If only Einstein had had a few drinking buddies...

Moments of Genuis. We all have them. Pure, beautiful bursts of thought so much more revolutionary than the usual stuff swimming through our minds. You can’t force ‘em, no matter how many energy drinks you pound. And oftentimes, they humbly mosey on down the road without us even realizing the genius-ness of it all.

(As I type that, I’m seriously doubting whether genius-ness is a word. Actually, I’m sure it’s not. But since reading exercises your brain, I’m leaving it --- consider it an extra brain push-up, courtesy of this blog.)

Anyhow, back to moments of genius you miss, only to realize later the genius of it all. With me, those moments often happen when I’m drinking. Inevitably, something pops out of my mouth that is stinkin’ MONEY in the “that-was-totally-genius” category, but I’d have forgotten all about it by the time I took another sip of my jack & coke. So, it’s usually only thanks to my friends reminding me later of those money-quotes that I ever remember them.

Take one of my favorites. My girl friend and I were at a bar, and this retard was hitting on us. Considering if we scared him off, another retard would likely approach, we just toyed with him a while. We told him she was a lesbian movie director’s personal assistant, and I was a private detective. We also told him we were lesbians on Tuesdays and Thursdays only. (This was on a Monday night.) Anyhow, I’m not sure if he believed us or not --- it was a total crock of shit, but we were pretty damn convincing. (Did I mention he was also not so bright?) Anyhow, one of our all-time favorite quotes happened just as we were about to leave. My friend paid her tab and came back to grab me. In the middle of retard boy’s “you guys aren’t leaving yet are you,” I abruptly looked at my watch and exclaimed, “Oh look, it’s 1-51. Not like Bacardi 151, but like an hour and 51 minutes past the time I should be getting laid.”

It was beautiful. Without another word, we were off, headed for our alleged Tuesday lesbian lovin’. I mean…damn! What an exit line! And I never would have even remembered it, had my friend not reminded me of it the next day. Ah, it still makes me laugh…

Ok, I know there are haters out there who may argue the genius-ness of that statement, funny as it was at the time. It was just an example, people. Don’t hate. (Look, another brain push-up. Have an extra Cheeto on me.) My point is, there are times in regular ol’ life where we say and do amazing things. And the irony of it all is, we hardly recognize it at the time. So, if you keep a journal, go back to the beginning of it and read it. I guarantee that you’ll find pearls of wisdom you completely missed in the midst of your initial venting. Or, remember that old friend or lover with whom you wrote all those firey emails back and forth with years ago? Log into your email and read some. Even if it’s something as simple as getting together with friends and rehashing last weekend’s drunken outbursts…I promise you, dear reader…you just may stumble upon your own moment of genius. ;)

"What are we, some kinda ol' running shoes?"

For the love of the sweet little baby jesus, to quote the uber-quotable Ricky Bobby, please watch this "newscast" regarding this alarming and very important epidemic spreading to office workers every where:
Chair Butt.

Oh yes folks, this is serious...Seriously funny! Kim at the Cube News Farm will have you crying from laughing so hard. http://one.revver.com/watch/72633/format/flv/affiliate/30289

And that's just a taste. If you want more of Kim's breaking news, visit www.cubenews1.com.

I'm off to do lunges...

She thinks my tractor's sexy...

There are things people are good at. Then, there are things people are paid to be good at.

Unfortunately, though I'd like to think blogging is something I'm good at, it doesn't fall into the latter category. So, to my blog fans helplessly re-reading posts from February, compulsively refreshing the screen in hopes a new one will finally appear, I apologize. Because I have been there, and I feel your pain. But, my day job, which happens to pay most of my bills, has been taking up all of my waking non-commuting hours. Which is mostly a good thing. But, I assure you, I've got quite a few rants and revelations bottled up and ready for the blogosphere...

Until then, go get some sunshine, maybe a Kenny Chesney CD, and call me in the morning. ;)

Love & Lasers?

[Insert excessive obnoxiously-loud, commercial-interrupting noises here.]

We interrupt your regular program for some advice for the men in my life.

In case you menfolk are still unaware, Valentine's Day is one week from today.

I'm inspired to remind you of this because I heard something this morning that made me spit out my Redbull.

If you've already got a romantic, memorable evening for two planned for Feb. 14, I commend you. If you haven't actually made any steps towards that or any type of plan...Shame On You.

However, I have more faith in my dear readers, and I'm going to assume you've already gone out and gotten something meaningful to give towards the lady in your life.

For those who haven't, if you value your relationship, truck, or life, carefully consider your options. I throw that out there, because this morning, a women purred this through my radio waves:

"Laser hair removal makes a great Valentine's Day gift."

Oh my.

My, my, my...

If you just spit out your beverage of choice, I apologize. But seriously...Laser hair removal?

Those three letters thrown together are definitely not romantic. In fact, laser hair removal doesn't even sound cute! And it certainly doesn't conjure up ways ya could let my your one and only know how ya really feel.

I'm not even gonna go into the rest of the commercial, which detailed the incredible hair removal services you could purchase for your significant other's use on Feb. 14.

Here's the bottom line: Don't commercialise Valentine's Day. Despite what jewelry stores, chocolate makers (and apparently, hair removal specialists) would have you believe, love isn't always expressed by something shiny --- or even flowers. If you have someone in your life that you care about, ask yourself why. Then, find a way to genuinely express that. Even those of you without a romantic partner have at least one person of the opposite sex in your life who ROCKS. Use the 14th to do something you should do entirely more often than once a year. ;)

What ifs and Band-Aids

Ok, this is totally unplanned. I originally had a nice, juicy, music-inspired blog itching to stream its way onto my computer screen. But something else came up, inspired by a dream I had last night involving a certain former boyfriend who I will reference from here on out as "George." Not because George is his name, but because I've always chuckled a little bit on the inside whenever I met someone named George. It's just a funny name.

Disclaimer aside, George was the one guy I couldn't shake off --- even years after our tumultuous relationship. It was pretty much the intensity of our relationship combined with a lack of real closure. So, I took my butt on down to Texas a while back to finally put some closure on the whole thing. Since then, the culmination of reading journal entries from the last five years or so, reflecting on phone conversations with George from the last three years or so, and seeing him in Texas has led me to a bunch of realizations...the most important of which, is closure.

I'm not sure how big of an issue it ever was for him, but all the "what ifs" killed me whenever I thought about George, and the direction our relationship could have taken. Seriously. The complicating factor was, he had the habit of dropping off the face of the earth, only to reappear months/years later. And honestly, every time he disappeared without a goodbye when things were “good,” he left this open wound (figuratively speaking, of course) that I eventually stuck a Band-Aid on. And then every time he reappeared, the Band-Aid was ripped off. Because I hadn't (and still haven't) ever met anyone like George. Ev-ah. And though he had his faults, (maybe more than the average Joe, actually), it's easy to forget someone's faults when the rest of them is just that stinkin' cool. And I'd push the thought of George to the back of my mind, along with the reminder that he always treated the people in his life as “flavors of the week.” Then, when he resurfaced, I'd get all excited and nervous and fluttery inside, all over again. I know --- ridiculous, right? But it still happened, like clockwork.

Anyhow, flash forward to actually *seeing* George years later. I was excited. I was nervous. And most of all, seeing him during my trip was something I *had* to do. Because I had to know. Did I feel like this after so long because this guy was actually The One who had slipped out of my life, or just because there was never any closure?

So, we didn't vomit at the sight of each other. We didn't even annoy each other so much that we never spoke again. We had, unsurprisingly, a very pleasant evening between two friends who "get" each other. He was still the same George. A little older, a little more wiser/pessimistic --- but ultimately, the same. And looking at him across the table, yes, I was still attracted to him. He's good-looking, magnetic, and funny as hell. And had there been no significant others involved at the time, we may have even dated again at some point. But, in seeing him that weekend, I was finally able to get rid of all those "what ifs."

Because though he was the same George that used to make me feel like I was on top of the world, I realized there are things about him that will never change. He is unstable and unpredictable --- qualities he and I both share. Ultimately, though these qualities make us exciting individuals to have around, we need folks like our significant others to ground us. To balance out the dreamer/irrational-being in us both. Could that balance be boring? Yes, definitely. Could it be healthier that just floating along, out of control? Yes indeedy!

I realized there's a little portion of me that will always love George, because of what we shared and what I learned during the process. But it's not unlike the same love I have for my other friends that, steadfastedly, whether or not we talk for years, I will always be there for, and vice versa.

Anyhow...I actually sent a letter to George sharing all this. I wanted him to know what was up, and where I was coming from. That way, the next time he pops into my life to say hello, he knows there's no Band-Aid being ripped off. That he is free to call me just to shoot the shit, or even holler just to ask for relationship advice. I'm not gonna get all butt-hurt because he's got someone in his life keeping him grounded. Instead, I'm gonna give him some damn good advice. ;) And the coolest part is, since we are so similar, there are times when we will talk I’ll realize something about myself just because of something he brings up. So, it's a mutually beneficial friendship.

My point is this: The flutters are gone, but George still cracks me up. And I can live with that.

I challenge all of you to consider any unfinished business with folks you care about. Take matters into your own hands, evaluate the situation, and rip the damn Band-Aid off on your own terms. The freedom you'll feel when finally Band-Aid-less can’t be matched.

Elton, Scorpions, and Tree-humping

Gawd, I love Elton John.

I'll follow that unabashed admission with this: Yes, I do know he's gay; Yes, I realize I’ll never have his children. However, it's not that kind of love. I love the fact that he has made so many songs that just ROCK. I'm not talking about the new-school, Disney-lovin' Elton John who sings about the Circle of Life. As touching as the song was on The Lion King --- and in high school chorus performances for years after --- it's nowhere near the level of old-school Elton John's music. Don't believe me? I challenge you to listen to "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues." Turn it up, and rock the fuck out.
Seriously. That song is so frickin' good, it's almost blasphemous. Everything from the bluesy-as-hell, almost fifties-pop-inspired beat, to the ingenuous lyrics are reasons to rock this song as loud as you can, chair-dancing all the way. I would go as far to say that this song's chorus has one of the best lines in pop music. Take the chorus:

"I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands, could be time spent with you.
Loving like children, living like lovers,
Rolling like thunder under the covers.
I guess that's why the call it the blues"

Holy cow! "Rollin' like thunder under the covers!"
That is frickin' MONEY. It is HOT. It describes --- in only six words --- the passionate, unforgettable, and absolutely out of control love-makin' most people only experience during rare, beautiful moments in their life. Something so fleeting, but so unforgettable, you could relive it in your head for years after the fact. And then Elton puts out this song, which, with ONE LINE, belted out in his British accent, can bring it all rushing back?

It's enough to make me wish someone would Knight him. (Actually, they already did. Which justifies the notion even more that this flaming individual rocks the house down. They don't just knight anyone nowadays...)

I’m exhausted just thinking about it all. That, and I've listened to this song turned all the way up on my ipod four times since starting this post. At this point, I'm going to have to take a reprieve to go do something magical. Or hump a tree out in the parking lot. Either way, this song is intense. And, it makes me feel invincible.

Even as I type that, I'm reminded of the power of music. It’s amazing how music has the ability to coax even the longest-stored memories out of the cobwebs of our minds. How many times has a song come on the radio that reminded you of some long-lost person or time in your life?

Whenever I hear the Scorpions screaming "Rock You Like a Hurricane," I'm transported to Iwakuni, Japan, walking home on a quiet sidewalk in 2002 with one of my favorite people after a long night of drinking, dancing, and laughing my ass off. I had that song stuck in my head, because one of the D.J.s had played it during the night (a great move, btw, b/c it's a great song). Speaking of great lyrics, "rock you like a hurricane" is also pretty money --- but in a totally big-hair-and-parachute-pants sort of way. As I pointed that out to my 2002 liberty buddy, he looked at me, raised an eye brow, and drunkenly exclaimed, "You? Hell no. For you, this song should be Rock You Like a Meteor Strike!"

I share this story not because I want you all to think I've always been a smokin' hot heartbreaker --- but that even five years later, I can't help but change the words in my head to "meteor strike" every time I hear this song. And I remember that moment, and I can't help but laugh.

It's the same way Bitchin' Camaro by Dead Milkman reminds me of tearing through Richmond, Va., in 2000 in my '83 Camaro Z-28...or how anything by Offspring reminds me of my friends Marla and Joe from 9th and 10th grade. And how Garth Brook's song, "If Tomorrow Never Comes," takes me back to my first-ever french kiss. Or how I can't ever listen to "Fishin' in the Dark" without flashing back to country nights in Iwakuni --- every time the song came on, the guys in cowboy hats would lie down on the dance floor, and their female dance partners would dance horizontally on top of them. It was enough to give “fishing” a whole new meaning…

It's almost as if the more music you listen to, the more memories you'll relive. And when you've had a life as rich with friends and great memories as I've had, you want to remember every single one of them. At the very least, music can bring back those memories otherwise erased by four years spent drinking excessive amounts of alcohol. ;)

So go forth, my good friends and bloggees! (I made it plural, though I'm sure there's only one person reading this. He's pretty much the envy of all mankind, so I'm confident others will follow in his footsteps.)

Rock out with your cock out, y’all.