So I stepped outside the house today to admire the snow we had, and a Wavy News Jeep happened to be driving by. It drove up, and the reporter and the cameraman hopped out and conducted a little impromptu interview with me. And wouldn't you know it, parts of it got edited into their little Snow in NE North Carolina segment. Obama's not the only one getting on camera today.
Here's the video:
I kinda cringed when I realized that I used the word anomaly. Shoulda kept it simple.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
the worst place to wake up
When I came to, I was surrounded by annoyed medical professionals who calmly told me to lay back, try to relax, and to tell them what I had drank that night. My vision was blurred, my motor skills weren't all there, and my chest was on fire. Slowly I realized I had passed out for the umpteenth time due to drinking, and this time I had actually been taken to the hospital.
It was Homecoming my senior year at college. My fraternity made a little formal date party of the event, and I being of supreme wisdom had declined to bring a date. The idea of coat-and-tie tailgating seems absurd to me five years later, mainly because I associate tailgating with less than formal pursuits like shotgunning beers and messy barbeque finger foods. However our fraternity's alumni had put together a nice little spread under our tent, with jambalaya and several different bottles of whiskey. Little did I know that at the end of the evening I would be waking up in the second-worst place to wake up following a drinking stupor.
My most impressive blackout feat to this point in time had been our semi-formal party my sophmore year, when I had awakened in the bushes across the street from the New Orleans Convention Center at 7 in the morning, just next to the off ramp of Interstate 10. I was wearing my brown suit (which blended into the mulch I was laying in). I had however lost my tie, and one of my shoes. I cabbed it back to campus (amazingly I still had my wallet). The cab-driver mentioned that I was missing a shoe, and I agreed with him quietly, and we finished the ride in silence. That evening we had a fraternity meeting, and no one could piece together what happened to me. It would be the first of many times over the next three years that I would black out, and simply wander away at night.
In rampant denial of my alcoholism, I noted that my date to that night's function, had left very early in the night to take care of a friend of hers. With her gone I ceased to curtail my drinking to a reasonable level, and swiftly imbibed myself into a bush. If in fact the lack of a date catalyzed my drinking, it did not bode well for me two years later at homecoming when I was dateless for the whole event, and wearing that same "lucky" brown suit.
At homecoming senior year, I did not see one actual football play executed. I stayed outside the stadium for both halves, only venturing in for the halftime show to see the featured act Outkast. Filming an MTV special, they performed their latest hit Hey Ya! twice in a row, much to the chagrin of the full stadium standing in a light, drizzling rain. I focused on counting bottles that day instead of downs. I progressed throughout the day from Makers Mark, to Jack Daniels, to my old standby Jim Beam. We simply kept finishing the bottles so I had to move on to what I gauged was the next best thing.
I remember heading from homecoming to a bar following the game. We had some food out, and a keg tapped there was laughing and dancing ... This is where the memories end. When I came to, my "lucky" brown suit was still on me. However the hospital staff had cut right sleeve of the coat lengthwise to my shoulder, to put in my IV and get me rehydrated. I distinctly remember how curtly I was being admonished by one nurse in particular, as if to say "Christ, why do I have to babysit these drunk college kids?"
Oh and reason my chest burned was because I had been given a sternum rub to determine how deep my alcohol coma was. I had not come to as a some doctors knuckles had scraped up and down my sternum, prompting the destruction of my favorite suit coat and button-down shirt.
Once again, none of my fraternity brothers had any idea that I was in the hospital. My brother happened to be in town with a friend from high school, and he called my cell phone, and was given the story when a nurse picked up on my end. He came and picked me up at the hospital and left me in my own bed with a bottle of Gatorade.
I reflect on this story now, because I realize that waking up in the hospital is probably the next to worst place to wake up, and I really hope I never experience the first. In my estimation the worst place to wake up would in fact be jail. A good friend of mine recently told me that
...
I've been tossing this story around recently because an acquaintance of mine recently found himself arrested, and in that worst place, for the second time. I had seen him just prior to an incident which ultimately led to him ending up in jail again.
A good friend of mine who cares deeply for this person went out on the line for this unlucky individual, securing his bail through a bail bondsman. I don't believe he's gotten much support from those close to him for this decision.
My friend cares deeply for this individual, and feels that he doesn't deserve to stay in jail while he waits for his court date. At the advice of his lawyer he also believes that the judge will be more likely to be lenient should the individual show up in civilian clothes rather than an orange jumpsuit.
I've still not decided how I feel overall about the situation. I did not know the individual in question well enough to justify securing his bail as my friend did. I know many friends who I would jump to help in a time of need, and similarly those who would come to my aid. What if I should I do something to one day warrant ending up in jail? So my friends and/or family come to my rescue. What if I follow up that kindness, and end up in jail again? At what point do they stop trying to rescue me?
I hope that things iron out as this situation unfolds. I am simply a spectator to this contest. I can only wish for the best; I can't do anything to influence the outcome.
The board is set...the pieces are moving. I can only pray this ends well.
It was Homecoming my senior year at college. My fraternity made a little formal date party of the event, and I being of supreme wisdom had declined to bring a date. The idea of coat-and-tie tailgating seems absurd to me five years later, mainly because I associate tailgating with less than formal pursuits like shotgunning beers and messy barbeque finger foods. However our fraternity's alumni had put together a nice little spread under our tent, with jambalaya and several different bottles of whiskey. Little did I know that at the end of the evening I would be waking up in the second-worst place to wake up following a drinking stupor.
My most impressive blackout feat to this point in time had been our semi-formal party my sophmore year, when I had awakened in the bushes across the street from the New Orleans Convention Center at 7 in the morning, just next to the off ramp of Interstate 10. I was wearing my brown suit (which blended into the mulch I was laying in). I had however lost my tie, and one of my shoes. I cabbed it back to campus (amazingly I still had my wallet). The cab-driver mentioned that I was missing a shoe, and I agreed with him quietly, and we finished the ride in silence. That evening we had a fraternity meeting, and no one could piece together what happened to me. It would be the first of many times over the next three years that I would black out, and simply wander away at night.
In rampant denial of my alcoholism, I noted that my date to that night's function, had left very early in the night to take care of a friend of hers. With her gone I ceased to curtail my drinking to a reasonable level, and swiftly imbibed myself into a bush. If in fact the lack of a date catalyzed my drinking, it did not bode well for me two years later at homecoming when I was dateless for the whole event, and wearing that same "lucky" brown suit.
At homecoming senior year, I did not see one actual football play executed. I stayed outside the stadium for both halves, only venturing in for the halftime show to see the featured act Outkast. Filming an MTV special, they performed their latest hit Hey Ya! twice in a row, much to the chagrin of the full stadium standing in a light, drizzling rain. I focused on counting bottles that day instead of downs. I progressed throughout the day from Makers Mark, to Jack Daniels, to my old standby Jim Beam. We simply kept finishing the bottles so I had to move on to what I gauged was the next best thing.
I remember heading from homecoming to a bar following the game. We had some food out, and a keg tapped there was laughing and dancing ... This is where the memories end. When I came to, my "lucky" brown suit was still on me. However the hospital staff had cut right sleeve of the coat lengthwise to my shoulder, to put in my IV and get me rehydrated. I distinctly remember how curtly I was being admonished by one nurse in particular, as if to say "Christ, why do I have to babysit these drunk college kids?"
Oh and reason my chest burned was because I had been given a sternum rub to determine how deep my alcohol coma was. I had not come to as a some doctors knuckles had scraped up and down my sternum, prompting the destruction of my favorite suit coat and button-down shirt.
Once again, none of my fraternity brothers had any idea that I was in the hospital. My brother happened to be in town with a friend from high school, and he called my cell phone, and was given the story when a nurse picked up on my end. He came and picked me up at the hospital and left me in my own bed with a bottle of Gatorade.
I reflect on this story now, because I realize that waking up in the hospital is probably the next to worst place to wake up, and I really hope I never experience the first. In my estimation the worst place to wake up would in fact be jail. A good friend of mine recently told me that
...
I've been tossing this story around recently because an acquaintance of mine recently found himself arrested, and in that worst place, for the second time. I had seen him just prior to an incident which ultimately led to him ending up in jail again.
A good friend of mine who cares deeply for this person went out on the line for this unlucky individual, securing his bail through a bail bondsman. I don't believe he's gotten much support from those close to him for this decision.
My friend cares deeply for this individual, and feels that he doesn't deserve to stay in jail while he waits for his court date. At the advice of his lawyer he also believes that the judge will be more likely to be lenient should the individual show up in civilian clothes rather than an orange jumpsuit.
I've still not decided how I feel overall about the situation. I did not know the individual in question well enough to justify securing his bail as my friend did. I know many friends who I would jump to help in a time of need, and similarly those who would come to my aid. What if I should I do something to one day warrant ending up in jail? So my friends and/or family come to my rescue. What if I follow up that kindness, and end up in jail again? At what point do they stop trying to rescue me?
I hope that things iron out as this situation unfolds. I am simply a spectator to this contest. I can only wish for the best; I can't do anything to influence the outcome.
The board is set...the pieces are moving. I can only pray this ends well.
Monday, May 26, 2008
I love the 90's
So I feel like I'm channeling Beck these days...Vintage Beck circa '94. The first song off the Mellow Gold album kinda encapsulates what I'm feeling right now.
And this doesn't relate to our family's cat Tick dying on Friday night. Tick had been in our family for 17 years, but that number can be misleading when referring to our emotional connection to this cat. Tick never took very well to house training so she quickly became the black sheep of our stable of animals. Losing Tick hurts a little bit, but not a great deal. Thank you to y'all who have sent your online condolences. I appreciate it. Sadly though it is a whole other ball of wax that has got me buried in my web of neuroses at the moment.
In only a few words, I had something I wanted at arms reach, and I apparently did everything in my power to let it slip through my fingers. I'm left with this horrible aftertaste in my mouth, because I really don't know what in god's name I did wrong.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've spent most of my life hiding from this sort of disappointment, by never putting myself out there. So I finally decided I would take that plunge, and I got WAY ahead of myself. And to say I crashed and burned would be putting it lightly.
Maybe good things aren't meant for me at this point in time. That doesn't mean I have to stop hoping for them, but my cynical nature will certainly do everything in its power to keep that from happening.
I guess the bright side would be I gained two friends out of the whole situation. I hope that benefit can help me stay positive about it all. This blog will undoubtedly serve as my closure for the whole mess (and it seems that will be the only way I will get it.
Tomorrow is a new day. We'll see what she brings.
And this doesn't relate to our family's cat Tick dying on Friday night. Tick had been in our family for 17 years, but that number can be misleading when referring to our emotional connection to this cat. Tick never took very well to house training so she quickly became the black sheep of our stable of animals. Losing Tick hurts a little bit, but not a great deal. Thank you to y'all who have sent your online condolences. I appreciate it. Sadly though it is a whole other ball of wax that has got me buried in my web of neuroses at the moment.
In only a few words, I had something I wanted at arms reach, and I apparently did everything in my power to let it slip through my fingers. I'm left with this horrible aftertaste in my mouth, because I really don't know what in god's name I did wrong.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've spent most of my life hiding from this sort of disappointment, by never putting myself out there. So I finally decided I would take that plunge, and I got WAY ahead of myself. And to say I crashed and burned would be putting it lightly.
Maybe good things aren't meant for me at this point in time. That doesn't mean I have to stop hoping for them, but my cynical nature will certainly do everything in its power to keep that from happening.
I guess the bright side would be I gained two friends out of the whole situation. I hope that benefit can help me stay positive about it all. This blog will undoubtedly serve as my closure for the whole mess (and it seems that will be the only way I will get it.
Tomorrow is a new day. We'll see what she brings.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
And Now For The Starter's Gun...
I've been thinking about starting a blog of my own for some time now. I suppose now I will have to curtail my weekly quotient of blog-surfing. But maybe that's a good thing.
Don't suspect I'll settle on a specific theme for quite some time. I can certainly guarantee plenty of discussion about movies. Will probably mention baseball from time to time. And there will possibly be some talk of poker as well. Other various topics as well as they arise
For now....I'm going to cheat and repost my latest Myspace blog.
Originally posted yesterday morning
title: something's missing
I was loving life; on cruise control for the last few months, and now the train's derailed. Something's missing...I think I need a new hobby
(edit. this blog ended up being ALOT longer than I thought...I apologize in advance)
I'd like to kid myself and say that what I really need is a hobby because what I'm really scared to admit is that I really need is a change of venue.
Growing up on the Outer Banks, I've become attuned to the laid back lifestyle. But I think I've misapplied it to my own life. Instead of simply being laid back, what I've become is just flat-out lazy. I've never been surfing despite having lived here for nearly all my life. Part of that was my tendency to do my best impersonation of a radish after any prolonged sun exposure. That and I wasn't that athletic growing up. I suppose I hold some sort of misguided grudge against learning how to surf now. Might be quite like when I finally went skiing for the first time when I was 20. Being the oldest in the beginner's class was quite embarrassing.
So the reason I feel I need a new hobby now is due to my abundance of free time, and energy. I naturally have a tendency to over-analyze whatever it is I have tuned my focus to. Leaving things open-ended just sort of eats at me constantly. I've given myself this free time, but I'm not doing anything constructive.
I find myself these days needing to right a capsized ship, but unwilling do it quickly. Coming off my whirlwind stint on the Fun Ship Ecstasy. I found myself in a small financial hole. My following job in Las Vegas would have all but erased the hole, if I hadn't practiced bad game selection and lost a significant portion of my pay. So I find myself at home, needing to make money. But following my unceremonious dismissal from the breakfast shift at a shiteous 24-hour cafe in a second rate casino, I had little desire to go back to waiting tables (even though I figured it might be the easiest way to get back to black. I was determined to log some job experience to diversify my paltry resume. So now I work at the paper. My first 9-5 job.
My last blog notwithstanding, I can usually leave my thoughts on work, at work. So that gives me 6-7 hours per day, and many more on the weekend for myself. My three favorite things: poker, movies, and baseball just aren't doing the trick. I was consumed for the first three months of this year by a new diet. The diet itself and my adherence to it was very passive aggressive. It wasn't the most strict of diets, but I stuck to the parameters very closely. I lost a small amount of weight each week, and have finally plateau-ed for the last 3 weeks (a good 30 lighter than when I started).
Another solid I did myself with the diet, was cutting alcohol out altogether. Now that I've reached my target weight, I've slowly let certain concessions back in, but I've come to the realization that I've had a significantly destructive relationship with alcohol throughout the years. My problems pale in comparison to those of many others, but I fully recognize that I have at times self-medicated with a blackout. I see how often I would go out intending to drink to excess. I've discussed these revelations, and many people have told me how great it is that I can recognize these things. I think thats a crock. It doesn't take the feelings away. I've felt genuine frustration in the past couple of nights, and heard myself say inwardly, "I need a drink" for the first time in months.
So we come back to why I need a new hobby. I need something therapeutic. Something simple. Something mindless. I'm considering knitting.
Being that I'm slowly chipping away at at debt, I can't really afford to play poker. I've been entrenched in free bar-league poker since September. After the first 'season' I had told myself that I didn't want to play as often as I did in the winter. And yet I find myself there five nights out of the week. I pray regularly for something worthwhile to present itself each week night, to give me an excuse not to go. I occasionally play micro-stakes online, but that's ultimately more stress-inducing than stress relieving.
I've hit a rough patch the last few weeks with movies. I now juggle three different sources for movies: the theater, netflix, and the new bane of my existence = redbox.
The summer season for movies is almost upon us. My only foible now is waiting to see movies that I want to see. Ever since way back, I've never had a problem going to the theater by myself. The movies never made sense to me as a group activity. Particularly as a date they seem like a huge copout. You would take a girl to the movies with whom you have trouble finding things to talk about. In the past couple of months I've tried to go with different people to the movies. I guess it just sort of grates on me in a very self-involved way.
Netflix bothers me in patches. Occasionally I threre's a flick I want to watch that is the kind of movie that one needs to be in the proper frame of mind to watch. And sometimes that frame of mind just eludes you for an extended period of time. Case and point was Ang Lee's latest movie Lust, Caution. I held on to that one for nearly a month before finally struggling through it the other day. It didn't come close to my three-month "not-flixing" record (still held by the Seven Samurai; which I didn't watch). Caution Is a wartime, period piece with subtitles. And I can't watch it with anyone else because of its explicit content (if I were Kevin Smith I would refer to this as hardcore boning). Most of the time when I doze off the first time I watch a film I give it a second chance, but I just knew it might be another month before I gave it a chance again, so I wrapped it up. I've also found that since I've begun using redbox my netflix usage has slipped.
Redbox is fantastic. $1 a night, no clerk to ask if I want damage protection, online reservation. Because its so difficult to get new releases timely from Netflix, I find myself redboxing every "new movie tuesday." I've only had to keep three movies so far longer than the first night, and still is cheaper than going to the movie store (where I used to go for new releases). They actually enticed me back yesterday with a free rental, because I hadn't been in so long. The only problem with juggling these three sources of movies is that recently its made watching movies more like a chore for me. I would have never thought that was possible.
And baseball. My Braves are no longer nationally telecast (tear). They've had too many ridiculous injuries to their pitching staff already this year. Hopefully when I go to see them play the Mets in September everything is peachy keen. The most enjoyable part of my job has been covering local baseball. I few comments from some parents in the past couple of weeks, has polluted my serene baseball lake enough to bug me just a little bit. I'm driving all the way to Hatteras tomorrow night again (and if another parent makes some kind of comment about how we never cover their sports teams again; I will do one of three things: I'll laugh loudly in their face, hand them my most recent gas receipt, or slash their tires)
So I apologize to anyone I may have freaked out with my recent neuroses. I'm trying to mellow the fuck out. The things that I obsess over, pale in comparison to many things my friends are struggling/dealing with. Feel free if you are one of those people to ask me if I want some "cheese with that whine," and to shut my trap. I just need something to occupy my mind.
I've looking into picking up some random catering shifts with High Cotton. From the way I understand it, it is the simplest work, and the pay is in cash. I'm looking forward after this week to an uncomplicated tax return next year (while praying for my first refund in years). I think I've mentally blocked my recent tax check, because it was simply laughable that i didn't save nearly enough for it over the past year.
Feel free to leave a comment, or a leave similar rant if you like. We all need a good vent sometimes. I will also respond kindly to these rants in a pm if you don't feel like sharing them with my huge blog-audience (I think I had 11 views on my last one; though they could have been the same person 11 times--I don't really know how that counter works)
Don't suspect I'll settle on a specific theme for quite some time. I can certainly guarantee plenty of discussion about movies. Will probably mention baseball from time to time. And there will possibly be some talk of poker as well. Other various topics as well as they arise
For now....I'm going to cheat and repost my latest Myspace blog.
Originally posted yesterday morning
title: something's missing
I was loving life; on cruise control for the last few months, and now the train's derailed. Something's missing...I think I need a new hobby
(edit. this blog ended up being ALOT longer than I thought...I apologize in advance)
I'd like to kid myself and say that what I really need is a hobby because what I'm really scared to admit is that I really need is a change of venue.
Growing up on the Outer Banks, I've become attuned to the laid back lifestyle. But I think I've misapplied it to my own life. Instead of simply being laid back, what I've become is just flat-out lazy. I've never been surfing despite having lived here for nearly all my life. Part of that was my tendency to do my best impersonation of a radish after any prolonged sun exposure. That and I wasn't that athletic growing up. I suppose I hold some sort of misguided grudge against learning how to surf now. Might be quite like when I finally went skiing for the first time when I was 20. Being the oldest in the beginner's class was quite embarrassing.
So the reason I feel I need a new hobby now is due to my abundance of free time, and energy. I naturally have a tendency to over-analyze whatever it is I have tuned my focus to. Leaving things open-ended just sort of eats at me constantly. I've given myself this free time, but I'm not doing anything constructive.
I find myself these days needing to right a capsized ship, but unwilling do it quickly. Coming off my whirlwind stint on the Fun Ship Ecstasy. I found myself in a small financial hole. My following job in Las Vegas would have all but erased the hole, if I hadn't practiced bad game selection and lost a significant portion of my pay. So I find myself at home, needing to make money. But following my unceremonious dismissal from the breakfast shift at a shiteous 24-hour cafe in a second rate casino, I had little desire to go back to waiting tables (even though I figured it might be the easiest way to get back to black. I was determined to log some job experience to diversify my paltry resume. So now I work at the paper. My first 9-5 job.
My last blog notwithstanding, I can usually leave my thoughts on work, at work. So that gives me 6-7 hours per day, and many more on the weekend for myself. My three favorite things: poker, movies, and baseball just aren't doing the trick. I was consumed for the first three months of this year by a new diet. The diet itself and my adherence to it was very passive aggressive. It wasn't the most strict of diets, but I stuck to the parameters very closely. I lost a small amount of weight each week, and have finally plateau-ed for the last 3 weeks (a good 30 lighter than when I started).
Another solid I did myself with the diet, was cutting alcohol out altogether. Now that I've reached my target weight, I've slowly let certain concessions back in, but I've come to the realization that I've had a significantly destructive relationship with alcohol throughout the years. My problems pale in comparison to those of many others, but I fully recognize that I have at times self-medicated with a blackout. I see how often I would go out intending to drink to excess. I've discussed these revelations, and many people have told me how great it is that I can recognize these things. I think thats a crock. It doesn't take the feelings away. I've felt genuine frustration in the past couple of nights, and heard myself say inwardly, "I need a drink" for the first time in months.
So we come back to why I need a new hobby. I need something therapeutic. Something simple. Something mindless. I'm considering knitting.
Being that I'm slowly chipping away at at debt, I can't really afford to play poker. I've been entrenched in free bar-league poker since September. After the first 'season' I had told myself that I didn't want to play as often as I did in the winter. And yet I find myself there five nights out of the week. I pray regularly for something worthwhile to present itself each week night, to give me an excuse not to go. I occasionally play micro-stakes online, but that's ultimately more stress-inducing than stress relieving.
I've hit a rough patch the last few weeks with movies. I now juggle three different sources for movies: the theater, netflix, and the new bane of my existence = redbox.
The summer season for movies is almost upon us. My only foible now is waiting to see movies that I want to see. Ever since way back, I've never had a problem going to the theater by myself. The movies never made sense to me as a group activity. Particularly as a date they seem like a huge copout. You would take a girl to the movies with whom you have trouble finding things to talk about. In the past couple of months I've tried to go with different people to the movies. I guess it just sort of grates on me in a very self-involved way.
Netflix bothers me in patches. Occasionally I threre's a flick I want to watch that is the kind of movie that one needs to be in the proper frame of mind to watch. And sometimes that frame of mind just eludes you for an extended period of time. Case and point was Ang Lee's latest movie Lust, Caution. I held on to that one for nearly a month before finally struggling through it the other day. It didn't come close to my three-month "not-flixing" record (still held by the Seven Samurai; which I didn't watch). Caution Is a wartime, period piece with subtitles. And I can't watch it with anyone else because of its explicit content (if I were Kevin Smith I would refer to this as hardcore boning). Most of the time when I doze off the first time I watch a film I give it a second chance, but I just knew it might be another month before I gave it a chance again, so I wrapped it up. I've also found that since I've begun using redbox my netflix usage has slipped.
Redbox is fantastic. $1 a night, no clerk to ask if I want damage protection, online reservation. Because its so difficult to get new releases timely from Netflix, I find myself redboxing every "new movie tuesday." I've only had to keep three movies so far longer than the first night, and still is cheaper than going to the movie store (where I used to go for new releases). They actually enticed me back yesterday with a free rental, because I hadn't been in so long. The only problem with juggling these three sources of movies is that recently its made watching movies more like a chore for me. I would have never thought that was possible.
And baseball. My Braves are no longer nationally telecast (tear). They've had too many ridiculous injuries to their pitching staff already this year. Hopefully when I go to see them play the Mets in September everything is peachy keen. The most enjoyable part of my job has been covering local baseball. I few comments from some parents in the past couple of weeks, has polluted my serene baseball lake enough to bug me just a little bit. I'm driving all the way to Hatteras tomorrow night again (and if another parent makes some kind of comment about how we never cover their sports teams again; I will do one of three things: I'll laugh loudly in their face, hand them my most recent gas receipt, or slash their tires)
So I apologize to anyone I may have freaked out with my recent neuroses. I'm trying to mellow the fuck out. The things that I obsess over, pale in comparison to many things my friends are struggling/dealing with. Feel free if you are one of those people to ask me if I want some "cheese with that whine," and to shut my trap. I just need something to occupy my mind.
I've looking into picking up some random catering shifts with High Cotton. From the way I understand it, it is the simplest work, and the pay is in cash. I'm looking forward after this week to an uncomplicated tax return next year (while praying for my first refund in years). I think I've mentally blocked my recent tax check, because it was simply laughable that i didn't save nearly enough for it over the past year.
Feel free to leave a comment, or a leave similar rant if you like. We all need a good vent sometimes. I will also respond kindly to these rants in a pm if you don't feel like sharing them with my huge blog-audience (I think I had 11 views on my last one; though they could have been the same person 11 times--I don't really know how that counter works)
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