The Apology

I'm sorry I spent most of last night just listening to music in my living room with the lights off. Well, no, I actually had a red light on that Amy had brought over so I that I could see well enough to write in my little notebook in case the mood struck me.

But the only mood that struck me was the sleeping mood. For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep at a humane hour (1 am) and awoke around 9 am. I'm not used to all this daylight. Sun, damn you, set!

Catholic Church - 1, Gurg - 10 jillion

In a few hours, I will go to church for the first time in four years.

My baby cousin, Tamara, is going to be baptized. This is supposed to prevent her from going to Limbo, which is where un-baptized babies go when they die.

See? Catholicism has something fun for everyone!

I didn't attend the various ceremonies of my younger sister, brother, and even of my beloved niece on principle. I am not a fan of the church. And I think as they all grow older, it may be important that they have someone in the family that has repeatedly butted heads with tradition. I think it will be good for them to know that not everyone thinks a certain way, and that there isn't anything inherently evil in questioning what's going on.

But it has been tough to see how hurt my family can get when I don't attend something that is obviously very important to them. Despite all that, I've stuck to my guns.

But I'm going this time.

I was discussing my dilemma with Brian Y the other night when I thought of something. Usually, I try to figure things out by comparing them to other similar situations.

For instance, say I'm walking down the street just minding my own business, when I come across a group of Native Americans doing a traditional Rain Dance. "Hey, Guillermo!" one might call out.

"What it is, Lone Cloud?"

"Come and do the Rain Dance with us!"

"What for?"

"To make it rain!"

"Oh, okay! Why not?"

And I would have no problem with that. So I'll go this time and make my family happy, even though they know how I really feel about it.

Of course, you can go to Hell for going to Church and not really wanting to be there. I'll take my chances, though. And by that I mean I won't be bringing my umbrella.

Thanks, Methinks!

I think the "official" title of this survey is "The ABC's of me," but I'm calling it "FYFI!"

A - Act your age - People that meet me for the first time usually think I'm older than 21, but people that meet me for the first time when I'm running around playing with my little cousins usually think I'm younger than 21.

B - Boyfriend? - Boyfriend? No boyfriend. I am a boy. I'm starting to think this wasn't really meant for guys to take...

C - Chore you hate? - Laundry, now that I don't get paid to do it.

D - Dad's name - Leonel aka Old Man!

E - Essential make up item - Does this mean when I've gotten in an argument with a girl and need to make up with her? Or like face make-up? Either way, I'm going with eye-liner.

F - Favorite artist - Radiohead I dig, and the soundtrack to "Kill Bill" is sweet, and I've been listening to some Phillip Glass as well.

G - Gold or silver - Well, gold is the most malleable and ductile metal, but silver is a little harder and has the highest electrical and thermal conductivity, so I'll go with silver.

H - Hometown - Phoenix, Arizona. It still is, too.

I - Instruments you play - A couple songs on the harmonica, I can play the violin, but just barely. And Jake G. taught me the first few bars of "Disarm" by the Smashing Pumpkins on the guitar, but I've since forgotten.

J - Job titles - Still searching for someone who will pay me to be a full-time Gurg.

K - Kids - Ha!

L - Living arrangements - I live in a three bedroom house in the heart of Tempe, with a great Mai, Paige, who I used to date long before she moved in, and a couple of cats. But not for very much longer, I fear.

M - Mom's name - MAMA!

N - Number of people you've slept with - A gentlemen does not discuss such things. Not sober, anyway.

O - Overnight hospital stays - I've managed to keep my injuries in the sew-and-go variety.

P - Phobia - Sloth underwater.

Q - Quote you like - "Parting is all we truly know of Love, and we need to know of Hell." Beast said that to Cyclops during after Jean Grey "died" in the animated series.

R - Religious affiliation - None. Unless you count Pan, the goat god.

S - Siblings - One older brother (the one who is always swearing on my comments) a younger brother in the Army, a younger sister in Mexico, and a youngest brother at my parent's house.

T - Time you wake up - Around lunch time, usually.

U - Unique habit - Climbing up the walls.

V - Vegetable you refuse to eat - Sloth underwater.

W - Worst habit - Regular sloth, the laziness kind.

X - X-rays you've had - Just one when I broke my thumb, unless you count those dental ones where they jam those paper razor blades into your mouth.

Y - Yummy food you make - I have been told that I make the best eggs. Mostly by other drunk people, but a couple of sober people have attested to the same thing. My dad taught me how to cook eggs. Personally, I am one of the best scrounger cooks I know. When people say that "There's nothing to eat," I love proving them wrong.

Z - Zodiac Sign - Taurus, cusp with Subaru WRX.

Happy Birthday, Brian G.!

I know you must have had a great time, because you managed to stumble over to my blog and post a little something.

(This may be a good time to point out that there are a couple of other people that have access to my account. It is mostly because I can't even spell "HTML" and I constantly need their help, but occasionally you may find something like the post below popping up.

It would seem, Brian, that your friends over there performed admirably and got you blisteringly drunk, just as we would have.

Brian, I'm sorry I couldn't be with you on your mission to simultaneously out-rock and out-live all of us, but we're all thinking of you, mang.

Happy Birthday.

Drank It At The Grape Vine

I went to The Vine, which I had heard was a sweet place to be on a Thursday night.

I had heard truly.

It was like something out of a movie. Giant beers (for two dollars), drinking songs, and a drunken Karoake DJ ensured that all of us had a lively time.

The kareoke was great, too. It really added to the atmosphere. Hell, it was the atmosphere. People got up there, sang, more often than not did an enthusiastic but sub-par job of it (except of course, for Mr. Schuler's rendition of "Billy Jean") and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. You couldn't take two steps in that place without stepping in wild abandon.

I enjoyed it, although I spent most of my "breakfast with Lauren H. money" on giant, cheap, beers.

I really wanted to sing, too. I can't, but no one else was letting that stop them. The one song I would have wasn't there, though. I was looking for Dramarama's "Anthing, Anything." The lyrics are great...

[in a low, gravelly voice]
When I was young I learned a game
where love and happiness were the same
Now I'm older and I don't play
I found out the hardest way

[pitch gets higher, a little more frantic]
I got wasted, she got mad
Called me names and she called her dad
He got crazy and I did too
Wondered what I did to you

[then scream chorus]
I'll give you candy, give you diamonds, give you pills!
I'll give you anthing you want!
Hundred dollar bills!
I even let you hear the songs I want to sing
I'll give you anthing, anything, anything
Anything....

Well, I like it. But they didn't have it, so I didn't sing it. It's probably for the best.

Another Reason I Need A Loudspeaker For My Car

I'm at a stop-light in a major intersection. A riced-out car is idling next to me in the left-hand turn lane. It's late, it's dark, but the green arrow signalling the other car's right-of-way is clearly visible.

As the green arrow turns yellow, the driver notices it and lurches into gear. The driver completes his left turn and whines off. On the back of the car are large letters that say, "Import Life."

"Maybe you should import some brains," I mutter to myself.

Then, as I'm laughing at my own joke, I notice that my light is green, and probably has been for some time. No one was behind me to notice, so I had to laugh at myself.

Dear Anonymous:

I'm not sure why you would ever want to marry me.

Could you imagine sleeping peacefully in the dead of night and me stumbling in from my midnight excursions?

Then, if that wasn't bad enough, instead of just going to sleep like a normal person, me sitting down and tap-tap-tapping away at my keyboard for another hour or so before finally going to sleep around five or six?

And then, on most days, waking up at 11 or 12, scrambling to do my Italian homework and still have time to blast the "Kill Bill" soundtrack before leaving for class.

Then, coming back home around 2:20 pm, prattling around on the computer, trying to squeeze in a 20 minute nap, and then going to work.

I wouldn't come home after work, of course.

I might go and visit my parents, and play with my niece who has recently learned to walk.

Or go play volleyball.

Or go to a bar.

Or go to secret places that are too secretive to even mention in the most cryptic of passings.

Then tromping back home at three or four to do it all over again.

What kind of life is that for a civilized human being?

Enter The Guillermo


You are Form 5, Dragon: The Weaver.

"And The Dragon separated the virtuous from
the sinful. He tore his eyes from his sockets
and used them to peer into the souls of those
on trial to make a judgment. He knew that
with endless knowledge came endless
responsibility."

Some examples of the Dragon Form are Athena
(Greek), St. Peter (Christian), and Surya
(Indian).
The Dragon is associated with the concept of
intelligence, the number 5, and the element of
wood.
His sign is the crescent moon.

As a member of Form 5, you are an intelligent and
wise individual. You weigh options by looking
at how logical they are and you know that while
there may not always be a right or wrong
choice, there is always a logical one. People
may say you are too indecisive, but it's only
because you want to do what's right. Dragons
are the best friends to have because they're
willing to learn.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla


Excellent, a dragon. Very mystical. Very deep.

Heh heh, my element is wood.

Kill Guill

I met my archnemesis again today.

At Mesa Community College, there is a desk. But this is no ordinary desk. It is specifically designed for a wheelchair and has a handicapped symbol on it.

But that's not all it has. Painted in capital letters on the desk are the words "DO NOT REMOVE."

It somehow found it's way into my Italian classroom.

Cursed desk.

The reason I dislike it so intensely is simple. People don't ever remove it.

The last time I saw it was last semester, and it was just stuck in some random corner of a hall. For the entire semester. It just sat there unused. And I had a nagging suspicion that I knew the reason.

It said "DO NOT REMOVE."

And I don't think people realize that it would say that no matter where it was. I could stick that desk in the middle of the street and it would still proclaim loudly in blue letters "DO NOT REMOVE." And I don't think people would.

Hell, I probably wouldn't.

Just the other day I was visiting my little cousins and they live in an apartment complex. As I'm driving through the complex, I come upon a tire sitting in the middle of the road. Not lying in the road, mind you. It was set up on it's edge, a big fat "O" such as you might throw a football through at a state fair to win a prize.

I just drove around it and kept an eye out for the other three.

But my archnemesis desk was in my class. And I fear it's there to stay. Unless...I paint over the "DO NOT." Yes, that will show that desk. It will spend the rest of it's existence constantly being removed.

Heh heh.

Guillermo - 1, Desk - 0.

Frequently Commented Comments

I've again been asked (informed, rather) that the my comment section's title of "Climbing up the wall" does not make sense.

I believe it does. I took it from the Radiohead song of the same name. When someone comments, there is "1 (person) climbing up the walls." When there are two comments, there are "2 (people) climbing up the walls.)

It's funny that since a commenting system is usually just a somewhat generic pluralization of something like "Shout-out(s)", "Battle-Cry(s), "Comment(s)", people usually just accept it. I'm certain that if I had titled my comments "Wuzza McWuzza(s)" there would have been less confusion than there was with what I tried to do.

At least I can find solace in the fact that most of the time Blog-Out is down anyway and I don't have to worry about people getting it at all.

Hmm... "Battle-Cry(s)." I like that, even if it's still incorrect to pluralize it by just adding an "s".

In Gurg Medical News:

I've been experiencing an odd pain in my lower abdomen, on my right side.

I only mention this because if it happens to be my appendix getting over-zealous, it could burst and I could be rendered unconscious. In that case, it is important that those around me be aware that it might be that so that if I do randomly fall to the floor and do not get up after the laughter dies down it may be a good idea to get me to a hospital.

Of course, it could be nothing. Perhaps it is psychosomatic. Or maybe it's just too much pie.

Now, I ask you:


Is this not clearly a man having his soul torn asunder by his inner demons?!

A Formal Announcement:

I have decided to no longer mire myself in the hopeless bog of ill-communication by limiting my expression with mere "words."

I will now communicate only through deep, meaningful, pictures that reflect the deep angst and turmoil deeply rooted deep within my soul.

FlashBack Friday
(As Beno pointed out, I have a problem with knowing what day it is.)

I remember going over to Donovan's house while we were both still in high school. He had invited me to have dinner with him, and after he had twisted my arm a little I had grudgingly accepted.

So there we were, playing some billiards, throwing some darts, eating some pistachios and talking about how Ryan Smith would always leave the shells everywhere.

Donovan's mother called us to dinner, and everyone went to sit down. I excused myself since I had to use the guest restroom.

I had been about to wash my hands when I balked. Sitting there in these ornate little soap dishes, were a myriad of little brightly-colored soaps. And they weren't just colorful either, they were shaped like seashells, and flowers, and all manners of wondrous things. Sort of like these, but even more dazzling.

Clearly, these soaps were too nice to be used for mere hand-washing. The most daunting evidence was that the soaps appeared to have never been used at all.

I looked around a bit, but was unable to find anything I could wash with without feeling like I was desecrating it.

I knew there was some actual liquid hand-soap by the kitchen sink. It was in a nice little bottle, but I planned on being careful with it. I exited the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen.

As I stepped out, I heard Donovan's mother comment under her breath, "He didn't wash his hands."

I was mortified. I realized she must have had no qualms about using the soap in there.

I know she hadn't meant for me to hear it, so I acted as if I hadn't. I managed to hide my chagrin and kept a steady composure as walked into the kitchen and washed my hands in the sink.

Loudly.

With a lot of soap.

I returned to the table, sat down, and began to eat. My mind was racing. I knew that I could make jovial remark about how I thought the soaps in the guest bathroom looked too nice to use. But I had to do it right as I sat down, as the window of time to make such a comment is small. I couldn't very well mention it at dessert, could I?

"Pass the pie, please. You know, those are some beautiful soaps you have in that bathroom of yours."

In the space of a few moments, I had fiercely debated in my head whether to admit that I was a fool when it came to pretty soap.

In the end, I decided I would rather look like a slovenly high-schooler than a fool. (Not that those two titles are in any way mutually exclusive.) I had kept my mouth shut, except when I had opened it to shovel in more pie.

That was my answer to everything back then: More pie.

Barring the soap incident, dinner was great.

We'll have to do it again sometime.