An empty fate just means an empty score.

I'm recently 32, I just bought a house, I don't know any girls that aren't already married, and i have no ambition for future success. This has always been good enough. It isn't any more. Now what.

End Transmission.

Sometimes waitng in line is just too much to handle.

Today, I put in my four hours of work for the week. I awoke at 9:30 AM, I wasn't sure my alarm clock still worked that early, but it does. I spent about an hour doing my daily morning bullshit, answering emails,(from impatient assholes who apparently have no idea how slow the US Postal service is) tying to make my protein shake with no blender, (everything on the blender works, except the little black part that attaches to the base broke, apparently there is no way to just buy that piece, and unfortunately a 97% operational blender might as well bee 100% non operational. It seems like a waste to have to buy a whole new one...never mind), packing the day's shipments, and just generally trying to psych myself up to venture into the outside world.

I headed west on Colfax towards the largest Pawn shop in Denver. This place is typically a disappointment to me since they over value worthless shit, but they also undervalue valuable shit, so sometimes it's a lucrative trip. Anyway, it's the first stop on my scavenger loop around Denver, and today it was awesome!

First of all I got some 18 year old kid helping me (he kept calling me "sir" which I found insulting, I work for a living goddammit), by which I mean he opened the glass case and stood watching me scan video games. This store has hundreds of awesome Xbox 360, Wii, and PS3 games, but usually they wanted between $25 and $30 for them and were jerks about giving me a bulk discount. Today, however they were desperate to unload some of their over ripening stock, and were in the mood to haggle. So I went to work wading through all the crap to find stuff I could sell.

I was about half way through the pile when there was a disturbance directly to my 5 o'clock. All I hear is, "What the fuck, this is fucking bullshit!" (this is typically a exclamation of displeasure) the over weight mexican lady at the register tells the dude to chill (cheel) out or he would be asked to leave.

"Oh I'll leave," he says and thats when I get a look at him. An old white dude, at least 6 feet tall, with a road worn Undertaker leather duster, he's livid. People have apparently been cutting in front of him, though it seem more likely the line he is in is just moving slower. "Why the fuck isn't here just one line, these assholes cut in front of me!"

It is then the middle age tough guy manager steps in. He's about 5"6" 220lbs, and has a sweet flame tattoo on his arm.

"Ok buddy, you're out of here," he tells the old man.

The old dude barely gets "fuck You!" out of his mouth before he decks the manager in the face and runs grumbling out of the pawn shop. The manager is on the floor, out cold. There is blood, and everyone is freaking out. Someone calls the police.

I still had about 100 games to sift through, so I went back to work.

end transmission.

It's nearly impossible, Highly Improbible, but not hopeless.

Who are you, who are they? It feels like I might break on this ordinary day, why do we need to change, we were perfect yesterday?

Shit, I'm writing a shitton of shit right now...that's a lot of shit. Man Face to Face "ignorance is Bliss" is just hitting all the chords. Anyway, I'm gonna wake up, hungover and soberish....and read what I wrote and post the fixed version. Sorry you don't get the raw version, it's just a little too "feel sorry for me" at this point.

On a funny note, I ran over a squirrel today. It wasn't personal, more wrong place wrong time, but I swear the second before it died it judged me.

end transmission.

The future is now.

Ok assholes! If you can't figure out the god damn check yourself out lanes at the supermarket, just suck it up and let the high school kid or the kid with downs syndrome check you out.

I've seriously had it.

I like the check yourself out lanes, because I shop for food one meal at a time. I don't need a fucking cart to ship my provisions to my car. I want to get in, buy my 3 lbs. of meat, 1 lb. of cheese and 1 liter of Vodka, and get the hell out with as little human interaction as possible.

Drop items, scan, beep, scan, beep, scan, beep, swipe card, get on with life.

NOT

Take 5 minutes to unload my basket, trying earnestly to stack my obviously more than ten items into some sort of stable pyramid on the scale that won't go rolling all over the place, swipe...swipe...stupid look on face...swipe...(why isn't this onion coming up on the scanner?)...swipe...swipe...now I have to act frustrated and get the attention of the attendant and blame technology and him/her for my own ignorance...oh, you need a code...ok duh, no bar code on an onion, stupid nature...scan...beep...scan...beep...scan beep...wait this wasn't the price that I thought it was, it should be on sale...fast forward 10 minutes, "no mam, it's the generic tomato paste that is 62 cents, this is the name brand it's 71 cents"..."well, then I don't want it."

Finally all the items are scanned, and lo, it's time to pay. the total comes to $42.34. First let's search our luggage size purse for $.34. When we don't find the requisite change in that location, we can ask our husband if he has any change, he searches the cargo pants of his pants, finding nothing shrugs apologetically as he scans the US weekly's. Well there's nothing to be done now, but pay. Shit, I only have ones and fives and I don't use a wallet, I just throw money in my pocket like it's worthless, so it's all crumpled. Wait! why is this huge unshaven white guy murdering my wife with a rib eye?!

I'm just saying you should have to pass some sort of proficiency test to use the check yourself lane. You should also have a debit/credit card.

No change accepted.

end transmission.

The dregs of sobriety.

There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.

end transmission.

Like a loaded gun, if it sits too long, eventually you'll work up the nerve.

Ha! Here you go Chris, the blog is back.

So after four years give or take, the Vegas experiment has come to a close. I made some money, had some fun, made some friends. But here I am heading back to Colorado. Have I outgrown the tiny city in my travels across the world, or will I appreciate it more now that I know what the world is like elsewhere? Time will tell, but for now I look forward to being close to the people I have been too far away from for too long.

I will miss the small tribe of kids I have bonded with in Vegas, the simple truth is I have spread my roots over a large area of this country and no matter where I go I will leave people behind. Though this is sad, it is also very cool. I feel very lucky to know that there are people all over the place that can tolerate my fucking presence.

Anyway, Denver will have its hands full with me for a little while at least, I can always leave...make sure you impress me enough not to turn the town to salt.

end transmission.

Abandon ties that bind, there's no salvation here.

Hello. My name is Daub. I am 30.9 years old, and I have been unemployed for almost an entire year. So unbeknown to you, you have all been paying my salary for the entire time. (suckers!) That does not make you assholes my boss! But if you could manage it, I would like Tuesdays off.

Currently, I live in the spare bedroom of one of my best friends and his old lady. There are two very ugly dogs here. They eat my shoes on a daily basis, somehow they are growing on me and that is lucky for them. For a more detailed biography please visit: www.washeduppornstars.com/dickdaubbone.

I do not have a problem with my drinking, but I do have a drinking problem.

Anyway, after a slight hiatus, I have decided to put fingers to buttons and share with you all some things that have been on my mind.

First of all, Robocop is an awesome movie. I remember when my mom took me to see it as a lad in the theater. It was odd, because my parents wouldn't even let me watch Ghostbusters. I don't think my mom expected it to be so graphic, and when the ED209 turned that businessdude into hamburger, I remember her dragging me out of the theater and keeping me outside until the barrage of gunfire silenced. I watched as much as I could before my exile, and after that my mom just gave up and let me watch the rest of the film.

I mention this heartwarming tale of my youth because I feel like that movie fucked me up for the rest of my life. I had never seen anything so fucking amazing in my life, something about the gratuitous violence, sex, and cyborg one liners changed who and what I would become. Kinda like how Linda Carter in that Wonder Woman outfit defined my "type" before my balls even dropped. Black hair, blue eyes, big tits, she ties you up and makes you tell the truth. I'm probably the only person who ever thought she was hot. Also she had an invisible jet.

What was I talking about? Fuck. I guess my point was that if Robocop were here, he and Wonder Woman would fix the economy somehow.

end transmission.