Drama Victim

Tonight I was surrounded by drama on all sides.

Let me back up a little bit. At one point I was in the Second Cup surrounded by two lovelies, both talking nice. All of a sudden, they both had to attend to their faithful cell phones, and deal with, that's right, DRAMA, either their own or someone else's. All of a sudden, instead of being flanked by two raven haired Libras, I was left with only my strawberry vanilla Italian Soda for company. And it made me have to pee throughout the night.

It's like this: leave the drama to the dramatists. Or better yet, turn it into a seminal album, like Fleetwood Mac's Rumours.

Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say, women they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you'll know, you'll know

You don't think that 'Dreams' was composed out of dealing with drama?

So unless its creative purging, a la Stevie Nicks, I don't think it's worth losing sleep over 'major issues', i.e. relationships.

Let me back up a little bit. At one point I was in the Second Cup surrounded by two lovelies, both talking nice. All of a sudden, they both had to attend to their faithful cell phones, and deal with, that's right, DRAMA, either their own or someone else's. All of a sudden, instead of being flanked by two raven haired Libras, I was left with only my strawberry vanilla flavoured Italian Soda for company. And it made me have to pee throughout the night.

It's like this: leave the drama to the dramatists. Or better yet, turn it into a seminal album, like Fleetwood Mac's Rumours.

Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say, women they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you'll know, you'll know

You don't think that 'Dreams' was composed out of dealing with drama?

So unless its creative purging, a la Stevie Nicks, I don't think it's worth losing sleep over 'major issues', i.e. relationships. Easy for me to say, right? If you spend most of your time in a relationship fighting, but keep on convincing yourself that it's for a better future. STOP LYING TO YOURSELF. If you think that pimping yourself out will mask your litany of problems, like fights with your parents or your inability to get into the Med School of your choice, do us all a favor and just throw yourself in front of the goddamn streetcar already.

I probably don't want to listen to you complain about your drama. I mean that for both the fellas and the ladies. If you wanna bitch about your problems and have people pretend to listen, well, that's what a blog is for, isn't it?

Otherwise, you can write about it in your Hello Kitty diary, compare your fabulously tragic love life to Carrie Bradshaw or Lorelai, (or hopefully Shane), eat a whole bunch of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, stick your finger down your throat, burst into tears when you hear your ex's name in a chapstick ad, drunk dial your now flamboyantly gay high school crush just to say 'hey', feel like the entire world cares about the soap opera that is your life, buy a whole new slutty wardrobe, get your labret or frenulum or whatever pierced, either start or quit smoking, either get or remove blonde highlights, convince yourself that the smarmy, self-important asshole you never thought anything of is the one, (especially if he plays the guitar!), show him your thong and talk about your tits really loudly, 'accidentally' hook up with him at a time all your friends are watching you, and start the whole damn thing over again. New drama!

Note: the above was based on what I imagine to be real events, but was entirely a work of fiction. So don’t send me any angry letters, unless you desire to use me for revenge sex. And even then, I’d rather not step into that minefield. In conclusion, you’re not the first person to break up with someone or have ‘conflict’ in a relationship, nor will you be the last. So save the drama for yo mama. Oh, and don’t hate the player. Hate yourself.

There's no "I" in "Chas Traps"

Nor is their an "m" or an "e". I'm constantly worried that my blog is slowly turning into a livejournal.

Mood: Tired

Favorite Cure song: Close to Me

Oh, and Team America: World Police delivered, and made up for Hitchiker's poor showing. Just three more movies to see on my 'list'. Still not sure about turning over to the dark side, though.

Nice to see Ken Jen get his ass handed to him as well. Today was Final Jeopardy!, and sadly, Ashley Judd will not be around for the proceedings. Maybe if it was a formula one event...

They did do this bit at the end though, where the three contestants held up their ginat oversized novelty cheques, and Trebek was carrying a blank piece of cardboard. He looked down at it, and sort of made a pathetic face. I tell ya, it was funnier than any Celebrity Jeopardy! that I've seen. Yes, even better than Anal bum cover.

I always feel like...Somebody's watching me

Since I have now turned this blog over to the people I felt that I was shielding it from, I realize that I no longer have any privacy to say exactly what's on my mind, at least in the purest sense.

Still, I deem this latest development hopeful, as it means that I will use extreme caution with my writing, and for that matter, other people's writing.

I am not recanting on my promise to avoid perfectionmism, but I'll learn how to adapt to an audience that now includes my mother, my best female friend, and my career counselor.

But still, their words inspire: My mom said to me earlier today, "I didn't know that you were so into Jeopardy!"...this week is the final by the way, and I am still cheering against Kenny Jenny, who is currently in last place.

I've got an appointment tomorrow that I am hoping will be as inspiring as the last one. I'm really tinkering around with my life right now, and the changes are evident.

I also have the need to see Crash, Team America: World Police, and maybe even The Notebook. I'll avoid this Star Wars thingy as long as I can, but I've got a feeling that I'll turn over to the dark side soon enough.

My current obsession is the clever witticisms that Horatio Caine comes up with before the opening credits on CSI:Miami. My favorite is still: "We're looking for a different kind of shark. (Pauses for dramatic effect. Puts on sunglasses, adopts a far-off look) "The human kind". What does that even mean?

Well. I'm off to make value judgments.

I wonder who's watching me now. Who? The IRS?

The Wrong Answer is the Right Answer

Now I know what's been missing from my life for the past nine months: Mistakes! I need to screw up more. It helps to rob me of my complacency, and really challenges me to deviate from my perfectionism.

I don't want people to hate me, but I guess that if things aren't 'perfect', I would rather they be perfectly awful, (shades of George Costanza and "Bodysuit Man"?)

What else? I got into a psychical fight with the birthday girl, and I gotta admit, it was kind of fun, especially since the fight came out even, despite the fact that she weishs about sixty pounds less than me. I heard that it was 'hot' to watch as well.

So Perfectionisnm is going right out the window!

I'm nobody 'til somebody hates me

Why why why is it that I enjoy, nay, revel in the fact that certain people hate me? This seems to be a recurring pattern in my life. I seem to take great interest in someone, trusting them, letting htem into my private thoughts, and then when they have 'mislaid' my trust, (which is often the case), I turn what could be a simple goodbye into pure contempt on their part towards me. And what's worse is that I like it. Having a person who I find socially undesirable feel the same way about me, (or worse), somehow gives me great pleasure, almost as much as if they loved me, or maybe even more so. However, if I feel that they undeservedly despise, (because for the most part, I know when I am 'crossing the line'), it bugs me to no end. How dare they not like me for no good reason! I'l give them a REAL reason to despise me.

Maybe this is because I feel that indifference equals a failed effort on my oart. Maybe this is because I enjoy conflict and drama. Maybe hate is as powerful as love, but one is a lot easier to come about than the other. Maybe this is just my way of saying "Hey, pay attention to me", and if I can't get you to motice me in a positive way, I'll happily settle for negative attention. As long as you have feelings for me in some way, I'm happy.

Everyone! Everyone! Look at me!

Back to Cool

Ladies and Germs, the moment I've been waiting for has finally arrived. Tonight, after I slipped into scabby Gabby's pretending to be the cock of the walk, (due to the fact that I talked to the cute waitress for about five to ten minutes last Friday), I sat down and...was brought a trivia machine without asking. Truly, a moment for the ages. Now if I could only get my personalized trivia machine going...

Also, I found a new addiction tonight. The bar had one of those Ultramatic 3000s going, and I played the erotic photo game a whole bunch with the other cute waitress. But then I found the game that will addict me to NTN levels. They call it 'Wordster', but basically it's that game that gives you eight scrambled letters, and you have to make as many words as possible. When I followed the respectable 'sonic' up with 'scion', I could swear that there was a little sexual charge in the air. Or maybe I just turn myself on with my wordpower. Ah, well.

And as for going back to my 'official' high school reunion or my 'unofficial' high school reunion, (the park party), I decided to call the whole thing off. D.M. knows what's going on. People in high school stay exactly the same, (I would say that I resemble my high school self, only without the 'angst'), and all that changes is their adaptability to the world around them. For example, jocks who get by on their jock status, don't seemt o do so well in the 'real world'. As if I'm one to talk. What real world skills do I have? I am nothing like Teck, who went on to fame and fortune in Van Wilder.

I do have one skill, though, as I have become a 'trivial late night NBC psychic'. I predicted that Will Ferrell would dress like Gene Frenkel and play the cowbell alongside Queens of the Stone Age on SNL, (swear to God, ask my brother), and as soon as I heard that Andy Richter was a guest on Conan O'Brien, I knew that they would do 'In the year 2000'. I also have the uncanny ability to guess people's signs, although astrology is a bunch of b.s. according to 90% of the people I talk to about it. However, they belong to the signs that are supposed ot be skeptical, so that makes perfect sense.

I wish there was a way for me to harness these skills, as well as my other ones, such as the ability to cook up the perfect Kraft Dinner, and use them to snag a suitable (i.e. high-paying) job and an understanding (i.e. foxey) lady friend. That's right ladies and germs, I am on the market! The super market. Look out Rachel McAdams' sister, Chas Traps is back with a vengeance!

Trivial Pursuits

The Jeopardy! "Ultimate Tournament of Champions" has reached its final six contestants, and they fit nicely into a few classic archetypes.

You've got:

1. The formerly fat guy, who is now thin, and looking to attract a hot babe with his new body and Jeopardy! winnings.

2. The slightly overweight, yet still pretty good-looking woman who won the College Tournament of Champions, and is now wearing 'professional' looking pantsuits. She seems kind of bubble-headed, but is really smart.

3. The Gruff looking cop with a walrus 'stash, who has a surprisingly vast knowledge of art history and the Renaissance.

4. The friendly middle-aged man with a slightly grey beard. He looks like the kind of guy who you wish would be your girlfriend's father. I cheered against him in the last round, because he was playing against an attractive woman with big knockers. Now I feel kind of guilty.

5. The young, puffy southern guy. He let a weird little 'Whoop' when he won the last game, so I am now cheering for him.

6. The older queen who looks like Robin Williams in The Birdcage, but balder and with glasses. Also less irritating, (though he always seems plenty irritated).

These are your six, out of which two of them will play

7. Some geeky Mormon, in the ultimate final.

Out of the group of six, aside from maybe the old queen, they all seem like interesting, dynamic people whom you would love to have over for dinner. Hell, even the queen would probably be fun too, as long as the endive and radicchio were properly prepared. The only one I wouldn't want to have over would be Ken Jennings, because he probably wouldn't stop shaking his head, would clap at innopportune moments, and most likely would bring a salad instead of wine. Plus, he wimps out during the wagers. As you can see, I will be cheering against him in the final.

In other news, Conor is back in the game ------->

He says that M.I.A. is the future of music. I like that 'Purple Haze' song, and appreciate the novelty, but she reminds me of a more talented Las Ketchup. My new favorite artist is naturally Louis XIV, who feature a lead singer that scarily resembles Ozzy Osbourne, a great deal of kitsch, (they're like the anti-Killers), and a weird sing-song ditty about Chocolate girls. Obviously, they'll be M.I.A. by the middle of July.

Also, for those of you who have been asking me about the fifth link on the side, it's my old high school buddies, who still act like they are in high school. Click on the 'archives' to see old pictures of me. God, that was a long time ago.

And one more thing...I'm free for trivia anytime/

More Flies

Instead of using only honey, (which was my original intention), I've decided to experiment with something new: honey-flavored vinegar.

It's going to work great for my high school reunion this weekend. I'm already lined up for the 'unofficial' park party that is taking place outside of the actual festivities.

Wish me luck, folks. After all, I only want the best for all of you as well. :-)

Peanuts and Crackerjack

- I think the idea of "Weekend at Ty Cobb's" would breathe new life into the "Weekend at Bernie's franchise". Sample dialogue:

Louis Prima: With all the great players playing ball right now, how well do you think you would do against today's pitchers?

Ty Cobb (muffled voice provided by Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman): Well, I figure against today's pitchers I'd only probably hit about .270

Louis Prima (amazed): .270? Well that's amazing, because you batted over .367 for your career. Now tell us all, we'd all like to know, why do you think you'd only hit .270?

Ty Cobb (leaning over): Because I'm dead.

(Cue Oingo Boingo song).

Brilliant.

- I have decided to cheer only for random former Expos and Jews. Sadly, I can't think of a player who fits both descriptions. I guess I will have to split my love and affection between Jason Marquis and Dustin Hermanson equally. Though if there was a player that sported both Marquis' large schnozz and Hermanson's goatee, I would laugh at him mercilessly.

- I also want to do a documentary about the incredibly untalented brothers of future HoFers like Wilton Guerrero, Mike Maddux, Billy Ripken and Craig Griffey, and ask them if there is anything that they are better than their brothers at, like ping pong, or if they have better looking wives, or something. If they say no, I'll ask them if they are just living proof that God hates them. Then I'll give them some crack. But then I'll fear that their brothers will steal it from them.

- How hard are the creditors really looking if they can't find Cecil Fielder. I mean, it's not like he's hard to spot or anything. "Alright Cecil, you can run, but you can't hide. Actually, you can't run either". Never mind, those two steals in one year, which is topped in unbelivability only by Mo Vaughn's eleven steals in 1995. Baseball-reference.com should come with one of those "you're kidding!" features, where all you do is click on the stat, and a computer voice says "Cecil Fielder stole two bases in one year. No fucking kidding". That would set my mind on ease. Also, did you know Big Daddy's wife was Mrs. Michigan? This makes sense, as Cecil is the size of Michigan.

- Misha recently dubbed me 'the Brad Fullmer of bowling', which I took as both an insult and a compliment at the same time. Bradley Ryan Fullmer hit 32 home runs for the Blue Jays in 2000, (was it that long ago?) Then again, 2000 was the year that Jason Giambi was the MVP...but I'm not implying anything. Actually, I am implying everything. Lest we forget, Jose Canseco hit 46 home runs in 1998 for the Jays, his career high, while hitting a whopping .237 and striking out 159 times. You can't figure that Jose took the whole stash with him to T.Bay, wouldja?

- Would you high-five Moises Alou?

- Will the 2018 Boston Red Sox five-man rotation consist of Koby, Kory, Kacy, Kody and the still effective 56 year old Roger Clemens, the latter of whom still looking for one more win to pass Cy Youn for first on the all-time list? I'd bet a giant Orange Hummer on it.

- What happened to Youppi!? You're telling me that he wouldn't he be a better mascot than Ace and Gary, or whoever the two Jay thingies that the braintrust came up with? How about Pedro's midget? Is he still a free agent?

- If the current Red Sox right fielder has a good day at the plate, would you say that Trot gets the Runs?

- Announcer Ken "Hawk" Harrelson of WGN has almost singlehandedly made me hate the Chicago White Sox. He's waaay too much of a homey, and his little nicknames for the players, (like calling Paul Konerko 'Pauly'), makes me feel as if I'm watching an announcer player-lovefest. Get a room! You can put THAT on the board, Yes!

- I'm consider naming my first child Dontrelle, provided it's a boy. If it's a girl, I'm going with Dontrellia.

- Why so much nostalgia for Harry Carey? I always thought that Will Ferrell's impression was eerily accurate.

- How much joy could there have been in Mudville? The town's name is Mudville! That's almost as bad as playing in Detroit!

- Shouldn't Wade Boggs have combined his three passions, and just choked his chicken before the game?

- I wonder if my non-baseball inclined readers, (all two of them), are reading this, and just thinking, uh, baseball is that game with the bat, right?