WATER also religion v science

I try not to belabor the point, but belief that the scientific method is wrong would be ludicrous. I was just talking to someone from my religion class, someone who is a strong believer. The worst kind of believer because in the face of rational thought processes they still clutch to their dogma. Which is the same as clutching your ears to block sound and screaming "NANANANANA!" Beyond that it shows a supreme ignorance, moreover a decision to ignore the way things are because they have the word "science" attached to them. I cannot explain the scientific method right now, but I was just talking to Kevin about water. Which reminds me of a religious argument Uncle David had with Kevin. Until Kevin said:

Water is amazing. It is 3 elements: Oxygen and two hydrogen (H2O). Hydrogen is highly reactive (research Hindenburg for more info) and has a slight positive charge. Oxygen on the other hand has a slight negative charge (also Florine). Opposites attract. Hydrogen is bonded to oxygen but still attracts another water molecule by oxygen. This is called a hydrogen bond.

It allows trees to exist by allowing water to be pulled up from the roots to the leaves without breaking the flow or stream of water because each molecule holds another. Water likes to join with itself which is why it boils so hot for being so small a molecule.

These hydrogen bonds occur at 46 degree angle. Don't bust out your protractor, just trust me. If this did not occur, water could not exist. Too great an angle and the hydrogen bond breaks. When you boil water the molecules move around so much that the angle is increased too far, breaks and is converted into steam. You can play with magnets to see how this works.

Likewise oxygen bonds with hydrogen at a 105.45 degree angle to make water. If this angle is stretched too far water does not exist. If it is pushed together too close it doesn't exist, it can't exist.

When you take a balloon of oxygen and a balloon of hydrogen, tape them together and pop them at the same time water falls down. I have not created something from nothing, I have merely joined two groups of atoms that when so joined make water. No trickery, no mysticism, just simple chemistry.

I put it to you that the water molecule exists in this configuration because it cannot exist in any other configuration. It will always be that way. Travel a million worlds through parallel universes and you will find water in identical configuration. This configuration of microscopic parts makes up water. Water is essential to our bodies and indeed the vast majority of organisms throughout this planet.

Water exists because that is the nature of the universe. Put oxygen and hydrogen together and you get water no matter where you do it, or when. Put one proton with one electron you get hydrogen, etc.

The universe is made of those same tiny particles that simply fit together in specific configurations because they cannot exist in any other way.

There is no need to explain "the divinity" or "the perfection" of this with God. It just IS because it cannot BE any other way. Likewise planets are formed, stars created, solar systems, organisms, you name it they exist totally without a "divine maker" to make them. You take protons and electrons and put them together you can make anything you want. YOU can be God if you want to.

Ultimately a creator is unnecessary because the atoms only fit one way.

to which uncle David replied: That's because God made the rules for the universe.

And Kevin just left...

HA! Just kidding, Kevin would never leave. Instead he fixed him with a dubious look and scrunched face that said, "you must be joking"

uh anyway go to class now.

Opinion

Jails are cool now. When did that happen? Criminals are cool. There are dating services that places lucky ladies with convicts on their way out. There are dating shows, blogs, books, hit shows like jailbreak and on and on.

I don't normally write my opinion down because Reza Aslan said no body cares. Beyond that Michale de Montaigne said that is man's greatest flaw, that of amassing opinions. Opinions do nothing beneficial. He went on to say that even Socrates who said, "I am without opinion/ I know nothing." must have an opinion/know something to say he actually doesn't. Its just like if I said don't think of a blue car, you have to think of a blue car first before you know not to think of it. So Michael de Montaigne said, "Tell me what I know?" which is not taking a postion, and not offering an opinion. His argument? "An Apology for Raymond Sebond" in which he talks about animals--without opinon themselves--and how they don't mess eachother up by acting out their opinions like humans do. Opinions seem to be of little use and we should stop having them.

But they can be so much fun.

Jail. A place to store dangerous people that have broken ours laws and are being punished as a result. These people should not be getting attention. No book making, no TV shows no dating services, nothing. You broke the law! No Internet, no TV. Jails are a joke anyway. Crime is just as strong inside as out, gaurds manipulate the rules to get drugs in there and gangs are just as valid etc. It seems OBVIOUS to me that these people should be punished for their crime. instead they make childrens books, and do interviews and whatever else. The only show they should make about jail is Scared Straight, if you have ever seen this show you know why. Criminals talk to at risk kids about being in jail. Its the only time a TV network will allow profanity on their screen. And not just "crap" and "tits," full blown "Bring that juicy fucking ass in here so I can fuck it with my black cock. Drink my cum little bitch, drink it!" says the inmate to the passing boy as he reaches out to grab him.

Criminals. Punishment should fit the crime. Other than that I dont really care what they do, just so long as I dont hear about how cool it is to be a criminal. These are not role models. They are failed citizens and should be treated as such until such time as they have made reparations.

Solution. So much could benefit from manual labor without cost. Like freeway clean up, hazardous waste disposal, recycling plants et al. I think they are an untapped resource. Its time to bring back the chain gang. Chain them all together, have cops with shot guns nearby, and have those criminals clean the freeway, clean the beach, clean up oil spills do whatever we can't pay people to do that needs doing because there is plenty to do. Now they can't do dangerous or harmful stuff because they are still american citizens and not slaves, but there is still plenty to do.

I have no sympathy for violent criminals, so it bothers me to see them writing books and giving interviews and being given any attention at all. They should rot without another thought.

(You can log onto sexoffender and type your area code in and see a barrage of red dots within 5 miles of your house of resgistered sex offenders. Neat huh? Lots of offenders of children around my house. What about you?)

of course every case is indivdual, I still dont want them elevated its disgusting to me.

I'll be your handle Baby!

I am going to be sexually explicit, so unless you want to read about it you should read something else. I feel like talking about sex unfiltered.

So Tuesday night I went to a concert with Loo. It was really cool, we had a great time. During Sushi I said I would come home with her that night in Ojai instead of going back up the mountain because Hollywood is only about an hour away from Ojai, whereas it's at least 2 hours from Big Bear. So I told her that the distance would be too great to travel tonight, and they were doing road construction and it would take longer and I'd rather just bypass it altogether, which is partly true, but the real reason I wanted to come home that night was because I wanted sex.

I hadn't had sex in 3 weeks and I thought I could wait until the weekend when I would come home. But eating sushi with her and talking to her and being around her filled me with desire. Most of the dinner I was hard and had to adjust my pants, until I tucked it under my leg and sat cross legged, which cuts the blood flow off so it will back down. Then I uncross and try to not think about sex and it tries to stay down but remains at the ubiquitous "half-mast" to remind me its ready for action at any moment, just give the word.

After the concert the whole way home I was looking forward to sex, knowing surely I would get it. When we did get home it was 1:30am and she was making noise about being tired. Which I always ignore. Because it's supposed to mean "There will be no sex tonight so don't even try it." But I am devious.

We brushed our teeth, peed in front of one another and went to bed. She changes into her PJ's. She doesnt understand how pretty she is. When I see her taking her clothes off I get really excited. Which she ignores because she already told me she was tired. She crawls into bed and starts putting her girly creams on before sleep. So while she is busy with that I sneak a hand to her foot, which is really sensative, and barely drag my fingers across her skin which makes her foot twitch. I work my way up her leg, dragging my fingers, making circles, so light a touch you have to concentrate to know if they are actually touching. She puts her head down and lays there with her eyes closed, smiling. This is a clear invitation so I keep going with slight touches. I call this "building the fire" sometimes. I lightly touch her all over her body, pulling garments aside to get at the skin beneath. But I don't touch anything naughty. Arms, shoulders, hands, legs, neck, face. then I move to her stomach, and her sides and her ribs getting close to her breasts but never touching. Her body responds to this, and I can see them firming up and the gooseflesh on her body as I touch it. Slowly I start approaching the hot spots. I drag my fingers across her side, down her stomach below her belly button, and lower and lower still until I jump to the other side of her stomach with my other hand starting the same senation over again, left and right hands replaceing one another. This takes a long time. It's 2am now.

Then I use my lips instead of my fingers because they are softer and warmer. I start to kiss and hint at biting and nibbling. I can see how her body leans into my touches and how her breath catches and how the gooseflesh leaps to my fingers until I just give her a brotherly peck on the cheek and say good night. I crawl under the covers and pretend to go to sleep. Meanwhile my body is raging. Blood is drumming behind my ears, my temperature is up, my lips are hot, and I have a raging hard-on that thrums with every pulse of my heart.

She starts moving around in the darkness. A sealed condom lands on my face. And she sits up.
"Quick, because I have to go to work in 4 hours."

*insert sex scene here*

Two minutes later I collapsed on top of her and twitched before falling over to the side. I planned on a long love making session but riled myself up so much that once I got in there it was over before it started. Plus it had been 3 weeks, she was tight and I was craving it. I stood no chance.

And as I laid there catching my breath I remebered the summer and how I could go for hours. From building the fire to clean up could take 4 hours or more. And I became really self conscious like I was failing in her eyes which I see now is totally self inflicted because she was asleep and smiling and gave no indication of disapointment.

Isn't it weird how I make this big deal out of it and it so doesnt matter like that to her, she is just happy she got some and enjoyed the touching and closeness. But I am always wondering like, "Did I impress her? was this the best ever? Am I a sex-god?" and she is like, "well that was nice. zzzzz"

It's normally difficult to talk about these kinds of things, about how I did anything less than sexual olympics and she was so craving it and begging and blah blah blah all that bragging, but I wanted to divulge my less than 2 minute sex because I think its more entertaining. I thought I was so manly and I would rock her world and she would have to struggle to keep quiet, which is partly true.

I read that it takes longer to achieve orgasm with a steady partner because both of their bodies adapt to one another and build up a resistance kind of. So it takes longer to wear through that resistance and achieve orgasm. However, I also read that the longer you are with somone the sex gets shorter because each person learns the other, and knows which ways to move to maximize pleasure in their partner. I think that both of these are true, that a resistance is built up until it simply takes too long to do and different moves are used to cut the time down until eventually it's real fast because they have learned one another's bodies. The SAID principle: Specfic Adaptations to Imposed Demands. Its why working out builds muscle and doing things makes you better at them, your body adapts.

So here is a thought: I think I am being devious about getting her all aroused and leaving her like that to drive her wild because she can't stop like I can.

BUT

What if she is the devious one playing me, thinking: "All I have to do is hint that I am tired and he will massage my body and tickle me and tantalize me for hours before I pretend to give in. Better than him asking and me saying yes because I like massages."

And does it matter? I like it either way so I don't think it does. But I like to think I am really smart and crafty, but my mom is reading books about queens and princesses who, "Often ruled the country through their husbands, which were like a handle to control everything while kings and princes thought they were in complete control, rather than being easily manipulated like puppets."

I don't want to be a puppet, unless I get lots of sex. Then it's ok, which I think is our gender's downfall. A heart shapped hiney and perky tits can create momentary amnesia. Maybe that's just me and I should stop...

Nomenclature

more to come--thinking required...

Heavy Metal Cello

I saw Apocalyptica live @ the avalon last night. They ROCK. They are a Finnish Cello quartet with a drummer. They started with Metallica covers on cello.

Metallica is my favorite group, so they started with the best material IMHO. And it blows my mind to hear my favorite songs and guitar solos performed on cellos accurately.

I was in the front row ten feet from them as they played. They don't speak much english, but they talked to us anyway and were funny: "Hello L.A! This is the first time for us here. It is good to see women in the audience tonight. It is usually a lot of really ugly guys. We play in L.A. more often now. This next song is for the women...or the guys too if you like us that way. That is fine if you do, you are just not welcome back stage. Ha. Ha." and then they played Bittersweet. Which Loo LOVES, so she was super happy right then.

Ok, so I want to capture that evening, but I don't have enough time to do it now, i.e. midterms. So I give you night in nutshell (I talk in broken english like Finnish people for now) I parked, meet up with girl. We went to exotic shoe store and she buy tall leather boots, then we eat at Kabuki Japanese restaurant with 10 piece sushi plate each. It was really very good. Then we wait in line for hour and inside for one more hour until show start. Apocalyptica (they pronounce it like a spanish speaker would.) rock the house with heavy meatal cello music. If you search "Apocalyptica live at the avalon" you see me on right side up front. I am tallest, bushy haired guy in audience. Cannot miss me.

On the Rag

I think I am on my cycle right now. I woke up grumpy and emotional, which is soo not me.

I noticed the sunrise this morning, the green flash as the sun peeked over the mountains into the San Bernardino valley and the tiny lights of cars moving like ants through the roads that looked like arteries of the city. And I thought how beautiful it all was and I smiled to myself and my eyes got hot and watery and there were sniffles.

The shower felt amazing and I was so appreciative of it this morning. I almost thanked it out loud.

Then I took my rats out, hugged them, told them I loved them, gave them a treat and left for school.

Down the mountain people were going slow and I felt annoyed. Like what they can't drive the speed limit? Ok, fine the limit is 55 but 30 is ridiculous. And then there is a sign that says: slower traffic use (the fucking) turnout. And I watch as they coast on by 35 now. WTF is that? It says slower assholes use turnout, you are a slower asshole and you missed the turn out. Not to worry there is another one in a mile.

Up to 35 now. You can do it, 20 more miles an hour. The bumper reminds me to support the troops and that abortion stops a beating heart and that McCain/Palin should be the next president. We come upon another clean, empty turnout just begging to be used--and we drive on by.

But not to worry! There is a PASSING LANE OF SALVATION ahead. I sit squarely in preparation for the amazing acceleration I am about to release upon these mountain roads. We ease around the last corner, come upon the double yellow, it splits, the road widdens, I prepare to mash the gas and the $%$%$@$#@ speeds up!

"NO!" I scream over 'My Friend of Misery' by Metallica. I stab the gas. I am doing 65 and the @*&#$ is pulling away from me. "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM" I scream at the windshield.

Then I relax. Because now the passing lane has ended and they are ahead. Now I can continue down at the speed limit, now I can chill out. As I sail around a corner at 55 I see them ahead. They weren't doing 55.

Back to 30 again. I wanted to tell them that the yellow signs that say "35 MPH turn ahead" aren't speed limit signs but recommendations, caution, warnings--for SEMI TRUCKS! Not for this puke green Toyota Camry.

We drive by five more turnouts (empty, glorious, oases of freedom) and approach the last passing lane. I ready myself, turn the overdrive off kicking the RPM to 2800, foot on the gas, right in the power band, ready to blast by them.

The road widens, dotted lines develope, they speed up, I whip out to the left, stab the gas, see the cop with the radar gun, stab the brake, turn the Overdrive back on, set the cruise control for 55 and come neck and neck to the Pukemobile.

I look over at it. A woman sits there. Smug and oblivious, a blue light glows from her ear and she has big bugeyed sunglasses. She is blond, her hair has pins on the sides to keep her bangs out of her eyes and she has a pony tail. She reminds me of Jabba the Hutt and looks to be in her late 30's early 40's. I coast by the officer at 55.000 mph and when he doesn't turn around I push the Resume/Accel button. 57. I inch ahead. I push it again. 59. I am half a car length ahead and she starts accelerating! In the span of 0.5 second: Overdrive off, downshift to 2, both hands on the wheel, stab the gas.

The 3.0 liter v6 in the Nissan Maxima screams, rises to 4200 rpm, variable valve timeing kicks in (which pukemobile doesn't come with), torque steer in full effect, and it hunkers down, the exhaust roaring a crescendo until the upshift at 7000 rpm-- a lurch like the anchor I was dragging finally got hauled in--and I flew right by. Victory!

Around the next turn was a Cement truck--but its OK! because he drove 60 and used his turn out. I told him I loved him as I drove by and waved a thank you. The rest of the way to UCR was smooth sailing.

In class we watched the second half of the movie Smoke Signals, which is a great movie. And I was 0.5 seconds late and the only seat was between all these sorority girls--three rows of them with me in the middle. Blond hair, bubble gum and iPhones were in great supply.

As the movie went on I started crying. It was so emotional. They kept asking if I was ok. Through sobs I told them, "I'm just really emotional right now." Kelsey handed me a tissue.

I thanked her, mopped my tears (as a side note I have an extra tear gland, so when I cry I cry a lot. My mom has it too.) and after the movie I moved on with my life on my way to the sci library.

The trees are so pretty here. People are so beautiful. I saw people holding hands and fought back an "awww!" and then I seemed to be surrounded by couples in love. They reminded me that while I was in love, that person was 233 miles away.

I signed on MSN and told her I missed her so much and I was thinking about her and I can't wait to see her and she is great.

"Thanks."

WTF is that? Thanks? I am pouring my heart out to you and you say thanks!? Thats Bologna right there. Thanks. psh, as if. So I told her she was welcome and I had to go because she was too busy to talk. I signed off MSN and crossed my arms at my computer and pouted. "Thanks." psh. Lame.

Loo signed on to AIM, which I forgot to close. My status was labeled: HERE--In the science library. Her text flashed up on my screen:

"Don't get all snippy with me. I haven't had time to sleep or think much this week. Call me after work. I am super busy now."
"K" I typed back. And she left.

My eyes felt hot again and my vision blurred. I was looking into the future: we were married, might or might not have had rug rats crawling around, but she was too busy to pay me any attention and I was sad. Where is the faerie tale I was promised? Is it always going to be this way? Surrounded by people yet always alone?

Then I got hungry and this chocolate soy milk drink looked really good. And then I saw some girl munching on a burger. And now I have a craving I have to give into.

I noticed my lips are chapped. And my pants need to be washed. And my hair needs conditioning. And my nipples are sensitive.

War Paint

This morning around 1 am I woke up sick to my stomach. I felt nauseated, there was a sharp pain there. Also I was having trouble breathing, there was a kind of wheezing gurgle. There was something in my throat blocking my air too. My face felt warm and weird and when I touched it it felt slippery. There was something on it, something slippery and sticky.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled up the stairs to the bathroom clutching my stomach as pain stabbed me with every step. I knew this feeling well.

In front of the mirror I flipped the light on. Blood was splashed all over my face and arms and hands. When I opened my mouth my teeth were pink with coagulated blood between them like little burgundy popsicles. And when I opened my jaw strings of saliva and blood stretched across my lips like crystalline columns. It wasn’t my blood though.

Just kidding. It was. And it came from my nose. It had started a while ago while I was asleep and my unconscious self brushed the tickle away from my face for a long time while I dreamed of swimming through a submerged maze of iron fillings and rust.

The pressure difference, the heat and the dryness of where I live really bothers my nose to the point it just cracks and bleeds. I stood there looking at myself in the mirror at 1:37am and let the blood run down my face and drip into the sink making a “plink” sound.

It could have been war paint.

I felt the warm blood roll down my upper lip like a slow tear until it met the blood coagulating between my closed lips and was absorbed and releases on the left corner of my mouth were it oozed down my chin slowing, reaching the end and then stopping just before falling away into the sink, hanging there like a liquid-ruby stalactite. And there it stayed. Another drop followed the same path and collected at the same point. It isn’t like water or ice. It doesn’t flow over or around, it flows into, flows through and the liquid-ruby swelled like a tiny balloon.

If I don’t move for awhile it starts to harden on my face, contorting it into a grimace as the red rivulets harden into jagged collections of red spider strands holding my cheeks back. Slowly they darken, and harden, pulling tight across my face. Then they break like parts of tectonic plates, unable to hold my face back any longer.

The severed places look like clean breaks of crystal strands or ice. I hook a finger nail under an edge of darkened blood and lift, loosening long sheets of thin glass that clink when they fall into the sink. After they are all off and piled up like glass shards my face has a thin layer of smeared blood from when I was asleep--now the color of ancient rust.

Clean flesh shines from beneath the war paint like jagged lightning bolts the color of my skin, in this light the color of humus.

Then I washed my face off and went back to bed.

Blood

Blood seems strange to me. Not in the sense of unfamiliarity but in the sense that it is weird stuff. It has little things in it like hemoglobin and red and white cells and platelets and vitamins and minerals and hormones and pheromones and alcohol and caffeine and bacteria and viruses all pumping through my body under pressure.

The fluid, plasma, just sounds cool. Plasma. Plasma.

When I was little and started playing video games with giant mechanical warriors, one of the most devastating weapons was the plasma cannon. I thought the plasma cannon, that shot big green fire balls, was just a weapon that harnessed the blood some how. And I became afraid that my blood was green, and if it ever reached the outside air it would explode. So I was careful for about a day until I fell out of a tree and scratched my arm real good and watched the tomato red blood ooze out of me expecting, any second, for it to turn green and blow up.

I noticed I said, "scratched my arm real good" isn't that interesting? Like if I barely caused harm to myself it would have been a bad scratch, because a good scratch is long and deep. Although if you go too far than you get a bad scratch, in the sense that if you don't seek medical attention you will bleed to death. Paper cut, bad. Vegetable knife slice, good. Car accident gash, bad. It seems like any laceration should be bad, but I hear people say things like, "Yeah, than I cut myself real good."

Good for who? Good for the thing that cut you? Good for being cut? Good for the blood? Good for the scar afterward? That has to be it right? A big flesh wound that looks worse than it actually is. Those kinds of wounds people call, 'good ones.' I wonder why that is. I think it is for scar recognition.

When I cut myself badly at work across my left bicep--er I mean, goodly, cut myself real good-- I went around and showed everyone because it looked really bad--er, good-- but it didn't hurt much, but it bled a lot, anyway I showed everyone. The guys were like, "Awesome man!" and sounded envious. The girls were like, "you should get some disinfectant on that." And one time this woman named Kitty was next to this checker from Alabama named Phil who was a part time body guard for celebrities (this was at the Vons I used to work at) and I walked up to them both and showed them the gash and Kitty said, "Wow, that's gonna leave a gorgeous scar," and Phil said, "Hell, yeah. Boy, how'd you get that?" And I told them the story:

I was reaching over the desk to get this paper that fell behind and this board slipped and cut me.

They both looked at each other before Phil said, "I'd keep that to yourself," and Kitty said, "Yeah, I'd make up a story involving being mauled by a mountain lion."
"Or a bear," Phil chimed in.

So now, if you ask me I tell the story of how I was mauled by a bear, and the scar looks totally believable.

But I think I want to be abducted by aliens now. Ask me in a few days, maybe I will have been abducted. They left a burn scar, I have proof!

The Girls Locker Room.

I just read a list of random questions. One of them brought back a memory.

"Have you ever peeked in into the opposite sexes locker room?"

I remember in 7th grade my friend Alex and I would rush out of the boys locker room to get to the other side of the gym where the girls locker room was. We had to get there before they got outside. Once there we would take turns boosting each other up and spying on them.

The angle was bad and nothing like we expected. I expected a sauna of naked beauties bathing one another. What I got was a small vantage point of the lockers and once I had enough times to see one of them in a bra and panties!

Which reminds me the first time I ever touched a breast. The first time I can remember anyway. It was around the same time. I was boosting Alex up and he jumped down and pretended to be in the middle of a conversation.

"How big was it?" he said really loud.
"This big!" I said and threw my hands out wide to either side. The back of my right hand smacked squarely into Claire gardener's left breast. (Puberty was especially good to her) It was a soft supple surprise. She gasped. I apologized. And when she walked away Alex gave me a high five. To the left hand, because the right hand was now sacred.

For the next few weeks I became the resident breast expert. A position I hold still to this day.
It is funny how things happen that shape you for the rest of your life.

I read every book on the subject I could get my hands on. Not because there were pictures of naked boobs, but because they were so mysterious and I thought that by learning about them I could have some power over them. This led to books about the female body. And books about sex. And shortly there after I became the resident Sexpert, never having ventured there myself until I was much older but able to explain everything to my friends.

A girl I was dating before I was engaged to Loo told me that, "You could look at a map of Italy, read about the people who traveled there, but until you are there you will have no idea what it is like." She was much more experienced than me. In fact, all of the women I was ever with were more experienced then me. Ha! I never thought about that before. Anyway, the joke was if you ever wanted a guide for Italy I was available. I could tell you the metro times, distances between places of interest and the best places to eat. ( I know nothing about the real Italy.)

But there is something about me that craves information and knowledge. If it is especially interesting I will never forget it, as was the case for female anatomy, biology and physiology. I know more about my woman's body then she does, which makes me feel special.

For example: A few years a go a new Birth Control pill came out called YAZ. It was clear that Loo needed a BC pill to stabilize her emotional states. I didn't like the one she was on because of the side effects--migraines, heavy periods, putting on weight and lethargy among so many others. I did a lot of research and suggested she switch to YAZ. We went to the doctor and now she is much better off because YAZ is a much lower dose of estrogen then the ortho tricyclene stuff she was using before. Her emotions are much more even, her migraines are virtually gone and she is much more active. Now I am the lazy one that doesn't want to go anywhere or do anything because I am so busy and tired from school and she jokes that I need YAZ. And when I am particularly grumpy she has offered me the little white pill.

"Here. You need this more than I do," she says with a serious face.

And I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Slice of life

I dislike that nomenclature.

10:21 AM, science library, friday:

I just finished my lecture for Religious Myths and Rituals. The professor hopes to convert us science types, which is starting to get old, but I will tolerate it indefinitely.

I get to work today at the tire store. It has been about a month since I last worked. I left the Camarillo store behind for the Norco store here. While I was away and transitioning, the Owner of the nation-wide company decided that he had better put a nation-wide freeze on hours on account of the lackluster economy. I was sure there was no hours to be had for me, but I talked the manager into it and he is going to modify the store schedule to fit me in. It has something to do with my experience and ability to do anything at the store. In February it will be five years at the same company. Where has all the time gone?

The uniform for the job follows a funeral motif, one that can be regularly confused with the uniforms of Applebee's and Pep Boys Auto to great hilarity. "Waiter, hey waiter, where is my food?" me: "The cat got it. So sorry." But I digress. As I moved up to the cabin I left my Black shoes behind, the ones that are NEEDED for the job. They don't like it if you wear non-black shoes, and if I were a rookie they would send me home to get them. But I am a veteran and it can be over looked if I sell enough tires to make up for this outrageous transgression.

The cabin doesn't have a mailbox. All my mail goes back home, and the next time my parents or Loo come up they will bring it, or when I go back for some reason (laundry) I will collect it. So my text books are at home right now, not at the cabin, and I have to go home this weekend to collect them. My parents said they would come up this weekend last weekend. And then vacillated the rest of the week until last night when they confirmed that they wouldn't be coming up. Which is a bummer, because the books are there and I need them Monday, and they can't be mailed to me in time. I wish they could just have some integrity and mean what they say when they say it. I said if they didn't come up that I would have to come down. I said that Monday, and they forgot.

My only choice is to drive home from work late Saturday night, which means I will have to leave my Boyos behind (male rex rats). The drive from Norco to Ojai is about two hours depending on the 405 which always likes to piss me off. I will arrive in time to go to bed, and wake up sunday, my one day of reprieve, rest and relaxation.

Just kidding about that rest and relaxation thing. It just so happens that Loo's Maxima threw a code (check engine light came on). My brother, a brilliant car guy, showed her how to check the computer to tell her the trouble code, which can be looked up using the factory manual and diagnosed with a chart. One of the thee Oxygen Sensors broke. I get to fix that Sunday. I have never done it before, but being a car guy myself, and having already replaced the other two, this should be no trouble at all...ha! In addition to that small job, her Brake light on the instrument panel turned on, which means her brake fluid is low, or her brake system is about to fail, either one. I have to investigate that. Of course if I were there I could simply open the hood and look at the brake fluid reservoir to see if it is low or not, or if it needed to be replaced. But Loo has no automotive skills, and can't check it for me, cause she doesn't know where it is, what it looks like, what color is bad, and how much is too much et al. Plus, she gets anxious and nervous and says, "I can't do this, can't you just look at it yourself?" Which is mildly frustrating because she says she wants me to show her how to do things like oil changes and brake jobs and the like so she can do it herself without me. I have done many oil changes by myself now, despite her enthusiasm to relieve me of that duty.

In addition to the O2 Sensor and the brake inspection, I will probably have to do another oil change on her car by myself, and my own car as well which will naturally progress (I never see this coming) to washing her car, which makes me want to wash mine because its dirty and all the stuff is out.

In addition my Dad is building a shed so he can put his larger tools for wood working in it, which would clear up a lot room in his shop, which has become the place to store anything worthy of being stored, and as he says, "It is gumming up the works." He has most of it done, except the roof. So Between oil changes I will be helping him with heavy lifting and the like because I am the only one who can. Mom isn't strong enough, Kevin had major chest surgery and has a ten pound maximum lift limit, and Loo isn't strong enough either. If it is too heavy for Dad and I to do alone I will have to call Mike who we call, "The Wookie" for obvious reasons (He never gets lost, he is super strong, rather furry and can imitate wookie noises).

In addition to that, I imagine I will have to mow the lawn, change the cat box, pick up the dog poop, vacuum the front room, clean the rat cages, change the water in the fish tanks, clean the snake cage and clean my room for no other reason than because I happen to be there.

Did I mention Homework? I'll just do that after all those other trifling tasks.

On the positive side of this visit I will get to enjoy the company of my family because we havent seen each other in two weeks and we get along very well. I will also enjoy a nice dinner, which I haven't been enjoying lately at the cabin by myself. I will get to take a shower without using melted mountain snow runoff like at the cabin. And some where in there I will probably get hugged or maybe even kissed by Loo, which I have been without this last week. She will probably ask that we go out on a date because we haven't done that in awhile. I think the reasons are evident in this post, but it always ends up on me somehow. i.e.: I do all these things because secretly I don't like her, don't want to go out with her, and keep her around as my personal play thing.

Then I will most likely come back late Sunday night or early Monday morning (class is at 9AM, the 405 makes the trip at least three hours) and hope I wont be scheduled to work that day. I'll find that out at work today.

That about covers it. Enjoy your weekend.

wtf mate

So I sit here on the 3rd floor of the science library at UCR waiting for my discussion class on religious myths and rituals at 9pm. And while I do that (wait) I am reading the other posts of all my friends and acquaintances. I posted 3 things last month. Why can't I just post all the time. The posts are fun to read. This month my favorite is Erin. She makes me laugh. And this post is prompted by one of hers..something about the rules of coupling for girls.

I have this book called, "The Rules. How to get Mr. Right" It is actually a girly book about how to acquire a husband, not a boyfriend and explains the difference. And it is a collection of rules that when used properly will result in success of the husbandly kind. I feel guilty about talking about this book, cause I am not supposed to have it, not being of the girly persuasion myself.

I have mixed feelings about this book. When I was younger I used it against my female adversaries in the dating arena. The book talked about the right kind of behavior to attract a husband, and the other kind of behavior that attracts a boyfriend. A boyfriend in this case representing the chance for an often shortlived romantic relationship. It was interesting what behaviors called to which types of guys. And it goes on to give rules and tips and tricks for many situations. You (ladies) have to come accross to the potential husband as not easy, but not impossible, that the proof is in the pudding and you are worth the chase and the wait and all the trouble that this little book puts the guy through.

This book is especially devious because many things are subliminal, and if the boy wanted a short-lived fiery romance he might find himself tricked into a long courtship. This book also summarized the things boys do (the way they act) that attracts brief romantic encounters and long romances from women.

The book says you must act a certain way to discourage the boyfriend type guy looking for a brief romantic encounter, and encourage the courtship type guy. I don't have the book in front of me but here is one of the rules:

When a boy calls to make plans for the weekend he must do so prior to tuesday of that week.

If he calls up Wednesday, he is too late, tell him you are busy and if he would have called you sooner you might have been able to change your plans, even if you had no plans. DO NOT GO, it will be hard but you must not go! If you were to agree to his invitation, say to a Saturday date when he called on a Thursday or Friday you would show him that he doesn't have to plan or work very hard to get your time or attention and that you do not require consideration or thought to be taken out. This starts low expectations on his part and he will continue from this low standard and the relationship is doomed to fail! Only agree if you want some sex, knowing that it wont work out as you pursue other options!

Here is the official top ten rules list: http://www.therulesbook.com/topten.html

Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that I used this book to counter the girls who were reading it and using it on dates, which was a surprising number, I found out later. And it worked beautifully. It became a game, I knew where the conversation was going, how to perfectly answer the tough questions they were supposed to ask (some of them didnt even vary the order in which thery were written!), and how to get around the defense mechanisms of time, waiting, number exchanging, etc. It was very devious of me, if I do say so myself. That was back when I played games. And I didn't enjoy the dishonesty of that game.

It was totally useless against girls that had never heard of it, girls that meant what they said without any subliminal trickery, girls that didn't fit into a "type," girls that told you exactly what they thought about you if you asked, girls that were honest, girls like my Fiance.

She was the one that showed me that all the trickery I was learning was a stupid, dishonest game that wasted everyones time. Her simple, yet strong, sentiments spoke volumes about her character. She was the most honest girl I had ever met. When asked a silly question, she didn't dismiss it out of hand, or change the subject as "The Rules" urged, she answered the question. It was disarming. The thought came, "You mean all I have to do is bemyself, and if you like that person then the skys the limit? No tricks, no games, no espionage/subterfuge?"

(I suppose it helped that I was exceptionally handsom and charming and buff and had known her very well for ten years before I met her)

I know her, and she knows me. And we like those people, so it's good.

But that Book. I do not like it on principal. And while it encourages some nice things--make yourself stand out, place yourself in social situations were boys will be etc.--it also encourages dishonesty. You can't say what you want when you want because it will break the rules. You can suggest a place to go that you like, because that is his job and it breaks the rules. You can't ask him frivolous things because its against the rules. You must act a certain way, talk a certain way and be someone you are not. Some may argue that it is modifying who you are, but the modified person only exists when on a date or on the prowl for a date so it is a mask, a facade. (Which is a french word with a little C thing like a capitol letter "Q" on it) And I don't like facades. People that are genuine all the time are my favorite people and that is who I surround myself with.

And as I sit here at the science library in a cubicle all by myself, I chuckle about the irony of all those people I "surround" myself with. LOL

IN summmmmmmation: Be yourself, even if that self is a kook and a half, you may draw another kook and a half and you will have 3 kooks!

*Reading rainbow jingle* da dum dum