I'll write you a book about it...

"my imagination is unparalleled .... I know.... I'm like Walt Disney...."
"Walt Disney on ...morphine...."


So that's the last shove. The last vote of encouragement, if it can be called that. I've decided to set out what I said I was going to to do months ago and write. Write a novel, write a blog, write a cracker jack joke... I'm going to write. My sister and I were talking about a friend of ours that has this group that gets together to write. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but it seems like they are just a way to stay inspired and on course. when you are writing for nothing, it's easy to just stop. I've been stuck on page 14 of my memoirs for like six months now-I'll probably never finish. The Sister drops the last bomb on me:

"You know they write fiction, right?"

What the fuck do I know about fiction? Am I gonna start writing about a boy wizard on coffee shop napkins or dream up far off galaxies that existed a long, long time ago? no. I don't have time for that ghosts and goblins bullshit. I can't parallel the Peter Pan and hope to turn it into some sort of Broadway musical. All I have is what is in my head; and that's a lot of filthy humor and crass antics played out by myself and friends over the years.

If fiction is what is needed, then I'll just carve out one of my many stupid weekends I've had in my life, change the names....and call it fiction. The cool thing is, is that it'd sell too. Bromance is an actual genre that has been made famous by The Waiter and Tucker Max. I could rewrite The Average American Male in about 12 hours, but there's already one of those.

Shit, I could write down the time Andy knocked over that dude's motorcycle and get on the New York Times Bestsellers, everyone always asked me to tell that fucking story.

This week is going to be spent reading The Confederacy of Dunces and Fight Club all over again. The authors are Gods amongst men of imagery.

Just Gargle with Salt Water....

"...Mom, you've been tellin' me to do that me entire life- It never works."

How many of us were raised on old wives' tales. The Gargle with Salt water always comes to mind when I ask myself that question. I have no doubt in my mind that my Mother, God love her, was plagued with those words her entire childhood. So, it stands to reason that what worked for her would work for us growing up. Unfortunately, my sister and I never really saw the point in gargling with salt water for a sore throat. Instead of giving us a nice, cool feeling- it gave us a horrible bitter "who just blew a load in my mouth" feeling. Well I guess I can't speak to that... but it's a horrible practice that should be deleted by the parents of today.

The Salt-Water Gargling........ not the other thing....I digress ....

"remember when we were going to be great?"

A week went by in the hospital and I didn't even know it. It's funny how the longest weeks of my life fly by so quickly. Fall is always a busy time for birthdays and anniversaries in my life, but this year it's been extra hard to keep up. Jennie, Heather, Amanda, Jeff, Dad, Dad and Mary's Anniversary, MY OWN BIRTHDAY... I know there are some I'm forgetting... Jackie...Cynthia... lets throw Jen for good measure as well. It doesn't really even end until Thankgiving, because Andy is right around there. Then Guy for New Years.... Fall kicks my ass, and if I missed your event...accept my apologies.

I remember when I could keep all of this straight. When energy wasn't an issue. Now, the friggin' steps are an issue.

"...can all of this just be over so I can get busy with either the 'happily ever after' or 'dead' part?...."

Always When it's the Least Offensive

Cynthia: Ok.. Now you update.
TJ: Oh I am, and it's going to be closely tied with this morning...well..afternoon...
Cynthia: Don't say anything mean about her, please?

Always....always....ALWAYS in my life when I get in trouble for my mouth it comes at a time that it's the least offensive. What's up with that? It really boggles my mind. I say some messed up junk, but when people who take themselves too seriously decided it's their day to get fed up with my non-sense, truth be told- that's what it is, it comes at a time when I'm fairly nice.

Examples are filling my head like it's high tide, and stink just as badly. We'll go back to a time when my friend, Heather- a Culinary Assistant at the Olive Garden, and I were going back and forth with our usual banter one fine morning in the Kitchen. It's the kind of carrying-on when no one can tell if we are serious or not, but we both know we are joking.

Well, the manager on duty didn't like it much. This particular manager and I aren't the closest of friends, in fact he hated me. I rang the bell on him so many times that it was stupid. He deserved it. Whatever. Anyway, He hears what's going on, because I do my best bullshitting on our loudspeaker that's used to call soups up from the back of the house, and flies out of the office. He comes into the Alley, the main server area, and begins to scream at me.

Now, for those of you who've screamed at me, mainly I'm talking to my parents, but I'm sure there are a few others, you know my reaction. I put on my most cavalier face and mock you with my eyes so I can see how far you are willing to go with this. I put that TJ smile on, grabbed a drink (while he was berating me) and enjoyed the show just like the other 15 servers that were standing around acting like they weren't watching. The entire time in my head I was thinking "Wow. This guy's toast." I knew Olive Garden Management philosophy better than most OG managers because I was up the ass of my General Manager. I know you can't scream at an employee, using foul language and name calling. In the end, I got my apology. No harm, no foul.

Fast forward to this morning. No wait- last night. For those of you that don't know Facebook it has the feature called "status update." It's the same thing as Twitter, which are the little updates at the top of my page. You can say dumb stuff like "TJ is taking a poop and on his laptop at the same time" or "Cynthia is sick of being sick," which was her status for last night. Another fine feature that Facebook has is that you can comment on these status updates. So, my late night reply was "Then go to the effin doctor....a-hole." Verbatim.

I think we all can agree I've said a lot worse- probably to members of clergy. But for some reason I decided to tone down my crass, classless, shameless vocabulary and go with an edited version. And this is where history repeats itself. I'm met with an email notification this morning that there was a response to my comment:

"You have no idea how I hate seeing this on my wall...I would never write such a nasty comment... wish I could remove this from my wall! If you know how I can...please tell me! I would hate to think my friends and family would assume I find this acceptable! Morality and class...never goes out of style!"

Are you fucking kidding me?!? Again?!? I read this with one eye and didn't really think much of it. But, as time went on and I woke up a bit, it really began to ruin my bowl of Frosted Flakes. I was preparing for war. I wanted to say something back, but my brain was moving to fast for my fingers. Plus, I was busy eating a tupperware size bowl of Frosted Flakes.

Cynthia told me that it was a lady that considers herself close enough to Cynthia to care for her like a daughter and was just offended that someone would speak to her like that. After contemplating my juvenile retaliation, I decided to just respect my elders and delete my comment. I offered no apologies because Cynthia and I regularly speak disrespectfully to each other. I think she might have called me a "cunt" twice today.

I used to just think that I'd have hit the tipping point with adults when I get bitched at for something far less offensive than my normal banter. But, this woman didn't know me. She hasn't had to put up with my bullshit like my Mother, Teachers, or employers. I've gone on rampages back at Pancho's sending asshole out of the room crying, ready to walk out and quite their job. But anytime I've gotten in trouble, it's been for something that was quite small.

An enigma...to say the least. Maybe when people see me at my best, or worst, they think to themselves "Wow this dude is quick. There'd be no stopping this man's quick wit, so why even try?" Then try to take me down when I seem tired or week. I guess it can be called "Social Natural Selection." They should know better- I'm just playing sick ... and that I take down prey bigger than me for breakfast.

She's probably sitting on her bed, rocking back and forth, and obsessively petting her cat for all I care.

Times of Ol'

How many times do you look back and think Fuck me, my parents were right. Those WERE the best days of my life. I should have held on a little longer. Whether it be a little league game, band camp, a dance performance, an unforgettable night with friends, football game, a high school job that didn't matter; chances are that was the best time of your life. Remember how you felt? Remember the disbelief?

If these are the best days of my life, then my life is going to blow complete ass. I remember completely dismissing that tidbit of advice. If you were going to tell me that living in my parent's basement, not having any direction, and working so many hours I couldn't even count them anymore would be the best time of my life... I would have taken every pill in my house. They should have told it to us differently: Being an adult is a crapshoot. I think we would have gotten the message.

I remember being a Junior in High School and going to the bowling alley on friday nights for the black light bowling. I remember hating it, but I remember having such a great time. Or the time Nate and I threw the best party in the world at his house, and then did so like 4 more times. I remember being responsible for getting the majority of my friends drunk for their first time. I remember working at the Upper Deck and hating it, but loving it because I could do whatever I wanted. I was 17 and didn't know the meaning of integrity, so if you were an asshole to me I'd deep fry your burger instead of grilling it. I remember throwing a beer bottle as hard as I could from the outside grill to the dumpster- only to accidentally hit a drunk man in the head with it.

it's times like these you learn to live again
it's times like these you give and give again
it's times like these you learn to love again
it's times like these time and time again ~Times Like These-Foo Fighters


What about the time when Jennie got so wasted at Aaron's bonfire that Sam and I had to drive her home? Then I had to carry her into her house, past her mother, and drop her off at the steps that led up to her room. Then there was the time that She and I made a pact to get married at twenty-five. Or how about the time that she threw me and Dustin a going away party when we set off for Cedar Point in 2003, sending us off with a bottle of Jager each.

And what about Cedar Point? Serendipity at it's finest. The people I met, the path it laid; things I can never regret. Some incredibly intense things went on that grew me up fairly quick. And the direction it pointed me carves out my life thus far: Bloomington.

Who would have known that our best years were back then? Why didn't they tell me earlier? Oh wait... they tried.... I didn't listen...

...I never do...


There are people who, instead of listening to what is being said to them, are already listening to what they are going to say themselves.
Albert Guinon

While the World Sleeps; It's Just Me and Kitty Awake

"You look like you are about to fall asleep, TJ."
"No, I'm just sick of playing cards with drunk people."


Tonight was the first night in a month or so that I went back to the Upper Dump(I'm allowed to say that, I've been in the basement) to play cards. The people there are awesome, all of which I'd call my friends, but the randoms that come up and play card with us are really something else. Tonight, drunken twins, multiples are always a joy- they were only meant for one brain ya know, came up and wanted to play in our free poker tourney. We always welcome new blood, so they sit down and the cards hit the table. The entire time the host, Dwayne, is trying to figure out if they are drunk or just retarded. I know the answer. I went to school with these fuck-sticks back at Portage Lakes and the answer is-Both. In school, they were the prime example of two people meant for one brain. Tonight, they were each half of a brain, pounding their Miller High Life bottles. I rarely ever stay for the second game.... while most people find it hilarious to be around alcohol, I just get annoyed.

Sunday, I had a photo shoot with my adorable niece and nephew. Unfortunately it was the worst time of day to shoot and the sun is harsh. I think the pics will be OK for family, but definitely not material to be sent into a competition or anything. These kids make up for it in cuteness. I'm just going to chalk it all up to inexperience and that I'm still learning how to shoot. I'll get better. The weather was perfect and I don't often get the chance to take pictures of them so I had to seize the moment. We will see what I can do in Photoshop.





TJ: Sitemeter shows that NASA just hit my page. First it's NASA, then the FBI, then Homland Security. Next thing you know I'm gonna be in Guantanamo Bay getting raped and the beat down of my life.
The Jangus: Yeah, I'm gonna need you to remove my link from your page.

Why so Serious?

(Look up at your URL bar...a little surprise for you)

I know that my readers probably ask themselves Why is TJ so vulgar?

To that question, I ask you "Why so Serious?"

No one I know has a website with their real name as the banner and actually says what they are thinking. Everyone is so piss scared of revealing their true thoughts to people. I think that's fucking lame. I see nothing wrong with honesty, even if it might spark a little mayhem. At least that mayhem will be the truest thing you'll participate in- probably in the span of that day. People hide behind shrouds of bullshit; people like me see through that shit and just say it how it is. And if how it is has some swear words in it- so be it.

Now, I know that cursing automatically lowers me into some sort of Joe Six-Pack subclass in most people's minds. All of the uppity snobs stare down their nose at bad language and don't tolerate it much, but isn't it how we all speak in private? Isn't that how we all think before our tongues filter it out? I know how to socially filter myself. If you know me, you know you can put me into a room with just about anyone, except churchies- I hate church folk, and I'll mix in like warm butter. But, in general, I say what I want and never get a bad result.

I know that one day, if I get over this situation called cancer, I'll probably have to delete this blog, but for now I'm telling it how it is. I ask for no forgiveness and I make no apology. Do you know how liberating it feels to say whatever you want in a forum where anyone in the world can read it, and your NAME is on it? It's probably the best feeling in the world. I wish everyone had the balls to do it. So far its just me and I'm competitor free. I'm no celebrity or public figure. I'm just a guy with a voice that get pissed off sometimes and wants anyone, willing to read, to know about it.

1277 express to heaven
Speeding along like dynamite
1277 express to heaven
Rumbles the steel like a dogfight
You caught me in its spell
Trying to leave but you know darn well
The heat from below can burn your eyes out

~Hot Rails to Hell - Blue Oyster Cult

Another Sleepless Night; I'll fall Asleep When I See the Sun

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed. ~Ambrose Bierce

Uhhhhg. No sleep; No Peace. I woke up today, got out of bed, looked in the mirror and thought I saw some yellow in my eyes. I'm so paranoid about going jaundice that I always think I'm slightly yellow. Any time I have a slight itchiness to my skin or indigestion I start to freak out and take the steroids I have. I don't reason with myself that I took two hot showers the day before and might have dry skin, or that I ate some pretty wicked Pancho's for lunch and have legitimate acid reflux. I go straight for worst case scenario and pound the pills.

These pills, like most, are a blessing and a curse. They make me hungry which is great, but I seriously never can get full, which is the opposite of great. They also "Jump start my system," as my nurse likes to say, thus creating the blabbering insomniac you see before you. I suppose if I had a night life, this would be fine. I suppose if I had money to travel this would be great too. But I have none of these....so I blog....

Maybe I should clean my damn room. I just don't know where to put all of this shit. I have mounds of junk on my floor with only a closet and a dresser to put it all in. I see myself putting it all on my bed to organize it, filling up my closet and my dresser, then putting it all back on the floor in smaller, neater mounds. What's the point?

I haven't driven my car since Friday. I got a last minute call to play poker and I took it. I had already cancelled plans with family for dinner because my stomach was feeling weird, but I figured that poker couldn't hurt- it wasn't like I was going to eat the cards. I only cancelled for dinner because it was a pricey place we were going, I was being treated, and I didn't want to waste anyone's money when money is so tight for everyone these days. But anyway, I get to the game and there was pizza there, the host bought us all pizza as a way to thank us for coming on such short notice. I had a piece of cheese pizza just to be nice, anyone who knows me knows that if I was really going to eat pizza I would have taken 4 or 5 peices. The first half of the game was going better than OK, it was going phenomenal. I was making good calls and great reads.

I threw down my top pair, face up, post flop because I knew the guy betting had a higher pocket pair. He did. My Queens were dominated by his Kings and I let everyone knew I laid it down, earning me instant praise for "good instinct." I made strong raises at critical moments pushing players out of pots when I had absolutely nothing in my hand. I'm getting better at bluffing and keeping my heart rate down. Unfortunately, about halfway through the game I started to really feel like shit and and started to shiver. I knew this couldn't be good. I make the hard decision to just dump my chips and get out of there. I needed to go home.

So, any decent hand I got I pushed hard, got called.....and WON. Are you kidding me?!? I kept winning. This is awful. I'm two seconds from putting my head down on the table and taking a nap like I'm in first-grade with a tummy ache, and I can't leave the game. Eventually, I get rid of my chips.... but not as soon as I'd hoped.

I hope they've got a bathroom..........cuz I'm gonna use it!

I get in the car and run home. I'm freezing. I hop in the shower and scold myself with hot water to end the Hell of what feels like hypothermia. I just stand there with my eyes closed, cursing life, thinking about the great card game and smooth moves I had made, I was really doing well. All of a sudden I get thin spit; this means it's puke time. I get out of the shower dry off a bit, sit down on the tub and just let loose into the open toilet. At full force, everything came up; I could even see breakfast; it was 11:30 pm.

Over the last few months I've made love to the toilet more times than I'd like to recall, but nothing is worse than barfing naked. No matter what you see in the toilet, no matter how grossed out that its coming out of your nose too, all you can think about is that you are naked and how sad of a sight this must be. This must be the worst thing someone could ever walk in on. The madness ends and I clean up. I gathered up my clothes and head to my bedroom. I knew where my sweat pants where in this mess of a room so I put them on immediately, along with the Tshirt I wore to play poker in and I fell into bed.

I stayed there until today with the exceptions of eating some soup and toast yesterday. Today, however, I felt well enough to try whole foods, and by the end of the day I was back to the regular stuff we have around the house. Yay me, conquered another ailment. Wonderful.......

Comic blog

So I found this application on my Mac called Comic Life. I don't have any pictures right now that would fit well with it, but I came up with some funny things to say with a few that I have. Well I think they are funny...... If you are having trouble seeing the letters, you can view them in my Flickr!

Political Rant...

How fortunate for governments that the people they administer don’t think. ~Some Guy

I’m in a fairly political mood, but I don’t want to preach so I’m just going to say that both candidates are fucking lame, and then talk about myself for an hour. I don’t want to fall I the category of those I see on the FaceSpace spouting off what Fox News, BBC, PBS, or CNN told them to say this morning. We all have our own brand I suppose; perhaps we should all just shut up and smoke.

I watched the debates and to a man who has spun an incredible web of bullshit his entire life- I have to say they both looked like assholes up there. It’s a damn soap opera, the debates. Prescript with notes that some poor intern wrote in twenty-five minutes, probably on the way to the debate. McCain looked out of touch (don’t fucking tell me where you’ve been and who you’ve seen… fuck off…) and Obama looked characteristically cool considering he is better qualified to make my mocha than run my country (Don’t tell me about the abstract plan you wrote down and someone told you it was brilliant…fuck off…)

As much as I want to wear Sarah Palin’s ass as a hat(lol..That should go over well with my family who reads this thing) she’s a damn joke for VP…

And the other guy…. Biden… well Palin did her job blowing his name right out of the election… who even cares about him anymore? That move will be studied by political analysts for years. Brilliant move by the right...completly cutting the legs out from underneath the VP candidates, thus negating their existence what-so-ever.

I feel like I just played Othello and canceled out all of my chips… weird.

Back to the FaceSpace masses, who are college age students spouting off what the read and what their professors tell them; get over it. You don’t matter until you are 26+ and have an active role in the economy…so shut up and drink your beer…enjoy it for another 4 years.

Oh..and lets talk about how everyone is some sort of Economist now. Everyone knows how to fix the economy. Economy this…economy that…. I bet if you asked someone to define Economy they’d give you a big, dumb look like AIG had on their faces last week. The truth, no one can fix the economy, it has to fix itself. Places like China and the Mid East have to work with us to get our economy back. We entered into this long ago under Clinton and he said “LET IT RIIIIDE!” ……..Voila ….. He signed NAFTA and began the steps to a Global Economy.

Now I’m sure everyone’s head just exploded when I said that. So I’ll stop. Making mention of the rest of the world to an American is damn close to denouncing Christ as the Son of God… people don’t react well to it.

“Why do we have to bail out Wall Street?!” I’ve been asked. Well, remember back in school when we learned about the Great Depression and stock brokers jumping off of buildings, banks going bankrupt, and all Hell breaking loose? Remember when you asked the teacher “Can that ever happen again?” and she said “No…we have systems put into place to never let that happen again.” THIS IS WHAT THE FUCK SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT! These are the systems…. These are the ways…

OH …and you want tax cuts for the rich… they are the ones that invest in the economy. The more money they have- the more jobs we can get- the happier all of us lemmings are.

McCain and Obama are going to do the same thing: Put more troops in sand boxes and tell congress to figure out the economy. They are both playing the same game now....and Change is long gone. All of the Change has fallen off of their platforms. Clean air, socialized medicine, SOCIAL SECURITY..... c'mon America.... think.


Even Hitler relished in the fact that a country wouldn't think and just act......he even wrote down a quote about it somewhere....