess is nothing to be happy about. Still, despite my boy germs, I’m determined to carry on and do the things that make me happy, like beating another man’s face in until he is helpless and lying in a pool of his own blood. Oh fun!