But I'm not telling you.
I found out something about myself today, something I've never realized that suprises and bothers me.
But I'm not telling you.
Four weeks in and I'm already sick and tired of writing these useless, pointless, effortless blogs. I mean, how much can you learn about a person through text on a screen?
If you want to really know something about me, you should listen to some of my music:
Get Out And Take Your Heart With You
Never Coming Back
The Four Letter "L" Word That's Not Love
You're Steppin' on My Hate
And as I gear up for this so-called "therapy" group that's supposed to cure all my relationship woes, I'm sure there will be plenty of experiences to write about. My first song is already set to go:
Blogging is the Public Bathroom of the Internet
This shouldn't come as any suprise to any of you, but people like to stare at me when I go out in public. Yeah, I know...shocking.
Anyway, I went to the supermarket by my house today. I was out of coconuts and needed a few to break over my head at this gig I had that night at Slain Muskrat. First person I encounter is this frail little twig of a greeter at the door, who of course didn't greet me. No...she was too occupied giving me the same deer-in-the-headlights stare I get from most women.
So now I'm standing in the fruit & vegetable aisle picking out coconuts, and what do I see out of the corner of my eye? Two employees...two...watching me from either end of the aisle. For some ungodly reason unbeknownst to me, I apparently set off some kind of "suspicious" flag that caused them to keep tabs on me. Hmmm...what could it be...the leather? Or maybe it was the skinned head? Possibly the makeup?
In the meantime, three kids with pants hanging at their knees are right near me swiping liquor. But of course nobody see that. They're too busy making sure the freak isn't stealing anything.
I decided to take matters into my own hands and launched a coconut at one of kids. It hits him square in the head, knocking him down and breaking the liquor bottle in his pants.
You know how the store thanked me for stopping three brats from stealing? I was arrested and have a court hearing for assaulting a minor. Did they get in trouble for attempted robbery? Of course not.
And all I wanted were a few coconuts to bash over my head. Unbelievable.
I've been instructed to write a weekly blog and post it every Tuesday. So, why am I writing to you on Wednesday?
Because I don't respond favorably to command like a circus poodle. You can't wave a biscuit in front of my face and expect me to bend to your will.
That's the problem I find with dating. Women want you to be their envisioned hero, their ideal, instead of accepting you for who you are. Women who'd rather waste their time worrying about their appearance and how their social status will be affected by their arm candy. Women who think they're better than you but still want your shoulder to cry on.
Do I sound bitter? Hell, yeah I am.
I don't conform.
I don't care about social status.
My shoulders stay dry.
And that's why I'm writing to you on Wednesday.
What’s the point in making a resolution, anyway? It’s just another example of picking something flawed in yourself that you promise to change, and by the end of January you’ve either forgotten about it or just plain given up.
My last girlfriend made a resolution last year to always stand by my side. Two weeks later she had no problem leaving me...sure, I got in a knife fight and she got nicked and ran, but that’s still breaking her promise, and anyone who can’t keep a promise just isn’t worth my time.
This year, the lead singer in our band, Bloody Scabs, made a resolution to get our band the exposure it deserved. He’s in prison now for exposing himself in a theater during a children’s movie.
Resolutions are for weak-minded, love-starved incompetents who need an excuse to make a change in their lives. I don’t make excuses for things that go wrong in my life…even though it’s never my fault.