I couldn’t have been more excited the day of the operation.
Only once had I been cut up before, and it was for this laser eye surgery vision thing. It’s not exactly the biggest deal. The doctor doesn’t make you wear a gown with the open fanny area. You’re not doped up with medical grade opiates. You can wear your business suit during the procedure. You open your eye lids, hold still for 20 seconds, and congrats, you now have eagle vision. You’re back in your cubicle by lunch.
I almost met Paris Hilton once.
About fifteen years ago I was working as a marketer for a beer company. I toured around the country working with local distributors to set up and run events. I can’t remember exactly where we were (probably Los Angeles), but there was a rumor that Paris Hilton was going to come to this party we were attending. This was very exciting to me. I came up with a bit that I thought was amusing. I’d introduce myself as D.J. Paris and then say, “We should get married because then you’d be Paris Paris!” She’d laugh and we’d snap a picture. I’d pose on bended knee sliding a Ring Pop on her finger. The whole interaction would be less than a minute, but I’d be able to tell that story the rest of my life. Unfortunately she didn’t make it to the party that evening. I remember being pretty depressed.
Women terrified me until I was twenty-two.
Without hyperbole I had a full, blown-out phobia of the fairer sex. Also bees. I can remember in first grade there was a girl who I wanted to date, or whatever we called it back then. I knew that I wasn’t good looking enough, however. That horrible self-image lasted until (in college) my first girlfriend told me that I was handsome. And she was beautiful. With her validation I realized that all those years I had been lying to myself. It’s not like after that moment I walked around campus believing I was chiseled from stone. But I no longer thought of myself as ugly. All it took was one person’s compliment and my lifetime of thinking I was gross-looking went away. I’d love to tell you that I came to an acceptance of my attractiveness through intense self-exploration and maturity. Nope. It just took the prettiest girl I knew to tell me I was hot. Sometimes that’s all you need.
I’ve been busy over the past two days.
First I released a new version of my Apple and Android app which include push notifications. Yes, you now get a popup whenever I write something new. Does my narcissism know no bounds?
Also I launched a Twitter web app which pokes around through your followers to see if anyone famous follows you. It’s pointless and silly but so are a majority of the activities in which I participate.
Okay, “high” is a wild exaggeration.
But I don’t drink, smoke, or use drugs. This is all I can party with, people. A minor tinge of a half of a slight buzz.
It’s a side effect from ADD medicine that I started taking over the past few months. I have been on some form of ADD med for the past four years, but they’ve all been non-stimulant based. In the fall my doctor and I agreed to try a traditional approach to combatting Attention Deficit Disorder – stimulants.
Do you pick up spare change lying on the ground?
I don’t.
I realized this fact on Christmas Eve during our family’s annual holiday party. Carolyn and Laura are two sisters who grew up in our neighborhood. They’re both very successful. One’s a realtor and the other an attorney. The attorney (Carolyn) stated she always picks up change she stumbles across in the real world. Laura does not.
From time to time I get writer’s block and take to Twitter and Facebook for ideas. Here they are…
Let’s talk about window blinds – first of all, totally not necessary. We’re not vampires. You should be able to handle a little light peeking in from the sun at 6am. I sleep right through it like a man. Next – privacy. If you aren’t comfortable with the outside world seeing your bedroom antics, you’re probably doing something illegal. Take down the sex swing. I have blinds on all my windows and have never once used them. In fact even when I’m nude I don’t. I’m comfortable with my imperfect and, at times, unsightly body.
I’ve wanted to write about my control issues for a long time, but I was never sure how to articulate it effectively.
I’m still wholly unsure.
In fact, I have no idea how this thing is going to turn out, and I’m massively insecure about it. Oh well. I can always go back to stories about falling through glass tables.
I was terrified of women until I was twenty-one.
For some reason I knew I was the ugliest man to walk the face of the earth. Only Rocky Dennis had it worse than me. I’m not sure where this idea came from. I mean, stupid Lisa Gulick rejected me back in seventh grade and I think that I just extrapolated out to every woman. It’s just good science.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
