Too Much Time

People have too much time on their hands. I guess including me because I love this...

http://www.notadora.com/flash/banana.html

http://www.devilducky.com/media/38524/

Mr Cellophane

Cellophane,
Mister cellophane,
Should have been my name !!!!
Mister cellophane 'cause you can look right through me,
Walk right by me,
And never know I'm there!

People say it takes more courage to do the right things than make the wrong choices. If that ain’t true them nothing is. I’ve been trying to make the right choices all my life. I’ve tried to be a good guy. You know, someone who’s a friend when you need one. Someone you can trust even in your most embarrassing times. Someone that cares for you when you don’t care about yourself. I’ve tried to be the rock for those who need someone to lean on. A mirror when you need to look at yourself, but are afraid to. A shot of Red Bull when you need that last bit of energy to get you through. I’ve tried to be a lot of things to a lot of people.

The problem with that is, what am I to me. Trying to be all things to everyone has gotten me a few things. Poor, broke and lonely. Being a nice guy, a sweetheart, adorable, a friend, has not gotten me loved. It’s tough being alone in the world trying to make your mark on your own. Trying to be a nice guy just to make the world a better place, but no one makes your world a better place.

I don't know what to do about this. What's the alternative? Should I be someone I'm not? Should I try to be more than what I am? How does that happen? How does it work? Who is it I should become? Who is it I will become? There is a lot of searching this soul has to do. A lot of wondering. A lot of question asking and answering. When will everything change? Will it change for the better? How can I break through this cellophane that covers me from head to toe?

But for now, until then...

Cellophane,
Mister Cellophane,
Should have been my name!!!
Mr. Cellophane 'cause you can look right through me,
Walk right by me,
And never know I'm there!!!!

The Machine of Destruction

I was up late last night, like always, and I happend upon channel 35. Up here that's ESPN Classic. Like many other nights there was boxing on. Most nights out of the week it's Muhammed Ali. They show his old stuff all the time. This night was different. This night was Mike Tyson night. They were showing his fights from the start of his career through Buster Douglas. Fortunately I fell asleep before Buster Douglas. Watching that fight was like watching Roy Jones Jr. get jacked by Glen Johnson. Felt like someone ripped out my heart when Tyson lost.

Anyway, watching a young Mike Tyson fight was like your favorite song coming on the radio after you've waited days to hear it. You turn it up and revel until it's over...or in my case, until I went to sleep. Man, Mike Tyson was THE TRUTH and nothing but. His power was and has been surpassed by none. Watching him hit someone and their body go flying clear across the ring was unfathomable. A boxer would cover up, trying so hard to protect himself, but Tyson would eventually pick em off. One hit was all it took. He would knock the living Hell out of someone, lifting them off their feet dropping them onto the canvas. I saw him break a guy's nose. Tyson was rediculous. Scary phenominal. Could have been the best ever if not for guys like Don King and girls like Robin Givens. Now, he's just a sideshow, singing with Bobby Brown (talk about a sideshow).

But you know. I'll always like Mike Tyson. At heart he's a good guy. Sort of misguided, a little crazy. But he's Mike Tyson. He's my generation's superman. And when that next Mike Tyson show comes on, I'll sick back, turn up the volume and watch in awe at his once scary power. Here's to you Kid Dynamite.

My New Pet Peave II

This is an ode to Subway...

So every Tuesday Subway has their overpriced, under meat footlong sandwich at a much reasonable price. So every Tuesday I walk across the street to Subway. I pretty much order my sandwich the same way each week; Bread, meat, cheese, toasted, veggies, condiments. Pretty much in the order. I always ask for light on the mayo and light on whichever sauce I get. I generally spell it out to them that I want one line of mayo and one line of sauce. Do you think they listen? Why is it that week after week I have to watch them take the squeeze bottle of mayo and sauce and go back and forth over my sandwich about four times coating my once healthy sandwich in a multitude of hydroginated this and transfatty that. All I want is some moisture on my sandwich, not enough to act as Vasoline to my lips. But week after week I go back for more. Who's the moron here, me or them.

A Streetcar Named Desire

I met a friend of mine yesterday. Hadn't seen her in a while. She had a cheeseburger, best in town I might add. I had pork tenderloin. During the throws and intrigue of class she reads my blog. I didn't know anyone (except for one person) still read my blog. She said I haven't written in awhile, which is true. I will write again. This is the start :)