A lesson learned the hard way....

In may of 2009 I moved with my girlfriend from New York to Colorado so that we could start a new life together and she could be close to her family. So I quit my twenty dollar an hour job, packed up my things, said goodbye to my mom and put a 3,000 dollar rental truck on my credit card all in an effort to make her happy. Upon arriving in Colorado I had much difficulty in finding a job and eventually started working at Walmart for nine bucks an hour. I have battled depression my whole life and this was a particularly dark time in my life. I became depressed at the fact that I wasn't making enough money and I missed my mom terribly. I sank into the worst depression of my life, to the point where I wasn't sure if I wanted to even live any more. I started seeking help...taking depression medication and going to counseling. It was a time in my life without family or friends. When I had to pay a shrink by the hour just so someone would listen to me even though I knew they didn't really care. That was when she decided to break up with me. The girl I had been with for four years. The one who I'd loaned $4,000 when she was in a financial bind and spent thousands more repairing her car. I stood by her side as we watched her beloved Godfather slowly pass away. I carried him and her dog when they both died to there final resting place. I bore this all upon my shoulders out of my love for her and when I needed her the most she tossed me away like a used tampon. The weeks that followed were a continual barrage a verbal abuse and sometimes even physical assaults to the point where I couldn't walk into my own front door. I would work my shift at Walmart until 1am and than wander the store afterward, because I couldn't really go home and December in Colorado is much too cold to spend wandering outside for hours. I would leave Walmart around eight in the morning and go home when my x girlfriend was at work so that I could get a few hours sleep before I had to repeat he whole process. I became even more depressed and called the emergency mental health hot-line one night, because I felt I had nothing left to live for and just needed someone to talk to. I spent about ten minutes talking to them with them not listening to anything I had to say. They just kept asking me to promise that I wouldn't do anything stupid so that they could hang up and go back to watching internet porn. After about ten minutes the guy I was talking to got angry, probably from having blue balls from pausing a Pamela Anderson download. He called the local police and had them arrest me and take me to the emergency room. I informed the hospital that I did not have medical insurance and therefor asked them if I could only see one doctor and run as little tests as possible. They immediately tested my blood pressure and administered a drug test. I was then introduced to about ten different doctors and about three hours later a psychiatrist was called in. She walked in at about 4am and asked how I was doing. I answered honestly that I was not happy at being hand-cuffed, searched and taken against my will to a hospital when I had no way of paying for it. She responded with an angry look, telling me not to play the victim and that she was not happy about getting out of bed at 4 in the morning. I reminded her that I was not the one who had called her and she responded by telling me that she was sending me to the psych ward for psychiatric evaluation. Eventually I was sent home and two weeks later I received a bill for my hospital visit in the sum of $4,246.25
I am currently twenty five years old and I am paying twenty bucks a month towards the bill. By my calculations, I should have it paid off when I turn 378...I wonder if you still pay for medical bills in hell?

What Happened to Jeeves?

All through out my school years my mom worked nights and so was unable to help me with my homework. Asking my dad for help would usually result in being called stupid and getting yelled at and so I relied on the internet for help. Whenever I was confused about something I would go to askjeeves.com and I would always get the answer to my problem without having to endure any verbal abuse. It seemed that Jeeves knew everything...maybe even too much. Because now the beloved balding butler who dedicated his life to helping others has gone missing. I've asked around and searched wide and far, but have had no luck. My only lead is a television commercial that's been on lately, advertising a Dexknows.com. I have a hunch that this Dex had something to do with Jeeves' dissapearance and might even know where he is. I wrote a letter to the cast of Criminal Minds hoping that they would be willing to help me track down this Dex person, but so far I've recieved no reply. All I know for certain is that our beloved Jeeves is still alive somewhere. Someone with that much knowledge would be of no use dead. It's probable he is being held prisoner by Dex somewhere to be tortured and interrogated for all the information he knows and then when Dex is done Jeeves will be silenced forever. Please don't let this happen and help me in the search for our beloved Jeeves. Feel free to contact me with any information you may have, operaters are standing by 24 hours a day on our hotline 555-S-A-V-E-J-E-E-V-E-S. We may not know where he is being held, but we do know who does. DEX KNOWS!!!

I'm Definitely Not in New York Anymore.

The other day I got up early to try out my new mountain bike in Waterton Canyon, which is an eight mile stretch of dirt and gravel road that leads you alongside a river to a dam at the end. About six miles in, I heard a cascading of rocks falling from the mountain on my right and upon looking up I saw a mountain goat. Now we've all seen mountain goats at the zoo and they seem harmless and cute, but I've discovered that in the wild they are totally different animals. This mountain goat had more muscle than Arnold Schwartzneggar in his prime and was by far the biggest I have ever seen. Now most people would've kept on biking, but if you've been reading my blog so far you've probably realized that I'm not most people. I decided that this was a great picture opportunity and stopped to photograph the giant as it slowly made it's way down the mountainside. Then, when it was off the rocks and on the dirt road with me, ignoring all common sense, I continued to photograph the mountain goat. I guess I have a bit of the Crocodile Hunter's spirit inside of me, because I just couldn't look away from the animal and kept hearing the late Steve Irwin's voice in my head saying, "That's a beautiful animal." A few seconds later though, when the steroid pumped mountain goat lowered it's horns and started to charge, I heard Steve Irwin's voice again, but this time he was saying, "Danger-danger-danger!"

At this point my self preservation instincts finally kicked in and I ditched my bike and backpack and ran for my life. It's amazing how your mind races with so many thoughts when you think you are about to die. As I was running I realized that although I can out-run most people, I am no match for a large mammal with four legs. I also realized that I was being chased towards the edge of a cliff with a fifty foot drop and jagged rocks below. I remember thinking to myself that this was going to be a really crappy way to die. I mean people who die in other ways like cancer or old age are remembered not for how they died, but for how they lived. They're remembered with fond memories of Christmas's and birthdays and the good things they did in life. I would be remembered as the dumbass who photographed his own death. The pictures would probably end up in the paper, and then featured on Spike tv's, "When Animals Attack", somewhere in between a Herbal Essence and a Geico commercial. These were the thoughts buzzing through my head as I turned around and screamed, charging like a lunatic towards the mountain goat. Luckily for me, my bluff payed off and the goat ran away. I watched as it stopped about two hundred yards from me, picked up my backpack and proceeded up the mountain with it. I had to follow it for about ten minutes until it lost interest in my backpack and dropped it in the bushes. Upon retrieving my backpack I returned to the path, got on my bike and pedaled home, happy that I would live to see another day and hoping that many, many years from now I will be able to die a more dignified death, preferably not involving some four legged creature.

Billy Mays is Dead

Billy Mays is dead. Now while relaxing in my bed and watching tv after a long day of work I no longer need to worry about some pudgy, unshaven crackpot appearing in a commercial and yelling his head off. I wouldn't mind so much except for the fact that his commercials were always ten times louder than the one's before and his yelling would wake my girlfriend up, who in turn would yell at me that the tv was too loud. When I was growing up in my parents house my dad would yell a lot and so, late at night after Billy Mays and my girlfriend were done yelling at me I would drift asleep and dream about good times gone by. Good times like learning to tie my shoes, to tell time, and of doing homework with my dad standing over my shoulder all the while yelling how I couldn't possibly be that dumb. After these dreams I would awaken, usually at 3am or so, to stand by a window awaiting the sunrise, and for it's light to push these dark thoughts from my mind. It's amazing how one idiot and a household cleaning product can cause a person so many bad memories and so much grief. At times I've wondered why the man was always yelling. Maybe his personal supply of oxiclean were really containers filled with cocaine which he would snort before each commercial. Maybe he suffered from erectile dysfunction and he yelled to release his frustration. I realize Michael Jackson recently died and that's been all over the news, but he never really bothered me or affected my sleep. He kept to himself, quietly molesting little boys, in the middle of hundreds of acres of privately owned land where no one could hear there screams, and paid the parents to keep things quiet. Billy Mays on the other hand did not believe in being quiet, he believed in yelling and costing me many sleepless nights. But finally that's all over. At least that's what I thought until he came on the tv last night, yelling his head off about this great new health insurance company. Of all things for him to be advertising posthumous, health insurance! I consider myself to be a very twisted individual and even I think that is messed up and also, I would think bad publicity for the health insurance company. I mean they obviously didn't do him any good!

The Old Wise Man

Ever since I moved to Colorado two months back I've made it part of my daily routine to drive to Clement Park, which is only a few miles from my apartment, to get some exercise. The park has a beautiful lake and a 1.4 mile long sidewalk encompassing it which I like to run and roller blade around every morning. This morning I got up earlier than usual at 4:30 and went to the lake. I began running, my feet slapping the pavement, startling geese that flew with a splash into the still water of the lake. A rabbit, it's mouth full of grass, hopped off into the bushes as I breezed by, contemplating the errands I had to run today. About half way around the lake I saw an elderly man sitting quietly on a bench at the edge of the lake. I would've ran right past him without seeing him if he hadn't turned his head upon hearing me. He looked at me for a brief second or so and, realizing that I was just someone out for exercise and not some hoodlum up to no good, he went back to gazing out at the lake. The sight of the elderly man made me pause and I stopped running and planning the days errands. I stood quietly for a long while behind him and, while watching the sunrise I reflected on a poem I once read:


Leisure

What is this life, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrel hide their nuts in the grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Stream full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn, at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.


William Henry Davies


I think the man has a good point...don't you?

Samantha's on her Period Again

I recently moved from New York to Colorado and I rely heavily on my GPS to keep me from getting lost. Samantha is the voice I use in my GPS to tell me when and where to turn and yesterday she was having her period. I say this, because whilst driving into Denver to apply for a job, she kept telling me to turn the wrong way down one-way streets, the first time of which I barely avoided my life ending by a head-on crash with a metro bus. I was instantly reminded of the Terminator movies and wondered if this was one of "Sky Nets" plans to kill off all humans. After scolding Samantha for trying to kill me and swearing at her every time she told me to go the wrong way, I eventually arrived at my destination, which turned out to be a waste of time since the manager told me they are only accepting applications online. On returning to my car I turned Samantha on and programmed her to take me home. She gave me the silent treatment, pretending not to have a signal, leaving me to drive in circles in the less civilized parts of Denver. I apologized to her profusely over and over, promising never to curse at her again and to compliment her more. Eventually, after twenty minutes or so of silence, she forgave me, cheerfully telling me the rights and lefts I needed to take to get home. Most of the time Samantha is good to me, but one week every month when she starts to get moody I have to hook her up to my PC for routine maintenance...and sometimes I even buy her chocolate.

Why Everyone Should Carry Hand Sanitizer

Recently, I was at a mall with my girlfriend and we made a pit-stop to use the restrooms. While I was inside doing my things I couldn't help, but notice three guys leaving without stopping at the sink. After washing my hands I proceeded to the door and after someone entered I managed to catch it with my foot and swing it open to avoid touching the germ infested doorknob. Upon exiting the bathroom I dried my hands on my jeans and waited for my girlfriend ,with my back to the wall standing opposite the restrooms. As I waited, I entertained myself by watching as about a dozen men walked in and then out of the restroom. Now this particular restroom didn't have paper towels, just one of the air dryer deals that takes a decade to dry your hands. I know from experience that very few spend the time using them and the air dryer can be heard from the outside corridor. The air dryer was never turned on and not one guy leaving the bathroom was wiping their hands on their clothes or shaking them dry. In the few minutes that I stood in the corridor, twelve men went to the bathroom and didn't wash their hands. As a result of this experience I see the world in a different light. Upon touching a doorknob I can't help, but wonder who's hand touched it last. Was it the guy standing next to me in the men's room that walked out without so much as a glance at the sink? Was it the lady in the self-help section at Border's that had a sneezing fit into her hand? I ponder this as I reach into my pocket for my hand sanitizer.