The Role I Was Born To Play

Talk about coincidence. I finally got the comment filter on Blogger fixed and look what popped in last night from the Professor:

"If you want to work on your bucket list, I'm set to get my first IMDB recognition for directing for a short film. The main role is cast but the three remaining characters are listed as Jerk 1, Jerk 2, and Jerk 3. Maybe it's karma. It's probably going to be filmed around Hamilton if you're interested."

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?

This is the role I was born to play.

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,

But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down,

I've been training my whole life for this chance. All the Italian jokes I took beatings for between 1976 and 1987. Captain Kirk's virginity. Doli Madison's minor weight problem. Gay baiting Stace for the better part of 20 years. Too many insults to even record or remember.

The whole crowd goes so loud

He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no

But what if I'm not up to it? What if there are even bigger and better jerks in Cincinnati? What kind of jerks come from Cincinnati?

Jerry Springer, inventor of white trash TV and noted prostitute check writer

Carmen Electra, media whore

John Boehner, Speaker of the House and noted obstructionist

Chad Ochocinco, football whore

Sam Wyche, former coach of the Bengals who told a rioting crowd "they weren't in Cleveland"

Nick Lachey, wife of Jessica Simpson

Simon Leis, famous cock block who prosecuted Larry Flint

Pete Rose, liar and gambler

Sarah Jessica Parker, horse-faced creator of worst TV show in history

Charles Keating, creator of the original savings and loan scandal

Marge Schott, colorful owner of the Reds who rubbed dog hair on her players for luck

Ted Turner, ex-husband of Jane Fonda and founder of CNN and TNT

I'm minor league compared to that jerk hall of fame. I left off at least 50 Cincinnati jerks because I got tired of typing.

He won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that, but he's broke
He's so stagnant, he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again, yo
This whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

Assuming the timing works out, which role should I apply for? Jerk 1 is too obvious. Jerk 2 is redundant. Jerk 3 has questionable motivations. Should I play all three roles like Adam Sandler or Eddie Murphy would? I'm willing to go drag, for purely artistic purposes of course.

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
(You better)

Face it, at this point this is just a flimsy excuse to steal Eminem's lyrics.

(Yeah, he stopped trying three paragraphs ago.)

The soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, only grows hotter
He blows us all over these hoes is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows

I wonder what the casting couch is like when you're auditioning to be a jerk? Do I have to make the producer feel bad about himself? Cause for that I should just have sex with him.

He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da

If the timing works out, I'll be reporting from the set of the next blockbuster straight to download short film. I hope this happens, cause it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.

You can do anything you set your mind to, man

I sure hope so Marshall.

It's Been a Long Time

It's been almost a year since I wrote anything, but it seems like the blink of an eye. So what's changed?

Well, I appear to have developed balistophobia, the debilitating fear of missile silos. Yet somehow I still make it through the day. Think I can get a medical marijuana certificate for it?

Other than that, not much and everything.

"Not much" in the sense that I still have the same house, the same job and haven't crossed a damn thing off my bucket list. I'm beginning to wonder whether I was full of shit when I wrote it, or if I'm just a big pussy.

"Everything" in the sense that I've sort of moved on and found someone new.

The phase "sort of" deserves an entire blog post. I've moved on to the degree that I think I am capable. It would be akin to a drummer losing an arm. Life isn't over, he just needs to find a different career. Or not...

What I'm trying to say is that I've lost my naive innocence regarding relationships. The last time it was inconceivable to me that any "real" marriage could fail. Hardly anyone I knew had ever been divorced, and for "those people" there were obvious explanations - infidelity, alcohol, a lack of commitment from the beginning. That wasn't me. Or any of my friends. They were different. I was different. We jumped in headfirst - damn the depth of the river.

The second time around there's a vague awareness in the back of your mind that you're not special. You know exactly how bad it can end and how quickly it can turn.  And because of that, you're extremely reticent to go "all in". It's not like you've got one foot out the door, but you always know where the nearest fire extinguisher is.

Based on what I've read, this is pretty typical. It's the baggage that everyone who goes through a divorce carries with them. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and I'm ready to sue.

In fact, "moving on" was the one major reason I stopped posting. When I started this blog I had nothing to lose. I was so embarrassed and shamed by my divorce that there wasn't anything that I wasn't willing to write about and share with total strangers. It was "public therapy", a semi-safe place to work out all of the pain, anger, shame and rage that was eating me alive. I was at my lowest point, so the thought of people pointing and laughing at my failures didn't really bother me. Or the fact they would be preserved for eternity where prospective employers and my kid's friends could review and comment.

Granted, I wasn't really taking the "long view" at the time.

Last year I got to a place where I no longer felt it was appropriate to share every random embarrassing thought that popped into my head. I felt it would be a terrible invasion of privacy to blog or write about anyone I was dating, even though the stories would have been great. The potential of being seen with me in public can be embarrassing enough. Having it posted where her parents, kids, friends or husband could see it is just wrong.

Once that filter went up my writing became banal bullshit and I stopped posting any of it. I have 14 semi-finished posts that will never see the light of Google. They all started with a spark of clever inspiration. They all ended with bullshit generalities, platitudes and a lack of any true "feeling."

Granted, it's not like I set the literary bar very high, but if I couldn't control my gag reflex for three paragraphs I doubt any of you would give a shit.

So what's new? Well, my girlfriend is moving in next month.

I'll let that one settle in for a minute.

Yes, I am scared out of my mind. I'm not sure I should be writing about any of this, and if / when she sees this the move may be cancelled. But I've got to work this stuff out, and I don't have time for therapy.

I'm better as part of a team. BLT says that I always wanted to be married. I think he's right. I like being part of a team. I like the support. I like the feeling I get when I can help someone else. Even when I was going through the divorce, I was absolutely certain I would eventually get married again, even if intellectually I was telling myself "Oh hell no".

The woman I have been seeing is wonderful. She's kind, supportive, thoughtful, smart, attractive, progressive, exciting, active, funny, great with my kids and more than willing to put up with me.

You're probably thinking she's perfect, well I'm here to tell you "far from it". She can't make a decision, thinks sleeping to 10:00 AM is acceptable behavior, says Corgi's aren't real dogs and doesn't hate Jhonny Peralta anywhere near enough for my taste. Basically, she's a basket case.

So why am I scared shitless? Because I'm afraid that I didn't learn enough from my divorce. I'm pretty sure I'm a jerk. I try not to be, but it comes so naturally. It's a gift. Or a curse. Now sure, a few of you will feign disbelief and say "Oh no, you're just being a drama king Bob." Thank you for trying to soften the blow. I'm sure a few of you even said that with a straight face, but we all know it's true. I'm a jerk.

Do any of you have a Facebook page dedicated to how big of a jerk you are? I do. For real. And it wasn't even started by The Ex. If you count the Ex's Facebook page, it's actually two pages dedicated to how much of an asshole I am.

I know it's not unusual for children to have contentious relationships with their parents. But I've managed to become estranged from not one, but two mothers. Yes, the people who are hormonally evolved and socially conditioned to nurture and protect their young both think I am a jerk. Granted, one of them is mentally ill and the other is biologically related to me (which is a reasonable excuse I suppose), but still. You couple that with my sociopathic Ex and you can see that I may have problems with women.

Once is bad luck. Twice is a coincidence. Three times and it's probably your fault.

What happens when my girlfriend realizes that she's living with a jerk? Hopefully she's less sociopathic than my ex, but then again what if I'm just a horrible judge of character? It's not as if rapists and serial killers introduce themselves with their chosen avocation while announcing their intention to gut and skin you for sport.

"You got a pretty mouth boy."

"Um, thanks... I gotta go. Bye."

If only it was that easy.

So what do our friends think? Most of them say it's "too early". But when asked "How long would be long enough?" they shrug.

Twelve months? Eighteen months? Six years? I don't know either. People in arranged marriages may only meet one or two times prior to their wedding and yet statistically they are very successful. According to multiple sites, the global divorce rate for arranged marriages is only 6%! Now granted, there are numerous caveats to that statistic since it is heavily culturally biased. It doesn't consider the impact of familial shame, the poor economic prospects for women in countries that favor arranged marriage or local laws prohibiting divorce.

But believe it or not, November will mark two years that my girlfriend and I have known each other. That's a significant amount of time. It's longer than I knew my ex-wife before we moved in together. In fact, by the two year mark we were engaged and well into planning our wedding.

I know full well this could turn out to be a flipping disaster to rival the last one. But it could also be a wonderful start to a new life together. In life there are no guarantees and no one knows how this is going to end. But I know that I'm a lot happier when I'm with her. So nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I'm going to jump in that river again, even if this time I'm keeping one eye on the life preserver. Wish me luck.

Thanksgiving - Oldie

I wrote this last November.  Not sure why I never got around to posting it.  I've definitely posted way worse.

I'm on a train headed west to Chicago to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with one of my very best friends. BLT says we're closer than brothers. While I didn't grow up with any 'actual' brothers, I'm inclined to agree. I'm really thankful to have him in my life.

So here I sit musing on the concept of Thanksgiving while I try to ignore the young couple in front of me making out like a couple of sailors on shore leave.

They remind me of the Vogelchecks from Saturday Night Live. It's quite the show if you're into sloppy saliva soaked kisses. Fred Armisen plays the patriarch of the family.  Check it out here.

I swear he just licked her face.

Back to being thankful. I'd really be thankful for a sleep mask and noise canceling headphones right now.

The Ex threw a graduation party for me when I finished graduate school back in 2004. The party was great fun and my family and friends took the opportunity to roast me. Since I had spent the better part of the previous 25 years being an asshole, I probably deserved it. Fun was had by most and after they finished putting me in my place I was allowed to speak. My ex didn't tell me that the party was a roast until about an hour before the start. Nor did she bother to warn me that I was required to speak and I'd best be witty and charming since everyone came here to see me.

I remember how grateful I was for all the wonderful people in my life and the fact that almost all of them took time from their busy schedules to come out and eat my food. I seem to remember Doli Madison coming all the way from Florida to get his shots in.

I had an hour to organize and draft a speech intended to entertain and enlighten a room full of people who had already heard everything I've ever had to say. What could I possibly add? I'm not an essayist, nor a gifted public speaker. But I am good at one thing, and that's spinning bullshit at the last minute. There's nothing like a deadline to focus the mind. I sat down in the hotel lounge and crafted my personal Sermon on the Mount. It was probably the best thing I've ever written. I'm pretty sure the Ex video taped the entire party. I sort of wish I still had those tapes.

Maybe it's better that the speech wasn't recorded. I'm sure it plays better in my memory than it ever did in real life. I spoke of friendship and love. About how no man is an island and we are all in this life together. I explained how every one of my accomplishments in life was directly related to the support and encouragement of my family and friends. I talked about my Dad and how much I missed him and how proud he would have been. In my mind it was (and is) beautiful.

Sunday was the ten year anniversary of my Dad's passing. This is the first year I missed it. One one hand I can't believe it's been that long. On the other I can barely remember the sound of his voice any more. Time flies and life is what happens to our best laid plans.

My advice is to take the time this Thanksgiving to be thankful for the people in your life that make life worth living.

Peace.