4/4/09, 11:43pm: My stupid ass with a studly thumbs up before taking the barber shop kamikaze chair shot at The Saddle Rack.

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Did you miss me? I was the drunk asian asshole at The Saddle Rack singing his heart out to "Friends in Low Places" on Saturday night. My love affair with country music has not changed over the past two years since I last updated. For better or worse, though, a lot from the rest of my life has changed.

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I will not bore you with those personal details. Rather, I think I need to start documenting my tragic attempts to better my life. For example, I have always struggled to quit smoking. So to better my chances, I've been running lately. Back in the middle of March, I did the Emerald Across the Bay 12K. It was awesome because it featured hills, the Golden Gate Bridge, rain, wind, and shit.

Shit?

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Halfway across the bridge and I realize I am slowing down. The problem is clearer than buddha, though. My balls are swinging and racking the inside of my thighs. For those not in the know, when a guy's balls hits anything (even something as soft as a feather), he will get a stomach ache. And there I am, racking myself in the nuts from side to side against my thunder thighs, running on the Golden Gate Bridge with a pretty bad stomach ache.

Combined with the breakfast in my stomach, my internal shit gauge lurches it's way to 3/4 full. That's not good because: 1) when the gauge hits full, I will defecate no matter where I am or what I am doing and 2)you don't need a fancy algorithm to tell you that 3/4 full at 1/2 way through the race will mean the creation of a new obstacle before the finish line. If full, I would probably stop on a dime, squat, and shit right in the middle of the running path. And I wouldn't be ashamed. It would feel so fucking good.

But, I am, if nothing else, a lucky man. I find a restroom facility at Fort Point and take a fat shit. Sure, there are a bunch of other racers using the urinals. But I am the only runner who flies into a stall and drops trou to drop brown lovin'. Everything goes smoothly and I run out of there. Fort Point was the turnaround point, so I start high fiving other runners. It looked like I was trying to hype everyone up, but I was just proud of laying a dooty on a running course.

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No, I did not wash my hands.

Suckers.

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A friend of a friend is going to Japan today, so we all met up last night to bid him farewell. OffToJapan isn't really a good friend of mine, and I don't understand how I keep getting invited to these things. To be honest, I don't think the rest of his crew likes me very much. My jokes go either unheard or fall flat. Actually, a couple times last night, one or two people would hear a crack I made and re-use it for themselves.

Hey, sometimes you fit in and sometimes you sit there and glare at people.

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My social skills have been pretty bad lately. Although I am not much of a dancer, I do pick my nose as if no one is looking. I also keep having these enormously inappropriate erections.

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I joined Facebook because The GF wanted me to look at pictures from the wedding. Damn. I am one ugly motherfucker. Not that I thought I was handsome, but I never thought I was ugly. But you know what? I am ugly.

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Maybe ugly is a bit strong. It's just that I look like a mix between a 16 year old's undeveloped body and a 30 year old's stressed out face. Oh wait. That is ugly.

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at&t Park has pretty good views.


The hair on the neck, for example, feels like it's right in front of you.

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I'll stitch a pano later.

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Talking to my friend during the Home Run Derby and I realize how old I've gotten. Even though she's older, she's still having fun. I've been working like a dog lately because I'm trying to buy a house and planning to settle down soon. And then, it happened.

I unveiled some fart stories, allowing my inner child to run around stupid.

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When I was a kid, my Dad would take me to the Wherehouse to buy cd's. There wasn't really an internet yet and I didn't have any fucking money. So my Dad, being a good Dad, always bought some NWA cd for me. Anyway, so I was looking at some god awful Special K album when I noticed my Dad in the aisle in front of me. His torso jutted forward, which meant only one thing.

When he farts, his body braces itself a moment before the fart. It's actually pretty dramatic because his torso juts forward suddenly. And then he let's the horns blow, usually extremely fucking loudly. He follows suite this time just as he usually does and lets one rip in the middle of the Wherehouse.

What's really great about this particular episode is the eight year old kid standing directly behind my Dad's ass. In just one second, the kid's face goes from "oh look, a Sesame Street cd" to blank recognition of the sound of a fart to terrifie. The kid started to wave his hand at his nose and ran away yelling, "Stinky!"

I was laughing so hard that my Dad gave me a high five. My Dad, being a great Dad, farts in public.

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Yes, I can fart as loud as my Dad. But, I prefer sneak attacks in public. One time, the gf and I are at Ikea. I start to get a bit of a stomach ache, but decide to walk it out. Well, it didn't work all that well. So I sat on a chair and laid a ninja fart. And then, I had the best idea that I have EVER come up with.

"Hey, this chair is comfy. Come sit on it and try it," I say as I offer the seat to her. She sits down oblivious. She smiles for a second because the chair really is comfy. And then her face goes from "wow, this is comfy" to blank recognition of an aroma to terrified to pure hatred.

I was laughing so hard that she started giving me high fives to my face.

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