Current status:

All the ladies still want me.

Spider's Trash
I've decided to give 20% of my income to a charity. This may sound like a lot, and it is, but when you're as awesome as me, you just do shit like this, you know?

Anyways, I've narrowed the list of charities down to the ones I think need my money the most. I just can't pick from these! Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. The list thus far is as follows:

-Dogfight for a Cure
-Jersey City Bachelor Auction To Raise Chlamydia Awareness
-Tats for Tots
-The March of Counterfeit Subway Tokens
-We Don't Have A Problem And We Sure As Hell Don't Need Your Damn Money Gala Ball & Silent Auction
-PeTA and Hamas Pita-and-Hummus Dinner
-Tree of Syringes
-Everybody Get K-Fed: A Tribute Album To Fight World Hunger
-PTSD Father-Son Fun Shoot
-The Genital Warts Memorial Quilt
-Rock Against Xenu
-Enemas for a Cause
-Pledge Drive For Ron McDonald's House, No, Not The Ronald McDonald House, Just This Guy Named Ron McDonald, Whose House Needs Some Work
-First Annual $500,000 By 4:00 PM Or We Start Killing Hostages Telethon
-Take-a-Penny, Leave-a-Penny

Any ideas? Lemme know.

Spider's Trash

An entry? And what an entry!
Spider's Trash
I accidentally went out the other night. Figured I'd leave the house for a couple of hours, talk to my friend, listen to some music.. you know, the usual Friday night activities. I put on some pants, made sure my hair wasn't poking straight up, and drove to DJ's house.

Most of you don't know DJ. He's my main man on this coast. The Number 2 to my Dr. Evil. He's a good deal shorter than me, wears glasses. Cool guy, you'll like him. Anyways. My night began around 8:00 pm. I gave DJ a call and asked if I could come over, he said yeah, so I started up yon chariot and drove my ass over.

I pull up to DJ's house and put my truck in park. I notice DJ and his wife Lisa standing by the street, talking to their new across-the-street neighbors. I step out of the truck, and am promptly introduced to Burt and Tammy. Tammy looks like a hot girl ate another hot girl in an attempt to gain her power, but all she gained was the weight. Naturally, her less-than-sunny demeanor didn't earn her any favor with me, but I really don't know her or even plan to, so what do I care? Anyways, Burt is a far more relevant character in this story. He's from Key West and every aspect of his character screams this. Another cool guy, if not a little off-kilter.

Anyways. We stood at the side of the road, by the garbage cans, drinking beer ala King of the Hill. Every now and then one of us would say "Yup." Occasionally an "mm-hmm" would escape someone's lips. In any case, when night fell and the mosquitoes came out, it was suggested that we go into Burt's house to grab another beer and escape the wrath of the skeeters. So we go into Burt's place, grab our beer, and make our way out the back door and on to the porch. For the most part, the wives stuck together, talking, and ultimately making their way inside. Myself, DJ, and Burt remained outside, telling dirty jokes and generally cutting up. It was nice!

Then Burt asks, "Do you guys wanna take a ride up to the store so I can buy some cigarettes?" Having nothing better to do, and figuring the trip would take about five minutes, we don't say anything to the wives, and make our way over to Tammy's Scion (henceforth known as "The Milk Truck").

He turns in the direction of the store, but rather than making a right into the parking lot, he makes a left at the nearby intersection. He then says "You guys wanna go to the Stern House and get a beer?" Being that by the time this question was asked, we were there, and having been to (and enjoyed) the Stern House in the past, we figured, what the hell, it's Friday! We made no protest, parked, and found that the place was closed. "Aww shoot." was my reaction, and we got back into the milk truck, presumably headed to the store for real this time. He drives straight, and again, instead of turning right into the parking lot of the store, he turns left. DJ and I exchange a concerned look and politely ask, "Dude, where the hell are you going?"

"Aww, man!! We're going to The Oasis! It's just up the road! We're gonna have ONE beer! It'll be fun!" Mm. Fun indeed. Well, again, I figured "Fuck it. It's Friday, I'm already out, and it's not like I have any say in the matter at this point." So we get to the Oasis, and are immediately greeted by a sound similar to a man being beaten with a guitar. Trying to figure out why anyone would allow this person to sing on a stage, I look up and see the reason, and it put a big ol' smile back on my face.

"KARAOKE FRI-SAT - 10:00-1:00"

I check my watch. It's Friday night at 10:30.


We go inside and are greeted by none other than Randy, DJ's crazy old redneck father in law. Funny guy if you can tolerate him. We mosey on over to his booth and grab a seat. As is the norm, I use this opportunity to check for single hot girls, but the only girl to pop out at me is a cute blonde chick flipping through one of the Karaoke song listings with her friend. I make a mental note of this, order a drink, and join in the conversation. I don't remember at this point what we were talking about, but knowing Randy, it was probably something racist. (As I said, redneck. I didn't mean it in the good way, yeech!)

So we carry on drinking and telling lies for a while. Not long after I came in, I put my name on the singing list, so we had to at least wait for my turn. Being that I was fairly drunk at this point, my attention span for things that did not interest me was nonexistant, so I spent the next little while cheering on those with the sand to sing, and doing the eyes thing with the cute blonde girl I mentioned previously. She was doing the eyes thing back, so it's cool. Even DJ noticed and said "Dude, that blonde chick is totally checking you out!" "I know!" I replied, and smiled. It was beginning to look like a good night after all!

Ultimately, my name was called, and I could no longer be bothered with pre-flirting. It was showtime! I casually made my way up to the stage in the corner, thanked the Karaoke dude, grabbed the mic, and waited. Karaoke dude did the CD shuffle, and before long, the familiar bass line starting off "Crush" by DMB began to play all around me. I then did what came naturally when I hear this song, and began to sing my ass off.

Before this night, I was under the impression that I sang this song well. I mean, whenever I would play it in my car with the volume way up and the windows down, I could've sworn I sounded exactly like Dave Matthews himself! Come to find out, however, that I don't sound like Dave Matthews. As a result, my normally beautiful, powerful voice came out sounding like a wispy disaster. I didn't exactly care. And I did better on the latter half of the song! But I didn't really expect to go up there and sound like Pavarotti. I was a semi-drunk dude who felt like singing, and damned if I wasn't in the place to do it! I finished up, all smiles, and came offstage to the cheering of my friends! Well, okay, the cheering of DJ. Still! I sang in public! You ever do that, fucker?

Sorry. No, I'm good. I just need a moment. *takes sip of water* Ahh.. that's better. What is this, Evian? Oh, tap? Hey, I'll take it, I'm no snob. Thanks. *Takes another sip* Okay, where was I? Oh yeah..

At this point, I'm feeling good. I've had a few beers, I'm out, laughing with my friends in a pretty fun place, and to top it off, I got to do a "HEYLOOKATMEEE!" thing in public without fear of admonishment! I sat back down and had another beer. Resuming my previous activities, I continue ignoring the conversation around me for the most part, in favor of watching the cute blonde girl get up on stage and sing thet one song by Jewel. You know? The one where she has the eggs and makes 'em into a smiley face? Yeah, that song. Anyways, she sang the hell out of it. She did a really good job, so color me impressed. She's hot AND she sings? I gotta get me some of that. She finishes, and she and her friend step outside. At this point, it's now or never. I finish my beer, tell my companions I'll be right back, and step outside.

Making like I'm trying simply to get away from the smoke and noise, I step into the outdoor seating area. I take a deep, rejuvenating breath of fresh air, and ask the two ladies if I may join them. They agreed, and I pulled up a chair. This felt almost too easy. I gave them my name, and they gave me their names, and conversation just sorta happened.

Now that I could get a good look at her, the blonde chick was actually quite attractive. She looked kinda like Cameron Diaz if she had a nice sized ass. She was from the same town in New York that Frank and Bit are from, and I asked if she knew 'em. She just kinda looked at me, and I started laughing. I realized then that it was much like saying to someone, "Where you from? California? You know a guy named Jeff?" We laughed, and the night went on.

The fact that she was from New York worked in my favor, being that at least half of the best friends I've had in life are from that state, and as a result, I know all the right buttons to push when gently making fun of a New Yorker. Any time I'd rile her up, I'd just put up my hands and say "Okay, it's cool! Just please don't stab me!" Because as we all know, New Yorkers all carry knives to shank people with. Well, as it turns out, she did have a knife. I didn't really believe her until she pullet it out to show me, at which point, I naturally raied my hands again and informed her that I didn't have any money. She chuckled and said not to worry, and that my name wasn't on that knife. Two other names were, but not mine. Following the natural progression of conversation, I asked her about who's names were on the knife. I didn't think that that would be the conversational downfall, but go figure.

As it so happens, she only just moved down from NY about 3 months ago. She had just broken it off with her boyfriend because apparently, he's been cheating on her with his baby's momma for the past eight years. He got the baby's momma pregnant again a few months back, and that was when all was revealed. Naturally, she revealed way more than this brief summary does (between bouts of tears), but I'm not in the business of displaying a stranger's pain for the world to see. More detail isn't really relevant to this story anyway. What's listed above and her repeatedly saying "I would only want to kill her so he'd be stuck raising two kids he doesn't want." I couldn't blame her, really, although I'd want to mutilate the guy a little, too (try raising two kids with only 4 fingers between your hands, fucker!). I told her that, which evoked a chuckle, but didn't really help her feel any better. It was around this point in the evening that I decided it wouldn't be prudent to ask this girl for her phone number. She's not ready for a relationship at this point, and I got the impression a brief triste was out of the question at the moment, so I continued being my usual sweet-to-everyone self, and ultimately she was sober enough to drive she and her friend home. We said our goodbyes, she said "Maybe I'll see you here again!" "Perhaps you will." We smiled, and I bid her adieu. I lingered for a moment, and went back inside.

DJ sees me and says, "Dude, where did you go? I was looking for you!" I told him I was outside talking to the blonde chick, which evoked a, "Wha-? Reeeeally?" I gave him the short, short version of what went on.. just enough to explain why I didn't have another phone number to add to my contacts list. We sit around, shooting the shit for a while longer, and at around 1:00 it's agreed that it's time to go.

We make our way to the Milk Truck, pausing only to pee in the parking lot (reason I love being a man #728). We pile in to the car, and the events of the evening just kind of hit us. A little over three hours ago, we left Burt's house to get cigarettes without telling anybody. After a brief "Oh shit!" moment shared by the two married men in the car (and a brief spell of me bragging about singlehood), we head in the direction of home. Heading north on US1, we come to the street we would have to turn on to go home. Burt keeps going straight. DJ and I exchange another look, and ask again, "Dude, where the hell are you going?" Burt responds, "Aww, MAN!! I know this tiki bar we can go to, and have just ONE BEER. It's the tiki bar, you know the tiki bar? Tiki bar!!" I noticed it wasn't phrased in the form of a question, and although I felt bad for DJ because of the chewing-out he was likely to receive upon returning home, but figured that the time it takes to drink one beer wouldn't make much difference. I didn't consider Burt's alcohol level upon getting into the car.. I guess I assumed that because I was only slightly buzzed at this point, the other guys were, too. I assumed wrong. Burt, thinking it was just funny as hell and laughing like a madman, decided that the best way to get to the tiki bar was fast and stupid. Going easily 20 miles over the speed limit and blasting through two red lights (my buttcheeks were so clenched up I could've crushed coal into diamonds), I just sat there, praying for a cop to pull us over. Go figure this was the one fucking hour Martin County sheriffs decide to not be on US1.

We make it to the tiki bar unscathed, and found a spot right by the front toor. The place was still jamming, and interestingly enough, full of similarly-aged people to us! I was actually delighted to find this out, as I've been living under the impression that twentysomethings to not exist in this county. I was pleased to be proven wrong, and when my butt loosened-up enough, I grabbed a stool and scoped out the scene. Nobody appeared to be single in the immediate vicinity, so I just sat there, polished off my final beer of the evening, and quietly thanked God when the bouncers came around shouting "If you don't have a tab, get out!" Didn't have to tell me twice. I hobbled over to the Milk Truck, and was greatly annoyed at the cop parked out in front, both for not being there thirty minutes before, and for the fact that he was shining that bright-ass light right in my face. I grimaced and resisted the urge to call the cop a fucker (though I do think I said "AH! WHAT THE FUCK?!?"), and when the doors were unlocked, I was happier than I ever have been to see DJ in the driver's seat, having gotten the keys fron Burt. This time, with DJ at the helm, we finally went home.

We said our goodbyes to Burt and walked over to DJ's house. We sat down in a couple of lawn chairs and talked about the events of the night. He was worried about going back inside, knowing he did a no-no, even if it wasn't his fault. I assure him he has nothing to worry about, as both he and I were taken hostage and had no choice in the matter. I was his witness, and Lisa thinks I'm just the bee's knees, so he had nothing to fear. With this, I made my departure, stopping only to get a fattening, greasy, but drunkalicious dinner at McDonald's, found my bedroom, and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

So there you have it. My accidental night of random kinda glory. It may not sound like much, but damned if that wasn't an interesting night! Although I went into the evening having absolutely no idea that all this was going to happen, I'm really glad it did. I need to get out more, and now I know a couple of places to go. I just need to secure DJ as my wingman a bit more frequently, and soon enough I'll be up to my elbows in the hotness.

Not a spoiler, merely speculation.
Spider's Trash
I bet you anything Dumbledore comes back in the last one. Well, almost anything. What do you think?

Fallout 3!!!
Spider's Trash
Just to let you know now, you have a little over a year to enjoy my company. Once this comes out, you won't be hearing from me for a while. Nothing personal, it's just my nature.

Not that I ever use LJ anymore. Ha-HA! Fools!

*dramatic pause*
Spider's Trash
Still alive and kicking. I honestly don't know if I'm going to ever update with any regularity again. It just doesn't feel like it used to, and I'm not sure why. I don't care to update this thing anymore. Very few people actually read it, even fewer leave comments, and really, what do I say here that I couldn't just say in conversation? Nothing at all.

But stuff happens! Things have been busy in my life, which is a refreshing change from my former series of ruts. The short version of my life since the last post is as follows:

I was gonna move to Gainesville and was really excited about it, but the plans fell through, so I was really bummed for a while. After some time, things started looking up again, and I had a streak of good luck lasting several weeks, which naturally tapered-off after a while, and my life seemed to be starting the downswing again, but fortunately for me, I was able to pull myself out of any potential funk, and things remain good. The same troubles I carried before my lapse in updates still apply, with one variation: Now, rather than my just flat not being able to get a women, I have a number of friends of friends that want to hook me up with their friends. Events have yet to play out fully in any case, and I remain single, but that's probably a good thing. It's cheaper, that way.

I've become more thoughtful as of late. I've been exposed to Philosophy recently, and I'm quite addicted. I don't know enough about it yet to be able to discuss the great philosophers' works in depth, but I'll analyze the shit out of a concept given half the chance!

Okay, enough slacking. I'm going to go be productive. Stay black!

Spider's Trash
For the first time in a really, really long time, I feel as though I am on the right track. The planets are aligning, the fates are smiling upon me, I'm walking along the path of the beam, whatever you want to call it, it feels good to feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, y'know?

My focus has been aimed, and I still have a lot to do before I can really state everything I'm thinking. Changes have occurred, and there are more to come. I even changed the part in my hair. How's that for a shift?

So other than that stuff, I'm happy, healthy, and of stable mind. I told you, I'm on the right track! Time to ride this mofo for a while!

Put another log on the Jeff.
Spider's Trash
Ok, so my sister-in-law is planning a kegger for my brothers' 30th birthday party, and she decided to use Evite to invite friends from all over the place. Now, the only people at this party I'm really gonna know are immediate and surrogate family members, so I felt it would be polite for me to take advantage of the ability to create a profile on Evite to sort of introduce myself to the people who will be there that I don't know. I approached it with my usual level of subtlety. You may wish to see it.

It's pretty accurate.

I say fuck it. They're coming to my home, they may as well be prepared.

Spider's Trash
Wow, I missed an entire month, there. Don't worry, I've been reading most of y'all's posts, I just haven't been making any of my own. School, work, and friends take up much of my time, so the computer has been used more for gaming than internet-related activities over the past month or so.

But yeah! I've been doing stuff! Work is going extremely well, I'm still enjoying school (though I really need to register for more than two classes next semester), and I hooked up with Shay and Kevin again completely out of nowhere(I'm pretty sure I've mentioned them in the LJ before, but in any case, they were my best friends in Hobe Sound before I moved back to Sarasota, and I hadn't seen or heard from either of them in quite nearly four years!). All in all, life is treating me well right now, save for the whole being flat broke right now thing. No matter, I get paid Friday and I've been working overtime lately, so I'll still be able to get people stuff for christmas.


I've been doing some serious thinking over the past week or so. About life, about the future.. about all the things I never really think about. I've looked over my life to this point, and I'm coming to a point where I'm going to have to start making decisions about what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. Up to this point, I've had hopes and goals, but no real drive, no motivation. Essentially, I've been floating along, taking opportunities that happen to appear, and while that seems to be working alright for now, is this really the way I want to live my life? Talking about a million ideas that will never come to fruition because I lack the motivation to just get up and pursue them? Accepting mediocrity?

I don't want to live like that, and I refuse to do so. Really, it's about time I choose a direction. I need to pick a goal and go for it, otherwise I will end up old and defeated, unable to do any of the things I talk about doing now. I've always been a task-oriented individual, and when I set a goal for myself, I attain it. Why shouldn't I set a goal to actually achieve something in my life?

While thinking on these questions, I came to an interesting realization. For much of my life, I have been directing my energies towards getting a woman. It's like I've been thinking that once I find a woman, I'll have the motivation to do what I want with the rest of my life, and I'll know exactly what to do because I'll be in love and that makes everything wonderful. I didn't realize I was thinking like that. Really, it's a very stupid thought, and it kinda scares me that I was living with that line of reasoning for as long as I have been. It's not like I'll get a girlfriend and she'll just follow me wherever my heart takes me. Real life doesn't work that way. I'm going to have to shift my direction. Naturally, loneliness sucks, but it shouldn't be something that stops me from doing something worth doing in my life. When I'm in a better spot in my life, I'm sure I'll be able to better focus on meeting someone special and persuing a meaningful relationship, but for the time being, I need to focus on me and what I'm going to do with myself over the course of my life.

So I grabbed a piece of paper and began writing down all of the things I could remember saying I would want to do with my life. I could open a business, pursue a career in standup comedy, design/develop video games, go to Japan and teach english, become a theoretical physicist, a politician, journalist, actor, writer, radio host, work in marketing/advertising, pursue a career with Seacoast, or just say fuck it all and move to Europe. More will come to me as I continue thinking on this, but that's what I have for now. My plan is to do a bit of research, consider the pros and cons of each choice, and figure out how to go about making each dream a reality. Using this information, I'll make my selection, and pursue it with all my conviction.

Naturally, this will take some time. I'll keep you posted.

Wherein our hero returns to the stage, enjoys "special marinade" and falls in love for an afternoon.
Spider's Trash
At a truck show, of all places.

Bit of backstory: My mom has taken a position with a friend of hers and a few people he knows as a salesperson for a line of chemical products they are starting a business for. She's been at it for about a month now, and the products are definitely top notch. Like, you know how my truck was two colors? Not the case anymore. A coat of super wax later, and my baby is an even fire engine red. They make all manner of products, though, but were invited to a truck show (Think semi trucks and big rigs) to help out and peddle their wares. Well, one way or another, mom got roped into being the only representative from the company to go to the show, so naturally she asked me if I wanted to go and help her out. Naturally I did, as I have little-to-no life on the weekends, and the thought of mom alone with a bunch of truckers didn't appeal to me in the slightest. So, this morning rolls around, and we go on our way.

We arrived at about 9:30. The show was to be held on a lot composed primarily of dirt and rocks, with a few patches of grass here and there. Massive, shiny big rigs were parked around the perimeter of the football field-sized lot, with a handful of vendor tents and a stage with all manner of sound equipment on it. In the middle of it all was our tent, with the banner reading "Hawk Chemicals" billowing in the wind. We spoke to Michael, the chemist in charge of making the product who also set up the tent (I think), he left, and mom and I did our thing; unpacking, setting up displays, taking inventory, etc. Neither one of us was really thrilled to be there at this point, but we knew we had to set up for the long haul, as we had no idea what to expect. Better safe than sorry, y'know?

It didn't take long for the tent to begin to frighten us. It was a very windy day, and the plastic sides of the tent which made up two of the sides were bowing in, reducing the already fairly small tent to a place with about a bathtub's worth of space to move around in. I also noticed that the spikes meant to keep the legs of the tent's metal frame were barely poked into the rocky dirt, so it was just a matter of time before the walls became sails and carried our display well into the AMF Offshore Racing trucks. It was either grab the top of the tent and play anchor all day, or it was time to find a hammer. I helped mom take the sides of the tent off, then went off in search of a hammer.

It was around this time I met Barbara, the woman who put the whole thing together who is also a good friend of Michael. She was the kind of lady who had clearly spent most of her life around trucker/construction types, so she was essentially a dude. She was somewhere in her mid-50's I'd guess, but not someone I would want to get into a fight with. Fortunately, she was really cool, so I didn't think I would have to engage her in fisticuffs at any point. Good thing, too. She'd probably whoop my ass. Either way, I asked if she had a hammer, she directed me to the AMF people, and I went on my way.

Looking around, I didn't see a whole lot of people. This was the first run of a to-be-annual event, so it wasn't too surprising. Naturally, it was mostly guys there. The big ol' trucker types. Southern folks, so I felt comfortable. The handful of women I saw weren't really much to look at, being either too old, or just plain blughaghagabble. Didn't really bother me, though, as I couldn't imagine running into anyone at a truck show. I went to AMF, borrowed a hammer, pounded the tent stakes into the ground, returned it, and sat back down in the tent, ready for the day to be over. It was about 9:45 at this point. Hooray.

From where we were sitting, the stage was just a little ways off to the left, blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd (naturally), and the food vendors were about the same distance away, but to the right. The guy in charge of the food tent approached us. Well, he approached my mom, but I was there, too. He asks us if we're hungry, stating "Well, I have the best ribeye on the west coast!" I refrain from mentioning the fact that we're on the east coast. Mom asks "Really, well, is it a sandwich or something?" he says "Yep! It's the best ribeye sandwich here on the west coast!" I stifle a laugh. He continues, "It's all because of my special marinade. Yep! It's my own special secret marinade that makes it so good! You should have some!" Mom then says, "Okay, we will.." and he walks off to the stage, muttering more about his "special marinade." Once he's out of earshot, I lean in towards mom and tell her, "It's semen." I don't think she stopped laughing for a few minutes.

Business is slow, so mom and I just kind of bullshit while watching the people go by. The security guards in their yellow highlighter shirts whizzing by on their golf carts, stopping and going, like it was really necessary to have a golf cart on this teeny lot, but whatever. I then noticed Barbara whizzing around with the first and only hot girl I saw today.

But g-dizzamn was this girl fine! Tall, with legs that seemed to go on for miles. She had a body that would make Phil Collins put down the cock. Long, straight brown hair, the top strands bleached slightly blonde from being outside a lot. Pretty face with baby blue eyes. I didn't bother with that whole not staring thing. I gawked long enough to be able to divine both her underwear's color and style even though it wasn't visible (pink, and thong). She was Barbara's daughter, so I didn't really want to be caught drooling and get my ass kicked, so I picked my jaw up off the ground, dusted it off, and set it back above my neck line. I grabbed some handy duct tape to ensure that I do not look like a slack-jawed fool in the presence of a visual masterpiece, and was soon distracted enough by people around me to focus on what was going on. The food guy with the special marinade (who also happened to be the DJ) walked by again, prattling on a bit further about his secret ingredients. Mom guessed soy sauce, which took him for a loop. He paused, said, "Well, that might be PART of it," and went about his business. Mom and I exchenged a knowing glance, busted out laughing, and went back to our business. By this time, the vision of loveliness was nowhere to be seen, so I settled back into my seat and put my head back on "swivel."

It was picking up a little bit by this point, but the place was nowhere near packed. A few hours had passed since our arrival, and we were still ready to go. Barbara and her daughter were jetting around here and there, chatting with this and that person. I had put my gawking on a leash at this point, but I'd still check out the daughter when I got a second. Ultimately she noticed me, too, and I'd catch those occasional fleeting glances when I'd look up. Business kept me where I was at this point, but it wasn't long before the heat set in and we needed water.

Of course, as it just so happened, the girl was standing in front of the food tent when I went to get drinks. She was kinda hald-assed talking to the security guy by her, about people moving up north, buying property on the cheap, etc. She made a comment about it being so cheap because there's nothing there, which evoked a sincere laugh from me, and I was in. Well, sorta. We chit-chatted for a second, all the while I was trying to flirt without hitting on her to kinda gauge her reaction. Seemed positive! Still, this was clearly a chick who was used to dealing with slack-jawed truckers hitting on her constantly, considering the family business and all (I believe custom designer truck parts/accessories), so I decided play it cool. She had other stuff to do at this point, anyways, so I bid her farewell for now and returned to the tent with water.

Around this point, Barbara had asked mom and myself if we would handle the raffle they had going on. We accepted, having little else to do and wanting to help Barb out because, well, frankly, she was cool. Things picked up for us at that point, because people were buying raffle tickets like crazy. It was cool, too, because that made next to our tent sort of a base of operations for Barbara, and by extention her daughter (who I later found out is named Sarah). They were hanging around more, we were all bullshitting, and at this point, the day became much more fun.

During our occasional chats, two things became clear about Sarah. One, we had great chemistry. We made eachother laugh with minimal effort, and conversation just kind of flowed naturally. That's good. Two, she mentioned "husband" and "son." That's bad. The bug was then planted in my head that it could potentially be a rouse to ward off greasy truckers who would hit on her. That's good. It was then confirmed through Barbara that she most certainly had a son. That's... well, indifferent, I suppose. I like kids. I can work with that.

So an hour or so goes by, and I hear Barbara mention that she needs someone to work the mic on stage to announce the raffle winners. The DJ with his special sauce had all the stage presence of a can of shaving cream, and everyone around Barb was making the "Fuck that noise!" face, so the stage hog in me said, "I'll do it!" Before I realized what had come out of my mouth, I was getting smiles and approving looks from everyone around me, and just like that, it was set. I then was asked to go onstage and tell everyone to buy tickets if they hadn't already, as the raffle was about to begin.

I haven't been on a stage since high school. Too long, if you ask me. I didn't hesitate for a second. I marched up, climbed aboard, and asked Marinade guy which Mic I should use. He turned down Skynyrd and turned on my mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?" boomed from my mouth. Being not at all used to using a mic, I projected into it like it was across the room from me, and was stunned at how loud I just sounded. I whipped back from the Mic, looked at Marinade guy, and went, "Holy crap!" I also had everyone's attention, so I proceeded with the announcement. After, I jumped off the stage and walked back to the tent, all fluttery and giddy from being the center of attention on a stage. Barb was relieved, mom was all smiles, and Sarah told me how great I was, and that I should go into radio or something. We chat a while and come to find out she was in drama throughout school as well. THAT explains a lot. It stoked my fires a bit further, but I didn't have time to sit and wax dramatic.. I had a presentation to figure out how I was going to bullshit!

I tried in vain to memorize the prizes on the table. Wouldn't have made a difference, anyway, as they were given away in bundles, but it didn't matter, as Barb would be there while I was onstage, telling me what the prizes were and who they were from before I had to say anything. I cleared my throat, climbed back up, grabbed the mic, and made the announcement that the raffle was beginning.

Dear God, I miss being on stage. Performing is a drug, and I am a horrendous junkie. I hammed it up a bit on the mic, got everyone's attention, and did what I could to draw in a crowd so that everyone with a ticket was there. Save for the two people who were napping, I think I got everyone up there with my bellowing. It wasn't a big deal, really. Talking in front of 30 or so people feels like business as usual. Well.. I can't say that. It felt good. I didn't know how much I missed getting up and talking in front of people till I hadn't done it in several years. One of the prizes was a bundle of things, including one of those chrome pairs of balls, that were also a bell. I had a lot of fun with that particular prize. "This young man didn't have any balls a second ago, but now he has balls of steel!" I didn't know how much I'd be able to play around onstage, so I kept myself from going on for 20 minutes about the balls, but rest assured, I could have.

So after getting high off of performance, I went back to the tent. Mom and Sarah applauded me, and I was all charged-up and giggly. Things settled back down, mom and I sat back down, Sarah and Barb went off and did their thing, and I finally felt like I was having fun! Hunger was setting in at this point, so we did what we could to forget about my comment and went and ordered one of the ribeye sandwiches made with that special marinade. When I wasn't thinking about the comment I made and the way DJ Marinade grinned when talking about his special secret ingredient, the sammitch was actually quite delicious. We chowed down and resumed watching the people going by.

Not long after this, my previous suspicions and denials were laid to rest. Some dude with a bunch of kids was talking to Barbara and Sarah, and, well, it became quite obvious that he was Sarah's husband. That took the wind out of my sails a bit, but as I had already labeled Sarah as being beyond my reach, I didn't get upset or anything. It put me back down to the point of normality. Not a bad spot to be, though I can't say I wasn't disappointed that my false hopes were proven untrue. It simply goes to serve as another example of my theory that there is no such thing as a desirable single woman in this part of the state.

The wind was picking up even further at this point, and the air smelled of rain. The temperature dropped a bit, and it became apparent that we would soon have to pack up and head out. I was relieved that we could just leave everything there, as the show will continue tomorrow with a couple of other people from the company to work the booth. We began picking stuff up off the floor and putting it on the tables, hanging the walls of the tent back up, collapsing the collapsable bits, etc. Over the course of the afternoon, I would see Sarah here and there, usually with her family. Cest la vie. I hid any and all semblance of disappointment and maintained my smiley demeanor. One way or another, she's still a cool person, and what's not to like about that? She gave me a pen. A nice one, at that! I'm going to use it to build a little Sarah shrine in my room under my bed, and it'll be like we're married forever and ever!!!!!

I'm kidding. I'm gonna take the pen to work because it's distinctive, and I'll make it known that stealing it will be punishable by death.

So that's prettymuch it. I hung out with some cool people, got my stage fix for the first time in years, and even had a sammitch. I'd consider this day siezed and throttled.

Tomorrow I play golf. Should be a laugh and a half.


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