//play patriotic music//

I, the commander and chief of my body, have sworn to protect it against all enemies both foreign and domestic.  It has come to my attention that one of my most trusted allies has decided to turn against me during this fight for survival.  This hideous act is considered treason to this embodiment which will meet the most severe of penalties.  I must defend and crush this newfound enemy, whom has maliciously named itself--the liver.  Combat will be severe and involve alcoholic warfare.  There will be many casualties, but I know...by the end of this war...we will be victorious, and the liver will die!  Let the battles ensue.  Hands!  Arm yourselves with beer and transport it to the mouth!

So help me Bud, oh great and wise King of Beers.

//end patriotic music//

Seeing how I've previously jumped on the Whorespace.com bandwagon a while back (and realize how dumb it is), I've decided to once again blindly jump on the Facebook train this time.  So far it doesn't impress me either, but I've "ran into" alot of old friends that I have not seen since the 17th century or something like that.  My, how people have grown!

Yeah so go ahead and add me, if you know how to find me (hint: you could search for that thing, what's it called.... oh yeah-- my name).

But don't worry, I'm still your #1 fan, Xanga.  Five years of premium subscription, yeah?

Having a physically attractive female professor is its biggest advantage itself-- I'll definately pay attention in class.  Maybe not to her ramblings, but I'll be paying attention nonetheless.

Attending the first wednsday night $1.00 Beer Night at the local sleazepool-excuse-of-a-college-bar of the semester and forgetting how much you paid for beers that night is always another plus.  Hey, people gotta start somewhere to obtain the Lifetime Beer Gut.

I also went back to my old old office yesterday to pick up a thumbdrive that I left behind, thankfully nobody bothered to check some of the shelves where I used to put all my crap in.  A few new staff were about, the old crew like Will and Jen were still there, Jen losing a ton of weight after childbirth.  They had to properly introduce the new staff to me-- whom I had bragging rights to say that I was referred to the title of "Legendary Scourge of the Network Security Department".  Also they figured out a face to the name of the person that punched out Roger, the upper management dweeb that I had a uh.... confrontation with.

New Guy: You're *THE* Chris the Terrible?
Me: Yes.
N.G.: I thought you'd be a lot bigger.
Me:  Hey fuck you, guy.  Will, punish him for me please.
Will: Yes Ma'am.
Me:  Yeah, fuck you too.

We then sent him to the torture chamber in the basement where he was brutally whipped by a 70 year-old German lady in a dominatrix suit named Helga.  I'm telling you, I don't fuck around.

Staring down from the office.

Its the first day of school, I feel like a kid again.  The workload is already adding on, and I'm going broke from buying textbooks-- but standing in line for 40 minutes on the first day of school in front of the bookstore, surrounded by young women who think "its not THAT cold out" (but the perky uh... shirts, say otherwise) makes the day all worth it.

Oh if you go to Towson U., that chick behind the customer service desk at the bookstore?  MINE.  Thats right I got her number, I got dibs, and you all get sloppy [insert number]'s.  I repeat, I feel like such a kid again, wheee!

Now time for my afternoon whiskey-induced coma nap.

...My best friend in the world gave his life in Iraq.

Also, my squadron suffered its biggest loss when a helicopter carrying 30 Marines and a Sailor crashed in the Al Anbar province of Iraq.  These events, plus a string of losing more friends and fellow Marines will eventually lead me to wonder what I was fighting for anymore.  I just wanted everything to end.  I wanted the killing and casualties to stop, and wash the blood off my hands.  I thought about all this with a cigarette in my mouth, then shifted it to the corner of my lips where I could make room to place the receiving-end of my M9 service pistol in my mouth.  I thought long and hard, and eventually I put it away, finished my smoke, and went back to the United States to become an alcoholic.  But like all binges and activities, they all come to an end.  Which is a good thing.  Want to know why?

Because two years later, I finally forgave myself.  Hey, I even quit smoking too.

But let us forget all that, and drink in their honor.

Someone once told me that to truly move on, one must let go of everything.  I was standing in front of the Inner Harbor this morning in the frigid cold and ready to throw my lighter away to forget everything that has happened, when I realized something-- everytime I looked at the lighter, it wasn't pain that I felt, but inspiration.  It was the lighter that I carried that got me through the day, knowing that someone has got my back from beyond.  It wasnt sadness that I felt, it was courage.

Mike gave me his Zippo lighter a month before he died, and I carry this lighter in my pocket at all times ever since for a reason.  Its not to hold me back and remind me of the pain, but the lighter inspires me everyday of courage, dedication, to strive to be the best, and all those wonderful little inspirational whatnots.  It reminds me that I made it back home alive from combat to see another day.  And I should never forget this feeling.  I have forgiven myself, as Mike and the others that have gone before me have already did.  I will never lose this lighter.

Hey, some people wear a Holy Cross around their neck, I get to carry a Zippo lighter.

Semper Fizzle.

 Unfortunately, like those crazy old 'Nam vets, i'll probably have some serious PTSD issues for the rest of my life.

.............

On top of this, I'm running out of beer at home and some of my friends have gotten a Nintendo Wii and I still don't.  Oh yeah, and I have a funeral for another friend to attend tomorrow morning too.  This is going to be one hell of a depressing weekend.

Oh yeah, thanks for being a dick, CJ.  haha.

This way, it'll slow down the schoolbuses a bit.

My brother's car has this wierd snow pattern on the hood, looks like a failed attempt at an NBC logo or something.  I just hope I don't get sued within the next few minutes or so for some nonexistant copyright infringement rule I broke.

Aside from this..... it's time to dust off the cobwebs and spider larvae off my barely-intact snowboard from my basement.  I sense a few fractured ribs coming up soon....

I don't have a eulogy for my lack of knowlege on this part, so I'll just keep this short-- goodbye, Louisa

You're in a better place now.  But look on the bright side-- you'll be with my best friend, Mike up there..... and trust me on this, he's a good guy and you two will get along.  Everyone gets along up there.

RIP Louisa Au, 1982 - 2007.

You too, Lance Corporal Michael Starr... 1984 - 2005.

Btw Mike, I still have your lighter.  And your copy of Dec. '04 edition of Playboy, and Sep. thru Dec. '04 editions of Hustler.  And I'll keep them in great shape.

..........................

Its hard to deal with death for anyone, but when someone dies and you either have come across the person or you're actually close with them, you react in two different and extreme ways.

You grieve.  You cry.  You weep your heart out at how unfair the rules of life are, and to yourself that you can someday be elected to be a Life-Congressman and set the rules of how life and death SHOULD work.  This means your closest friends and relatives may NOT at ANY given time die before you do.

Some others don't even flinch anymore.  I don't know if its a good thing or bad, but it means that you can either recover quickly or you're just a cold heartless bastard.  I fall into this category.  Mike, as I have mentioned earlier, was my best friend in the world until he never returned from Iraq.  In the Marine Corps in this day and age, like any other times of war, people lose friends and acquaintences left and right, mostly due to relocation, some "permanent".  You're trained in the art of causing death and destruction.  Although many of us don't realize it, death is nothing but a game to us.  We scream for bloody murder until they really do put a rifle in our hands and an enemy in our sights-- to make matters worse, you lose a friend here and there because of these 'enemies'.  You see your enemy down your sights-- you squeeze the trigger, silencing your enemy in revenge.  Then maybe another friend back home dies from drug overdose or automobile accident.  None of this really affects yoy.  The concept of Death does not even faze me anymore.  After going through all that, you and the Grim Reaper are already drinking buddies, sometimes playing cards on Thursday nights.

Did you know his full title is Grim Reaper, Gunnery Sergeant, USMC?  Neither did I.

In his past life he was just "Grimey".  But he was the Assistant to the Directer of Central Intelligence.

But that's our little secret, ok?

...........................

Anyone please update me on Lou's funeral, and the well being of her parents let me know ASAP.  Call my cell.

EDIT

I posted my first videoblog, and I realized I may have sunk to an all-time low.  Its protected by the way, only you "Special" types can see my beautifully lingering mug.

.......................................................

My sleep patterns are all reversed, I just woke up after an 8 hour nap since noon.  I don't think this is healthy.  But who cares, in another hour or so, I'll have my "breakfast of champions" by feasting on wings and several pitchers of beer at Hooters.  I been eating like a tweaked-out health nut all week, time to indulge myself in some trans fats and useless carbs that we all love.

............

Last night when I was bouncing (I still bounce once or twice a week), some guy tried to take a leak on a potted plant next to the tables.  Bubba (not his real name) was obviously drunk, and I asked him to go to the bathroom if he's got to go.  So the guy insists however that the bathroom is full and there's people outside of the door waiting to go, and when i look over there, all I saw were two women standing outside the womens' room waiting to go.  I told him that the men's room was open, and he kept mumbling about how every time he walks into the bathroom, he gets screamed at.  I was puzzled at first, because the only time I ever got screamed at when I myself went to the restroom in public was when I was too drunk and wandered into the womens' room by mistake....... ahhhhh... I see.  I get it.

So I do the guy a favor and escort him to the mens' room.  A few minutes later as I was walking about, I hear screams from the back where the restrooms are, and the first thing that crossed my mind was Bubba probably did something incredibly dumb and my knuckles are starting to itch.  You know, those drunks that are so incoherent and probably have no clue where they are they probably wandered BACK into the womens' room and caused a scene.  However when I got back there it was something I didn't expect at all.

To make the long story short, it turns out two drunk chicks wandered into the men's room, where one girl was ready to puke.  However when she opened the unlocked stall, Bubba was busy rubbing one off (at least thats what the girls said) and the two girls walked in on him.  The girls screamed and managed to throw punches at him, which caused him to throw up.  The sight of him throwing up made one of the girls puke too, some of it getting on the other girl's leg.  So I walk in with three people in the men's room, one guy with his pants down and two girls covered in puke, and me and TJ, another bouncer, are standing there debating on who should stay and who should go home.

Nah, I kicked all three of them out.  Too much of a mess in the mens room pissed me off, since I had to clean it anyway.

Drunk people are amazing.  And I hope every time I have blacked out from drinking that I didn't REALLY do all the stupid shit that witnesses say I do.  From a bystanders' point of view, I am downright stupid.

I'm kind of scared of going back to school.  Especially when you've been out working, making a decent living, out in the work force with a shirt and tie on, going back to school with a bunch of not-so-bright fratboys and sororitysluts kind of frightens me.  Yet at the same time-- who DOESN'T like college life?  Wake up, eat, go back to sleep, go to class (optional), drink tons of beer, get fat, meet some nice freshmen ladies.... you know, and all that and more.

I've resorted these days down to some furious gym and track time and get some results, and going to the shooting range and come home smelling like fresh gunpowder every other day.  To end the day, I take all the windy backroads with my car (and its re-tuned suspension) and zip through the corners like Initial D.  However, the ride is so stiff now that running over pebbles on the road feels like the Kobe earthquake.

I've gone back to playing the Sims 2 again, and time sure flies when you play that game.  I made a manwhore character I profoundly named 'Douche Bagalow' (inspired by a famous manwhore).  You get to pick a Sim's aspiration in life, which for my guy it was "Romance" (meaning try to sleep with as many people as possible).  So I got to get my Sim to sleep with like 20 or more different females already that he gets to meet, and got him promoted on several occasions at his job by going out on dates and sleeping with his female boss.

Come on, its not workplace sexual harassment when its consensual on both people.

At least, not in a silly videogame.