TMIT: RESOLUTIONS? I WANT TO FUCK HOT BABES MORE...

PIC 3 from top: man but do i want X FILES to come back...in some capacity...whether a new series or another okay-not-brilliant-but-decent-kinda-subpar-but-alright film...the Truth is out there, but it's taking a long-ass time to come by the Truth...also, "24" movie...yeah, let's go...my adrenaline is tanking...especially after seeing Jack Bauer in Melancholia off himself, i need to be jarred the other way.

1. any strip poker in your life? strip spin-the-bottle? any resultant nudity? details please: well since you said please so nicely, i'll spill. no...i mean, maybe in college, every good and bad thing ever happened to me in college...i probably did, but was too *green* to remember, i was taking a massive amount of late-night environmental classes...while stoned off my ass. oh, there was this one time i played strip naked seven-minutes-in-heaven...the maid was cleaning the closet at the time...that's how we met...

2. did Naked Twister lead to anything further?

Timmy: Jimmy, i'm ready to poo.

Jimmy: what? i'm having my oatmeal over here, whaddaya want?

Timmy: Jimmy, it's time for me to poo...remember what we talked about?

Jimmy: oh come on, wait 'til i have my grapefruit juice first.

Timmy: i'm gonna poo! i can't wait! it's coming!

...oh...that's...this off-Broadway one-act play i created during the break...still working on it...um, naked Twister? no, i don't do that stuff, even regular Twister, the rules of that game are too complicated for my small peanut brain to grasp.

3. did Truth or Dare ever lead to nudity or fondling? nudity, no. fondling, yes. i was big into Madonna in those days, still am, but this was during her Truth or Dare days. i was engaging in some heavy pop-culture wordplay with my bespectacled friend Norbert. Norbert wasn't a geek, just misunderstood. five squirrel-licks later, there's me having to dress in a Madonna leotard, fondling Norbert...'s hair, touching Norbert's hair, messing it up, ol' Norbert hated when people played with his finely-coiffed hair.

4. key parties, recount: ah, key parties, a staple of the '70s. i wasn't quite of age to partake in them, but i did live them in a way. one word, one movie title: The Ice Storm, PIC 4 from top. yep, Sigourney Weaver, a '70s key party, as groovy as it gets. y'know, that movie was one of the first i rented from this place which was run by a cool mustachioed lawyer and his hot after-goth babe employee at the counter, one of the first places i staked my stakes in when i moved to this area. yeah, that's around the time i started getting serious about movie-watching, i was done with the popcorn summer blockbusters, i wanted to start watching and studying films, not movies, the stuff that are studied in film classes, the foreign stuff by the legends, the obscure indies, i wanted to get lost in that stuff, it hurts a pop-culture maven writer like myself when his source of material is limited because he hasn't seen a certain film and thus misses the reference that everyone else gets at a party, y'know...a key party.

5. unexpected co-ed skinny dipping in a group? skinny-dipping, yea. unexpected, no. what was unexpected was the doody that was floating around in the pool, some dude yelled DOODY!!! and all of us babes and studs had to flee the scene completely naked and scamper across the golf course late at night like chickens with our heads cut off. later, i'm not so offended by doody as my friends were, so i decided to eat the doody...no biggie, 'twas but a candy bar...yea, you've caught me, thanks to the fine folks at Netflix, i just watched last night Caddyshack, the good version of the film, the uncut, uncensored version, i give it three thumbs up...i have three thumbs.

bonus: do you have a favorite fantasy about a sexy party? share now: well, there's what actually happens at a party for me these days, and then there's the fantasy, the fantasy is always more luscious, the fantasy involves a threesome with two blogger friends of mine, one who is taking a dangerous plane ride to promote her art, i find that so admirable and hot, and the other who i'm fighting with currently...hopefully, we can make amends, for makeup sex is always the raunchiest kind of sex...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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FRIDAY THREE: IN MEMORIAM

everybody out there, help me out here with this one. please participate.

the Oscars telecast is famous for its In Memoriam segment, where we all take a moment to remember those we lost in the film industry this year, their bright faces shine on the silver screen as maudlin, sometimes inspirational, music plays in the background. well, blogs and bloggers can be memorialized in this way, too. blog friends are fickle, they can be your bestest friend in the whole wide world ever one minute, a wisp of online air that disappears in the night the next, never to be heard from again. hey, i sympathize, i can relate, lord knows how many times i've wanted to delete this albatross of a blog i've got here and move on, whatever "on" may mean. so, in the spirit of this being the last week (ever), think of three blogging friends of yours whom you've lost contact with, either they deleted their blog, they were forced to delete their blog, you woke up one morning to find their blog deleted against their will, ahem, like me, ahem, Blogger, fuck you Blogger, i lost over 500 followers at my previous blog, i'll never forgive you for that...or the blog is simply abandoned...by the way, there is something surreal and eerie about an abandoned blog, ya feel me? it just sits there, stuck on a date eight months ago, you feel that the author wasn't done expressing her thoughts, there's more to say, that's why it's abandoned and not deleted, it's still there, it still exists, if she can only reach the keyboard again, extricate herself out of the dire situation she is in which is preventing her from posting anew, it leaves her readers with a sense of worry but also sparks the imagination as to where she is now, what she's doing, what she's doing at this very second to get by/live her life.

yeah, so instead of the usual five questions which you find here at this time each week, list the 3 blogs/bloggers you miss and explain what made these online people special to you, leave them with a little end-of thank-you note for all that they did for you in coping with whatever in your life. now don't go revealing any aliases or breaking confidentiality agreements or anything, don't go causin' trouble now, keep the anonymous anonymous, this is meant to be a fun game, not a lawsuit. follow my example in the comments section. happy holiday season, my beloved babies. oh, my own future? all signs point to hazy, we'll see what happens with a few of my spoons in the pot this coming month...

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TNH: THE MAYANS WERE RIGHT. THE WORLD ENDS...AND THE POST-GOD PARTY BEGINS

*CLICKY CLICKY*

click above on the Dresden Codex for #5 of 5, The End

God Dies

He became embarrassed of His creation, ashamed, and after soul-searching the universe, He decides to land here back on Earth as is His wont to accept the final Melancholia consequence.

God is comprised of a floating ball of light for a head with a face that looks like every human's face who has ever lived or will live, no flowing white beard and locks as is depicted by the master artists, rather, God sports a buzz cut after all the suffering. two long arms are by the face, suspended by magic in the air, the right arm is robed in black, the left in red, and there's a pocket protector that God wears which contains in it all of mankind's evil, the greed, the crime, the war, the religious wars, and the innocent lives lost in the pursuit of whatever motive

the black arm has packed into it the sinews and veins of human progress, from Adam's rib to a Roman shield to blood wine to a Wall coming down to a sword made of ivory to Genghis Khan's furry hat, Galileo's telescope, Michelangelo's hand and pizza, Frankenstein's bolts, an industrial workmanship, a computer key which births the first internet troll, Kurt's powder-blue guitar, Billy Corgan's seminal creativity, a calculator, and a split rock, it all unfurls like the shiniest flag

i am bone-exhausted, i am soaking wet, i am splayed out hard into the ground, my face is caked in mud from that massive water incident two poems ago, i survived, barely, i don't have the strength but i can just barely manage to lift my face from the mud and reach my eye to view what is going on

the Mayflower begins to sail on invisible air, its moorings form the boundary of where God will do His final work.

there is a bridge, do you see it? there is a covered bridge, covered in used love notes and tissue paper, the bridge is over an uncrossable waterway that is filled with acid and human divorces, this bridge connects two plots of land, the green one God is on now, and a yellow one...

God's red sleeve uncurls to reveal a short list of those who understood what love was, there is the one and only love note which got answered, the one internet romance which was real, the one reality-show marriage which lasted, and a dump pile of remote controls and computer mice.

not long now, Melancholia is slowly churning into the first side(s) of Earth, beautiful Earth, our only earth, the doomed planet, our only home which we took for granted, too late to crow about it now, three times the black crow crows

God is tired, too, and ready to go, His final transformation: a rusty lead pipe comes out of His nose, it forms straight up like Pinocchio's nose and begins shooting out slips of paper with pithy writings on them, as if all of this human experience can be summed up like so many Chinese fortune cookie sayings, centuries and centuries of human living outlined in a few types and final doom sentences:

it was the wrong crucifix

it's a Wonderful Life, it's some sort of life, anyway

Art will never pay, but i, me, the late phoenix, will die for Art broke and penniless forever

Imagination will always trump Information, remember that as you turn on your computer again

oh what a stirring sound we humans make!

those clicking boxes in my dreams are the clicking boxes in my nightmare

what can we lose if we lose our memories?

what do we have to show for it in the end, Love or Lunch?

the rumbling becomes too much to bear, it's an eternal rumbling that sounds eerily like a baby's first cry, Mother Earth was a hot babe but everyone loses their looks eventually, and the Brain was poisoned by pop culture, my mother, you should see my mother now, she has the quintessential TOTC attitude when she hears of tragedies now, it's like, what can i do? apathy is squirming its way into empathy, Too Old To Care, too many years logged on our doomed Dome World

the clouds form a wreath for God's head, flickering light now, the OFF switch pops out of His spleen just in time

the covered bridge, i can just see through the bridge, on the other side there is a patch of land, my skin is so sore, there is a table, on the table there are 16 glasses filled to the brim with champagne, a steady mark beat hits the glasses, forming a thud circle like in that Jurassic Park movie, why else set up glasses except for a party? this slight peek, over the peaks of human understanding, another dimension?

CLICK HERE FOR THE NAUGHTY HANGOUT

in this one cheesy dimension, no, comfortable dimension, inside the champagne glasses is this one last music: CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

there is fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear

fear of the unknown, who will be our Daddy now? the Earth is gone destroyed...but our ultimate fear is of connecting with people strange to you

there is love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

no, we haven't the first clue on true love, two lifetimes of studying and reading to do

there is song song song song song song song song song song song song song song

that song in the car we know all the lyrics to, all the chord progressions, it's familiar, it gets us by, our familiar, the familiar spirit

there is fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear

there is love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

there is song song song song song song song song song song song song song song

fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear

love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

song song song song song song song song song song song song song song

fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear fear love love love love love love love love love love love love love love song song song song song song song song song song song song song song

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TMIT: I NEVER KNEW WHAT TIRED MEANT UNTIL NOW

1. what is the best thing you received for Crimbus? haven't Crimbussed yet, a mere day away, i'm just hoping i get two lumps in the stocking this time instead of one, that way we can make coal soup. mmmmmmmmm, coal soup. Father Crimbus, what'd you say, huh? make a phoenix's Crimbus wish come true.

2. what is the best gift you gave for Crimbus? i'm dreaming...of a White Crimbus...yeah, and we all know what the white signifies...it's not snow, it's something else, some other fluid...made in bed...

3. what is your Crimbus wish? i'm so tired from everything i've had to endure this month, it came at me from all sides, both internal and external, it's a miracle i'm still here, this month has felt like two, i just hope i continue on and it was all worth it...blog friends becoming lovers, it can happen, only on The Hub and in my dreams.

4. what are your plans for New Year's Eve? i'm taking apart my Doomsday Bunker, selling the extra food rations and gas masks i had packed in there to buy a car so i can drive up the highest mountain and build another Doomsday Bunker just in case the scientists calculated the Mayan date wrong.

bonus: how did you, or rather how do you, prepare for the End of the World?: all i can say as a simple response to this little ditty is read my post this Wednesday, it will be the greatest post i ever write...

CLICK HERE FOR TMI TUESDAY

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FRIDAY FIVE: MRS. CLAUS, YOU SO CRAZY

okay, i need EVERYONE out there, i mean EVERYONE, to participate in this one, i need all of you guys' help. yes, that includes YOU, too! yes, YOU!

FIRST, CLICK HERE.

that is a festive remake of this commercial: CLICK HERE.

now, everyone, please answer the following questions:

1. which of the two commercials did you enjoy more? why? the one with the milf is the original one.

2. do you ever dress up as a sexy Mrs. Claus or hott elf during the holidays to spice things up in the sack like hot spiced cider?

3. does touching devices count as human contact?

4. do you think Santa studies his sexual naughty list not so much to prepare for the Big Night but rather to glean ideas for Mrs. Claus in the Crimbus sack? a sack, btw, that's adorned with white poofballs

5. how have you used technological advances to advance the fuck quotient in your particular relationship?

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TNH: CRIMBUS SWEATER

*CLICKY CLICKY*

click above on Billy Corgan and his epic Crimbus sweater for #4 of 5

there was excitement when i discovered this, it was like finding a rare squiggly-lined home movie of your hero in music and in life. actually, yes, that's exactly what it was.

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK, AND MIND THE HOMEMADE CANDLE

CLICK HERE FOR THE NAUGHTY HANGOUT

MURRY CRIMBUS EVERYBODY

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LOOK UP AT THE NIGHT SKY, AND WHEN YOU SEE THAT STAR, THAT IS ME, WITH YOU FOREVER

...that's what my mom's mom told her about death when my mom was a little girl...

...AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

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TNH: COULD THIS FINALLY BE THE MOMENT?

*CLICKY CLICKY*

click above, the time is drawing near, soon, very soon, the planet Melancholia will smash into Earth, and it will all be over. #3 of 5

i'm in water, in the middle of a vast ocean with no landing in sight, i'm the character in the last crayon drawing of a poor little girl who died of cancer in the hospital, i live out her final wish being the actor in her play, i'm drowning...in memories, last thoughts, and clips of the past

too tired to move on, to reach for air, to gasp again, but i've made it thus far somehow, not on steam and motivation, but on miserable luck

Dad's Ghost is my swim partner in the salty seas, he was never salty, just hard-going when it came to telling the truth

xmas party, i'm the mistletoe virgin

must remember to take my scheduled 2PM-3PM nap, that's where i rest my head, calm my racing thoughts, and dream up song lyrics and song melodies, they come to me without effort, but FUCK FUCK FUCK i always FUCKING forget the beautiful melodies and chord progressions i envision, they're not there when i wake up, and i bemoan my station in life, that coulda been a #1 selling song on the charts, i could be rich and famous now, i could be next to Seth in line to be interviewed by Barb Walters in her upcoming Fascinating People special

it's all over, it's just begun, a new start of overs, begun into more nevers

water creeping up inside my gullet now, more salt is never a good thing unless on pasta

my physical heart was never the problem, it was strengthening the interior one with exercises of kindness and blog kindness, so rare a commodity these days

the last tree, the last bush, the last Bush

what does it really mean for it all to end?

to end, to end, but the end must find a space in an area which is not the end

the show's over, but the ghosts of the show's actors remain in the lips of those dead and gone but who wrote about what they saw and others saw that online and online is no more but the wisps and thoughts of something are typing again on an unknown planet which is really Earth reborn into another false religion which is typing up new pamphlets to hand out to the adoring congregation and the burden of non-belief gives way to the burden of belief and i'm drowning, so why do i see things clearly for the first time? the water is so murky and yet my eyes are crystal clear

the last joke is the funniest

to not have a life was your life, your destiny is right around the corner, needs more types, more emails, back and forth respond and comment to comment and comment on that comment, 12/12/12, 2012 is really Year Zero

solitary, no boats, paddling silently on an ocean of calm, dead calm, the dead ocean already dead and springing with new lifeforms, another oil spill is par for the course, eventually it all clears up, everything clears up everything eventually eventually eventually

root canals are merely meditative opportunities: Murry Crimbus and a happy Last Year

music music of the sea, a red-haired mermaid glances at me with a childhood nostalgia arrow perched aiming at my third eye

poor girl who died, another shooting, another reason to blend trains of thought into an infomercial blender

a fixed moment in time, a fixed point in time

and *BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB*88888888888888888888888888888888888 star mass Star Mass continued to be continued...somehow...sometime...after these messages, we'll return to the show...swirl swirl swirl swirlie...giant beautiful double-helix shape discovered just in time, everything forms into the double-helix, i'm being sucked in, sucked...AND YOU CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK, LISTEN TO THIS WHILE CLUTCHING THE HAND OF YOUR SISTER IN A MAGIC CAVE WITH A GOLDEN TICKET BY YOUR SIDE...this is Romantic music, not melancholic music, Lars teaches us on the DVD extras...CLICK HERE FOR THE NAUGHTY HANGOUT

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MY ROOT CANAL EXPERIENCE: I GET THROUGH IT SOMEHOW

i gaze at the iron chair, the white chair of my death, this is not what i wanted, i thought i was just gonna get some stronger pain pills and be done with it, but before i knew it, i was not saying no to a root canal.

fuck, he actually wanted to do it right away down the hall, but i was too tired, wasn't prepared for major scary surgery, i was blindsided by these turn of events, i knew what it meant to be a lowly worker with a boss who forced you not to join the union, the feeling of not being in control of your life, your next day's activities.

the one positive which came out of day one was that hot-as-fuck receptionist who *handled* my paperwork, i mean, FUCK!!! she was the very definition of MILF, she had the muppet face, the long brown hair, a compact, tight frame, and those impossibly huge tits bursting out of her black sweater top, i mean FUCK. the only thing left was a glance at the ass, that wouldn't come until today.

not a good night last night, couldn't get to sleep, was terrified of this relatively safe and ordinary procedure, but this wasn't a root canal in the abstract, a root canal like you see performed on Goofy in cartoons, this was real, man, this was gonna happen on me, and i couldn't get out of it, metal would touch mouth bone.

i tossed and turned all night, trying to fit my pajamed self into a proper position which wouldn't aggravate the burning right side of my mouth more but would be comfortable enough to get me at least a few winks, a few hours of rest. i counted sheep, i dreamt those sheep were on a neverending rollercoaster, anything to distract my mind, muzak song lyrics, the sheep are playing bass for Billy...before i knew it, it was 12 midnight, 1AM, i am fucked...

5:45 AM, should i eat something before? aren't you supposed to fast before major surgery? was this really major surgery? should i rinse out with that useless medicated mouthwash that local celebrity dentist had prescribed for me. fucking useless celebrity dentists. didn't do a thing for the pain, neither did the much-vaunted vicodin, it seems only two white pills of VANQUISH fits my body right, it's the only thing which helps, at least for 15 minutes. i ended up in my worried commotion wolfing down a terrible-tasting toasted onion bagel and i was off.

oh, but the milf receptionist did happily invade my dreams that night, if i did in fact dream, i don't remember, but there are traces of images stuck in my head of her and me and a country estate and cum and clit juice mixing with novocaine out there on an open-air country hammock.

the appointment is at 8, i'm early, want too much to get this shit over with, the lights aren't even on yet, the nurses are just stumbling in with their coffees and their perfect bodies. seriously, i did pick a babe field here, what is it with these women who work reception? they are all hot as mother-fuck! i mean they got their high heels showing off, they got their designer clothes knocking dead, they have that particular body shape, y'know, it's unnaturally hot, they are skinny as toothpicks but have the largest breasts you ever did see, no bra, huge puffy nipples in full view, i mean it has to be plastic surgery, right? everybody is already soaked in that field of doctors and doctor/nurse baby-daddy he-left-his-wife-for-you drama anyway, so it makes sense? at any rate, wow, i could breathe for a minute. and the asses, they all got those tight asses so readily evident in those *business pants* they wear, why, the milf herself entered the room and sauntered over to her desk, showcasing her delicious gray-pants ass. her blue eyes motioned for me to collect my insurance card. i went in the Buddhist lotus monk position waiting thirty minutes though it seemed like thirty hours, too entranced was i to notice any strange looks speared my way, if there really were any actually.

it seemed as if my execution was being delayed by the governor, but finally, a short Latina nurse led me to the gallows, the white CHAIR of doom. y'know how you read about all those medical proceedings which go horribly wrong, guy comes in for a leg cramp and ends up without a leg, woman complains of a sore, gets unnecessary surgery, dies the next day, isn't it ironic, doncha think? i figured i had had a pretty good life, a lot of my artistic and creative dreams were still left unfulfilled, had never really been in love, but, y'know, in total i had experienced things, not all bad things, so i couldn't complain, if it was my time to die, i'd go to Hell and that's where the real paperwork would begin.

all it takes to remind me that i'm not a well person, i'm not just another bloke walking down the street, i'm sick, i've got anxiety, i've got some mental problems or something, is to have me tied to a dentist chair with that deceptively-nice-colored baby bib with the cold silver chain on, i started to freak out, i asked myself how i was gonna get through this, i thought i was gonna be sedated throughout so i wouldn't have to experience anything, i'd just go to sleep and wake up some time later and everything would be over, wouldn't know any of the horrors performed on me, but it turns out, the best they could do was some nitrous oxide to calm me, i'd have to stay awake and see all the drills attack me. great, at least i could laugh it off. i thought i was gonna wrestle through out of the chair, break though the window overlooking a pastoral scene of trees and birds, and run myself straight to the mental institution for an umpteenth evaluation. who could i turn to? my girlfriend? don't have one of those. Jesus? i forsaked him as a fairy tale long ago, didn't have clearance anymore to the Big Guy in the Garden, my golden ticket had been torn up, sorry, Buddy, we need to talk...it was me alone in my suffering and panic.

fuck me, fuck my life, this is the lowest of the low, this is NOT a white Crimbus, but shit, i mean, i had to just do it somehow, my legs were turning with internal needles brought on by me before the real needles pointed. my headache grew, grew, grew...who? what? more x-rays for this and that? yes, Miss Latina, okay, whatever you want, let's just do this, is it over? oh, hasn't started, is this gonna be a quick job here? oh, it depends on how tricky my roots are. fucking roots, love their music, respect, but not the dental ones.

"Can we lower you back in the chair here," the dentist spoke, "You're a tall guy."

"Yes". i didn't turn around to see his face, it was mouth-covered anyway, was too ashamed he'd see my shame.

"Um, yeah, can i have some gas or something, i'm kinda nervous here," i said like some feeble boy.

ah-ha! some dark glasses were put on me as my eyes stared directly into the main crane dentist light, in the background an overhead oceanic painting, dolphins in the middle.

i knew i would one day be a rock star wearing sunglasses inside...i...here comes a breathing device over my mouth, oh, the beautiful swishing sound of gas, hissing, hissing, i wanted to close my eyes and fall unconscious, but at least my hard fingers which were secretly cupping my knees and close to my junk under the bib were starting to relax. my junk needed a break from the nervous, too. hiss, hiss, onto just over my lips, i must have looked like Bane or something ridiculous, they even Vaselined my full lips, too much, Rita, the doctor noticed, too much of the sticky stuff, i've heard that before: when my big lips kiss various women.

this is still all preparation, this anticipation is killing me, they're still numbing me, numbing the fuck out of my cheeks, putting something on there with something, was it a sharp silver rod? couldn't tell, had my eyes closed, it was strange, you heard the instruments bustling, but you had no idea what they actually looked like. were they pins, needles, huge hammers, bolts, all circling with energy and motorizing their lives at you, the sound of *working*, buzzing, ready to enter my mouth?!

oh my mouth, what secrets you have hid from others, even the ones you loved. now it would all come out, the lies and facades and masks you have worn with people can't help but be freed now that my mouth is helplessly WIDE OPEN, the ghosts of my past and my future failings rush out like specters and hit my tongue on their way out.

i am okay, though, because i really don't feel anything, the numb cream is working, the air is on my side, i can actually breathe a little relief, i am shielded, i have a huge big bronze shield inbetween my teeth and those needle pick crude-iron soldiers attacking my gums, the dentist can do anything to me, he could crush my teeth to bits with a hammer, he could poison my gums with a secret prick, it doesn't matter, i won't feel a thing, just the motions of hurt, the sounds of hurting instruments trying to hurt but failing, i am immune.

this is taking a long time, it's one axe to sword to battleaxe to another knife all entering my mouth rooting my fucking canal, filling up all those roots and canals with special pink salve, which might as well be street heroin, filling up all my holes as i want my favorite blogger to do some day.

it's a tricky one, it's a many-layered root, many canals sliding and trapped all over the place, hard to extract, hard to find, enough with the hide-and-seek, tag it, it's IT, no take-backs. the dentist wants me to move my tongue a certain way, to hit the roof of my mouth, but all i do is move my tongue forward out my mouth, i'm completely disoriented on my back in that chair looking up. great, the doctor thinks i'm a kindergarten idiot who still plays with shapes, who needs a mnemonic to tell his right from his left. something about Monday Night Football, he wants to take his daughter and ex-wife to a Browns game, Patriots crush the Texans, i'm looking up and the dolphins have transformed into a dragon's head.

something about dentist pellets, and codes that i know not of, 6Y, distal GH, and OP-2, stat, Rita services...and there's another voice, oh man, it's the voice of the milf from beyond the hallowed halls of Reception, she sees me splayed out, wimpering like a child, she thinks i'm a weenie, she'd never fuck me now, i'll never get to taste those tits.

something about zoning out, meditating while under here in the light and the bright, yes, that is what i'm doing, as the noisy fucking drills perform their black magics upon my person, i'm thinking of what this very blog entry will be titled, i'm thinking of what typings i will and won't include, the very sentences i'm typing now.

has it been an hour? a day? it seems to be slowing to an end, that constant gas was my constant companion, hissing and blocking evil spirits. things are coming off...

i used to make fun of dentists, even though it is statistically true that dentists out of everyone in the medical profession have the highest suicide rate since all of their patients dread seeing them, it doesn't exactly add to the self-esteem, and not mentioning the fact that December has the highest suicide rate among those who don't have a solid family and are reminded of that on Christmas Day, my usual double-whammy of doom-and-gloom vanished here, i'll never make fun of dentists again, they are heroes, he is my hero, this is a man of science, grain, salt, and worth, he fixed me, he removed my pain, and i am forever grateful. i don't shake hands, i don't shake hands with ANY humans, but i did, i turned around and shook his hand and saw that he was quite the handsome man there without the mask, like a clean-shaven Brad Pitt, i said "thank you very much" and i said it from the bottom of my still-beating heart...i tried to shake the hand of Rita, but she flew away.

the milf helped me set up another appointment for my crown placing, i stared at her tits and her blue eyes about the same...now that's a lie. she explained something to me about not eating granola bars right away or i'd undo all that fucking work in one sad bite, i was busy rearranging my sex dreams in my head again, my spank bank was rebooting as i turned and walked out the door. she said my name, though, the milf said "Phoenix!"

driving out the windy roads past the cluster of village houses which encased all those dentists and babe receptionists who smelled so nice, you women always smell so nice, huh? that's what hooks us men, it works every time, we men barely use soap once a week, it's that fresh exotic smell of a hot woman which entices a man's base senses..and i sense something, down in the bottom left-half of my jaw, the part that wasn't worked on, two short sharp jolts of pain...

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TMIT: 'TIS THE SEASON...FOR GUM DISEASE

well, in only a few hours, i go see my dentist, this could be the end, i could die from an infection started at the root of the excruciatingly painful right side of my jaw straight to my already-frenzied brain. funny thing is, i think the woman i'm gonna see is the star of all these local ads around here where i live featuring her and her dentist family, she's quite the babe, so at least she'll be gentle with me when the time comes, i've got that going for me as the time nears.

1. during the December holiday season, do you fuck out with another family, chill alone by yourself, kick it with the fam, or go to your secret-rendezvous lover? rendezvous IF IF IF somebody i know responds to my many non-stalkerish non-creepy emails. i use Crimbus to branch out, since i'm alone the rest of the 11 months.

2. what is your favorite holiday tradition each year? when i was young, i put on for my parents elaborate Christmas shows full of animatronic, Disneylandesque creatures and characters of my own creation, card games with the fam, candy and cocoa by the fire-break, and we'd end it all with some good Chipmunks holiday music. those were the days. now, well...

3. as you walk down the street a hot babe or gorgeous stud with a KISS ME sign is packin' some mistletoe. what's your next move? kiss, fuck, number, never see again

4. Santa sent you a frantic email detailing all of the naughty things you did this year as to why you're on the naughty list this year. what were those things? look, it was ONE time, man, let it go, Gramps, Mrs. Claus was shakin' that booty at me, man, i mean, y'know, i'm just a guy...bowl full of my jelly...

5. your punishment is that you have to, are forced to, learn about holiday cheer, you're locked in a room and can't get out until you watch an entire film on the subject, no food or water, which movie do you choose? A Christmas Story, It's A Wonderful Life, White Christmas, A Christmas Carol, either the 1938 original or the 1992 Muppets version: all of these films have been blogged to death, but the one thing i like about this question as it is originally on the wordpress site is the links to youtube trailers and clips, that is so ME, without youtube, this blog wouldn't be as colorful as it is, there's already too much black-and-white doom-and-gloom from the author, those exciting links to youtube vids full of others' comments from around the world always color these blog proceedings, don't they? this is a quandary for me, of course i'd have to go with the 1938 original, nothing beats the classics and the FIRST ONES, i have to be a film-critic-historian-asshole on that one, BUT at the same time, we're talking about the Muppets here, Jim Henson, the god of creativity...also, we're talking about the '90s here, which, as everyone knows, was THE decade of original thought and creativity, so...yeah...tough one...

bonus: the holidays are hectic, especially on one's teeth, so what do you do to "chill" and "heat things up" during this snow month? i hear ya about the teeth. i want my personal wish to come true, i want a stable lover, not necessarily a stable of lovers, but one plane stable lover, but i suppose i'm still human, so i want my global human wish to come true: peace on earth (until Melancholia hits us), and good will to men (and women, sexy sexy women). that's how i chill, by projecting my tiny problems onto the world with grand beauty-pageant stock answers. things are about to "heat up" for me now, i'm gonna get some unexpected emails from sexy womens from all over the world...god bless us, every head, uh, everyone.

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CAROLING TO ATHEISTS

Raji was an amazing new type of new kid who perfumed an air of arrogant confidence about him, an air seemingly disproportionate with his state of being new, new kids were supposed to be meek, humble, and at the ready to get beat down. Raji: shortish, short brown hair, thin, but smart, smart enough to be a smart-ass, there was an intellligence in his eyes, but it was mixed with the smugness of his lips when he talked down to people. idunno, looking back, this was just his defense mechanism, this is how he tried to fit in, we are all stupid kids just trying to get by on luck, hope, and smirks.

he was 4.0 like me, so shit, i couldn't top him there. our first encounter was as usual as his other encounters with the other students, he sized me up, knew i posed no threat, snickered at my gangly awkwardness and speech impediment, then muttered something to me about free period, i didn't hear him, or i didn't want to, i was no good with social situations much like i am today, so i remained mute, and he probably thought i was a deaf-mute, or dumb, the other definition of dumb, or actually, both definitions of dumb, and with a casual flick of his wrist, he knew he had conquered me, that i was with the nerds/freaks/geeks, and he could leave me to ascend the social ladder.

again, this whole situation was quite odd, for Raji wasn't your typical cool kid: he was new, didn't play sports, did well in school, looked like a rat, was a rat, and was an asshole, this was impossible what he was achieving. there was a wall between us all throughout the year which i assumed would stay mortared up forever, and i was quite content with that, i could recede back to being an unknown nobody who wrote in dark journals and had just listened for the first time to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" on a used discount-bin cassette tape, two years after everyone else, it changed my life, the others in my class knew about the song and the band, ho-hummed it, and went on. i never went on the same again.

well it's Christmas time, and who happens to be at the same altar-boy function as me? yep, Raji and his rich family and pleasant sister. cute happy bubbly sister, i thought, but she was still young, she didn't reflect the rest of the family, hadn't developed bad habits yet, she would probably end up being the white sheep. rich family, i was prepared for more of that trademark Raji arrogance and uppity noses, but the fat dad and pretty mom were nice enough, they talked to me like i wasn't a circus sideshow just because i wore eyeliner. this had to be the magic of Christmas, the time when a beautiful festive lens comes over everything, terrible personality traits smooth off into holiday cheer, and generally, people of different ilk come together for a purpose bigger than their own egos, in this case, caroling to the neighborhood.

whatever was going on, i didn't question it, Raji would return to his asshole ways come the stroke of midnight on Jan 1, so this was my one and only time to strike to talk. some of our greatest friends and loves arise and are formed out of the December holiday and winter season, it's the cold in the air that reminds everyone that they are human and the end is near, it's the last month, the last, the final month to make amends before it all ends into something new. friends and bitter enemies join as one over tinsel and nog, they take a break from their acting roles they've been performing on the school stage all year long, they're tired of their jock/bully/cheerleader/mean girl roles, they want to just be, take off their masks and stretch their limbs, sip some hot cider as the stage remains dark all month, closed for Christmas.

so, Raji's family, the priest, and i went about our way in our wool scarves and tacky sweaters, walking slowly up and down the row of houses, some were strewn openly with their bright Christmas lights, others were as black and silent and lonely as the night sky. we sang "Hark" and "Silent" and Father even allowed one "Jingle" to the appreciative folks listening to us belt from their front porches, we talked gibberish and the latest Transformers toys in between sips of hot chocolate laced with mini marshmallows...

then, we came upon a house that was lit with red, green, and silver, so we commenced with the singing. after the third carol, still no one came out of the door to greet us.

Raji turned his head to me and exclaimed, "Must be atheists."

i was still new to atheism, i had just begun piecing together what that was, me being the studious Catholic boy all my life, thinking of such things was blasphemous, but i got Raji, i knew what he was saying, and i laughed heartily, it wasn't a fake laugh, i really laughed, and Raji laughed at me, or with me, who knows? i have a strange laugh, we laughed, i snorted out chocolate from my nose, that was the first time i had seen Raji smile, a genuine smile, not a smirk. fuck, that was the first time i laughed uninterrupted and without pause to think about how this would affect my social standing in a long time.

i learned a lesson that day...about religious intolerance, false facades, how involuntary laughs tear down social ladders and glue us together, and hot church cocoa...but for the life of me i can't remember it now as i approach this Christmas...can you?

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