Bob from New Orleans

March 13, 2005

I have come to terms with the fact that this webpage is nothing more than a public restroom wall for me to scribble graffiti on. From now on, I guess I’ll just write whatever comes to me or happens to me and that will be that.

My “goal” was to make a page that wasn’t like the millions of other blogs out there that nobody reads, but I guess I failed. There are so many damn people out there writing to themselves it make me want to puke. Let’s face it; not many lives are really that interesting. I mean who really cares about what Bob from New Orleans did Monday morning before heading to work? Bob, and that’s about it.

I just wanted to write a few, good articles and leave the whole blog thing alone, but I suppose to do that you have to be passionate about certain things, and I suppose I’m just not really passionate enough about anything to write a “good article.” I’d rather just scribble “Call 555-9109 for a hand job” and give up.

Today I woke up at 8 am with a hangover. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been because I vomited before passing out on my bed with Ben Hur still playing on the TV. The rest of the day was mostly normal.

I just finished watching Sideways, which was great (“Did you drink and dial?”). I have to say that I’m surprised it got so much praise, though, because it doesn’t seem like it would appeal to most people. It’s sort of slow going and it’s got a certain brand of humor. It was filmed in California, so I recognized a lot of places near Lompoc. I liked seeing the tunnel I used to pass through when traveling south to San Diego and I liked seeing Solvang, where I first gambled at an indian casino. I remember the european look of the buildings and even the street they drove in on in the movie. To be honest, it sort of made me want to be back there. That doesn’t mean I had a good time in California, because living in apartments and having no friends is pretty much just shit, but it was a fairly unique place. The beaches out at Vandenberg AFB are not like Florida beaches, which are bright and white and clear. The beaches there are foggy and craggy and they’re cold, and you go there to end the lives of many a starfish by pulling them away from the rocks and ocean. You don’t really go there for fun. It was still good, though. Better than here. Anyway, Sideways is a good movie. I wonder if I’ll end up being a bearded, overweight, disheveled man sucking on bottles of wine. At least if I knew about wine I’d have an excuse for drinking so much. My pallet isn’t quite so discerning, as it is mainly used as a resting place for the likes of Schlitz and Red Dog, which undoubtedly have slight traces of urine and rat feces…not strawberries and cloves. I cannot be saved.

That’s about it. I don’t work tomorrow, so I’ll probably stay up late tonight and continue to withdrawal from Lexapro and feel hung over. All I need now is the beard…

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