I have this belt. It has two metal prongs, which sure looks cool, but it makes it a little difficult to put on and take off. I recently got an even cooler belt with three prongs. And let me tell you...this makes it really difficult to put on or take off quickly. In light of this recent trend of belt makers upping the user unfriendliness of their products...I have made a list of the reasons it is good to have a belt which can be undone quickly.

Reasons Belts Should be Stripper-Quick

1- You're snowboarding on a triple black diamond. Things are going well until you fall, your quick snap boot clips undo and you are sliding quicker and quicker past that sign that flashed past you which said, "Warning: cliff ahead." You deftly unbuckle your belt with one hand and slide it out of the loops. You swing it over a lone tree branch as you plummet over the edge and grab a hold with the other hand. Now you can buckle the belt to a strap on your snowboarding jacket and await the rescue copter.

2- You're in a dark parking lot by yourself and you've just unlocked your brand new Shelby Cobra. No, not a replica...a real one. Out of the darkness three figures appear, and they don't look friendly. As they approach, you yank your belt out of the loops like greased lightning. Before these three thugs have a clue you crack the belt in the air Indiana Jones style, stopping them in their tracks. They decide that getting a Shelby Cobra is not worth aggravating a psycho belt-wielding man. Sure they're wrong...but at least they're gone...and you still have your car.

3- Three words: "Where's the bathroom!?!"

4- You're at the local strip club when the M.C. announces that it's time for the annual "Don't You Wanna be a Stripper Too?" contest? It's your turn and you're getting down to the big bass sound as you fling your shirt into the crowd. So far so good. But then you get to your pants and...what's this...four metal prongs of death await you and your not so deft fingers. You fumble, miss a beat, and it's all over. That guy with the beer belly and comb over was just handed the coveted golden stripper's pole trophy...all because his belt had a measly one prong.

5- Five words: "Your pants catch on fire."

6- If you were narcoleptic and you could move really really fast, then as you were falling to the ground you could swipe out your belt lighting fast and take off your pants and shirt and then if someone saw you laying on the ground sleeping they wouldn't say to their friend, "Hey...why's that guy sleeping with all his clothes on?"

7- Your friend is a heroin addict and is going through major withdrawal.

8- Someone is walking through a big crowd and he or she yells, "HEY! Whoever hands me their belt first gets a million dollars!" You know this one happens all the time. So gosh...this one alone is more than enough reason to get a simple belt.

So you know all those really funny movies where some guy is in a car and has to go to the bathroom really badly and for some reason he can't stop so he pees in a bottle? Well, I'm not sure where the cameras were, but I somehow ended up in that exact scenario yesterday. Yeah, this needs some explanation...

There I am at a gas station, an hour and a half into what was supposed to be a 5 hour and 45 minute drive from San Jose to Orange. I was tired, so I grabbed my usual caffeine fix...a Starbucks double shot. But I was really tired...so I got two. I downed them quick and took a sip or two from my bottle of water. Then off I went towards LA. About the time I hit the grapevine (for those who don't know, this is a really long, really windy road that goes over a mountain) I had the sudden urge to pee. Well, this makes sense since I had coffee, which does cause one to need to pee much more so than most other liquids. I laughed to myself as I realized that there was nowhere to stop and go to the bathroom other than on a bush on the side of the road. This urge grew and grew kind of like that itch that you can't scratch, so it just gets worse and worse. Now I stopped laughing because...well...it just wasn't funny. I thought about pulling over, but what if I did and someone pulled over to help me and I was, well, you know. So I did the most drastic thing I could think of. I quickly drank the entire 20 ounce bottle of water I had, unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants, and realized this would not be as easy as I first thought it would. The seat in my car is positioned so one's knees are higher than one's waist. This means the bottle would have to be tilted nearly horizontally. Also, I was going uphill, making things even more physically difficult. And even more horrific was the realization that the opening of this bottle of water was a mere 1 inch in diameter. If you don't happen to be a guy, this is a problem because...um...how to put this tactfully (ha, as if any of this story is "tactful") Ok, I'll put it this way...things don't "fit", meaning I was just going to have to aim very well. So there I am...driving one handed over a windy mountain road...peeing into a Dasani bottle. I'm sure this would have been quite laughable to any of the many truckers passing me who could easily look down and see, well, you know. And I'm not sure how much the human bladder can hold, but I filled the whole 20 ounce bottle.

So now when we're watching a movie and some guy has to pee in a bottle and everyone is laughing, I'll just nod knowingly and say, "I feel your pain."

It's Christmas time...and you know what that means! Shopping! And I've gathered a few hints, tips, and stores that will help you with the ordeal of last minute shopping...because admit it...you'll be doing last minute shopping. No...stop arguing...you will be. So take my advice. You'll need it...

STORES:

Abercrombie and Fitch-- Head into this store and you will be bombarded with re-mixed versions of pop songs, employees who look 12 (other than the fact that they wear very little...no wait...even 12 year olds dress like sluts now), and soft-core porn. No, you won't look like that guy in the picture, standing there in just his boxers with pecs so big he could easily fit into a b-cup bra, but you can dress like him! Or undress like him? Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if I've ever seen an Abercrombie add where a guy is wearing a shirt. Bad advertising if you ask me. And that catalog... I guess if you want to be surrounded by nearly naked, completely self-absorbed people, all you have to do is wear some A&F clothes. Oh joy!

Tommy Hilfiger-- I used to find it slightly unnerving how you couldn't buy one piece of anything from Abercrombie that did not have a huge "A&F" plastered on it. But then I found Tommy. If you don't like red, white, and blue...stay away...far away. No wait...I take that back. If you DO like red, white and blue stay far away from Tommy. Unpatriotic? Yes Tommy is. Do some research.

any store-- I guess the new thing is new vintage. Er...wait...what? That's right. I read more than one label that said nearly word for word, "No expense was spared to recreate the imperfections and nuances of vintage clothing." So, my friends, you can go buy a "vintage" shirt, with that oh-so-hip wrinkled look for a mere $50! Or how about actual vintage army fatigues? These will cost you a mere $40. Sure you could go to an army surplus store and get some of the same pants for $5...but they won't have a designer label sewn on them!

FOOD:

Shopping is exhausting...so go and treat yourself to some good food court food. Plus you can have some fun while you're at it. There are basically no repercussions for any action you take in the food court. You can take a glass bowl from the Mongolian Barbecue, toss it over your shoulder, and within seconds you will have a brand new bowl in your hands and someone will be sweeping up your mess. And you could do this countless times. Believe me...I just watched this happen. So go break some stuff and take out your shopping aggression.!

HINTS/TIPS:

--wear gloves. those bags are brutal on the hands, and some gloves will help to soften the cutting off of blood-circulation
--don't impulse buy. yes, of course you need the pen with the boxing duck glued on top. yes, you need the mini pillow that says "boys make good pets." yes, how could you ever live without the voo-doo candle that says "revenge." but pass by these indespensible gifts. your pocket book AND your friend who would be receiving the stuffed Santa in a speedo will thank you.
--take a deep breath. it gets pretty frustrating having to push through crowds of slow moving window shoppers. so take a deep breath and close your eyes. now imagine taking that idiot who just bumped into you, grabbing him by the collar, and shoving him over the railing sending him hurtling towards the first floor Santa taking pictures with little kids. now imagine how much that would relieve you. now open your eyes and let that guy walk away unharmed. it will be for the best...believe me.

It seems that my creativity is spawned by depression...or at least the presence of depressing thoughts. So at times when I am anything but depressed, ie: right now, I end up finding the most depressing things I can to try and inspire me. Otherwise I end up sounding like a love-stricken junior-high girl writing "dear diary..." No really, it's embarrassing.

And speaking of love-stricken...and to change the depressing pace a little...

What makes a person famous? Is it the number of people he or she is known by? The amount of money made? The cause? Items sold? Publicity? Is there a line that has to be crossed to make someone or something "famous", or is "famous" just like the phrase "world renowned" which is tacked onto anything from the curly fries of the local burger joint to the new rubber grip pencils some business-school entrepreneur just created? Do you get a letter in the mail one day that says, "CONGRATULATIONS!!! You are now famous! You can tell all your friends that you have joined the likes of Babe Ruth, Bob Fosse, Kurt Cobain, and that guy who created Pokemon! And for a mere $150 you can receive this beautiful, leather-bound, 15,000 page book with a picture of you, along side all the other "famous" people, along with a short biography! Order today! Supplies are limited!" Is this something along the same lines as love? What makes a person in love? Is it the amount of time he or she has known the lovee? The amount of money spent? The emotion? Gifts given/received? The mere statement, "I love you" ? Is there a line that has to be crossed to make someone officially "in love", or is "love" just a tacked on phrase? "I LOVE that tv show!" or. "I LOVE chocolate!" or. "I LOVE gouda cheese!" Wouldn't it be nice to receive a letter in the mail saying, "CONGRATULATIONS! You are in love! No more need to worry! No more need to wonder! It's all down hill from here as you have complete assurance that you are totally, positively, 100%, beyond the shadow of a doubt, head-over-heels in love!" Sadly this doesn't happen. Or maybe the post office has screwed me over. But either way it's up to my sad judgment to figure out what love is. But you know what? That's part of it. Part of the journey.

Enjoy the ride.
Learn from your mistakes.
I've learned from mine.
And now?
We'll see.........

Want a peek inside my mind? No? Too bad.

Here's the most recent page from my journal:

A man and woman walked in. His tattoos and piercings screaming "look at me." First thought? "Boyfriend and girlfriend." Then she called him dad. Maybe some fetish...who knows...but then she called him dad again. Good lord this guy must have had her when he was 13. It's like a post-apocalyptic world where death could be waiting for you anywhere. With the end of your life in focus, the rest becomes blurred. Suddenly dreams of a family and a house and a car are worthless ideas that will stay dreams. Suddenly sex is no longer about love but about taking your mind off of a hellish life. But wait...isn't that what sex is now? Just something to take your mind off of a hellish relationship. Suddenly impregnating some girl...who will remain 'some girl' because so much alcohol was involved that a name is impossible to remember...is the least of your problems. Only we're not in some great war. We're not about to die. We're fat and virile and pumped full of anything we lack. We're rich and attractive, or at least we pretend to be. We screw for fun and cross our fingers hoping all the STD's have lessened the chances of a healthy sperm reaching a healthy egg. And if a "mistake" happens...a simple acid solution will wash our hands clean of it. A blade and a vacuum and hey...what mistake? Only we have no excuse. We have only ourselves to blame for recreating Sodom and Gomorrah. And we love it. We revel in it. The more vile the merrier. Let's legalize rape while we're at it. Heck...if some unwanted guy needs to get his rocks off...why are we stopping him? And of course we need to legalize the disposal of pesky children who have gotten tiresome. If we can pull a baby’s head out of it's mother, snap it's neck, then dump it in a garbage can...why can't we stick a rag of ether under a particularly annoying toddler's nose and then twist its heads while it rests in an unfeeling stupor? So let's take the murderers out of jail, give them a Pulitzer, and have them start teaching seminars. It's time for revolution.


The black house and you, sheli ahava, give me hope.

In light of my very bitter recent entries...I figure it's time for something a little lighter...fluffier...with a better tasting filling.

But first...I need to clip my toenails.

Ok well now I've spent all my time clipping my toenails and I have a final in 10 minutes. Sorry, but that means no long update on the ever so exciting life of Grant.

But speaking of better tasting fillings...my eyebrow is pussing. Probably due to the piece of metal in it.

Alright, it's final time.

(Why do I feel I'm going to regret posting this?)

(But at least it wasn't bitter)

Bye.

A 15 year old choir boy was on his way to church tonight. He was a regular member who would sing at church and would never miss giving his pastor a hug before leaving. Tonight he was walking up the steps to his church as a now unknown man walked up to him, took out a handgun, and shot him in the head. Oh but this is nothing...the big news is Michael Jackson hanging a baby over a balcony for publicity. The big news is who's dating who, who's screwing who, and who's devaluing marriage even more by adding another divorce to the list like a notch in the belt. But what is expected when the world is as it is? Yesterday's values are today's jokes as kids who don't drink, smoke, or have sex are outcasts. Today's high-caliber crimes are tomorrow's misdemeanors. Tomorrow's rising crime rates will be explained away. My brother watched a man run from someone with a gun the other day. Six shots later the gunman was jumping into a van and riding away to anonymity while the victim lay writhing in the street for a few seconds before taking his last breath. The people nearby paused, considered, then went home to eat, drink, and watch TV to find out who's dating who, who's screwing who, and who's carrying the baby of a father who will only be known through DNA testing. Isn't this a wonderful world?

i just realized that i suck at writing