...was horrible. It was with a (pardon the term) fat gurl in the library downtown. Her lip was hairy and her arms were strong. I want to cry about it every time I think of it, but I can't cry cause that'd make more of a girl than I was for kissing a mustachioed person.

Ok, you may be wondering why a young (e:enknot) was making out in the library downtown, well the short answer is I love my brother. He was hookin' up with my girl's friend and I was running interferance. Ahh, yeessss. I was trained young as a wing man, and in fires hotter than your crotch after an Artfest weekend during a condom shortage. Ok that last bit didn't make much sense.

All the same, the girl was kinda nice. She went for the bait and her friend got diddled by my brosuf in the same library somewhere else. Sadly I feel like everything that I've done with a girl the first time was horrible or disastrous this was just the first of many bad moves.

I'm uh, I'm going to work now.

It's only funny in jokes

I hate my belly. It's ugly and unbeachable. I understand that my body image issues are lame but who cares. Me... too much. That's who.

I'm going to run at the gym and then do bodypump. I'm going to try and make every session of bodypump this week, which is kinda crazy, but I don't care. There's gotta be some way to get a flat stomach after all my effort.

Ooh. So fleet feet on Delaware near Hertel has a new runners club that meets on Wednesday. I'ma go to that too. If anyone is intrested check out some details here. They look like nice people. Nice people without bellies.

The belly fatness needs to end... ingore the interesting people and look at mai bellay!

If you have a kid, this science is clutch. I for one always hated when a teacher of a thing asked this kind of question the first time the topic was introduced. "The level of programming that the processor it self handles is ___". Most people have no way of knowing it, but you're expected to get it really fast Check this video

Daniel Pink on the surprising science of motivation

So i got an email today for the (e:hodown) and it had a link to a very exclusive web site with very designer clothes. I can barely tear my self away and will prolly own this jacket and or buy a vacation at the Venetian in Vegas soon (or I'll miss out on it!).

Look at this bitchin' jacket!

I'm only going to lay out a few because I don't have that much time and I'll prolly loose you after the first one.

The Elephant Man

Yes, John Merrick, and his name is prolly as misspelled as my excuse for the word probably, but he's creeped me out for so long and so deeply that I'm to freaked out to look him up. I don't care if it's misspelled.

I remember hearing about Mr. Merrick for the first time as my sister told the plot of the movie "The Elephant Man" to my siblings and I one dark and boring saturday night. There I was, pressed against the side of the love seat clung to every word she said with the rest of my siblings who were sprinkled around the room also rapt in amazement. No one saw me loosing it slowly to my self near the couch under blankets that didn't do their job of protecting me from anything. I think they rather enjoyed them selves really, while every shred of reason I might have possessed slipped out of me like a litter of aborted puppies.

Later, when ever there was any mention of anything that could remind me of his existence the same horror popped back into my head all jack-in-the-box style and knocked me around. An elephant, a long tube of anything, other malformed people, anything. The movie mask was way off limits after that, and I don't I was the same for a while. Or ever. Hell, even, typing the title of this segment was a feat, Eeeeh....

Being Alone

Most nights. I would stay in my bed and watch a version of the same nightmare replay in my lil tiny Tony head until I was too petrified to leave it for any reason.

Yah, it was the same everytime. I'd do something I had to do and in the process I'd take my eyes off of whomever I was with, typically it was my mom (which is hilarious now since we don't hang out very much at all anymore), and when I turned back she'd be gone. I'd be alone in my house at the bathroom sink, on a bus driving through some terrible part of the city, in a field with tall grass and mangled trees and I'd loose total control of my body. When I woke up I'd be to petrified to move no matter what the reason. I learned to live with the consequences until I got braver.

Kinda explains my social addiction now that I think of it. Gotta work on these things...

Ok here goes. Here's a pic of the "E" man.... nope no, I can't do it. Hmm.. anyone who's into childhood fears should go borrow (from me) or buy the graphic novel "Squee". The writer Johnan Vasques who is also the creator of Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and Invader Zim a once popular children's show on Nickoloden and the forever after decoration of goth children who adore cute things to this day. The Squee book is about all those fears made more real and dangerous than they could ever be. It's effin' funny, and really cute.

Squee

Missing Image ;(

go buy it here or ask me to borrow it sometime.