Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about your drink, your food, and my muse.

What's up you guys? It's hot out, I'm sticky, and I hate starting blog entries this late. I guess I can take the blame for the last part there. I'm also gonna try to keep this short, and dammit, one day I will.

Before I get into this, who wants to bet me that Charlie ~ also picks the same picture and writes a poem about it? Maybe he already has, I dunno...I haven't really looked yet to see who's done what today on my newsfeed.

And before anyone else wants to call me out on it (not that you will, but it just occurred to me and now it's gonna bug me), I realize that when I put this image into the "30-Day Image Contest Pics, July 2015"  folder that I titled it "Wine Glass". Because that's what it is, even if there's water and dyes or whatever in it. I love that it's only taken my OCD meter eight friggin' hours to start pingin' about that. I'm the worst obsessive/compulsive disorderist known to mankind, in that I'm really not good at being one.

So I know I'm supposed to be inspired to write about these images. And I am, because I've done it now for like six days. In a row even! And I'm trying to keep the conversation light and airy and maybe occasionally humorous, but I don't think today's gonna work out that way. Why? Because the first thought in my head was that maybe someone's slippin' somethin' they shouldn't be into someone's drink, and that's not a cool topic to joke about. I mean, it's not rapey uncool, but then again no one's droppin' tablets in your drink because they think you've got a fun personality either. Ugh...one paragraph in and this is already gross and I don't feel like stopping.

Remember last summer when it was kinda big news for a week or so when some company came along and said they developed a nail polish that changes color   when your drink's been drugged? As great of an idea as that sounds, it turns out it doesn't work  . Bummer, but hey...how about stop raping drunk people, or any people for that matter? Don't we all have a right to go out and get shitfaced once in awhile without wondering who's trying to take advantage of us? And do you know who I feel equally as bad for? The dude who goes out for like the third time in his life and spends all his money and his evening drinking Coors Light mini-pitchers and thinks he's trashed. I'm pretty sure drinking too much Coors Light actually sobers you up faster than coffee does, but I think I may have accidently drank the silver bullet once in my long, sordid history with booze, so I may not actually know what I'm talking about.

And I don't even know what my point was...spiked drinks? Ok. But in this pic, I'm assuming it's water. And if your water's in a wine glass and it's been tampered with, you're probably gonna have a bad time. I don't even...how do you spike a water without getting caught? I know I sound really naive and it happens way more often than I think and it's super easy to pull off, but why? It just...seems like it'd be more of a hassle than (pardon the expression) nutting up and dealing with the notion that "Hey, I'm an idiot and this girl isn't gonna have sex with me." Why is that so hard to understand, to the point you'll try to look slick roofie-ing someone, carrying their lifeless body around, and trying to undress that person with deviant sexual intent? I've had sex before, and sometimes it's almost impossible to undress two sober individuals at the same time who are also determined to actually make this endeavor a joint experience between those with sound minds! I...I don't get it, but that's why I'm not a rapist. I'd make a terrible one. I'd probably get kicked out of the rapists' union, or the clubhouse where they get their benadryl from or whatever.

Anyway, to sum this up so far: don't drink whatever's in this glass! It's probably not safe. And rape is dumb and bad. And that moment right before the sex happens, drunk or sober, is always, always like this:

And also, I can finally say this with some back-up and feel so much better about it: fuck Bill Cosby  . That's one down, and at least thirty-some more counts against him to go.

"'I am not a glutton- I am an explorer of food,' said Erma Bombeck. What are your feelings about food? How much do you love it? Or do you fear it?"

I very much have a love-hate relationship with food. I can be very picky, and I probably need to have an allergy test done because certain foods react in different ways with my body that maybe they shouldn't, but the need to see some of them go from hands to mouth overrides all negative health impacts.

Also, I don't consider myself a "foodie" or a connoisseur of high-quality dietary considerations. Fry it, slather it with butter, coat it in cheese or peanut butter, dip it in condiments, and tip my head back. I'm from Buffalo; therefore, I'm immune to heart attacks and food-related fatalities (unless I'm accidently choking on a finger trying to get all the meat off a chicken wing).

I have no fear. Dislike? I got plenty o' that. But I'm not afraid. The only fear I might have is the price of all the healthy food compared to the mass-produced, GMO-laced garbage that makes up 95% of the super-mega-ultra grocery stores' shelves. And as much as I want to be healthy and eat right and salad myself straight through to eternity, forty years of crap eatin' hasn't killed me yet...so I should be good for forty more, no? Like, I'm pretty sure if you're exposed to something that's definitely gonna give you cancer of the insides, you'll get it before forty months- not years- is up.

But I'll tell ya what...I'm out as soon as these science labs create the end-all, be-all, food-in-a-tube that gives you all the cancers of the diabetuses. Like, that shit'll really kill ya. I want no part of that.

"Write a letter of gratitude to your muse."

Oh, man. I, uhhh...I don't have one of those. Muses, that is. I can always scrounge up the gratitudes, but I've never considered myself as having a muse. And for the longest time, I didn't even know what that was. I just always kinda associated it with butterflies. No idea now as to why. Whenever I saw the word that was the first image that popped in my head.

But c'mon...I'm an almost 40, fully-grown albeit fairly short, adult male who stopped believing in Santa Claus and Jesus and Republicans and dream weddings at a very young age. I don't think some magical faerie-like force is compelling my fingers to attack both your eyes and critical thinking abilities at the same time. It's just me...li'l ol' me. No devil on my shoulder; no angel stabbing me in the back.

Unless you have an issue with any of this. Then I'll let Pablo know. He's the guy who sweeps the parking lot of "Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am" , and when need be he changes the plate outside his door from "Marriage Counselor" to "Muse". I should give that guy a raise.

Not really a funny story, because it could've ended horribly on so many levels, but I think I might've been drugged once while out at a bar. I don't have proof, but all the signs were there: I drove myself to meet people out that I normally didn't hang out with by myself (they were friends of friends), I was drinking mixed drinks in a now-defunct bar that was easily one of the three dirtiest I've ever been in, and by the time I got to the post-drinks Zorba's   stop, I was so incapacitated I nearly hit the side of the building and definitely bumped something with my car (and yes, I should've known better and all, but I also felt fine leaving the bar and it was twenty minutes later when I felt completely different). It couldn't possibly have been all the double gin and tonics...it had to be the bar itself. Or limes. Maybe I was allergic to limes when I was younger.

"Blurred vision and dirty thoughts...
feel (out of place), very distraught."
Lyrics.  

Sometimes I get lucky and this part of the entry writes itself...like, today it just so happened that a celebrity who's done famous movies and television shows and is also from Buffalo   gave an interview about some of his favorite local places for a website I'm pretty sure I've never heard of before. That meant one less link about roofies or food I didn't have to bother with!

But since food is kinda an important part of today's entry anyway, I know I'm gonna have to try some of these pizza recipes out   soon. And if you have tried any of these, please, share your thoughts (and also, why are you holding back on me?! I thought we were friends!!).

And finally, even though it's hot as balls still and it's nearly 10pm and I'm uncomfortable, I haven't let that put a sweaty damper on feeling very well about awarding nearly ninety Endurance Merit Badges this evening to a bunch of you uncontrollable Game Of Thrones-ers who are just dying to know how your teams did. And let me tell you, just because I did that, I absolutely have no idea who's gonna win! I don't even know what a throne game is, to be honest. All I know is I gave a lot of people a badge that 1) some of them, I don't know who they are; and b) I had no idea such a MB existed. That's, like, a two-fer for me! And in reading some of the "thank you" emails I was lucky enough to receive, I was reminded that some people (not judging at all, BTW) enjoy the pursuit of collecting all the WDC MB's. Which is cool and noble and whatever, but I've decided I don't wanna be like everyone else. Rather than attain at least one of everything this site has to offer in terms of prize-ery, I want to get one Merit Badge from every member of WDC. I realize this might be challenging, as some members are dead, but I think if I push myself and put a little extra effort into everything I do, I might just surprise myself (and a few of you as well). Wish me luck...as soon as I figure out a plan of action, I'll be undeterred, for realz yo.

Well, I can say with at least 93% certainty that this wasn't the entry I had envisioned when I decided I was gonna contribute to this fine website today, but we all have days where what we end up with vaguely fails to resemble any shred of common decency. Right? I know I do! Maybe I'll struggle for a few minutes before I hit send, and sure I'll feel guilty afterwards, but if society has taught us anything in the last thirty years or so, usually those feelings will pass...especially if you throw enough money at them. Peace, again fuck Bill Cosby, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!