Week's updates

Strange week this week, definitely out of color for myself. Last Friday and Saturday was a cluster*&$! of idiots at the bar. I wished to be able to smack a good amount of them. When a group of 30 "pub golfers" come in and start tipping in quarters, yeah, great night.
Sunday I ended up sleeping instead of getting up early to run errands. I got up and went to North Phoenix to check out some apartment buildings for sale. They were nice, but I need more info. I called pop and he informed me that the deal we were working on for the building in Mesa finally folded over and we can ditch it.
I let mom know more info about her birthday party and what I needed from her end, besides having nothing planned. We talked about the possibility of me moving home, or should I say, I talked to them about me moving home. I know they are getting up in age and are eventually going to need care, so it's something I strongly need to consider before I get really tied down with things here in Arizona.
After talking with them on the car ride from Phoenix, I had a wonderful experience at the Scottsdale pool. I've been hitting the lanes again as a workout regimen to couple with actually going to the gym. I don't want to go back to the pool again on weekends-it was open swim day for the public in the areas outside of the lanes, so I had a good 150 people in the pool next to me, which bugged me. Not because of the amount of people or kids, but I really didn't want to know the amount of pee I was swimming through, ingesting or inhaling on accident. I felt disgusting after that session.
On the way home, I shopped at Trader Joe's and Sunflower market for groceries, came home and called up Chris to have a beer with. He wasn't feeling well, but came by anyways. This would bite me in the ass later.
I whipped up some apps and went through 2 bottles of good merlot. Chris bailed and I was buzzed and bored at 11:30pm. I got up, showered, dressed and stumbled up the street to Salty Senioritas. they were closing in 30 mins,but I wanted to dump some cash, and made new friends with Brian and Chris, employees there. Well, as good as friends will cost if I drop them $40 in tips in 30 mins. I get tipsy, and split. Walking home, I take the backroads and stumble upon (no, not literally...) a gas grill that someone put out on the curb to toss. Perfect! I'll see if it works! I walk home and stupidly get in my truck and drive the one block to the grill, pick it up and head home. Crystal comes by and laughs at my expense. It's 3 am and I'm done...pass out time.
Monday-nothing special.
Tuesday-Work in the day and then hit the pool again after work to hit up my workout. The good news is that I could still hang with them high schoolers and college kids. If I could drop 15 pounds, I would be faster than them, but for now, I'm content with my 30 year old ass pacing with them. Is this a return of the Shpeedos Mon??








I get back, relax, play some games, watch some TV, have some wine and a few things to nibble on before heading to sleep.
Then I wake up in the middle of the night to a scratchy throat, plugged up sinuses and eye boogers...hello Chris' cold.....dammit....
Can't wait to see how the other half of the week goes. Once again the weekly meeting of the Beer Tasters of the East Valley (BTEV) on Thursday nights is in jeopardy. We haven't had a meeting in a month. Mmm...beer....

The stupid crap I did as a kid (and sometimes still do)

As I was doing my swim workout today, I usually think of random things as I lap up and down the pool. I like it as it not only distracts me from the labor I'm enduring, but it makes time pass by better and works out my brain as well as my body. Anyways, I got to thinking about what kind of stupid crap I did as a kid that either did, almost did or didn't get me in trouble, but should have. Grab a snickers bar, this is a long one, and remember-What doesn't kill you, is supposed to make you stronger.

1) On a daily basis I'd be summoned for dinner from Dirty Ryan's next door. It wasn't as if Mom would call or walk over to tell me that dinner was ready, or as if I really was paying attention to time (hey, technobowl is still the end all of cool video games), but no Mom would go out into the backyard and yell out for me to come home. Wonderful, not only was it super embarrassing, but I'd get scolded on a near nightly basis for Mom having to do it. It was amazing though, as back in the day, that woman's yell would pierce windows, walls, music and video games cranked up. Needless to say, after her daily efforts, it was the days that I purposely ignored her calls and dinnertime that I got my ass chewed the most.

2) Thievery of quarters and dollar bills. Apparently having a paper route wasn't good enough to satisfy the constant urges for Double Dragon, Mortal Kombat and Now N' Laters. Resulting knavery? Petty theft from the "quarter jar" and/or Mom's purse stash. I have to admit, for a chunky kid, I was slick, like a fat ninja. I knew where the floor squeaks were, times Mom's soaps were on, days when Mom usually had more cash than other days.The big paydays were when Dad emptied out his apartment washing machine coin bins. Those were untraceable $20 candy and video game feasts. Sometimes I wasn't so slick though, and Mom busted me, sometimes red handed and i got my ass whooped. It was worse when she bitched to Dad about it, because Dad used his trusty belt to wail on my ass.

3) The nefarious Playboy/Penthouse stash. It all started with Dirty Ryan getting his hands on a mag. Well, he let me"borrow" it to "read" it...aka start building the callouses I posses now. So I get the sucker, but after hiding in a spot behind the bed (to block views for a door entry) and next to my desk ( to block a garden window view), I got skiddish and determined that I couldn't hide it at home. I snuck it out of the house and first hid it down the block in some bushes in a church parking lot where we'd play BBall a lot( Good old Woodland church...I added some hell points for that act). I was still skiddish, and guilty for the church thing, so I snatched it up again and headed across the street and behind our houses to the Hetch( basically a dirt and grass alley owned by the water department) and stashed it under some plywood and bushes. I never saw it after that. I either told Dirty Ryan where it was and he got it back, or someone else scavenged it.

4)That event led later on to the phone sex line fiasco. Dirty Ryan and I got a sex line number from David Jouan, a kid up the street. Bastard didn't tell us that there was a huge phone charge attached to it. I must have called that number like 20 times in one day, huddled in the corner of my folks bedroom where the spare phone was. I don't remember exactly what the skits were, but there were various "story" choices to choose from. I can remember something about a chick accidentally spilling jam on her thigh and some random dude started licking her off. That was like 5 minutes into a skit...duh, they don't get to the good stuff until like minute 24. At $2 a min, that's an ass whooping. Well, Dad got the phone bill and flipped out, and in fact called the number to see what it was. At the onset of interrogation, I folded quick and instantly ratted out Ryan to a deed he had really not much to do with. We ended up getting grounded off it.

5)The beauty of being appointed the manager of my uncle's ice cream store was that I had a key and safe access. No, I never stole cash...out of the safe at least-I wasn't that dumb, there are better ways to skim cash. I did sneak in Ryan and Doug for late nite ice cream runs in high school and early college. 2 am, no alarms, and not a trace left except for additional scoop marks in the tubs. That store had other access points as well. The Attic storage upstairs was for all the stores in the strip mall, individually locked and stocked. I got a good amount of hair care products and dyes, random other crap, as well as I could have dropped down through the ceiling into the post office and pizza place if I chose to. I was smarter than that. Post office had cameras, and there would have been no way back up or out. I was honing my skills good then, never got busted for that stuff.

6)Ah yes, the splatmaster and drive by shootings. This could have gotten me in BIG trouble. Lets see, misuse of a potential weapon, destruction of property, wreckless driving and public endangerment. High school, driving to work at the ice cream store in my 84 Honda civic. The paintball gun fit so nice and snug between the parking break and passenger seat, like a holster. Driver side window down, driving through the rich part of Atherton (where the richer Stanford kids lived) and blasting random cars. I got this unfortunate white van 3 days in a row, each day a freshly washed car waited for me. Houses, cars, signs..all fell before my paint. Should have gotten busted bigtime for this one.

7)I've never seen a weed hold up a 180 pound kid, but on this day, one did...thank you random coastal weed! I was at the beach with the folks one day and decided to go on a hike on a trail up and along the beach cliffs. The highest point is probably 150 feet. The highway is to the right of the trail 30 yrds away, and the edge of the cliff is about 5-15 feet away in places. Some spots on the cliff had small erosion chunks out of them (like some big mouth took a bite). You could, in a very stupid minded effort, climb into one and be in the cliff. My dumb ass decided to step into one. After 3 feet, the dirt slipped, I fell on my ass and started sliding into the 12 ft "bite" and over the 150 ft drop. Somehow I slid onto my belly an just started grabbing out for anything. I grabbed plants, dirt, anything to get traction to stop me. With 4 feet to go before a beach pancake, I snatched a miracle weed. This fucker saved my ass.I laid there, frozen, not moving for a minute, just staring at this weed, waiting for him to let go. I couldn't yell for help, as well, no one could hear me. Where I was in the "bite", nobody could see me from either the beach or the path, so i was on my own, and well, quite fucked. Eventually I gathered enough courage to cautiously dig and pull my self up and out. Yea, someone was watchin my fat ass that day.

8) The note that shook the world. David Jouan (mentioned above) had a sister named Michelle that was like 5 years older than us and in high school when we were in Jr High. We taunted her when we walked by her house and usually that led to a chase down the street. We never got caught, more for fear of our lives than for athletic ability. Anyways, we had a brilliant plan that Ryan and I would write an anonymous dirty "note", seal it in an envelope, address it to her and leave it on her door. Well, we wrote it, sealed it, but were too chicken to go through with the deed. Ryan ordered me to destroy it. What do I do? Leave it in plain sight on my dresser for Mom to find, read, tell Dad, who then called Ryan's Dad and resulted in a 4 way Dad/son talk at my house. I forgot the contents of the note, but I just know it was pathetic and so 7th grade. Anyways, our old men tried to be diplomatic instead of beating us down, and explained why it was wrong, we shouldn't write stuff like...blah, blah,blah...and then grounded us for weeks. You just know that if we all got together today that we'd laugh our asses off about that damn letter.

9) There's a sniper on the roof!!! What is it with me and guns? Before the paintball incidents, I had(and in fact still have) a BB rifle. It's a piece of crap, but then, it was the bomb!In Jr high and high school I would be in the backyard, bustin caps on doves and small birds. Killed a few and got in trouble because the bodies fell on Ryan's porch. His parents weren't happy. Neither was my neighbor Cliff Kieth (freggin wierd ass fat man who home schooled his annoying kids and writhed in jealousy of my Dad's yard) when "allegedly" I busted one of his windows. I still am in denial of the incident as I never saw or heard the window break. Well, after backyard commando-ing got old, Doug or Ryan and I, or all of us would head up to Canada Community college, stealthily ascend a hill that overlooked the school and parking lot to randomly snipe roadsigns and the errant late night vehicle from the bushes. Yeah, we got spotlighted a few times, but never got busted. We easily could've been shot.

10)BANG!!! At the ice cream store in early high school, there was a local kid that hung around. One day he traded me a scoop of ice cream for a M-80 explosive from Mexico. I really wasn't too comfortable with the wick being a half inch long and it's crappy-see the explosive residue spilling out the sides craftsmanship. Well, i hung onto that thing for a few years until we were all in college. Freshman year we were all home for the 4th of July, along with Ryan's (now thankfully) ex girlfriend Susan. We headed down to the Circle Star Theater on the bayfront to watch our city's fireworks show. By then our city had banned publicly purchased fireworks stands (stupid PC idiots! Don't you know kids like to blow shit up???), so all the crowd had in the parking lot was lame sparklers and poppers (ya can't even have those now...jeez!!), so my M-80 was primed for a crowd pleaser. I WAS smart enough to not hold it in my hand to light it. I put it in between two cars on the ground and tried to MacGuyver a delayed lighting system with a stick, matches and twisted paper. I lit it and ran my ass away. It wasn't lit. Tried it again and this time I swore I saw the wick light. It fizzled and burned into the body of the explosive, and nothing for 5 seconds afterwards. Great, I let it sit in a drawer for too long over the years, stupid dud ass piece of....

BANG!!!!!

The concussion shook all in a 20 ft area, left us all with a lack of hearing for 10 minutes, set off 4 car alarms, made small children cry, charred the pavement underneath and scarred the living shit out of half the crowd. Fearing a pissed off random mother, drunken pissed off car owner or police arrest, we decided to leave the show a bit early.

There are many,many more, but for now I think you've had enough stupid Marc moments.

hear my breath and smell my words!

Go Awwwwnawld! In a controversial statement today, Gov. Arnold stated that people should turn off Spanish TV in order to speak better English.

This, ironically from a man who struggles with an accent in his own Austrian tongue and needed to have subtitles in order for us to understand his lines in Conan.

His words ring true though on so many levels in my opinion.

First, as I and many others have stated before, if a person resides in the U.S., they should speak English here.

Second, if they don't, they need to learn.

Example-when many immigrants came to the U.S., they only knew their native language. Arnold spoke Austrian, my father spoke Portuguese, my mom's family spoke French. They forced themselves to learn a foreign language through immersion. They, as well as a good amount of other immigrants didn't expect the country that they decided to move to to cater towards them and make everything bilingual in order to be politically savvy.

As an added benefit, not only did they retain their native language, but with the addition of English, they were one step ahead of single language speakers like myself.

Example-

My bro Dirty Ryan moved to Japan, completely without knowledge of speaking Japanese. Through years of immersion, he can speak it there, and in fact, now teaches young Japanese children and adults English because of the high demand for English speakers in the workforce in the present and future.

What is controversial about the Gov.'s statements is that some people are interpreting it as if he's saying he wants to ban Spanish TV in general, or to force people to give up their native language to speak English, or some other spin off to knock his statement.

What I think was implied was that as these children are in ESL classes, they are struggling to grasp the English language because they are learning to speak English at school, then come home to plop down in front of the TV to watch Telemundo. I'm sorry, but if I was 6, that would scramble my brain a bit and slow me down too.

What he was trying to push was to try and immerse those kids, or whoever was trying to learn, in English. Whereas the way our society is, everything now is in multiple languages. The drive thru, the cleaners, the bank, schools, public places...etc. There is enough information out there for the non-English speaker to get by, all the while still being immersed in English outside of the home. It's when they are at home that the immersion stops.

By all means he wasn't saying to stop speaking their native language with their family or anything that drastic. Believe me, I wish I had that luxury. I was the only one in my family that was NOT raised speaking English and Portuguese, and for that, I am behind everyone else. If I would have learned the language, not only would I have been able to communicate better, if at all with my family, but it would have contributed to my everyday life. Portuguese is a Latin/Spanish based language. So technically, I would have been able to partially understand parts, if not wholes of other languages such as Spanish, Italian, French, Brazilian, and other South American and some Eastern European countries...on top of knowing English.

He was making a point that by learning English to couple with a person's native language, there are far greater opportunities out there for that person, all the while acquiring a language that is our country's native tongue.

He wasn't saying to stop watching Spanish TV, he was suggesting it as a way to grasp the English language faster.

Passion, or the lack thereof

Captain Unmotivated. It's what I've been calling myself lately, especially in the past 9 months. My motivation to do anything just doesn't seem to be there anymore. If I appear peppy and gun-ho, it's guaranteed to be from a vitamin B and redbull shock to the system. What's sad is that not even that works anymore.

Unmotivated and passionless. I don't get it. It applies to everything too, not just to isolated hobbies or T.V. shows. I almost feel like things have gotten so stagnant and predictable.

Friends and social outings aren't as lively anymore. My job is feeling stale.

Nothing new is happening in the family. Hell, even my dog is just as lazy and predictable(as well as the wear spot in the carpet where she likes to lay).

Strangely, the only thing that I look forward to is sleep nowadays, and that is an entirely different tossing and turning struggle in itself.

I have heard that the constant desire to sleep, as well as an adherent to specific vices (aka cocktail hour and the ever persistent midget porn fix) for comfort is a sign of depression.

Believe me, I have plenty of issues in my past and current life that could have very well effected my psyche and I'm starting to think that my constant lack of energy and motivation isn't a physical ailment such as anemia (which I have been in the past) or the lack of nutrients but very well be a mental issue.

Being stagnant isn't a good thing, but there is only so many things that I am able to do within my confines of my current lifestyle now. My job, my family, my location, all of which are not easily altered, nor would be wise to dramatically change course on either.

Still though, it would be wonderful to have enough cash to live on for a while and just drift with my dog across the country, or to some random island somewhere.

People tend to get tied down by the things they desire most in life-their job, their house, their lifestyles, and on top of that, all the things you want to own, end up owning you. Thank you, Tyler Durden-"you are not your job, your car, the contents of your wallet...you're not your fucking khakis.."

Not that I think the objects I have own me, I'm not materialistic at all. I can't remember the last gadget or high end electronic I bought, nor tell you the last time I bought a piece of clothing that cost over $20.

I know I'm more experience based. Trying something new, or revisiting something that I did before that I liked pleases me. It's bittersweet though, for when that experience is over, I know that I am returning to the same mundane and predictable lifestyle that I described above.

It would be interesting to be someone that had long-term memory, but their short-term memory only lasted a day or two. Besides a constant supply of post-it notes to remind myself of things, a fresh outlook on a daily basis is definitely desired.

But I ramble now...I have things to do, like weekly chores. Maybe I'll try to find a new way to wash my damn laundry.

We are a smart bunch

Dumb Arizona State Laws
Need To Know?
- You may not have more than two dildos in a house.
- Any misdemeanor committed while wearing a red mask is considered a felony. This goes back in the days of the Wild West.
- There is a possible 25 years in prison for cutting down a cactus.
- When being attacked by a criminal or burglar, you may only protect yourself with the same weapon that the other person posseses.
- Hunting camels is prohibited.
- Donkeys cannot sleep in bathtubs.
- It is unlawful to refuse a person a glass of water.
Glendale- Cars may not be driven in reverse.
Globe- Cards may not be played in the street with a Native American.
Hayden- If you bother the cottontails or bullfrogs, you will be fined.
Maricopa County- No more than six girls may live in any house.
Mesa- It is illegal to smoke cigarettes within 15 feet of a public place unless you have a Class 12 liqueur license.
Mohave County- A decree declares that anyone caught stealing soap must wash himself with it until it is all used up.
Nogales- An ordinance prohibits the wearing of suspenders.
Prescott- No one is permitted to ride their horse up the stairs of the county court house.
Tucson- Women may not wear pants.
Tombstone- It is illegal for men and women over the age of 18 to have less than one missing tooth visible when smiling.

63 years

If you're a red blooded American like myself, when someone asks you what is today's date, you'll answer with solemn pride, "June 6th, DDay". Most of the time, a little light bulb will go on over their head as they'll remember the anniversary date. The date which a few thousand soldiers lost their lives in the initial assault on Nazi invaded Europe.

Why this date is important? I guess we had a stronger European connection to the war than on the Pacific side. Truth be told, before and after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, they were expanding their empire out into the entire Pacific and Asia.

The Philippines, Guam, Saipan, Tinian, Okinawa, Guadalcanal, Truk, Formosa, The Marshall Islands...etc. Thousands of islands in the Pacific ranging from Islands the size of West Virginia to as small as a small town. On each one of those islands, there had to be an invasion force to oust the dug in Japanese. Each one of those islands had a DDay.

Europe lost a few thousand on it's DDay. The Pacific war DDays lost tens of thousands.

Remember that when you think of and honor June 6th, that this was the easiest of the DDays to many.

Honor your servicemen.

Remember and respect the fallen.

Thank them all.

The first sign of the Apocalypse

There are few articles that can get my blood curdling, but the ones that always do are any article or story that vehemently expresses uncompromising truth that there is such a theory called "the Pussification of America"- thank you George Carlin for that theory..go ahead, research it, nosh on it, chew it, enjoy....
So, there I was, checking email, and reading my daily news blurbs spat out on the only neutral, non leftist, non right wing source I have found yet, MSN.com.
I'm browsing down the screen, noshing on a granola bar for lunch, when I quite nearly spat it out all over my monitor. There in the middle of the webpage was a short, two line link and a picture entitled- "Makeup for Men? More mainstream than you think..."
You have got to be shitting me.
Apparently there is a push to make Men's cosmetics more widespread for "today's" man. Concealers (coined blemish cover sticks on the website), eyebrow gel, and eye liner, they say may very well sit next to a man's razor, aftershave and deodorant in their travel bag soon.
DUDE!!!!
YOU'RE A MAN!!! Knock this shit off! There are only a few times when makeup takes a major hands on part in a man's life!
1) green, tan, black and grey smeared on a man's face as he charges headfirst with pistol and bayonet in the thickest, darkest jungles of god knows where in hand to hand combat.
2) Acting in a major movie, which is part of the job.
3) glitter and hot pink lipstick smeared all over his face as he sits in a dark, strobe light filled titty bar and some half or fully nekkid stripper named Bambi grinds and molests the poor bastard.
4) His bed pillow has a residual image on it after possibly going home with said Bambi, or some other chic from a night of drunken debauchery and slum-busting.
One more step in the world of a possible metrosexual takeover.
You know, I'm cool with whoever you want to be. I know bi and gay people, and work with some that are far worse, and may be a whole lot closer to some than you may think. I'm cool because it's not pushed on me. This may be a step in the wrong direction though. Men don't wear makeup. "Boooyssss..(said with a lisp)" do.
I can't wait to see what the next half dozen signs of the Apocalypse are...in the meantime, I'll be sitting at home, sexist, rednekked and even homophobic (if you with to label me as such), with my dog, a case of Budweiser, a bottle of jack daniels, eating nearly raw steaks, loading magazines with hollow points, polishing my rifles...sitting, dressed in camo, with camo MAKEUP on.