Well, I wasn't totally off. Seems that Natalie did have a little mishap in school today. Jared, who has a locker above hers, dropped his History book on her head and she had to go to the nurse. But I'm thinking the vibes came more from the fact that she failed her history test, and failed miserably, and was afraid that I was going to kill her when she got home.

No, I didn't kill her. She was absent with strepped throat for most of the subject area of the test and the teacher is going to let her make it up. She seems to get this idea from her friends that bad grades = punishment. I feel as long as I know she studied, and knows the subject, I'm not going to punish her because she isn't a good test taker.

Pizza, homework and laundry. I shall return. Eventually.

I keep having this sense of foreboding today. Not a world foreboding, but a personal one. For some reason, I keep getting these signals or some sense that Natalie is having a really bad day. This never happened to me before.

I suppose calling the school and saying "Hi, is my daughter ok because I think she is sending me psychic vibes that something is wrong" is completely out of the question.

Talk about laughing in the face of disaster. If you do not at least chuckle at this, I will have to come over there and beat a sense of humor into you./

Booya. When the judge is away, the secretary will play. With his laptop.

Ok, so I have an internet connection at work for a day and I have nothing to say. At the moment. Except that I am going to make a Halloween blog. Oh, and the nice lady who works down the hall has informed me that I am not at peace with myself and will not be until I accept Jesus Christ as my savior. I offered her a caffeinated mint and a smile. I'm being nice today. What I say under my breath is my own damn business, however.

Now this is more like Monday..

Yes, I know it's Tuesday but I guess I am making up for yesterday's non-Monday-ness. I woke up with a dark gray storm cloud hanging over my head, and I expect that lightning will strike more than once today. Strike me, that is. Woke up from more dreams about floods (yes, KD, I am writing them down) interspersed with dreams about having sex in very open places. And I was having that deep, deep sleep, the kind of sleep that leaves you waking up tired, groggy and with lines embedded in your arms. Good thing I have the office to myself today. I feel a lunch time nap coming on.

Remember the good old days when Clinton being disbarred would have been front page news? I think my paper had it on page 48, under an old Andy Caap comic.

A New York Senator wants the 2002 Super Bowl moved to New York to boost morale here. Because 70,000 drunken rowdy tourists would do so much for the city. And honestly, is filling a stadium in New York for a publicity filled spectacle a good idea anyhow? I don't think I need to spell out for the scenario that goes through my head when I envision that. Oh, and just one little aside to the people backing this for the sake of New York. Giants stadium is New Jersey. Just in case you didn't realize that.

I'm going to spend another day being called a communist, anarchist or heathen, depending on who I voice my opinion to. I noticed that most people don't like thinking. They would rather let their newspapers think for them. So my mission at work now is to make people think instead of react. I've come to realize that they would rather have their heads in the sand than deal with reality. And people are giving my office a very wide berth now. Fine. More coffee for me, you mindless drones!

Listen, if you just take the time to adjust the fine tuning control of one media brainwashed person today, then you will have done your part.Have a pleasant, fun filled Tuesday. Or a close fascimile thereof.

It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's just that tonight I'd rather say it to Justin. I need some snuggle time.

Oh yea, ten points to whoever can name the song/artist in the new subtitle of this blog. No fair cheating!

My man Matt has troubles. His union is on strike. And what is most likely bad news for him is good news for us as, in his words, "I got a dumb website and a lotta time on my hands. I think this is going to be a good move for us." The world needs more Mecawilson.

I failed to notice and hence, mention that this blog is 6 months old. Happy birthday to me and my opinions.

Also, I need 311 hits to reach 20,000 unique hits since A Fire Inside has been open for business. I would like to make a comment here that I am not really into things such as hits and they really don't matter to me but that would be a damn lie now, wouldn't it?

Two words: Caffeinated mints.

I am searching for the eternal buzz. The thing is, I want to be eternally buzzed without being impaired. I want to be coherent and in control, but get my jollies, too.

There is this woman at work. She is constantly smiling. She's beaming. She is as dumb as a stop sign and couldn't find her way out of a paper bag, but goddamn is she giddy. I want to be her. For just one day. To walk around blissful and unaware and as high as I was in my senior yearbook photo.

One note before I go for the day: Don't forget to check out my sites of the day over there to the right. There are two today!

Now go kick Monday's ass.

Happy October!
Ok, Monday morning and all is well. What gives? Well, for one, there were no flood dreams last night. But there were dreams of me frantically trying to get to a Labor Day barbecue with my family while an old high school friend keeps hounding me with stories of her marriage breaking up. Meanwhile, I keep switching between sitting in a doctor's office complaining about my knees and an indie record store in Pennsylvania where they are playing Mr. Bungle over and over. And I'm wearing a skirt. I haven't worn a skirt since....ever.

So anyhow, it is beautifully cold outside (have I mentioned that I love fall?), I've got a great redesign thanks to Sheldon and despite the fact that DJ has a game in what will surely be a windy, cold evening, I feel wide awake and mentally stable today. How odd.

You ever get the feeling you are watching a game between children while watching this "war?" How many of you think that the Taliban really has Bin Laden? Raise your hands....good, not many of you really believe that shit. How do we know he is even alive? What, are they going to send us a lock of his hair or his ear? We are going to trust the people who killed 6,000 humans just three weeks ago? Ok, so maybe I am wide awake but not quiet coherent yet.

So I'm going to go about my day pretending that I am not afraid of more terrorists attacks or biological warfare and I am not going to let all those conspiracy theories run loose in my head. In a way, no internet connection at work is a good thing. Sometimes I think the less I know, the better.

Dear Sheldon:

Boy, I was I suprised. But pleasantly suprised! As usual, you knew exactly what I was going for. As for Ernie curing your moral dilemnas, well...I'm not gonna say anything about that.

Thank you dear. It's beautiful, it's perfect and I truly appreciate that you spent your night doing this for me.

Gay men with pumpkins would have rocked, yo. I love you.

Ah, uhm, SUPRISE! :)

Michele and I were talking (as usual) last night, and she mentioned she wanted a halloween-ish design. Unfortunately she went to bed shortly after, and I never had the chance to offer to do it. As you may or may not know, I help Michele out with her html coz I'm a huge geek. or just a dorky homo. Not sure which. :)

Well, all I can say is that I love Michele a hell of a lot, and I would do anything in my power to make her happy and suprise her.

So, after a quick lesson in CSS styles, some frantic designing, and a quick moral query to ernie, I decided to go for it. So, uh, it's his fault, really. Well, no, it's my fault. I'm impulsive and eager to please (single gay men, take note) and I really wanted to suprise her. I might have crossed a line, but I know she loves me a lot, so I might just get away with it.

I don't know if she's going to like it, but I have the original saved to disk and will restore it for her if she wants. I hope you like it Michele. I really do. :)

I really have nothing else to say tonight. Go see subinev's redesign. It's magnificent. I'm gonna go make myself stay awake until Adult Swim comes on.

I am not going to be winning any big bucks in the football pool this year. I suck. Royally. Granted, I haven't been that into football for obvious reasons, and I haven't thrown all my weight into picking my teams like I did last year. And the method of "which team has the better helmet" got me only 5 wins this week. Anyone care to help with next week's picks?

Apparently eMode thinks I am a gay guy. I have had strange results from them before, but now they think my theme song is "I Will Survive." I even made sure not to pick Aquaman as the cutest superhero in the quiz cause I knew that would skewer the results. I think having a lot of gay guy friends has invaded my psyche. I'm gonna go have some hardcore hetero sex and take the test again.

Oh, like you didn't know Aquaman was gay.

You'll be happy to know (well pretend you are) that we did get light bulbs. And we did not buy a new desk or turntable. And I took a long, luxurious nap during which I dreamed about floods for the third time in a row.

Bonds hits 69th home run; thousands of teens giggle at the sports headlines.

The Algebra of Infinite Justice. Very interesting article in the Guardian, via Geoff.

In the "probably not of interest to you but it's my blog and I'll tell you anyhow" department, the NASA Space Shuttle experiment that Natalie's class is doing made the paper today.

I had this sudden urge to play a graphic or text adventure game, like I used to play on the Commodore 64. I'm trying to find some free games to download, but so far I've just come across a couple of very lame kids games featuring Santa Clause and some disturbed looking pirate. I used to play this game on the 64, with a pirate ship, and I had to go around and look for clues and the ship, with all of its cheesy graphics and sounds, took me to various islands where I found dead bodies and such. So. We have 8 game playing systems and 2 computers in this house and I want to play a 64bit adventure game. Next thing, I'll be at Funcoland buying an Atari.

I wanted to do nothing today. Unfortunately, I know better. I know that when I start out to do nothing, something always ensues.

A new Waffle House opened up a few blocks away and we would like to head over there for breakfast or brunch, depending on what time we actually get showered and dressed. The problem is, the Waffle House is across the street from the house of my ex. I just know, with my luck, that today he will decided to take the kids out to breakfast or brunch and will appear in there the same time as Justin and I are sitting down to eat. A scene will ensue. So, unless I call Nat and get the details of what they are doing today, Waffle House is out.

I need to go shopping today. We need food, I need a new alarm clock and we need light bulbs for the track lighting. We will attempt to go out and buy only these things, but a shopping spree will ensue. Because while I see in my mind a bag filled with light bulbs and alarm clock and the ingredients for a good salad, we will end up with a turntable, possibly a new computer desk, a case of Slim Jims and a pack of 100 CDRs. And no light bulbs.

Or, we can stay home and watch football, kung-fu movies and anime all day. Naps and junk food eating will ensue.

I think it's impossible to do nothing.

My mother just called. She is worried about my father. They had a wedding to go to today and he decided at the last minute that he didn't feel like going. My father has never turned down an invitation to anywhere from anyone.

My father is sad. I have never, in my 39 years, seen him so sad. You have to understand, my dad is the joker of the family. Always ready with a one liner, always laughing, partying, telling some absurd story. There is something in his eyes now...no, something not in his eyes...that haunts me when I look at him.

I tell my mother it's only been three weeks. He's not even done going to funerals yet. He has yet to bury or memorialize all the friends he lost. He has yet to know the extent of his losses. The last three weeks has been a parade of Taps, salutes, and flag-draped coffins. It takes its toll. Of course he is not himself. It's going to take time. A whole lot of it.

He is laying awake at night and thinking of widows and fatherless children. I know this because I know my father. I know he is thinking how grateful he is that he retired the second he could, yet he feels bad about that, too. Like he should have, could have been there. I know he is watching the same scenes over and over again, listening to the shrill whistle of fallen firemen's pass alarms, reliving his walk through the rubble, worrying about the families of the people who are gone.

It's hard to talk to him. It's hard to look at that vacant stare in his eyes. It's hard to see him like this. Maybe I'm being selfish. There are over 6,000 victims, 6,000 lives lost. My father is still here. But he, and all the other firemen and rescue workers and Trade Center employees who got out, lived to tell the tale. There is nothing I can do for him except be there when he feels like talking and talk when he feels like listening, and let him mourn in his own way, on his own terms. It's something my mother has to come to grips with too. Maybe she feels like she lost him, but at least eventually he'll come back. She has that much.

The horror, the horror!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have finally, after five years, found a successor to the "I Want Those Two Hours of my Life Back© " movie award, previously held by Shaq's monstrosity Kazaam. I honestly thought I would never find a movie that sucked on so many levels as Kazaam did. But now, Shaq can finally pass that golden statuette over to the makers of Jeepers Creepers.

How many ways can you say lame? Yea, I know it's a horror movie. I'm not looking for plot dynamics 101 here. But jesus christ on a pogo stick, I cannot think of one way that this movie did not suck. No good scares. No discernable plot line. Bad dialogue. Predicatble situations. No explanations for anything whatsoever. Not even one slight chill or thrill. The supposed evil character was nothing more than Big Bird on steroids. The ending was so hilariously lame that I thought for a minute there was a punch line coming.

And to think, Clive Barker called this "this most scary, stylish horror movie I've seen in years." Clive? Rugrats in Paris was scarier than this movie.

If I'm going to feel guilty for laughing, I may as well go all the way. And take you with me.

Right now on A&E, The Texas Child Beauty Pageant. Otherwise known as "Teaching your daughters how to dress like whores and be judged for their looks!" Brought to you by AquaNet: Because just one can isn't enough.

Not for nothing, but my mother always, without fail, calls while we are having sex.

As predicted, the game was cold, damp and long. They tied, 6-6 and DJ played admirably, and killed time spent his turn in the outfield today by continuously moving his cup around.

Ever wonder what dogs would ask god? Wonder no more.
If I was a dog and wrote a letter to god, it would go like this:
Dear god,
do you know that god is dog spelled backwards? clever, eh?
sincerely,
dog
[link from sore eyes]

Song of the day. Just because...So many walk in parallel and pull their blinders tight
So few offer apology and accept others' rights
And nothing absolutely can be cherished in the end
But can't we all accept that it will all happen again?

Shades of truth just partisan conventions
Shades of truth between disparate lines
Shades of truth interpret my intentions
You don't know I'm alright
You don't know I'm alright
Bad Religion, Shades of Truth

So I'm getting ready for baseball. It is cold and windy and gray outside. On the good side, I can wear the new big comfy hooded sweatshirt I bought yesterday. On the bad side, it is cold windy and gray outside. All I'm saying is the snack bar and bathrooms better be open. Because I'll be needing lots of coffee.

I've updated the Banned Books Project this morning. This is the end of Banned Books Week, but not the end of the issue. Keep supporting, please. Especially now. Freedom is everything.

Also, I am looking for some new buttons for the site, if anyone is interested in making one or two. Because I suck at that stuff.

Wow. Bush as Churchill? Are you serious? Bush, for all his presidential posturing the past few weeks, is certainly not doing this alone. And for all those who are talking Nobel Peace Prize, please. Shut up. Just because we are in a time of "war" and patriotism is at an all time fantical high, I am not going to sit here and erase everything I've said on this site over the past six months just because you think I need to throw my support to the president. If I thought that George Bush could not make a decision on his own when it concerned things like social security and the White House Easter egg hunt, do you honestly think I am going to suddenly change my tune and think that he is waging this war with his own brain? Hardly. I'm not saying he's doing a bad job, I'm just saying stop making him out to be Ghandi. [link from dollarshort]

Rocking the suburbs..

I got up this morning, feel unusually alive and awake and ready to go. I had plans. I had ideas. I was gonna kick all ass today. So I got out of bed, went into the kitchen and noticed it was only 2:58 a.m. I thought about just staying up and putting the energy to good use, but....nah. So I went back to sleep, dreamed about my blog disappearing and woke up again at 6. It is dark and cold and damp out. In a way, I want it to rain, because then I don't have to be at the baseball field at 9am. But then DJ is disappointed, and my chance to see the kids on a Saturday is gone. Today's plans include baseball, a trip to Home Depot, maybe a shot at getting that sub-woofer and lots of reading and relaxing. Maybe.

So there is this radio station here. It's a college radio station, out of Nassau Community College. On Saturdays, all day, they play what they all "Extreme Rock." They've been doing it for years (used to be on Sundays, too) and Saturday rock, as we called it, was the first place I heard a lot of bands I love now. The station used to rock my world. Can you imagine, all day listening to hardcore, metal and punk on the radio? It was like heaven. Now, I don't know what happened to them, maybe it was the change over of DJs when a lot of them moved on from the college, but these guys have a totally different view of "extreme rock" than I. Every time I turn it on, it is either Poison, Skid Row or one of those horrid, insipid hair metal bands. I even heard Pink Floyd last week. Is it me or does excessive Iron Maiden not fall into the extreme category? Well, anyhow, it's Saturday, I gave it a shot, heard the familiar sound of a bottle blonde hair metal sissyboy whining and turned it off.

No point there, really. Just a commentary on how things that were once great always end up sucking in the end.

I was too late.

He claims it's the traditional pre-wedding polish head shaving ritual. I say give him an eyebrow piercing and he's Aaron Lewis.

Post 10 of 10

You didn't really think I was going to post 50 times, did you? It's Friday. I have things to do. Important, wonderful Friday-like things.

Ok, I'm gonna go stop Justin from shaving his head now.

Post 9 of 50: Hail, Caesar..

The fact that I had caesar salad for lunch to do has nothing to do with my telling you that Julius Caesar has his own weblog, though it may appear that way.

I know this because bulletproofpunk told me so.

Note to self: stop hitting the blogger link instead of "post and publish."

Post 8 of 50: What the hell were we thinking?

When you are in high school, all the music you listen to is deep and meaningful. Every lyric resonates with a poignancy that could break your heart. There are cryptic, hidden meanings, symbolism, allegory and vieled references to drugs, murder and mayhem. Each song is a poem. Each lyric a sonnet. They mean something, dude.

And then you grow up. And you look back. And you realize that Stairway to Heaven had as much meaning as the ad on a cereal box. To be a rock but not to roll? What the fuck? Back then, Robert Plant was a god, a literary giant, a teacher. Now you know. He was just pulling phrases out of Lord of the Rings and rhyming them while stoned out on Boons Farm wine and mescaline.

Some day, kids...someday. You will look back and be so embarassed that you ever thought Fred Durst was a genius. I swear to this.

Post 7 of 50

The Matrix 2 will be called Matrix:Reloaded. Did we not learn anything from Metallica?

post 6 of 50: Hey Kids!

Hey kids, what do you want for Christmas?!?
Oh, Mom! Can we please please please have this eBay talking auction game? Pleaaaase?
Sure, kids...now you too can have fun being ripped off, taken for granted, scammed, AND learn how to sell your used undies to complete strangers!

post 5 of 50: lessons in appropriate music selection:

Not appropriate for work: Wu Tang Clan
Not appopriate for a white girl driving through an urban type neighborhood: Any rap (this causes hysterical fits of laughter from neighboring vehicles)
Not appropriate for when your kids have friends over: ICP
Not appropriate to play for your family on Christmas: The Pansy Division's Homo Christmas
Not appropriate at any time or any place: Guns n Roses' The Spaghetti Incident? album

post 4 of 50: Over reacting much?
Blockbuster has decided to slap warning labels on newly released movies containing "terrorist actions." So movies like Swordfish, in addition to having a label that says "Warning, This Movie Contains John Travolta" will also carry a warning that some people may be offended by the acts of terrorism. Choose your own poison, I say.

post 3 of 50, where I out Ian for being a Jay Z fan.
Ian87sf: he huffs madd dong
Ian87sf: "jigga" is amazing
Ian87sf: yr right
Ian87sf: he's bomb
Ian87sf: just onaccounta "jigga"

Post 2 of 50

To everyone who offered to perform a solo aria/violin concerto/recorder concert/lap dance at my wedding, please be advised that there will be no musical peformances, strippers or circus acts. If we were to have entertainment, it would consist of a mosh pit and probably none of my relatives. Thanks for your offers, though. Really.

Friday night Fights, post 1 of 50
Ok, let's get something straight here. Owning a car is a privilege. So is driving one. As with all privileges, this should not be taken lightly. Being a car owner/driver and being intelligent and curteous are not mutually exclusive. So, if you are one of those people who owns a car that blows more smoke than than a refinery, this is for you. And if you are one of those people who do not use directionals, refuse to let anyone in your lane when there is a merge, do not know how to get on or off of ramps, tap your brakes every other second, tailgate for no good reason, take off from lights like you are Andretti at the starting line, do not stop for stop signs or school buses, or drive 40 miles below the speed limit, please know that somehow, somewhere, you will get yours. Whether it will be from me beating you senseless with your Club, or from the cops when you cause the first of 600 accidents, or from the karma that will be bestowed on you somehow, you will get yours. And for the people who for some unfathomable reason have a CD hanging from their rear view mirror and fail to realize that the sunlight glaring off said CD will cause the person behind you to go blind: I would very much like to take that CD and use it slice your dick off. Thank you.

That's the anthem, now get your damn hands up.

What day is it?
Welcome to the Friday that feels like a Monday. I have that groggy, disoriented, irritable feeling that usually comes in the beginning of the week. My plans for the weekend? Enjoy the grand weather, take in DJ's game tomorrow morning and do nothing else but catch up on my reading, relax and play video games. It is my down time weekend, and it is long overdue. For the most part, when Friday evening rolls around and my ex comes to get the kids, I get a sad feeling in the pit of my stomach as I wave to them when they pull away. But I am not going to lie. There are some moments when I am positively estatic that they are gone. And anyone who is a mother knows what I mean. Lately, I have been feeling this sense that I don't want to be too far away from them. The nightmares I've been having combined with recent events have given me a sense of urgency with them. But that sense of urgency is dissipated somewhat by the fact that my ex lives only 1/2 mile from me so they are never too far away. And also, the 7,000 phone calls begging me to bring them their cds, videos, football, homework or whatever else they forgot to pack.

So yea, where was I going with this? I have no idea. I'm rambling. My mind is fried. It's only 6am and there's a whole day of work to look forward to. Coffee is my friend.

So while the rest of the world is thinking about shooting down civilian planes, scam artists trying to rip off grieving families, waiting 3 hours to get into New York, and the possibility that the Mets are for real, I will be sitting at my internet-deprived computer, downing caffeine and waiting for the clock to move.

Note to Geoff: will write as soon as I get to work. Note to everyone else: If you want to spend every day reading hilarious, thought provoking commentary from an incredibly thoughtful, passionate, generous wise man start up an email conversation with Geoff .

Oh, and my site of the day is back. It's over there. To the right. On the sidebar. Ok, now click the link. Thanks.