If you’ve read my stuff for any length of time, you know the vividly horrific story behind my shoulder tattoo, and my embarrassed self-loathing I do at myself whenever anyone sees it.
If you’re new or whatever, this is it, all oiled up and stuff for you.
The time has come, at long last, to finish this mistake once and for all.
I’ve talked to people several times over the years about what to do about this monstrosity.
The removal options are bad – since it’s been done three times already and there’s scarring to boot, it just won’t look right.
I asked one tattoo artist about putting a roman numeral XIV over it, the rationale being that I could make up different stories every time someone asked me about the deep, hidden meaning of my ancient number tattoo.
This wasn’t going to be doable either, and every other tattoo artist suggested things that just wouldn’t work for me.
I always make this clear before these conversations – my number one option would be for it to not be there at all anymore.
Starting from there, I’m not sure how these people come to, “How about like a cool snake that’s on fire and goes from your shoulder all the way around your chest, and then is flowing into a skull that’s on your back, and it’s the skull of a naked booty stripper?”
Anyway, after many years and much thought, I am giving up…and that’s what this new version of the tattoo will represent.
Inevitably, someone will try and make it artistic or special or whatever.
No, no, nay, nay, booty.
I don’t want it planned or artistic or meaningful – I want it to look like someone scribbled over it in frustration…like which is what I feel about it with my special heart that is inside me.
So I am very close to getting my Nexus One SuperPhone, and in preparation for that – as well as recuperation from WSM? – I am going away for a couple weeks.
I also have a script to finish that requires some underwater research – eliminating all distractions and not getting electrocuted is essential.
No blog posts.
No instant messaging.
No Facebook.
No Twitter.
I even deleted UberTwitter from my phone – frankly I need to rethink the manner in which I personally use Twitter altogether.
Anyway, I’ll see you on or around Monday February 22nd – of course I’ll have email, but like I might be deleting every third message just as a kind of sport or game of chance with myself.
(This was in a Google Search for “dirt mine”. Would love to know what’s happening.)
Normally I’m not into this sentimental type of thing unless I’m listening to Dido, but this one’s for charity, and I was hanging out by myself listening to Dido last night.
Thanks to @jeannevb and @CTK1 for bringing this at me.
Anyway, here are 397 things I’m thankful for. In no particular order…
- lamps
- @NDEddieMac
- Dustin Pearlman
- cold air fusion (speculative)
- My special book-selling technique that only I know
- LeBron’s 2007 season
- Google Documents
- That I can type “LOL!” and get away with it as performance art irony
- Brad Radby
- My outstanding Athens, Ohio arrest warrant
- Rebecca Blum
- Dancing With the Booty Stars
- @iamboney
- Twitter
- Atlas Shrugged
- The guy at Borders who used the phrase “long-haired alcoholic”, because I don’t know what that means but it’s now in my phrasical lexicon.
- When I see that something I made up entered someone else’s phrasical lexicon.
- phrasical lexicons
- Jasmine James
- @alexiskn
- That you’re realizing that you will indeed read all 397 at this point [Like here is how to read the rest.]
Awhile back my friend @JessicaRandazza told me I should sign up for this newsletter called Tut’s Universe Adventure Fun or whatever.
You get like a daily quasi-inspirational message like this.
Brian, if you don’t dream big, I can’t scheme big. Does that pretty much settle things?
- The Universe
I’m not against stuff like this, but this morning I unsubscribed. This is what I put in the “why did you do that” box.
The use of my name in the message just creeps me out for some reason. Also I dislocated my shoulder this weekend. :(
I can’t decide if I’m out of line or not. That’s really all I got – see, I had something on my schedule called “B23 POST (NOT ABOUT WSM?)”.
For real though, it was messing me up, cause sometimes it would be like this.
Let me tell you something, Brian, about how motion of action processes in the cosmos.
That was creeping me out because I was like, “Wow what kind of world do we live in where they can Find/Paste right to the middle of sentences like that.
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, it may be a hawk!
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, I wonder if he talk!
Talk eagle talk!
Say something good!
Talk eagle talk!
Do you drink blued!
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, it has strong legs!
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, I wonder if he talk!
Talk eagle talk!
Talk about your running!
Talk eagle talk!
I wonder if he talk!
Do you think the eagle can talk and what do you think it would say if it could. Also, is it actually just a hawk that thinks it’s an eagle.
I spent a good four or five hours in a Borders on Saturday, reading my own book, Prelude to a Super Airplane.
(My ego isn’t that crazy – something I’m working on has a a few loose tie-ins, and I wanted to make sure my continuity wasn’t getting screwy.
That said, I’ve read it purely for pleasure something like 27 times.)
In any case, I didn’t get much reading actually done, since the two elderly ladies over my knee there spent lengthy amounts of time talking about the merits of Nick Cannon, whom one of them referred to as, “that colored fella from America’s Talent Show“.
As if that – and my need to IM everything I was hearing to a friend – wasn’t enough, at a tumultuous moment, the following seven people came in and sat at a nearby table.
- white female/21
- white male/52
- latino male/16
- white male/28
- white male/48
- latino female/58
- white female/35
This was an amazingly odd grouping of people, because they didn’t seem to know each other at all.
Book club? No books.
Parent-teacher thing? No – there was a lot of introductory conversation, and the mix wasn’t right.
Fellow Nick Cannon enthusiasts? No mention of Nick Cannon.
It was really starting to bother me – there were no logical scenarios.
My IM companion said I should go sit down and apologize for being late, which I considered, along with simply asking them, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU HERE, YOU SOBs. ALSO DO YOU WANT TO BUY MY BOOK.”
You may think I wouldn’t do this – I assure you I would, minus the SOB-calling and book-selling.
I didn’t have to though, because the 16-year old boy was squeezing the 21-year old girl’s leg under the table. She smiled, and had braces – I reasoned she wasn’t 22 at all, but rather 15 or 16 herself.
Then a flurry of info came forth – 35-year old whitey has infertility issues. She said this with a conviction and volume that amazed the entire cafe section. 52-year old white male runs down his family’s health history.
Adoption and “staying in the baby’s life” are discussed.
28-year old whitey – now reasoned to be in his mid-30s – tries to discuss Madden 2010 with the boy. He’s full of wonderment about how, “All the real players are in the game now…wow, how neat.” Buddy, they had that 20 years ago when you were growing up – did you only play Metroid and Zelda.
In any case…these teens were pregnant, and having a nice meeting about giving the baby away.
At BORDERS.
By the way, if you go to that Borders, there’s now a signed copy of PTSA randomly placed in the Cooking section. Where would you have your baby-momma adoption meeting.
(Over at Cavs: The Blog today giving my interpretation of the movie Lebron recently signed to star in, Fantasy Basketball Camp.)
I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about how I write numbers.
This started late yesterday afternoon when I signed the document to your right, and took a good look at my interpretation of “22″.
What is that all about.
I’ve always known that I can swing both ways on my twos, but at worst, I thought it was a swing that took place maybe month-by-month, if not year-by-year. Never, ever, ever have I seen myself do this in an execution of a “22″.
If you have time, I’d love to see your “22″ – can you please write a “22″ and then like scan it into your computer and make a poster of it, and put that poster for sale on Amazon. Let me know when it’s up and I’ll buy one.
Yo I was in chat with @kristinbrennan doing some work for our company, and this is one of the things that came out of my button-thing with the letters and numerals on it.
Brian: :/
Brian: I think I’m gonna write a privacy policy thing for my site
Brian: I always see those things and I’ve never actually clicked on one
Kristin: yeah whats that entail?
Brian: I don’t know – I want to write one based only on what I think it is
Kristin: i was gonna say thats what you should do!
Brian: I’m putting this portion of the chat into the post btw
PRIVACY POLICY:
Any given post might just be me brainstorming. Don’t ask what I mean unless I ask you to ask. Sometimes my public blog posts are just private thoughts for me, and I don’t want anyone to see them.
Like my middle name is for me. That’s an example.
Even though I’m on Twitter a lot, sometimes I’m in Atlanta, but you’d never know that, because it’s private.
Sometimes I like to be by myself, and that’s privacy, too.
If we get married, I don’t want to share a bathroom ever, and if we can only afford a place with one of those, then I’ll get a hotel room, and then like that’ll be another bathroom for us.
My email address (mike@gmail.com) is private.
What’s your privacy policy, and what do you think I meant by this post.
I was thinking about having a good cry the other day, and then because my actoring is a bit rusty, decided to wait, and not do that thing.
Instead, I made this list of actual pieces of commercial media and entertainment that have made me produce tears, be they sadness tears or happiness tears.
BOOKS:
Catcher in the Rye (Like when he catches the rye finally. I think it’s a metaphor -)
Of Mice and Men (When Lenny does his dying.)
MOVIES:
Armageddon (When BW’s friend who has the kid runs up to the kid when they get back to Earf.)
The Grapes of Wrath (The end.)
Wall-E – A couple times.
The Incredibles – When Dash finally lets loose in the jungle.
Team America – I literally was crying with laughing the first time “AMERICA – F–K YEAH!” played.
The Iron Giant – Twice.
Big Fish – the end.
Field of Dream – duh.
TV SHOWS:
Lost (End of last season – I was just overwhelmed in general at the end.)
MUSIC:
N/A
SPORTS:
Cavs (Too many to list – last time was when they finally got to the Finals – Game 6 vs Pistons in 07.)
Browns (First game back in Cleveland in 1999.)
Indians (When they got to the 95 World Series.)
I’m sure there are more – but this is all I can think of right now. I’m sure some music must have made me cry, but I dunno. What commercial fare has made you shed tears the most, and why do you think it did that.
(Go join the WSM? Facebook Page – it’ll be the only place to see the first teaser…on Sept 1.)
So I am very close to getting my Nexus One SuperPhone, and in preparation for that – as well as recuperation from 
(This screengrab is from Flickr.)
(Over at Cavs: The Blog today 
