zombie vomit bag

"I have heard it said love endures all things, now I know that it's true, 
stronger than the grave, death can't put it out, here I am, the walking dead, 
still next to you..."
-Showbread, George Romero will be at our Wedding

We decorated Valentine bags at work so everyone could put goodies in them.  Everyone decorated their bags with sticker hearts and puff paint, which is all well and good but I wanted to do something a bit different.

 I designed my bag around the Showbread song George Romero will be at our Wedding.  It's about a zombie who vomits up a wedding ring and realizes he ate his wife.  He eventually finds her, zombified, and they stay together, despite them both being dead.  It's about how love can overcome all things, even death.  It's actually a really meaningful message beneath all the entrails. 

I wanted to draw a vomiting zombie on the bag but then I thought I'd put Photoshop to good use and designed the zombie dude in the program and printed him out.  I taped him to the bag, which gave a nice 3D effect.  And instead of just drawing vomit, I made it interactive so you can spin the vomit around.

 I also created a QR code which links to the song and on the back of the bag, I printed the song lyrics.  So you've got your physical, visual, and auditory interaction, which I thought was pretty neat.

Here's what the bag looks like.

new year's evisceration

For the first time, I actually followed through with a resolution.  I wanted to lose weight.  I did.  I didn't lose as much as I wanted but that's no matter because I still did it and consistently worked on it all year.  I have not conquered my weight and I suspect I never will but I do feel I have a better grasp on it than I used to so I consider that a victory.

But I'm not done.  I still want to lose more.

And I want to do more.

For 2013, I want to become more financially responsible.  I'm old now and I literally cannot afford to be so careless with my spending.

I want to finish my book (and get published if possible).  I'm so close already.  I've finished writing it and I've done a first edit.  I need to finish my second edit, write up all the changes, get some "test" readers, take their opinions into consideration, then publish that baby so I can start seeing the ones of tens of dollars roll in.

I'd like to re-discover my passion for drawing.

I want to find God again.  This one is a bit ambitious since a lot of people spend their whole lives trying to find God.  Not sure I can do that in a span of one year.  Maybe I just mean I want to find peace with how I feel about God.  Confession time: I don't think I'm a Christian anymore.  It's not that I don't want to be but I don't think it's fair to the true Jesus followers to call myself one because I would set a bad example to others.  But hopefully I can either come around (still waiting for God to come around) or I will just remain agnostic or maybe I'll go in a completely different direction and become a Buddhist.

I want to accept myself for who I am and who I will never be.

I tried the whole "alive" thing earlier this year and having a pulse hurt worse than withering.  I've retired the resurrection and have returned to rotting.  Sorry to disappoint.  I've made peace with it, though.  I don't have time to worry about a beating heart when I've got bills to pay.  I'll get all that sorted out later when I can concentrate on it.  For now, I'll just continue to coast as a corpse.

Cheers to the new year.

bran before and after

I waited a whole year for this picture.

When I saw the picture of my sister and me together last Christmas, I was heartbroken.  I was so big.  How did I get that large and not notice?  I'm sure I was in denial, sure I could ignore it until things in my life changed for the better so I could focus on bettering myself.  But nothing changed and when I saw the photo, I knew I had to be that change.

I told myself I would not repeat that Christmas picture looking the way I did.  Long time readers will know I've been dieting and exercising all year.  I've lost approximately 50 pounds.  I've probably gained at least 10 of them back in the past 2 months (I've been too ashamed to weigh myself lately so I don't know the exact number) due to birthday bingeing but that's another entry for another time.  For now, I want to focus on the positive.  Yes, I actually can do that sometimes.

I was excited to take this year's Christmas picture, anxious to see the changes.  It wasn't as big of a transformation as I was hoping.  Sure, clothing and lighting and angles play a significant role in revealing the body but I thought 50 pounds would show a more dramatic change. That's not to say I'm not happy with the difference.  I definitely look better and I'm happier where I am right now.  I can mostly tell in my face, which is good.  But I still have a belly.

I'm working on it, though.  I didn't put the weight on in a year and it will take more than a year to lose it.

I'm cool with that as long as I'm always making progress.

Starting January 1st, I'm going to begin my diet and exercise anew and at the end of the year, I'll take another Christmas picture and hopefully I'll see more positive changes.  And no man boobs.

Left: Christmas 2011 with my sister.  Right: Christmas 2012 with my sister.

christmas kitty

Our tree came out really well this year so I thought I'd share some pictures.  I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas/desired holiday of choice/day off from work and/or school.  

Not the standard tree topper.  I like it.

Moses says, "Where are all my presents?"

"Seriously.  I'll lie here until you bring them."

"This is where I want you to put all of my presents.  And then I'll eat the bows."

black fried day

I'm full of cake and milk and malice so bear with me.

Thanksgiving wasn't as terrible as I anticipated.  We usually all congregate at my dad's mother's house, as per tradition.  But, through the years, every time one of my male cousins reaches sexual maturity, he knocks up some girl and then has to visit her relatives for the holidays.  This has led to a decreased number of relatives who come over.  Fine by me.  This year, it was mostly my sister and me and our cousin and his boyfriend.  We all sat in the living room while the relatives with children sat in the kitchen and the older relatives sat in the dining room.

My sister and cousin mostly talked about drinking.  I don't drink so I didn't have much to add to the conversation.  And as much as I might have residual ill feelings toward my sister, she's quite the comedian.  My cousin's boyfriend really took a shine to her with her quick wit and sardonic delivery.  I'm telling you guys, she's more cynical than I am.  But she's funny so she can get away with it.  I just sat back with my lemon pie and listened.

At one point, some random toddler waddled in and went over to where my sister was sitting and just stared at her.  Shannon visibly tensed up as the little girl bore a hole in her head with her inquisitive eyes.

"Who is that?" I whispered to her.

"I don't know but she's freaking me out."  Then, she got up away from the girl, cringed, then sat closer to me.  The little girl kept staring.  Shannon kept freaking.

I'm telling you guys, she' dislikes kids more than I do.  She's a bitchier, female version of me.  I can respect that.

Black Friday wasn't as bad as anticipated, either.  Had to be there at 6AM instead of the usual 3:30AM.  I did have an irrational fear of sudden diarrhea, though, based on the enormous amount of fried turkey and greasy mac and cheese I ate the day before.  Fortunately, I made it through without any oozing.  The five shots of Pepto I did before I went to bed and the five more after I woke up might have helped me out with that. 

Surprisingly, I also didn't have many rude customers.  Although, I did have a few gray hairs who came up to me and said something along the lines of, "Excuse me.  I have two shopping carts and three shopping bags filled to the brim with clothing and there's approximately twenty people in line behind me but could you tell me the price of each piece of clothing as you scan it thanks!"

And I'm all like:

But I did have time for a cold pop.

halloween and stuff

Happy Halloween, boils and ghouls.  I carved a pumpkin on Sunday...or I attempted to.  It turned out crap 'cause I tried to get fancy with it by shading and highlighting and...no.  Carving isn't as easy as it might seem at first.  Maybe if I had a couple of pumpkins to practice with, I could have gotten the hang of it but my hand started cramping so I just gave up.  Anyway, here's some pictures of the gutting process.

Our stray cat who adopted us wanted to help.  "Here, gimme that knife.  Let me show you how to do it."

staycation and aftermath

Went back to work Monday after my wonderful week-long holiday.  It was fantastic.  I didn't do a thing and have no regrets.  I did, however, eat a ton of crap.  Over the course of seven days, I ended up eating a pumpkin cheesecake, a pumpkin cupcake, another pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin cheesecake ice cream, pumpkin spice cake donuts, pumpkin spice latte, and a pumpkin spiced danish.  Now, my reasoning is pretty simple.  All the pumpkin-flavored items are seasonal.  If I didn't snatch up that goodness, I'd have to wait until next year.  I was literally eating that stuff like it was going out of style...because it was.

I also enjoyed watching AMC's Fearfest, which included a Friday the 13th marathon and random horror movies.  I also Netflixed the Saw movies and played some Resident Evil 6.  Also, the premiere of American Horror Story: Asylum and freaking The Walking Dead!  It was all about the gore and the gluttony and it was great.

It was just nice to relax and enjoy waking up late and going to bed late and being lazy.  I didn't even shave.  I've been wanting to grow a beard for a while now, mostly because I never have before and wanted to see if I could pull one off.  No Shave November is next month and I thought I'd participate but I also wanted to get a couple of week's head start.  I thought if I grew a pre-beard now, it wouldn't look so shabby when Thanksgiving came around. 

And then I went back to work and any energy I had managed to recover last week was gone within the first 15 minutes.  But everyone liked the facial hair.  I expected negative reactions but they were actually overwhelmingly positive.

Work girlfriend's jaw dropped and she gasped.  I thought it was out of disgust but she later told me it was because she thought I looked really attractive, to the point she couldn't look at me without getting a little excited.  That was a good little confidence booster.  And let me just add really quick, because I've already said I didn't want to really mention her anymore, she text blasted my phone the week I was gone.  It was actually kind of annoying.  It's like, go text your boyfriend.  I'm unavailable over here, being awesome growing a beard and blowing heads off zombies.  Back off my dick, ya know?

Anyway.

So, work sucks.  I came back with an IDGAF attitude, which probably wasn't the best because I had to train two new girls my first day back.  Work is gearing up for the Christmas rush so they've hired a bunch of losers to stand at the counter and struggle to make change for the next two months and I'm over it.

It was also brought to my attention that a lot of drama went down while I was gone.  I'm starting to believe that, while there's always going to be some sort of drama anywhere you go, it seems to be more concentrated in small towns.  Forgive me if I'm wrong but I just think that drama, much like pregnancy, is prolific simply because there's nothing better to do.  It's like, we can either go into the woods for a quick poke or start a rumor about Leona and her body pillow.

I just feel like, why can't we all get along?  What do you get from lying or telling half-truths or flat out making crap up?  We all hate our jobs and we all hate the customers so why can't we come together to counteract our putrid patrons?

I'm just tired of the same crap and feel like I can't trust anyone there.  They're all so sneaky and it's unfortunate they spend their energy being destructive.  I understand I'm one cynical mofo but I don't go around tearing people down every chance I get.  So, basically, everyone can suck it.

Man, I love October.    

post-vacation vacancy

My staycation is over.

I had to go to back to work three days ago and not ten minutes into my shift, I broke out into a major sweat.  The air conditioner must have broken while I was away.  And it does it every year.  Every summer, more specifically.  Of course.

And maybe half an hour later, a group of scuzzy white boys came in and spat chewing tobacco on the fitting room floor.  Our customers are all class.

Yeah, I was back in full swing.

I was so stress-free while I was on holiday.  Sure, I pressured myself to write more and work on finishing the first edit of my book (which I didn't even touch), but other than being my own bully, things were great.  Even greater when my parents were gone for two days.

I felt content.  My skin was clearer.  I was refreshed and much less despondent.  But of course, as soon as I walked into that low rent cesspool of losers, the emptiness sank in again.  All energy regained in those several days was drained in several minutes, due to the intense heat and intense idiocy of customers and coworkers alike.

It just showed me how much that job is killing me.  The mental energy I have to expend to put up with everyone is incredible.  It's no wonder I'm not inspired to write or draw or do anything creative.  The first thing I want to do when I get home is eat and then take a nap so I can wake up and go right back to bed.

I only worked two days and now I have another day off today and I need it.  I don't even have any plans.  If I couldn't get anything accomplished in seven days, there's no hope for a productive one day.  But I'm fine with that because although I didn't do anything constructive, I still did what I wanted, which was....

This.

You're pretty much looking at my vacation.  Nothing fancy but effective.  Regrets?  A few.  Refreshing?  Definitely.

twenty-six degrees of separation

"I am the lowest thing.  I am the bottom of the universe."
-Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion

Last Friday night, yeah, we danced on tabletops and we took too many shots, think we kissed but I forgot...um, I mean I just had a birthday dinner with a high school acquaintance.  Our birthdays are two days apart and so it seemed appropriate to have a meal to celebrate at least one of our births.  The meal was enjoyable and mine was free because earlier in the day my supervisor gave me a gift card to the very restaurant we went to.

And then when we were done, we went to a funky yogurt shop with pastel striped walls and do-it-yourself yogurt assembly.  And I got hit on by the guy at the counter, some college-age kid with swooped hair and an hoop through his upper left ear.  Although he was a dude, it still felt kind of nice to have someone show some kind of interest in me.  It's been a while.  Damn, I've really reached a new level of lameness.  But the yogurt was good.

Saturday, I went Christmas shopping for my family.  I spent nine hours at the mall and various other retail stores.  It was kind of nice being off on my own, venturing out of the same four walls and the same arrangement of furniture and forlornness.  It was also weird, uncomfortable.  I've wallowed in my own world for so long that it felt uneasy to stretch myself past my perimeter.  Usually, when I have a day off work, I just want to stay at home.  Going out and doing things makes the time pass by faster, which means work comes sooner.  When I'm at home, the hours go by slower, allowing me to savor the reprieve just a little bit longer.  It's sad that I dislike my job so much I'm willing to sacrifice a social life in favor of feeling a prolonged sense of time away from work. 

The drive was relaxing, however.  An hour or so of smooth movement, singing at the top of my lungs and distancing myself from the damage of being at home and surrounded by damaging people.  I was in my own world in my car, the only place I felt safe back at school when things got tough.  It was my tank, my asylum, my music player and motivational speaker, my confessional, my best friend. 

Eventually, the urge to use the bathroom got the best of me.  As much as I tried to ignore it, I really needed to go.  I went from place to place, resisting the urge to pee at every stop, wondering where I could go and find a semi-private bathroom where I wouldn't be walked in on and have my urine flow suddenly stunted.  I'm pee shy. 

As I walked around the mall, I felt like a lot of people were looking at me.  I don't know if it was because of my usual paranoia or if there was a legitimate reason.  I was sweating pretty heavily.  It was cold outside so I wore a hoodie but inside each building, it was sweltering.  It probably didn't help that every place I went to was crowded with late shoppers.  The combination of my natural production of internal heat coupled with rowdy bodies bustling around was enough to drum up plenty of warmth.  Or were they looking at me because I was sloppily dressed due to the fact that my fluctuating weight won't allow for well-fitting clothing or if it was because I was so pale and shiny or if I was just an all together awkward arrangement of face, flesh, and bodily structure.

I stopped by and looked at all the store mannequins, perfectly sculpted, clothed, and posed.  I looked over the layered fabrics stretched across the headless torsos and liked what I saw.  I realized I still didn't know how to dress myself.  I never would have put all that stuff together but I could recognize when something worked.  It was like art and writing.  I didn't know how to make beautiful art or construct beautiful words and stories but I could recognize when it worked.  But I imagined putting those clothes on myself and realized it wouldn't work.  They were thin and hard-bodied models and anything looked good on them.  But when you get to a certain size, no matter how fashionable the clothing is, it just doesn't look right.  There's too much fabric, too little structure.

But we weren't all that different, the mannequins and I.  We were both pale and plastic pieces of nothing.  They were just dressed better.

Surprisingly, I didn't think about buying too much for myself.  I felt too fat to buy clothing and there wasn't really anything else that interested me.  I had enough electronics and music and hair gel.  I did walk into a bookstore, though, and want to buy up every book I came in contact with.  I can never shake the feeling of wanting my writing to belong to a book store, to walk along the aisles and be able to pluck my book out of one of the shelves.  It was an empty kind of comfort, a nice feeling to revel in if only for a moment.  A boy can dream.

My actual birthday was on Sunday and I didn't do anything.  I was tired from the long day before and just wanted to ring in my twenty-sixth in a sloth-like manner.  I think I accomplished that.

It was actually a pretty decent birthday.  The only sad part was realizing I was another year older and hadn't accomplished anything.  Physically, I get older but I'm still the same in every other aspect.  Same job.  Same lack of balance and faith and connectivity.  Still haven't lost that weight or written that book or found anyone or anything to make me feel alive again.  I still feel dead.

Happy birthday, you breathless body.  Merry Christmas, you corpse.

I can wish for things to be better in the new year.  I can try to make things better in the new year but if there was something I could do, wouldn't I have done it by now?  So, where does that leave me for my twenty-sixth year on this planet?  I've already wished and tried to make things better and it hasn't seemed to work out so I guess I have no other option than to just coast.  But isn't that what I've been doing all this time?  I've make a couple of feeble attempts at happiness, a stab or two at serenity but mostly I'm just too tired to try. 

I think I'll just read a lot of books and watch a lot of crappy horror movies and wait for it all to be over.

Christ, No Mas

Expensive gifts and cards.  Family gatherings with estranged relatives.  Irritating cold.  Irritating people.  Moldy mistletoe and awkward exchanges.  Dead turkeys.  Dead hopes.  Commercialism and competitiveness.  24 hours of A Christmas Story.  Oh yeah, And Jesus is thrown in there somewhere, too.

This, my dears, is Christmas.

The worst time of the year.

Work
For me, Christmas hasn't been nice in years.  A big part of that happened when I started working.  Retail not only reveals the true evil of humanity but it really rears its fugly head during Christmas.  Tensions are high with the expectation to deliver nice gifts to friends/family/baby mamas coupled with the proclivity to procrastination.  They come in at the last minute and expect every article of clothing in every size waiting for them, perfectly folded and eighty percent off the suggested retail price.  Then, they expect coupons at the register because they were too irresponsible to remember to bring in their own.  And when we don't have those coupons or those shirts or the size they need, they get pissed and take it out on us.

In my town, there are really only two places to shop.  Where I work and Wal-Mart.  All I heard this season was, "Well, all I have to go is go to Wal-Mart and I'll be done with my Christmas shopping," or "I just came from Wal-Mart and it was a nightmare!"  Of course, the ones who just came from there are the ones who come up to me.  They are the most worked up because they've been waiting in long lines (out of the twenty or so registers they have, only four are open, which is better than their usual two).  They've just come from a fistfight with three other middle aged moms with cigarette breath and gray mullets over the last Hannah Montana poster/Salvia laced lip gloss combo pack.  And now they're coming into our store, tired and angry and expecting to be waited on like their aren't five hundred other people scrambling to purchase the last ill-fitting shirt on the table.  The sad part is it's not much different from any other time of the year.

And there is no Christmas cheer.  This year alone, I've had old women get nasty with me, yell at me, tell me I was lazy and call me fat.  There has been no "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Holidays!"  It's only been, "This isn't ringing up on sale like the sign says!" or "What do you mean you don't have this in stock?  Why  not?!"  It doesn't help that it's our store's policy to not only allow the customer to abuse us, but to stand there and smile and take it.  I can't tell you how much it pains me to let people get away with such rude behavior when really they need a nice swift kick in the butt and to be told off one good time.

Family
I don't even know these people.  Every year, it's another uncomfortable visit with family that I only see specifically for Christmas and no other time.  I have no connection to them other than name and a little bit of blood.  Other than that, I don't have anything in common with them nor do I care to.  They are all in different stages of life than I am.  For one, there's a large age gap.  Everyone close to my age has kids now so any commonalities we once shared have been negated by the kids and the kids are too young for me to tolerate.  Everyone else is older than I am so there's no common ground there.

The only people I like other than my nuclear family is my grandmothers.  But, as the years pass by, it's getting harder to ignore the decline in their health.  It's always sad to see the toll the year has taken on them.  One is becoming senile while the other is becoming frail.

It's also a shame to see everyone else being such typical white trash.  I know that sounds harsh but it's the truth.  They all drink and smoke and have low wage jobs that are barely getting them by.  None of them went to college, if they graduated from high school at all, partly because they couldn't afford it and partly because they probably just didn't have that drive to become better than where they came from.  They shack up with other white trash families in the neighborhood and before you know it, we have another unexpected pregnancy and the cycle continues.  And because neither parent is educated and/or has a good-paying job nor is out of their late teens, the child will essentially be raised by children.  All the money will go toward beer, cigarettes and scrappy dogs that they can't take care of.

Of course, I'm not much better off than these people.  I went to college but I also had to take out exorbitant loans to pay for it and it's slowly coming back to bite me in the butt because I also have a low wage job and those loans are coming due.  But, at least I like to think that I often dream of better things for myself.  I suppose it's presumptuous of me to assume they don't but if they did, why would they then go out and knock up some dumb slut, thus cementing their skank status?

Judging?  Of course I'm judging.  It's what I do.  But don't think I don't judge myself just as harsh.  I'm overweight and balding and at twenty-five I'm working in a low-class retail clothing store where I have to put up with people's crap every single day and I'm not exceptionally talented or particularly smart.  I just happen to take hygiene a bit more serious than the rest of my relatives.

The Reason for the Season
I suppose I'm not the only one who wasn't exactly thrilled for Christmas this year.  In fact, I haven't been for several years now.  I guess it's almost a given as you grow older.  You stop believing in Santa and as you make your own money, you buy whatever you want whenever you want instead of having to wait until the end of the year.  It was almost nice, that excruciating anticipation and near nirvana-esque moment of tearing off that wrapping paper and finding yourself in possession of the item(s) you've been coveting for months, spending the day drunk on turkey and toys.

But, the older you get, the less fun it becomes.  Suspense is slacked.  Surprises are scarce.  Because, let's be honest, Christmas is about presents.

Of course, that's not what Christmas should be about.  For Christians, it should be all about Jesus.  Although the date is wrong, it's a commemoration of his birth.  I mean, he's kind of a big deal.  Without Him, we'd all be belly flopping into the lake of fire.  And if you're not a Christian, then the time should be about family.  It's one of the only times of year when you can get together with all of your relatives, especially those who have been fortunate enough to scatter and find a life somewhere else.   That is, if you like your relatives.

But, as for me, Christmas really never had to do with any of those things.

I think it's hard to be all about Jesus when you didn't grow up with Jesus being the center of your life.  My parents aren't particularly religious and never were.  They believe in God but I think that's about the extent of it.  We never went to church or prayed before a meal.  I don't even know if they are saved.  I don't even know if they know how to be saved.  And while I'm down with Jesus, He's usually far from my mind while I'm clutching my new XBox or other highly sought after electronic device.

I hate when people use the expression "remember the reason for the season."  I think people just say that to feel better about themselves as they go for that pair of jeans or purse.  As long as we have Jesus in the back (way, way back) of our minds as we max out our credit cards, then it's all good!  If we really remember the reason for the season, then all this gift-giving wouldn't be as big of a deal as it is.

I feel bad because I don't know what Christmas means to me anymore.  I've had a falling out with my faith this year and I've never been about family so where does this leave me?  How can Christmas be special without gifts or God or grandmothers?  How can I find that spark of excitement that seemed to have fizzled out so long ago?  It seems every year I become more jaded, more numb to the festivities, to family, to my self.  I guess I'll need to make some changes.  Calm down, slim down, appreciate what I have, get a better job, confidence, a nice wardrobe, tolerance for obnoxious people and love.  Love for God, for others and for myself.  And someone to love me.  And I'll need a heart to make all of this possible.

Man, Santa's got a tall order to fill for next year.

Birthday Bulge

"If you don't eat yourself, you will explode instead..."
-Goldfrapp, Eat Yourself

So, yes, my birthday was this past Saturday.  And it sucked.  That's pretty much all there is to it.  I had to work and working in that hellhole always ruins my day.  I'm not going to get into it because it seems like every year I always bemoan my birthday and it's just tired now.  I know I'm slowly (or not so slowly) turning into one of those people who always has to criticize Thanksgivings and Christmases, who has to be a buzz kill and take a steamy dump on everyone's holiday spirit and I don't wanna be that douche.

And the most annoying part?  I had to fight to get some time off to do some kind of holiday shopping.  You'd think, working in retail, that getting my Christmas shopping done wouldn't be a big deal but when you're in that kind of environment all day and you finally get off work, the last thing you want to do is to jump back in that environment in a different location.  So, since my supervisor wouldn't give me my birthday off, I asked for two days during the prior week.  She wouldn't give that to me, either, so I had to give her my pimp hand until she finally relented.

So, after having to claw and scratch to get some time off, I went out of town with my mom to finally get started on my Christmas shopping.  I bought some things for family and bought some stuff for myself as well.  Let me say, it was incredibly depressing trying on clothes.  First of all, those harsh lights are terrible.  I saw every pore, every pimple, every wrinkle all over my face.  I was hideous.  And then, I tried on shirt after shirt, coat after coat, sweater after sweater and none of them fit.

I've gained so much weight since I've graduated.  I've talked about this before but let's rehash it, shall we?  While I've pretty much gained weight everywhere, it has mostly concentrated to my stomach.  So, when I'm trying on these articles of clothing, if I go to an extra large, the shoulder seams hang off my shoulders and the torso pretty much swallows me.  Go to a large (and sometimes medium) and it fits great in the shoulders but it's too tight around my midsection.  So, I can't win.  And my mom doesn't help because she thinks everything should be big and baggy.  She says all my shirts are too short and too tight if they aren't hanging down to my knees so she obviously can't be trusted with fashion advice.

I just wish I could go into a store and be able to pick out anything and leave.  I wish I could be a shirt and jeans guy.  I layer a lot.  It's not because that's how I like to dress.  Imagine being a fatty wearing two to three shirts (and/or a jacket when it's cold) at any given time.  It's not comfortable.  But, I have to so I can cover up all my fat.  Shirts are made so thin these days that if I were to just wear a shirt, the flimsy material would cling to all my fat rolls.  So, I have to layer so try to provide some decent coverage/camouflage.  Plus, I'm hot-natured so all those layers don't help that whole "fat sweaty guy" stereotype.

Everything looks good hanging on the racks but when I put it over my lumpy body, it looks skewed and warped like an acid trip on my body.  And as I slowly button the shirt, once it gets to my belly and the fabric starts to stretch and I have to suck in to button the jeans and my thighs are screaming, I get depressed.  I want to give up on put on some elastic pajama bottoms and call it a day.  And eat a whole pizza.  Which makes me fatter.  And worsens everything.

It's funny because I know how to lose weight.  I've done it off an on my entire teen years and two separate times I lost a major amount of weight.  And yet, here I am, almost as big as I ever was, starting over, back to zero.  And I can do it again but it just sucks because once I lose all this weight, I'll only be getting back to where I was before I started gaining.  It'll be an accomplishment but I just think of how it won't amount to much because I still won't be where I want to be and I'll have to push myself even harder and be even more disciplined to push past my thinnest and get even thinner.

Bottom line is I will probably always struggle.  I will never be satisfied.  I will gain and lose and gain and lose until I die.  I am too vacant inside and so I fill up on food and that will never change until something else comes along and occupies that void.  I just don't know what that thing will be.  I certainly can't imagine anything taking the place of pasta.

Happy birthday, chunky.  Go have another slice of cake to make yourself feel better and deal with it some other day.  For now, let the food soothe you.  You know it's wrong and it's only temporary but when you're in pain, you don't care about the consequences.  You need that reprieve, that quick fix, that numbness.  You require it to make it through the day.  You need it so bad it becomes all you are.

You consume so much until you're the one being consumed. 

You're eating your problems, eating your fears and insecurities, slowly eating yourself into nothing.  Oh, you'll expand all right but you're just withering inside, smothering everything good, thinning up and drying out until you're brittle and break into thousands of shards.  But, it's all you know.  You're comfortable in your gluttony because it works, however temporary.  And what's the alternative?  If you don't bury it down, it'll erupt within you, take over your body and mind and mouth and you'll simply explode all over everyone and bring them down with your anger, fear and hatred.  They'll see you for who you really are.  And you can't have that.  No, not just yet.

Jesus is not a Zombie but You are a Prick

Now, I love Jesus and I love zombies.  But a zombie Jesus?  I think not.

This whole zombie Jesus thing really needs to stop.  Let me just say that I am accepting of all religions and even non-religions.  In fact, some of the coolest people I know are atheist or agnostic and some of the dumbest people I know are Christian.  While I'm tolerant of a wide variety of beliefs, I will not tolerate zombie misconceptions.  Jesus rose from the dead a very much alive human being.  A zombie, on the other hand, is a reanimated corpse.  Corpse as in still dead, for those of you who didn't go to medical school.  There's quite a difference.  I am offended not only on behalf of Jesus, but also George A. Romero.  Pop in a copy of Day of the Dead and get your facts straight.

Next up, this whole zombie Jesus thing is so tired.  Honestly, I hear it every year and it only gets more irritating with age.  I know some people only say it because they think it's funny and sure, maybe it was slightly comical for about a good five seconds.  Other people use that phrase to be "shocking" and "edgy."  Look at me, I'm making fun of Jesus!  I'm so controversial!  You're not controversial.  You're obnoxious.  And then there are the hardcore atheists who have to pee on every religious holiday by throwing in some offense phrase.  Disclaimer: I'm not talking about all atheists so ease up, Desperado.  Just as some Christians are way radical in their beliefs, some atheists are as well.  These are the one that really think they're sticking it to the Christians by being offensive.  Not so much.  You aren't insulting my religion so much as you're insulting my sense of humor.  Honestly, if you're gonna bash my beliefs, please do it in an entertaining and funny way.  Make me laugh and then feel ashamed for doing so.  Don't just sling out the same old used up phrase that's been around ever since Jesus and zombies hit the scene.  How about taking a fresh approach, eh?  Try taking the time you spend not believing in anything and work on your material.

I will admit that I am guilty of using the same tired expressions when it comes to the holidays.  I've been known to spout a "Happy Singles Awareness Day" instead of Valentine's Day and I have spewed the same jive about Christmas being too commercial but now that I have called myself out, I make a vow never to utter those overused and underwhelming phrases.  I would encourage you to do the same.

I make a call to retire the phrase "zombie Jesus" as it's not funny and the novelty wore off years ago.  It's just so cliché. 

And really, when you think about it, if it weren't for Jesus, there'd be no Christmas and you wouldn't get your presents.  Maybe Jesus isn't so bad after all.

In conclusion, if you believe in the true meaning of Easter, then that's cool.  Go about your business and celebrate uninterrupted.  If you don't believe in Jesus, then that's cool, too.  Leave the Christians alone, go about your business, eat a couple of eggs, take some Gas-X  and STFU.

Thank you.

Phase 2 Bonus: Reluctant Resolutions

So, this is the new year, eh?  Check out my article here to read my thoughts on new year's resolutions!

Strangle me with the Christmas Cord

"that's me in the corner
that's me in the spotlight
losing my religion..."
-R.E.M.

Needless to say, Christmas sucked.  I spent it with hundreds of toothless rednecks who got drunk and blew their cigarette smoke in my face.  No, I actually wasn't with family, although that description isn't much of a stretch from the usual Jackson get-togethers.  I was working.  And it was crazy busy.  On Christmas Eve, the place was virtually dead but everyone came out to celebrate our savior's birth by drinking and gambling.  Ah, it warms my stagnant heart.

I'm not really a big fan of my extended family so I wasn't too terribly upset about missing Christmas with them this year.  I was a bit more upset about missing Christmas Eve, which is when my immediate family get together.  It's the one I enjoy the most.  And I missed it because I had to work.  But, like I said, it wouldn't be that big of a deal for me...if I liked my job.  I still hate it and things haven't gotten any better.  Throw away empty beer bottles.  Scrape ashtrays.  Wipe away fingerprints.  Scrub away the stickiness from spilled drinks on the machines.  Push up the chairs that people do not bother to put back in place.  Cry on the inside.  Rinse and repeat for eight hours.

I have never been this depressed on Christmas.  And just maybe I've never been this empty in general.  This is the day I was supposed to celebrate the birth of our lord and savior and yet He was the farthest thing from my mind, a common occurrence lately.  I'm depressed and then this whole God situation makes me even more depressed.  I don't know where to turn.

And to top it off, I found out the next day that my aunt died on Christmas.  Good timing, eh?  Celebrating the birth of one and mourning the loss of another.  As if the day wasn't emotionally exhaustive enough.  Don't feel bad, though.  Like most of my family, I wasn't that close to her, at least not in the later years.  She was a chain smoking drunk who caused a lot of problems for my grandmother, which caused Mom a lot of grief as well.  But, really, how many dead family members does this make now?  2009 has been a year full of celebrity and relative deaths.  It's pretty tiresome.

To me, it seems the older people get, the more disastrous major holidays like Christmas become.  I think one part of it is the fact that all that magic dissipates with age.  The myth of Santa is broken and then you get too old for toys and eventually your parents make your car payment for you or chip in with your rent money and that's your gift.  While necessary, it's not as fun as a Wii.  Then, the drama sets in.  With age comes insight and you start seeing your family for who they are and they are definitely imperfect.  Conflicts arise and family bonds are strained.  Then, one by one they start dying and those bonds are cut and everything starts to feel sore.  You have to work on Christmas or you find yourself alone and drinking.  You don't want your photo taken by the tree because you're too fat or your acne has flared up again.  You freak out about buying things for other people because you want to both please and impress.  It becomes less about God and more about gifts.  It's more stressful than satisfying.  The mask of magic is cracked by reality and it's all just so disenchanting.

It doesn't even feel like Christmas happened.  I've been so caught up in a swirl of working and sleeping that I've lost all track of time, space and reality.  And maybe it's for the best.  It's not like I would have enjoyed myself.  I have nothing in common with my family.  I certainly have nothing in common with the patrons at the bingo pavilion.  At least with the holidays out of the way, things can return to the normal numbness.  If I can just make it past New Year's, I can leave behind the year that was the death of my faith, family and me.

Phase 2 Bonus: When Christmas Came Crashing Down

I wrote another article for Phase 2 Studio about a particularly odd Christmas memory of mine.  Click here to read all aboot it.

Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Phase 2 Friday: Breaking up with Birthdays

Thanks to my crap work schedule, I didn't have time to write this yesterday and make it calendar appropriate but here is my latest Phase 2 article.  It's about my birthday, which was yesterday.  Well, it wasn't about my birthday specifically but about my general feelings regarding my birthday.

Click here and enjoy. 

Black Friday? More Like Whack Friday!

No Phase 2 Friday article today.  Besides the special radio show, everyone had the week off.  Although I'm the new kid sitting at the lunch table, everyone at the site has been working hard on it for months now so they all took a well deserved break and I just happen to benefit from it!  I could write all day every day if I was allowed but it's all good.

With that being said, I debated long and hard on whether I should do a special "Thanksgiving" post.  I finally decided against it for several reasons.  First of all, I felt kind of icky about doing something that everyone else was doing.  It almost cheapens it, knowing that I'm just kind of following everyone else's lead and throwing in my thanks that will just get lost in the millions of other thanks that will be coming out at the same moment.  Now, let me say that I have nothing wrong with other people doing it.  Your thanks are made no less significant than anyone else's.  I'm not trying to act superior and say that I don't want to belong to "that crowd" or anything like that.  Just remember that I'm a basket case and my reasoning behind anything that I do or do not do is always gonna be jacked up.  It's hard to explain.

Secondly, I think I've adequately described my gratitude and expressed my good fortune over the past several posts of mine.  I'd just be going over already marked territory.  I hate to be cliche but shouldn't we give thanks every day?  But, hey, it's cool that people at least take one day out to be reminded of how good they have it, or at least to acknowledge that they have it better than a lot of other people.  I feel, for me, I'm reminded quite often of how fortunate and blessed I am.  Especially with my bad attitude.  I can't seem to be too bitter for too long because I always end up feeling guilty.  How can I be upset about having a crappy job when some people have no job at all?  How can I gripe about running out of food when some people have no food to run out of?  Yeah, I've covered this before.  And I will cover it again.  Just not today.

And lastly, I think I was at my least appreciative yesterday than I usually am on any other given day.  Thanksgiving has become a shadow of itself over the past several years and it just seems to keep getting worse.  I have to wonder if this is because I am older and my perceptions have changed or if maybe the people themselves have changed.  I guess it's a mixture of both.  Thanksgiving used to be this huge gathering at my grandmother's house.  She'd prepare a gigantic feast and by noon, almost our entire Jackson clan would be there to sit at the table, enjoy the food and each other's company.  It used to be a big deal.  But, as the years went by, people branched out and made their own families or had to work on Thanksgiving and the numbers dwindled.  People lost respect for the noon start time and started coming in around one or two or three in the afternoon, after all the food had already been covered in foil.  No one stayed for too long, just enough time to throw back some turkey and chug some beers before leaving to go pass out.  This year was the worst.  My grandmother has four sons and so you think about those four sons and their wives and their children.  That's a respectable number of people.  Well, only one of my grandmother's sons and family showed up this year and that was my dad and us.  My cousin Kristie and her children were also there.  Some random family member would stagger in here or there but we were mostly it.

It seems like our family is unraveling.  I honestly don't know most of the people that pass through my grandmother's house.  And they probably don't know much about me, either.  Everyone is popping kids out like crazy and I never see these kids so they grow up and they always look three years older although only one year has passed.  And you know how kids can be shy around strangers.  Well, that's how they act around me and my sister 'cause we are essentially strangers to them.  It's weird to have your own family cower away from you.  And it seems every year, there's more people but less teeth.  And I don't mean more people that show up.  That number always goes down.  I mean the number of new people that pass through is so much so that I can't keep track.  People bring their boyfriends or girlfriends or baby mamas or babies or mamas and then you never see them again.  Everyone is a stranger to me as well and that makes me cower.

If it weren't for my grandmother, I wouldn't even want to show up myself.  Everyone is disconnected and frankly, I don't even want to see these people in the first place.  We have nothing in common.  They are all straight up rednecks who like to spit and cuss and not brush their hair or teeth.  I can't get down with that.

Thanks for bringing down Thanksgiving for everyone, Brandork.

You're welcome.

So, of course, it's Black Friday and that means mass hysteria.  I can hear gunshots from my window as I'm typing this.  I always like to share this lovely little video on this day, to both amuse and educate the public.

Now, I think this is hilarious.  When I discovered this video about a year or two ago, I watched it repeatedly and had a good, hardy chuckle and the wig lady's expense.  I recently learned that the lady with the runaway hair was probably pregnant, which makes it slightly less hilarious but still pretty darn funny.  That might seem cruel but really, she should have known better.  When you go shopping on Black Friday, you gotta expect you're gonna bleed at some point during the day.  Also, I don't feel that bad.  She must not have been too hurt 'cause she was able to snatch that wig up right quick and situate it back on her big ol' head.  Suck it up, lady!  Better put that weave in your purse and keep going before those flat screen televisions disappear!  Plus, you don't know what was going on before that footage starting rolling.  Titch probably shanked two or three people in the parking lot just to get a good spot.

But, really, that video is just more evidence of how dumb and materialistic Americans are.  How obsessed are we over getting a good deal that we have to push and shove people to the ground just to get that Xbox?  Are we really willing to assault someone in front of us just to get to the Miley Cyrus dolls?  Come on, people!  Get it together.  It's not worth putting another human's safety at risk.  Well, Transformers are but that's besides the point!  Basically, we suck and this video confirms it.

And if that didn't tickle your funny bone, this should!  Paula Deen being hit in the face with a giant frozen ham.  Finally, the hogs have their revenge.

Don't worry, kids.  Paula's taken large pieces of meat to the face before.  She's used to it.