Good evening or morning. It all depends on which hemisphere you’re in. Actually it depends on when you read this, hemisphere having little to no bearing. Never mind.
Despite all the well wishing I have still not mustered up enough courage to go see Jenny. I did however muster up the courage to go to the doctor again. By ‘muster’ I mean I had an appointment. It was a follow up appointment to see if my blood pressure had dropped at all because it was high the last time I was there. It turns out that my three least favorite words to hear from a doctor are ‘of’, ‘control’ , and ‘out’. Not in that order either. My blood pressure was 159/116. Maybe I shouldn’t have done all that cocaine before going but I gots to get my party on! Y’all know what I’m talkin bout! I blame my drug problem on Christian music. Thanks a lot DC Talk for making me fall into the pit of despair that is my cocaine addiction. I blame DC Talk and Sandi Patti.
They say that one enjoys the type of music that they were raised with growing up. However I wasn’t raised with good music at all. I wasn’t exposed to great music until I worked at a radio station at seventeen. The closest my parents got to decent music was maybe listening to a couple of Beach Boy’s albums. If I continued to listen to the music I listened to when I was a kid I would be jamming to some Sweet Comfort, a seventies Christian band, or Michael Peace, a horrible Christian rapper. Thank God that didn’t happen. I don’t blame my parents though. My dad was a huge Genesis fan. He was a fan of both the book and the group. It’s just that I was only allowed to listen to Christian music which translated means sub-par, thinly veiled, indoctrination. At least Christian kids now have good music. I had crap. I dunno where all that came from sorry.
Back to talking about my ghastly blood pressure. The doctor said it is a result of stress so he put me on some more medication to see if this works. This got me to thinking about my life and how paltry an existence it’s been to this point. It also got me thinking about how lonely it can get being me. Sure all of you think that I lead this extraordinary social life what with all the dating and going out I don’t do. I have always been afraid of an early death which would make you think that I would want to live every moment like it’s my last. You would think a fear like that would make me want to grasp all life has to offer and enjoy every second of it because it might be my last. Instead it seems to have had the opposite effect on me. That’s my problem though, not yours. Sorry to unload again.
That is also another reason I don’t talk to women. Aside from them not talking to me and me looking like Hagrid’s bastard son I am afraid that I might fall in love with someone who might actually feel the same way. Stop laughing, there’s a point here just go with it. I know my mom loved my dad and when he died I know what she went through. I wouldn’t want to put someone I love through that. It’s not some martyr complex either. Some sort of ‘No one could possibly go on without me in their life.’ type of thing. Plenty of people are living just fine without me in their life as it is let alone some girl I haven’t even started going out with. The worst thing that could happen to a girl after she dated me is that she would become a lesbian because I am sure that the prospect of dating me in and of itself is enough to cause a sporadic sexual orientation change in many a woman.
I should go talk to Jenny. Here’s how it would turn out though. We would talk and then she would tell me about how she’s engaged to some dude who is probably a doctor or something. Maybe she has like ninety kids now. It looks like I’m not going to find out any time soon though because I have no courage. Speaking of courage, or the lack thereof, I read once that based on whichever character from the Wizard of Oz is your favorite that represents the one thing you wish you had more of. If you like the Scarecrow you lack a brain and so on. My favorite Wizard of Oz character is the apple throwing tree. What exactly does that mean I lack? The ability to throw parts of myself at people? Damn it’s confusing to be me sometimes.
So I’m not sure if it’s drag queen or porn star but I do know that combining the name of your first pet with your mother’s maiden name is the formula for figuring out what your given name would be. Mine would be George Jaynes. That’s a pretty crappy one. My friend Greg wins this fake contest though with Pixie Beavers. I just thought I’d inject a little random humor in this ever increasing depression fueled blog of mine.
My roommate works for a humor website that is based out of New York. He has been working from home and they told him today that they are flying him out to NYC in a couple of weeks to hang out. I have a feeling I’ll be losing another friend to the enticing world that is called ‘Not Oklahoma’. I mean c’mon it’s New f—ing York. I would love to live there. I just have a feeling a whole lot is about to change for me within the next few months and it’s a little scary. I don’t have the talent he does for writing comedy and I’m an ‘ok’ standup. I’m just getting to that point in my life where being ‘ok’ and not having anything to love is getting real old. I mean I love Speed Racer and Gigantor and Ben Folds and other stuff but I’m talking about loving what I do. It’s not desperation so much as it is like watching someone do something you know you would be good at if given the chance. The same applies to women. I know I would make a good husband. I know I would be a great comedian. I would like to leave behind a legacy. I would like my friends to say that they miss me when I’m gone. I would like my absence to be noticed. I guess I’m just like everyone else in that way. My legacy right now is what I write and who I make laugh. I would rather make one person laugh more than anything. To be a TV writer would be my ideal job. Just to get paid to make people laugh would be amazing. You can go to college and earn a degree and get a job but no one can teach funny. Being funny is God given. Few have it. I’m one of the few. Well one of the few who is really funny. That’s the one and only thing I have confidence in. The meanest thing Amber ever said to me was that I wasn’t funny. Well the second meanest thing. The most mean thing she’s ever said will have to wait until my life’s memoirs are written. It truly is the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said. Good times.
“Look Joel. We endure your anti-Bush stance and tolerate your negativity but you really gotta stop. You’re bringing the rest of us down with your bull crap. So what you have high blood pressure? Get on a treadmill. Who cares that you can’t talk to some girl you haven’t talked to in years? Go talk to her. You’re not special. Everyone goes through these things. It’s called being human. Everyone goes through these things. You just have to grin and bear it. Life is short. Life is way too short to read you’re downer crap everyday. You’d better end on a funny note lest all of us stop reading your blog.” You’re right Hal! (Hal is the imaginary positive person that sometimes rears his handsome head when I’m feeling a bit down. I just made that up. His name is actually Fred.)
I have been watching the Baseball documentary Ken Burns did for PBS a few ago. It’s a ten disc series and I’m on disc six. Today I watched the one about Jackie Robinson. In case you’re from Dibble and you have no idea who that is, he was the first African-American player to play major league baseball. Take that Dibble! Anyway, they said that when he would take the field people would throw black cats onto the field. My sense of humor being what it is, the first thing I thought was that there must have been an abundance of black cats in the forties. “I have all these damn black cats and I’m a racist moron. What should I do? Wait a minute! That black baseball player is in town?! Problem solved!”
I do think it is good that the race barrier was broken in baseball but why did it take so long? 1947? That really wasn’t that long ago. I mean the unbridled and unfounded hate they had for this man was unbelievable. People so angry at someone’s skin color. That’s so ludicrous. “We don’t want no black fella playing a game dammit! Why? Well because he’s black! What? Well that’s the only reason I got that’s why. No he didn’t hurt anyone or do anything illegal or is evil in any way shape or form. He’s black! That’s about the only reason I got. What do you mean ‘good reason’. That’s a good reason right? I mean he wants to play a game and we shouldn’t let him cuz we’re stupid.” The whole last part I’m sure took place at some point sans the acknowledgment of one’s own stupidity.
I am pretty excited about the Hornets but I am a baseball fan first and foremost. Before I die I’d like to see a game at Fenway. Preferably the Red Sox and the Yankees and I would love to see the Yankees at Yankee Stadium before they tear it down. Just thought I’d share that with all of you in case anyone of you knows George Steinbrenner and you can hook a bruva up.
So I guess that’s all I got for now. Please have a good day all. It’s Friday. Have fun.
RIGHT NOW
SONG - Freedom by George Michael. This is one of my all time favorite songs. I don’t know why. Oh yeah. I love Freedom.
MOVIE - The Matrix. The first one. The one that was really good before the crappy sequels came out. It’s my favorite Keanu movie. Wait. I forgot about Sweet November. Oh it’s a toss up now. Funny side note about Sweet November. I had to go with Amber once when that came out and we were sitting in the theater and it seemed everyone there but her knew that movie was a huge pile. About half way through I said aloud “I wish she’d hurry up and die already.” To which everyone but her laughed at. When we got in the car she punched me in the mouth but the joke was still worth it.
Holla.
- Joel
If anyone knows a Jenny D. Who works at an apparel store in Moore could you go ahead and have her shout me a holla? That would be a good way for me to avoid being a man about it.