I Survived 2014! What do I win?

I'm not going to lie:  2014 was a meat grinder. 

In this past year, I have endured all kinds of emotional trials and shit I didn't think I would survive.  There were nights I was afraid to sleep because the nightmares were stacked up two and three deep every single night for days on end.  There were e-mails I knew I didn't want to read and tons of calls I ignored because I knew it would just tear me up. 

This past year was a new lesson in poverty. 

This past year was a new lesson in just how much I can endure. 

This past year taught me I can do more with less. 

This past year taught me I can't ignore problems forever. 

This past year taught me to face a demon I never wanted to acknowledge even existed. 


It's a funny thing facing your demons.  You can wall them up in a corner someplace for a long time but eventually they get out.  Maybe your brain decides it's time to let it out so you can free up the space.  Or maybe the demon figures out how to pick the locks. 

For me, it was a trigger.  Something happened to me that triggered a series of memories and suddenly I was right there again.  But I ignored them some more. 

My brain didn't want that, so it reminded me with repeated clubs over the head, until I faced it. 

Good friends can lead you up to that platform where you stand face-to-face with that big, ugly fucker but in the end it's just you and the demon. 

And sometimes the demon wins.   Maybe mine did, I don't know.  I'm still here, but that doesn't count for much these days.  Survival is the slowest form of suicide and I feel so very old these days. 

This past year has made me feel like I have sat at a river and watched several lifetimes roll by while I wasn't participating in any of them.  I felt like I was in the cheap seats. 

At some point 2014 will make sense.  I have no idea right now.  I'm still dealing with it like the remnants of a bad flu bug that you just can't shake.  The emotional curb-stompings, the financial dirty sanchez, and all the other shit in between. 

2014 gave me a Cleveland Steamer. 

But in a few hours, it'll be over with.  I can start fresh and new.  And I will do just that. 

Out with what isn't working and in with something new!  New everything!  If it is causing me emotional or physical discomfort, then it is leaving my life, and I do not intend on looking back.  There is a checklist and I'm going down it item-by-item. 

Maybe 2015 is for redemption.  I feel like I owe it to myself.  Not for any other reason than because I simply have not done enough for Me. 

So that is going to be my theme for 2015.  Redemption.  We'll see how that works. 

An Indictment of December

December is the cruelest month. I have always found it to be far worse than April.

December is a time for alienation. Those of us who are less-than and too much just don't enjoy this time of year. It always feels like the Christmas Joy being spread is for other people and not us. We don't get that in our lives.

Not us. We less-thans and too muches don't fit in all of that. We know that when we drive by a tavern at night and see it lit up with people inside laughing, that's not for us. We know that none of our friends are inside and if we went in, nobody would even know who we were.

House after house full of people, lights, trees, candles and laughter. None of it for us. And if we were invited, it would feel like sandpaper on our teeth. Instead, most of us go home to our empty apartments and houses, only to watch a movie or surf the web.

We less-thans and too muches simply do not belong. The happiness, the joy, the comfort—all of it is for those other people.

We are at our most vulnerable in our loneliness.

December is when we remember those we've lost. There is a gaping hole where those people should be and nothing can fill it. But the loss isn't nearly as bad as the memories. Those shadows that sing to us and re-create those wonderful times we once had only to remind us that we were happy once. Yes, a long time ago, we were happy.

December is when those empty spaces next to us are canyons. And as we see happy couples around us, we are reminded of just cold and dark the nights can be. 

December is when we realize all we were promised in the previous months, all that was held out for us to have and be, was nothing more than bullshit.  

December is when we recall being the victims of others. The slurred speeches from drunken people claiming to love us still ring in our ears.

December is when people tell us about all the crap they bought and in our heads we convert it to rent payments, tanks of gas, groceries, power bills, and all the other stuff we need to survive. And then we realize that no matter what we wanted to do for somebody, we never could, because we're a less-than and a too much and too broke.

December is wrong for all the wrong reasons. It's a time we're told to be happy and we simply are not. It's a time when we're supposed to feel close to the people around us and somehow that distance seems stretched. December is when we count down in anticipation of a day that means cramped, stuffy rooms full of people we normally would never associate with while we are told to feel emotions we do not feel.

December reminds me of the dystopian futures where evil tyrannical governments place signs everywhere that scream at us to be happy no matter how unhappy we feel. And only if we submitted ourselves to the to the insanity around us we would feel comfort and joy.

Every day in December feels like the morning despair after a failed suicide attempt.

There is no Santa Claus. No special elf will come save us. No Father Christmas or magical snowman will show up on our front lawn. The ghosts of Christmas are only in our memories and serve only as our tormentors. No angels will visit.  Nobody will come in at the 11th hour and save us. 

There is nothing.

This is my last December. I'm not going to die, but instead I'm going to re-name this fucking month and make my own holidays. No more of this shit. I realize now that I cannot walk away from the past if it keeps coming back up every 12 months like a shitty Friday the 13^th sequel. And I will never have the reality being force-fed to us as soon as Halloween ends.

Those of us who are less-than and too much can change only so much, but this is certainly in our power and grasp. We don't have to live like this. And as I write this, it is Christmas Eve and I am so emotionally drained I simply no longer care about much of anything.

We are at our most vulnerable in our loneliness.

I am already working on a new paradigm for the final month of the year. It is one that doesn't include a lot of the gibberish and bullshit we've become accustomed to and replaces that with something more creative and relevant. Those of us who are less-thans and too muches don't need to spend this bleak midwinter feeling like hungry ghosts. It doesn't have to be like this.

Fuck December.

Fuck Christmas.

There is nothing.

We Less-Thans and Too Muches: Life in the Friendzone

I could never date a woman who had standards so low that she would go out with a guy like me.

Groucho Marx said something similar and I stole it. It just seems to sum up how I feel about dating.

I'd like to say I'm dating again but that's misleading. 

I'm not dating I'm looking for a woman I can dupe and con into going out with me, because she obviously doesn't know me very well.

Such is the life of having no self-esteem and a dark sense of humor. I have always had trouble with these things. I've always been less-than the right things and too much of the wrong. And a lifetime of being a Less-Than and a Too Much has left me gun-shy.

Dating is stupid, anyways. But I don't do hook-ups so this is the next thing available for guys like me. Instead, lately I've been falling for friends, which is always a great idea. Even better, they've been friends who live a considerable distance from me, making even the best-case scenarios painful and doomed. I've been keeping my mouth shut about this because I've been in enough train wrecks and would rather just sit back and watch others go through them.

Nobody wants to participate in a train wreck. And being a Less-Than and a Too Much has given me a perspective that allows me to see into the future. I see failure. Lots and lots of failure.

Long-distance relationships are doomed to fail no matter what. Sure, we hear a few stories once in a while, but for the most part it is all crap. The usual way it happens is, the women are afraid of real intimacy and the men are nutjobs, lunatics, and basement-dwelling neckbeards with emotional issues. Horrible, horrible.

I've been in a series of online relationships and even at the best of times, it felt like I was on fire. It felt like I was burning up because I liked her, she liked me, and we were so many miles apart we wouldn't see each other for a long time.

And then there's the jealousy of them having fun without you, or you knowing guys are hitting on them while you're not around, or worse they might even be satiating their physical needs with somebody else while connecting with you emotionally. I've had that happen before. I was her emotional fluffer. I built her up, some other guy would take her down.

The worst part of long-distance emotional connections in The Friendzone is hearing them tell you about what they did with the guy they chose over you. Love it! Spent the night cuddling? Had great sex? Outstanding, I'll be over here with the razor blades carving shit into my legs because it feels like my chest is about to explode. Tell me more!

Equally as bad is seeing the person you care about being treated like crap by the guy she chose over you. Once again, nothing I can do but type fucking platitudes into a chat window or text message. That's the limit of what I can do--Go Me!

I once had a girlfriend who would leave me for men who abused her. She would come back for a time only to leave me again for some other horrible asshole and suffer all kinds of terrible things, then come back to me again. Her stories tore me apart because I would ask myself over and over again one question—what was wrong with me that she would choose such terrible men over me every time?

Nope! I won't do it anymore. If she can't slap me or spit on me, then we ain't dating. No lead time getting to know somebody anymore. Down n' dirty the whole way. Do you like creepy guys? Yes? Great, let's go out!

When you meet face-to-face, nothing is hidden, and you know what you are getting yourself into. A few extra pounds? Fine. A high, squeaky voice? I can deal with that. Feet like a Hobbit? Um...we can always work on that. Just keep them covered up for now and I won't talk about my van until we get to know each other better.

As I've said before, I work in a sex club. Everybody hooks up and dates each other. This is all well and good but most of the women there are barely legal, or way too young for me, and they know it. So when I say something as simple as, “Hi, how's it going?” I am laughed at or worse. I don't think of myself as my real age, but they sure do, and just talking to them creeps them out.

One thing I'm happy for is how I no longer find myself hopelessly infatuated with my lesbian friends. That used to be a problem. I could spot a lesbian from 100 yards and instantly think she was The One. It was a nightmare. And the worst part was, I knew they were gay, I just figured there was a bit of bi thrown in as well, and I could be that part of their lives. Hopeless. No use. That was college and I blame it on a phase.

So yes, I am back on the market, as it were. I find nothing exciting by it. I'm terrified. And because I'm a Less-Than and Too Much, it opens me to far worse things than rejection. I've been teased, catfished, laughed at and the butt of all kinds of cruel jokes.

But I'm back on the market. Let's see what horrors await!

Nothing's Funny. Well, Wait a Minute...

After yet another weekend of my favorite team shitting the bed, I feel obligated to pay some attention to my blog, but it has been hard because nothing has been very funny.

My love life is beyond DOA.  Dead bodies, I can handle.  Oh Baby, can I handle dead bodies.  You have no idea what...

Sorry, I digress.

Well, no...I won't digress, dammit!  I have an idea!

People donate their bodies to science all the time.  You can even fill out cards so that when you do kick the bucket and leave this shitty existence, various parts are cut off, and stuffed into somebody else.  After all, parts is parts, right? Sure, it saves lives and whatnot, but what about lonely people who want some company?

Instead of simply burning a body and adding more carbon to the air, people should have the right to allow their bodies to be sold or donated to necrophiliacs. 

Funerals are expensive and let's face it, most people just get cremated anyways.  It is such a waste to throw out a perfectly good body when somebody can get so much enjoyment out of it. 

Now I'm sure a lot of families would be upset about this.  Nobody wants to think of their dear sister or brother getting some special lovin' after death.  But what about all of those unclaimed bodies?  Jane Doe and John Doe? 

Furthermore, what if somebody actually signed a waiver or legal form of some kind allowing for their body to be auctioned off upon death for the purpose of making some very lonely person happy?  After all, it is their body--why not let them decide? 

These kind souls would be reaching out to all kinds of lonely people who need a companion but for various reasons can't find one with a heartbeat.  Loneliness is the killer of our society and what better way to help them than by allowing them the one thing they need? 

Imagine the Hollywood elite signing the waiver and asking for an auction where the proceeds would go to their favorite charity?  Anna Nicole Smith would have made more money in death than in the last few years of her life. 

The problem is, I can see a major opportunity for bad people to do bad things.  There's always the greedheads who want to fuck up a good thing.  Once word gets out that certain celebs have signed the waiver and legal forms, they become targets, where killers would pop them just so they could go on the market.  It would turn into a huge disaster as good-hearted celebrities who wanted to only make a lonely person happy would become the targets of assassins trying to poison them.  Well, I assume it would be poison, because who wants to reconstruct a face that pretty?  It's a messy job and it never goes back together again the right way.

I guess those poor, lonely necrophiliacs will have to keep finding their lovin' the old fashioned way.  And that is truly a sad thing.  

The Right to Kill

Ever since that one women said she wanted to kill herself instead of slowly dying of brain cancer people have been once again talking about their right to die. Dr. Jack doesn't get mentioned so much these days.

I remember in middle school watching some video of a television show about the right to die. I think it was the Phil Donahue Show. What made the biggest impression on me was the details regarding this old man's health issues and how he was in constant pain. He tried to kill himself and had actually achieved that goal only to be resuscitated. When Phil got to that part he let out this horrid shriek of anguish and spat out, “goddammit!” This was the mid-80's and that stuff never got on the air.

So now we're at the point in our society where we are allowing people to make this choice for themselves. This is awesome news but now we need to take it to the next step.

I think we should also have Right to Kill laws put on the books.

Here's the plan:

1. Somebody wants to die. They might have cancer, they might have a hangnail, or maybe their soul mate broke up with them after finding out they always do the Macarena at weddings. Who cares? They want to die.
   
   
2. They sign up with a company that kills people. This entails all the legal paperwork and mumbo-jumbo that normally gets signed. You know, so nobody gets sued. 
   
   
3. They choose how they want to die. Most people are wimps and choose something easy, like sleeping pills or magic beans. Some will want to breathe in a gas and float off to heaven or wherever they think their soul is headed.

But some people will get a Special Discount if they choose to be surprised.

Yup! Instead of paying a huge amount of money most of these miserable dying freaks don't even have (let's face it, if they were rich, they wouldn't want to die! Am I right?) my company would offer an extremely cheap rate for a Special Surprise Ending.

What would that be? Well, let me tell ya!

This is the beauty of my idea.

1. Somebody wants to kill someone. It doesn't really matter who or why, they just want to do it. Maybe they grew up in a bad home, maybe they're angry at the world, or maybe they're just bored and are looking for a good time.
   
   
2. But right now, killing people is illegal in most states. 
   
   
3. It's really hard to get away with murder. You can do it, but who wants to go through all of that hassle and spend the rest of your life trying to play it cool around cops? 
   
   
4. So instead, you go to the company and for a modest fee, they give you the profile of the person you are to kill. You are supplied with all the information you need and photographs, plus a time-frame. I mean, you don't want to wack somebody before they tell their high school sweetheart they cheated on them repeatedly with their best friend. Timing is important when killing somebody.

Part of the Special Surprise Ending Package would be Dealer's Choice. Or in this case, the killer could choose which way they filled the contract. Granted, it would have to be quick, because nobody wants a slow death and the whole point of wanting to die is to get rid of pain and not prolong it.

Gunshot to the head, poison, explosives, electrocution, strangling, stabbing. You name it, you could do it. In some cases, those handy with a chainsaw could go to town, and have the time of their lives. Just imagine the grin on your face as you begin to chase somebody down a hallway with a massive Stihl chainsaw buzzing in your hands!

And as a special bonus for our necrophiliac clients—you can keep the body for up to 24 hours!

I'm pretty sure this is the most lucrative business idea I've come up with so far. I might need some investors and a couple of good lawyers, maybe some blackmail info on a few high-ranking politicians, and celebrity endorsements. So send me your money today!

Halloween, Moving and Circus Freaks

May you live in interesting times

                                                                        --Ancient Chinese Curse/Insult

These past few weeks have been interesting.  Work, home, writing.  It's all been interesting.

First, let me say thank you to all of you who have been reading this blog.  I broke 10,000 hits in the early part of October and that means a lot to me.  I've put a lot into this blog and a lot of you have been very kind with your comments.  It's a big milestone for me.  My goal for celebration is to have t-shirts available soon because everybody needs a Ted's Creepy Van t-shirt.  Maybe I'll have it ready in time for Christmas because it would make for the perfect gift.

But interesting.  Yes.  Good word for it.  

Halloween is here.  I'm too busy to do much.  Maybe I'll dress up a bit but to be perfectly honest, every day is Halloween for me, so when the real day comes along it's a bit like Amateur Night. 

Oh, look at me!  I'm scary!  Boo!

Bitch, please!  I've scared more people just by looking at them than any of these folks could hope to scare. 

But that doesn't go so well when trying to find a date.  That's why the long-distance things always go better--and those just plain suck.  They are awful, soul-crushing things that never work out and destroy your core happiness.  It's best to avoid those.  You'll still sleep alone but at least you won't feel like your head is going to explode because the person you care about is hundreds of miles away.

But then again, I know me.  I'm stupid.  And there are some amazing women I've met online.  

Halloween is my birthday.  I'm 29 again.  I don't feel my age.  In fact, I always wonder why the 18 year-old girls cringe when I hit on them, because I know how awesome I am and how much fun I'd be to date.  I remember when I was 18 and how I wanted to date an 18 year-old back then.  It never happened and I'm still working on it.

I have a new apartment.  I finally moved away from the Circus Freaks who moved furniture around at 4am and vacuumed at 2:30am.  I no longer hear footsteps clomping across the floor at all hours of the night.  I've been sleeping quiet well in the past few days.  Plus, I now have a place I can bring a woman home to, and not have to feel self-conscious that it's a dark dungeon basement.  And nobody will listen in if we get loud.

But yes, the past few weeks have been interesting.  Work has changed a bit.  It's always been chaos and change was the standard.  But lately it seems as if the very nature of it has become more...interesting.

I've found myself becoming an old gossip hag.  It's been wonderful, really.

In the past few years, I've merely gone to work solely for the morbid curiosity.  What foul, fucked-up bullshit will I see today?

But in recent weeks, I've found myself seeking out the full stories so I can get the scope of just how insane things really are around me.  It's been very entertaining!

Sometimes I want to walk around with a bowl of popcorn and just listen to people talk.

I share nothing.  I just listen and ask questions.  I see connections between people even they themselves don't see.  It's all been so very...interesting.

I hope you all have an interesting Halloween.  Make sure to partake in carnal delights for those of us who cannot. 

My Kryptonite

This week gave me a dirty sanchez and a Cleveland steamer.  And while that sounds like fun, it wasn't, and I didn't enjoy it.

Last night I went into the local grocery store to pick up some fruit to munch on.  Fruit is good for you, I'm told, and is fully nummy vitamins.  Plus some of that fiber crap none of us can see but we're supposed to eat a lot of anyways.

But this week has been difficult.  Work, home, everything else in between.  Fruit was supposed to help.

The monsters of Phagorxia had other plans.

They set upon me like hungry jackals.  Just as I got to the apples, three of them sprang up out of the onions and began hammering at me with vicious blows from their broadswords.

I drew my blade in a flash and began to block their attack, moving to a more open area so I could counter and defeat them.  It was supposed to be easy enough, but then in that open space I realize they had friends--vicious dwarfs.

Squat, ugly, hairy little things with greasy black hair and zit-covered faces.  They sneered at me as they climbed on top of the green peppers and butternut squash, which were on sale that week.

The monsters were dispatched quickly and their bodies instantly turned to ash.  But those evil dwarfs...well, they were a problem.

As I said, I was tired.  And those dwarfs began chanting some kind of magical incantation because that's when I noticed the Halloween candy section right in the middle of the bananas and nuts.  Boxes on pallets set out like alien pods on the floor of the grocery store.

I found myself standing in the middle of them, surrounded by these candy pods, all the while these evil dwarf bastards were rubbing their hands together and laughing.  The rotten fuckers had me and they knew it.  This was payback for the time I told the aliens where they were hiding and now the mangy pigfuckers were getting their revenge. 

Behind me was a cardboard pod full of KitKats and Baby Ruths.  Both of those candies were fine, but not my favorites.  It was then I looked down and felt my blood run cold--they were priced at such a discount, I could buy two bags for $2.00 because of my Saver's Card.

There was no way I could resist such a deal.  I was going home with two bags of candy whether I liked it or not.

I thought about my girlfriend.  She's a model and had spent the last few weeks in Italy on a lingerie shoot. She'd be pissed about coming home to a fatter version of me.  Granted, she's a chubby chaser and digs the big love, but having a heart attack while a perfect 10 rocks your world just ain't cool.  Sure, I wouldn't mind dying in the saddle, but not right this week. 

Bag after bag of candy began to hit me.  They were charmed with some diabolical spell and spoke to me in this child-like voice.

"Take me home with you!"

"I just need a home!"

"It's cold here in the store!"

I slashed at the bags as they lept at my cart and towards my face.  They were trying to force their way down my gullet!

I swung my highly polished and razor-sharp sword just as the warrior monks who raised me had taught.  I wouldn't go down without a fight!

Bags of candy were sliced in half as they screamed in terror.  Again and again.  It was endless.  Bag after bag of chocolate goodness was strewn across the floor. 

I was winded and exhausted.  Sweat rolled down my face.  And that's when I heard that voice...

"Don't you like chocolate and peanut butter together?" 

"I just know we'll be great friends!" 

I turned and faced bag after bag of Peanut Butter Snickers.  Fun sized, too.  It was a legion of peanut buttery chocolate goodness. 

The dwarfs were laughing.  They had me beat and knew it. 

Two bags of candy jumped into my cart because that was the limit per purchase.  All the while, they cheered and chirped on the way to the check-out register. 

This is why I'm no longer allowed at the local Piggly Wiggly.  But those candy bars...those sweet, chocolately candy bars were, I'm ashamed to say, so much fun to eat while sitting at my computer. 

Damn you, you foul, evil dwarfs!  This isn't the end!