Bipolar disorder and alcoholism: Are they related? - Bipolar Disorder - MSN Health & Fitness

I woke up this morning to the sound of a loud truck. It's not garbage day, so I wondered if someone was getting towed. I walked outside to see what was up and saw a truck with a crane arm extended over my house. In a brief, groggy instant, I thought to myself:

"They're towing my house!"

Not the case, just delivering shingles to reroof the building.

I've had the slowest work week in a long time. Just chilling, working out, cleaning the house. I put marble chips over my river rock. Looks cool.

Whoever leaves anonymous postings like the one in yesterday's blog... just sign your name. Oh, and my cheesy poem was a haiku. A haiku is a three line poem with five, seven, and five syllables. I'd never written one. Good motherfucking haiku, motherfucker!

Still waking up. Done more before 10am than I normally do, though. Lunch in a little bit where an ex works. I love our little visits. Every conversation reveals just a little bit more about how fucked over I got. Precious times.

Alright, enough time on this page. Look at Greg's or someone else's. Look away... I'm... I'm... hideous.

goochout

Interesting. Right after I wrote my last blog, I went to a gym to resolve some computer issues for them. The manager, who I've known for about seven years on a work related basis, told me that I "have a great face, hair, eyes..." and that I'd "have girls flocking to [me]" if I lost about twenty pounds. He also told me that he normally has this conversation with girls (I'd love to see how that flies with the chicks). I appreciated his honesty.

I guess.

Oh, and just to answer some questions from some friends about last night... a haiku:

Eighteen year old date.
Former stripper at my house.
Watched TV, no sex.

The night went sour when she discovered (in a Seinfeldesque moment) that I didn't know her real name, only her stage name. Also, when she mentioned that I graduated high school when she was four.

Damn it feels good to be a gangster.

goochout.

Hmmm...

I had another hard drive failure which resulted in say, a retreat from blogging. Understand that hard drives fail. They're like hamsters and old people... they die.

The difference is that when my hard drives die and I haven't backed up any data, odds are I'll retreive everything and install a new drive and it will be as if nothing ever happened.

When your hard drive dies, it will cost you money and heartache from lost pictures, email, and porn. Back up your data. Schmuck.

So while I was out I experienced yet another illegal immigrant march/work strike just outside my window from another office I share with Gregster. Thousands of illegals and their supporters marching up Broadway. A sample of the wisecracks about this nationwide event:

"I could understand the guy at the drive through this morning." "Not a single room in Vegas was cleaned this morning." "Is that my gardener?" "Is that a march, or did a soccer game just end?"

Laughs ahoy.

Just because you have sex doesn't mean you're sexy. It's no secret that I struggle with weight related issues. My psychotropic drug experience has been an ongoing debate with my doctor. I cut back on my INSANELY high dosage of Seroquel and... holy shit... I woke up not in a slurring stupor at 10am and instead went to the gym at 7am. When decent looking strippers and chicks in general choose you to be the special someone in their lives (for a night, anyway) on a regular basis, it's easy to forget that you're a fat fuck. Combine that with the ritual of the (ahem) post-game celebratory breakfast filled with crepes, bacon, eggs, Chinese food, etc... and, well, you get me.

Enough of this jibber jabber. It's time for work.

goochout.

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Suffice it to even say... a little depressed. Just when I think I won't pull through, just when I start to put the barrel of a revolver to my temple... this happens:

OLCC chief quits after drunken-driving arrest

I'm so happy... I want to live now! Every liquor server, every bar owner and manager - REJOICE!

Hallelujah... indeed.

In other news: I'm officially single.

goochout.

Happy Birthday Al Pacino.

I watched Donnie Brasco on Friday and The Godfather Marathon on AMC the rest of my TV watching weekend. Thanks to plastic surgery, he now always looks surprised:



I didn't watch Godfather III this weekend because it sucks. Talia Shire had a hand in trying to ruin two great franchises: Rocky (with Rocky V) and Godfather (with GF III). She might as well have been cast in the sequel to Saturday Night Fever, and Star Wars 1 through 3. Maybe they'll make a sequel to Rad, a forgettable movie with Talia Shire I rented about thirty times as a kid. Hey, Rad came out in 1986... how about a 20 year anniversary box set? Sweet!

Wow, this blog went from a happy birthday to Pacino to commentary about the Movie Rad. Funny how that panned out.

Gotta go to work.

goochout.

Thanks to everyone who came out to Montego's last night; it was a lot of fun filled with drinking, strippers, and even some drama at the end. A perfect night, indeed. I was driven to two different bars to find where I left my car.

A friend and I drove by the Oregon Employment office today on my way to retreive my car. It's odd that it's called the Employment office since no one who passes through those doors actually has a job. The thought occured to me, though: What happens if you work for the Employment office and get fired or laid off? It's the ultimate irony. You'd get canned and walk over to the next cubicle to turn in your forms. And if your unemployment claim gets denied, who do you appeal to?

"Your request to appeal your denial of unemployment insurance has been denied."
"I'd like to appeal..."
"Denied."
"Can I ap..."
"Denied."
"I'd like to appe..."
"Denied."

Talk about the fox and the henhouse.

Eh, funny shit.

goochout.