You think your life is fucked up? Try living a piece of mine.



On the Brink

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No, that picture isn't This Man showing his ass for the camera. It's actually me trying to fix my Motorola SB5100 modem, while on the phone with the tech representative at Time Warner Cable and Road Runner National Help Desk. What's happening these days is the workstation that This Man uses to blog and do all of my other computer dealings, is on the brink. It seems that I'm able to receive info in but I'm not able to surf the web. It all has something to do with that fucking spyware bullshit and on and on.
So after talking with the tech reps at Time Warner, This Man drove all the way from my house up to to Miramar to the TW offices to replace the Motorola modem. Forty-five minutes later, hot and pissed, This Man returned home, quickly installed the modem only to find that there were other problems, primarily (let me tell it) on the Time Warner side. So what's a guy to do?
Well, if you're This Man you'll use those fucking AOL CDs that come in the mail as your primary ISP. It sucks using dial-up, but it works and the Tech Rep from TW isn't scheduled to come out until next week. Until then or until This Man develops more patience for dealing with this dial up modem...

Mahalo


Jack & the Crack

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This Man is so sick and tired of all the crackheads that have taken to lounging inside and in front of Jack in the Box (804 University Ave.) in Hillcrest. I'm not talking about the couture crackheads in 7 jeans & Juicy Couture tee shirts (oh wait, that's what This Man is wearing). This Man is referring to the ones, wearing bathrobes over sweatpants, wool blankets over flannel and the ones that have the faintest idea of the powers of a warm shower.
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This afternoon, when I was out strolling to Chipotle for tacos, I passed a young woman hunched over in the parking lot of said restaurant. She looked a mess and the only thing missing was the warm crackpipe, which I'm sure was in her pocket. And seeing as I'm one to comfront problems dead on, rather than divert my eyes as I'm sure other guys in Hillcrest do, I glared at her dead on. When our eyes locked that's when she asked her opening question.
"Hey man, you got any change you could spare?"
"Absolutely not." I told her but rather than increase my stride--I actually slowed down.
"Awww, that's fucked up." She countered with.
"No it's not and you're not about to sit here and make me feel guilty for your problems. I refuse to be a part of that." Can you believe it when I tell you that This Man actually smiled at her.
"Fuck you then, faggot!"
Well, I suppose I kind of had that coming, but This Man sure as hell didn't deserve it. And yeah, I was tempted to keep on arguing with her, but really what would be the point. But it got me to thinking, at any given time in the day, you could come to that Jack restaurant and see a parade of crackheads in the parking lot and inside. What's baffling to me is there are some of them that are actually couples. I mean, I can't find a man to deal with me and smoking but these fuckers have managed to find a partner who could not only deal with their crack habit, but manage to tolerate their own!
How fucked up is that?!
So over time, This Man has learned that whenever the urge to have a Ciabatta burger arises or the jones for an Oreo cookie shake (mmmm, Oreo cookie shake) the last Jack in the Box that I even think to go to is the one in Hillcrest. Now if I'm in the mood for a good laugh say like watching two dope fiends fight over who lost the spoon or who broke the pipe then by all means I'm there!

Mahalo

(fuzzy photo courtesy of the damned camera phone--UGH!)


The Weekend Wrap Up (Pt. 2)

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this is an audio post - click to play


The Weekend Wrap Up (Pt. 1)

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this is an audio post - click to play


Mike takes one for the team...

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Found this pic on radio talk show host, Randi Rhodes' website in regards to FEMA's director, Michael Brown's being forced to remove himself from the Hurricane Katrina relief efforts.

This Man really hasn't had anything of real interest to post about, but just know that I've been laid up in front of my TV and listening to the radio all to get the latest and greatest news in relation to the hurricane relief efforts. I'll be back shortly.

Mahalo.


Kicked to the Curb!

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So I guess This Man should be a bit upset that The Dutchman has put me in the ditch, but after giving it some thought, I realized that I'm not pissed off or bitter. I'm just wondering why he didn't tell me. Could it be perhaps maybe he read my last entry about not wanting to spend the night with him and rather than leave a nasty comment or call me, he decided to totally cut me off? I can't figure it out. But I think the ironic part about it all was just as This Man was about to halt things with The Dutchman he beat me to it.
So it should be water under the bridge, right?
Well, after the last time that we were together (after the whole not-gonna-sleep-over incident), I tried to call him to suggest that we hang out. Now, This Man didn't trip that he didn't return my call that evening and I did pay any mind when he didn't call me the day after that. At the same time, This Man is nobody's fool and when a guy doesn't return my calls after a week or return an email--even if it's to say 'Stop fucking with me'--it's becomes pretty clear that I've been ditched. Take it from me, I've done this numerous times to other guys who couldn't quite get the hint.
So as with ditching a guy or being ditched, This Man likes to have a little ceremony of deleting their phone numbers out of my phone. It prevents me from ever drunk calling them and if they ever call me, I know not to answer it.
Call it This Man's 'Getting Over You' process.

Mahalo

(** This Man saw this pamphlet in the window of the Christian Science Reading Room next to my barber's shop. At first I thought it was a horrible greeting card, but after closer observation saw that it was a book to help those that are depressed.**)


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  • I'm THATGUY_HEATH
  • From San Diego, California, United States
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