It's The Great Racist Charlie Brown!

I would like to start this post off by saying that it features some highly offensive language in it. Well, actually no it doesn't but it would if I did some direct quoting. But instead I will substitute some choice words to describe someones race. The word I am trying to replace rhymes with bigger, but has an alternate beginning consonant. Do you get what I'm saying here? So instead of saying a word that is offensive to many, I'll substitute it with a word that applies to a group of people that offends me: Canadians. So if you see the word Canadian in this post, know that it really stands for something else. Do you hear what I'm trying to say? Okay, you get it? Good, then I'll start.

Last night in the hopes of finding something fun to do on Halloween, my sister and I along with a couple of our older cousins perused around the greater area of downtown Lake Charles. I won't begin to describe to tell you how pathetic the greater area of downtown Lake Charles is, but I'm sure you can guess. We were driving around looking for a haunted house exhibit that was going on last year for charity, but for one reason or another was not going on last night. In our unfounded search we came upon two horse drawn carriages perched by the Lake. For some reason we thought this would be a great idea, so we paid our thirty five dollars and hopped on.

I have ridden horse drawn carriages twice before. Once in New Orleans, and another in Memphis, Tennessee. These were good rides, very informative if not a little yawn inducing family activities. I expected something similar in this, but what I got was not at all what was expected. If I had looked closely before getting on this ride, I would have noticed that the driver was missing nearly all of his front teeth. Which in foresight does not bode well for the proceedings. Although now that I think about it that might actually be a prerequisite for carriage drivers. You are not fully qualified unless you are missing your molars.

But at the beginning I had no idea that not everything was on the up and up here. He drove us by the destroyed boardwalk that is under construction. He informed us that they were planning to build some "fancy things like restaurants and night clubs" though he said the word club as if it rhymed with boob. Which let me tell you in normal human pronunciation it does not. But beyond the normal realm of how words are actually said, things were fine. He drove us around the civic center, and the courthouse. He drove us around the loft apartments, and some of the downtown bars where a mass of people were converged outside waiting to get in. This was right around the time that he noticed that a group of people were doing the Lake Charles second annual "Thriller" dance.

Apparently this thirty something redneck did not at all recall his childhood when Michael Jackson was the end all and be all of pop stars. He was highly offended, the only way I could tell because this string of words sprung out of his mouth: "You know, a few years ago they were going to execute that Canadian (Gay Slur), they were going to give him the electric chair. He molested those kids you know? He had the gay sex with them, he did. But then when he died, he became a god damned hero. And then that Canadian turned himself white. I saw some pictures of that Canadian on the TV after he died, of when he was a kid. He was a cute little Canadian baby. But then he became a white woman, molesting all those kids. He molested kids, you know?"

First of all I would like to start by saying, I hate how people recycle old jokes. You know the one about Michael Jackson when people say "he started out a black man and ended up a white woman." Yes, that's frankly hilarious I get it. We should laugh at his personal choices, and his skin disorders, and his race. That is humor. If I were a redneck, I'd like to believe that I'd at least be clever with my racism. I'd like to think that I'd be original. All the while this is happening, my older cousin who is in the middle seat directly behind the driver started egging him on because he thought it was funny. I on the other hand did not find it funny at all. I kept repeatedly saying, that I was mortified. To see if he would stop. He did not stop. I actually told the man that I thought Michael Jackson was a national treasure. I'm not sure what kind of aneurysm made me decide to say that. May I tell you that when he was saying this we were riding through what could be described as the more ethnic part of our city?

I don't know how to drive that point home to you except to say that while he was pronouncing his very colorful view of "how things are" we were literally surrounded by African American trick or treaters and their parents. When I started to say something discreetly about that fact, he informed us that it wasn't important because he had a gun. Well, now that's just fucking fantastic. I was on an armed, racist, horse drawn carriage. I might as well be the ringleader in a fucking Ku Klux Klan rally. I'm not really sure what they do at KKK rallies, but I assume they collectively drink the blood of a goat, and then all beat their wives. Which doesn't really sound like my kind of people.

But I feel like towards the end, things started to look up. When we pulled back into the parking lot we came from, he parked the carriage. We all got off and began to pet the horse, and he came up to us and announced that "tips were appreciated." I looked him in the eye and said, "Well, racism isn't." And then we got in our car and left. I think that I am the modern day Martin Luther King. Aren't I? Well I think I am, and that's enough really.

I'm Gonna Hit This City

I keep wait, wait, waiting for something funny to happen so I'll have something to talk about. But then earlier I realized that funny things never actually happen to me. Which is weird because usually whenever I talk to someone I always have some outlandish story to tell them. It usually involves a hero (always played by me), and how the villain (which is generally played by anyone I come to find completely ridiculous) attempted to fuck up that particular day for me. These stories are always a rousing success and I usually make a mental note to add them to my repertoire so that I can entertain possibly millions of other people I might meet later in life. Sadly, one day a friend and I were recounting a story to someone else, and I inadvertently kept adding all of these details that I swore actually happened, when he informed me that they indeed did not. I guess I just have a way of taking a completely pedestrian story and blowing it completely out of proportion. I think that may be my one true gift. A gift that I shall now wrap (in some tacky Christmas paper emblazoned with Disney Princesses my parents more than likely bought on clearance fourteen years ago that is still to this day sitting in a closet at the end of our hall) and give it to all of you. Try to sort through the bullshit, I'll do my best to filter it from my end.

So yesterday, I was on my way to McNeese to fill out some paperwork for next semester (because in case I haven't mentioned it I am going back to school in January). On my way to school, I did what I always do which is listen to an unsettling combination of Reba Mcentire, Britney Spears, and a little bit of "California Love" by Tupac for good measure, at an incredible decibel, smoke as much as humanly possible, and drive as if I'm completely blind. Which is sad because I actually can see...sort of. So, I'm on my way to school when the right side of my car starts doing this horrible combination of both screeching and grinding. I couldn't possibly explain to you what this sounds like, unless you have recently heard Mariah Carey's cover of "I Want to Know What Love Is". I immediately pull over into the nearest gas station to see if I blew a tire or something equally horrifying. But when I get out of the car I see that all four of my wheels seem to be intact. Which is really great seeing as how I would have no earthly idea how to replace one if something like this were to actually occur. Which is painful for me to admit as a twenty three year old man. I simply cannot wrap my head around anything mechanical. But to my surprise I see absolutely nothing except for my amazing reflection in my alloy rims. (Does anyone know what alloy means by the way? I have no idea.)

So I get back in my car, and proceed to drive to school. On the way things seem fine until I hit a pot hole because even on the main roads in Lake Charles the streets are exceedingly ghetto. Immediately my car starts shaking, and grinding, and bleating. Oh the bleating, you'd be shocked to hear it. I immediately pull in to school, and to the nearest parking lot. The beautiful twenty somethings on their way to class give me horrible looks. I would shout obscenities at them usually, but I'm too busy FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. I pull in to the parking lot, and immediately call my father. This is where the story ends. He came and got me and that was it. But the way I tell the story in real life, the engine caught fire, and I killed no less than fourteen civilians. Backpacks and lattes are strewn all over the campus. It is a national disaster. People usually nod at this part, shaking their heads with laughter. That Jordan is hilarious, they think. I agree, he is.

Love/Hate

Things I have loved recently

The best television show of our generation, Glee. It's about a choir which brings me back to breath control, and good posture, and standing in the front row of the tenor section next to this fat guy I used to be friends with.

This nagging feeling I'm getting lately that tells me that maybe it's time to get something started. To become something better than I am, that maybe I can be more than I already am. This feeling is keeping me going.

The Britney Spears concert I went to last week. It was the best two hours of my life sadly. I would like to say that there was something more meaningful that has happened to me in my twenty three years but sadly that is not the case. I'd even go as far to say that it might be the pinnacle of my existence for I am clearly going to die alone, and have no life goals of which to speak of. So yeah, pretty much Britney Spears was it for me. I guess I can start cutting myself now.

The fact that two weeks ago I stopped smoking. I would like to say that it was because of some great new understanding of the dangers of lung cancer, and heart disease, and knowing that I want to live as long as possible so that I may one day see my future children get married. But sadly it was just because I had the flu and was too weak to walk outside and light one up. So really I quit, because I'm lazy. Which to be fair is the reason I quit most things.

Things I have hated recently

Actually to be honest, I had planned on writing about a bunch of things that have been bothering me but then I realized that I couldn't really think of any. And I guess that's something else to love.

Actually now that I think about it a few hours ago two fingers on my left hand started tingling randomly. Which I'm sure is probably a manifestation of a deep neurological disorder. Well that, or a sure sign I have cancer of the lower asshole, and I'm not even sure I have an upper asshole so now I have that to worry about.

Kill the Lights

I will come back eventually. I will.

Never Ever

He needs rats to do his job. Never, ever rat. I'm a turn coat, a bad person. I betrayed her, and I feel so guilty. I had no choice.

I am so melodramatic

I have been trying to write something to say to you for what seems like months. In reality it's only been a couple of hours since I told you goodbye. God, that was something I never wanted to have to say to you. But I don't want to get melodramatic as I am sometimes prone to do. I don't want to write something that I'll look back on in six months and cringe. I do that a lot. I make so many bad decisions, say so many wrong things, that it's hard to look back on them. But I made no bad decisions as far as you were concerned. I'm so glad that some twisted kind of fate introduced the two of us. And when we met I didn't really know anyone worth knowing, but I took a chance on you. It paid off. And it seems like all of the people I now know that are worth knowing I met because of you. Everything in some way stemmed from you. And now there are so many people and faces that sometimes my cup runneth over. I guess in a way that's what you're doing, you're over flowing to somewhere else. And I know you're moving to Ohio. And I know that you'll meet a million new faces, and I know that there will be someone there who makes a better friend than I do. Someone who knows all about the things you care about. Who has something to say other than how much they like Britney Spears. And when that happens, I think you should take that chance. Because I once took a chance on someone and I gained the ten best years of my life. You deserve to have that no matter where you are. I know we'll see each other sporadically. And I look forward to that more than you know, or more than I'd ever want you to know. But we are adults now, and maybe we're too old to have best friends now. But, I really hope we're not. It doesn't matter either way I guess. Because I just like to think of us as eternally twelve years old and playing video games and listening to Weird Al, and walking around the neighborhood, and drinking Mountain Dew. But like I said in reality we are adults now, so I know we can't stay here forever but I wish we could. I really wish we could.

Thank You and Goodbye.

I am not mature

I just finished wrapping a gift for my cousin who is scheduled to have a baby tomorrow. I can't believe I'm finally at that age when people who are two years younger than me are procreating, getting engaged, going to prison, moving to Cleavland. It's not that I'm not happy for all of those people, I am deliriously happy and wish them nothing but the very greatest things. I just can't help feeling behind the times on this one. I am in no way ready to do any of those things just yet. I ate a corn dog for lunch today, and an hour ago I paid six dollars for a cupcake. If those two things don't signify to the world that I am in no way mature enough to be bringing life into the world, I'm not sure what would. I am not ready to get married because all I see in front of me is a world of potato faces that are not right for me. I'm not ready to move to Cleavland or go to prison because I feel that there are still things for me to do here. Also, I don't want to get ass raped, which I'm sure could happen in Cleavland just as easy as it could in prison.