Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Here Comes The Rain...

{part one}

Los Angeles went well. Let me rephrase that. Los Angeles went well for me. Since the last time I've written in my journal, I've rid this world of 3 different people. Bad people. People who do terrible things to others. They all died within hours of meeting me. I've discovered that I don't have to sleep with them in order for it to happen. A touch will work. Unfortunately, that is how I learned I couldn't walk into a nightclub in search of someone. There were 2 unnecessary deaths that night, and I'm very lucky that no one has linked it to me.

The search for me continues. My face is now spread across TV stations and newspapers, right alongside the very people I am seeking out. I've had to maintain a very low profile. I am a shadow, never staying in one place for long. Like a shadow, I am ever changing, conforming to where the light isn't, pooling in corners, further darkening the night. My victims never have a chance to say no, they don't have a chance to scream, to fight, to try and take revenge on me for what I've done.

I'm a murderer.

Every night I wrestle with my conscience. I struggle with what I'm doing, and I have to ask myself if I've become the enemy, or if I'm still providing this world with a valuable service. There are people in this world right now who have never had the chance to become a victim, and it's because of me. But do those people see my picture and hate me? Or, upon glimpsing my face, are they given a sense of peace, a measure of understanding, and the ability to support what I'm doing?

The real reason I'm writing tonight is because I seem to have found my nemesis. I've found someone who, while not being my equal, certainly seems to be immune to my peculiar ability. His name is Jeremiah, and he is a serial killer in South Dakota. He is employed as a police officer in Garretson, so he has had the perfect cover for many years now. He chooses his victims quietly, and no suspicion has been raised. To this date he has murdered 38 people. I heard about him through a woman I dealt with in Houston and I traveled here hoping that I could make a difference.

It's been 4 weeks. When the touch didn't work, I kissed him. When that didn't work I slept with him. When that didn't work we started dating. I have lived in a constant state of fear over the last 28 days. I don't dare fall asleep when I'm at his house. I don't sit with my back to him. When we are together, I spend most of the time constantly touching him, just to try to end this. I'm scared, but for a multitude of reasons. Being a police officer, he has access to the pictures of wanted persons. It's only a matter of time before I cross his desk, his bulletin board, his fax machine.

Just now, I've made a decision. I've never pulled the trigger of a gun, I've never plunged a blade into the soft flesh above the heart. I've never used poison, and I've never closed my hands around a throat with enough pressure to kill. The one thing all of my murders have lacked is evidence linking me to the crime.

That will change tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have literal blood on my hands for the first time.

Am I monster? Or am I a saint of death sent to rid the world of the real monsters?

More importantly, am I coming for you?

Monday, December 27, 2010

Memoir Monday: The Letter.

Alright, so I haven't done one of these in a while. While I don't expect anyone to join up, I am taking Memoir Monday out of the closet, dusting it off, and putting it on the wall again for at least this week. So grab a cup of cocoa, sit back, relax, and read the tales of my average life that I put a humorous spin on. 




I'll never forget the first day I read his words. I had just graduated high school, and my mom handed me a note and 3 crisp $100 bills. The note was dated August 28th, 2000. 

It was from my dad, who had been dead for 8 months. 

The line that got me, the line that still gets me to this day was this: 

"I'm writing this in case I'm not alive for your graduation." 

My dad, thinking ahead as usual, had decided to put some money back for me to go on a trip as a reward for graduating. I never took that trip, mostly because I had other things to try to take care of. 

Then...I lost that letter. 

For the past 7 or 8 years, I've been wondering where it could be. Not searching high and low, exactly. Just kind of hoping it would turn up one day. Then, on Christmas Eve, I got the best present I could have ever asked for. 

I was going through the garage at my mom's house when I stumbled across what looked like a journal my dad had kept for the last few months of his life. Turns out, that's exactly what it was. I started to read a few excerpts, and I quickly realized I wasn't going to be able to keep it together. I smuggled the notebook out to my car, and later that night when I got home I started reading. 

I really want to publish some of his words on this blog. I think the "world" as it relates to me needs to read a few of the things he wrote. However, that is a conversation that needs to take place with my mom, and it's not one that will turn out well for either of us, simply because it's still too painful. 

However, after turning a few pages, I found the note. 

A smile cracked my tear stained face, and I did a dance of joy in my soul. On the page stood his handwriting, all in caps, signature Brian Sloat writing style, and telling me that he was proud of me and how much he loved me, and that I needed to look after mom.

I've gotten some pretty amazing gifts in the last few years, but this was by far the best Christmas I've had in a long time.

It also reinforced my belief that all parents should be writing some kind of letter to their children. Write more than one. Write a bunch. Tell them everything that is going on. Tell them you love them. Tell them you're proud of them. Because I can promise you, one day they are going be thankful you did that. 

Here's to 2011, and the hope that a new year always brings. 

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Like A G6, And Why Music Sucks Now: Chapter 6.

I heard it the other day in my truck because I forgot my iPod and I was being forced to listen to the radio.

"Travis, you know you don't have to turn on the radio when you're in your truck."

Yes, yes I do. Because with absolute quiet, my thoughts start to get loud, and that's not good for anyone on the road. Trust me.

So the beat starts out alright, kind of a booty shaker, with a little techno pop thrown in, which is currently all the rage and is typical of music since 2005, but I don't mind it sometimes. Sometimes you need to dance, right? And sometimes when you dance you need to be naked. Sometimes that helps you get through college. Sometimes that's how you justify having low self-esteem. But all that is okay with me, because you're dancing naked and I'm throwing dollar bills at your face. /tangent

Then the lyrics start. I've taken the liberty of copying and pasting them below, then providing you with some funny observations, which is what I do in these posts.

The song is called "Like a G6" and it's sung by Far East Movement.

Lyrics to Like A G6 :
(feat. The Cataracs & Dev)

Hook
Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard
When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard
Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6

Verse 1

Gimme that Mo-Moet
Gimme that Cry-Crystal
Ladies love my style, at my table gettin wild
Get them bottles poppin, we get that drip and that drop
Now give me 2 more bottles cuz you know it don’t stop

(808) Hell Yeaa
Drink it up, drink-drink it up,
When sober girls around me, they be actin like they drunk
They be actin like they drunk, actin-actin like they drunk
When sober girls around me actin-actin like they drunk

Hook
Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard
When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard
Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6

Verse 2

From http://www.lyricsmania.com/like_a_g6_lyrics_far_east_movement.html
Sippin on, sippin on sizz, Ima ma-make it fizz
Girl i keep it gangsta, poppin bottles at the crib
This is how we live, every single night
Take that bottle to the head, and let me see you fly

(808) Hell Yeaa
Drink it up, drink-drink it up,
When sober girls around me, they be actin like they drunk
They be actin like they drunk, actin-actin like they drunk
When sober girls around me actin-actin like they drunk

Hook
Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard
When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard
Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6

Bridge

Its that 808 bump, make you put yo hands up
Make you put yo hands up, put yo, put yo hands up
(You can’t Touch this)
Its that 808 bump, make you put yo hands up
Make you put yo hands up, put yo, put yo hands up
(You can’t Touch this)
Hell Yeaaa, Make you put yo hands up, put yo put yo hands up
Hell Yeaaa, Make you put yo hands up, put yo put yo hands up

Hook
Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard
When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard
Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6 

Okay. For those of you that are still with me after reading that nonsense, I'm here to help you make sense of some of it. I can't possibly define every "word" used or give you the correct spelling of everything in one blog post. But I'm going to at least try to help you walk away with a little bit more of an understanding of why this song makes your butt shake but your eyeballs twitch and gives you a headache.

1. Defining the word "slizzard:" UD gives several definitions for this word, but the funniest by far has got to be "a very slutty lizard." When I first read it, I thought maybe there was a blizzard somewhere, only with a lot of ice. Like a slippery blizzard. Then I thought slippery blizzard might be a type of drink. Kind of like a Slippery Navel and a White Russian put together. Then I thought about what goes into each of those drinks separately, and immediately wanted to throw up. Then I kept reading. Turns out, "slizzard" means getting drunk. Not just any kind of drunk though. According to one UD definition, it means "Getting toe up from the flow up." I'm assuming that the correct spelling of that phrase is "tore up from the floor up." But for all I know it could be a new dance move. Listen folks, if we want to get through this, we're going to have to keep moving.

2. Sizzurp: This is a drink that consists of a Codeine based cough syrup, any fruit flavored soda, and a Jolly Rancher. This is a popular drink amongst idiots and high schoolers who hear idiots on the radio singing about drinking it. Thanks for the example there, Far East. Can we just go back to country music stars singing about getting whiskey drunk and beer sober? Please? Also, what do you think would be the best Jolly Rancher for something like that? I would think cinnamon would be the worst choice.

3. The first verse is all about consuming copious amounts of various liquor, (I'm assuming the sizzurp has been put away for the drive home) and then ordering more liquor. The second part of the verse goes on to discuss the fact that "sober girls act drunk" around them. That's all it says. 4 lines of song, that's all it tells us. They must be either a.) Really hot girls, or b.) Really not drunk but acting like it so techno music stars will take them home and have crazy sizzurp sex with them so they can get pregnant on purpose and have their babies so they can say, "You remember the song Like a G6? Yeah, my baby daddy is one of the people in that group. I don't know which one. It was sort of a sizzurp gang rape party thing." And then her friend can say, "Oooooh Gurrrrl! You so crazy!" Seems to me like a lot of people lose in that situation. But hey, do what you do I guess.

4. The second verse is pretty short and it basically talks about how they do this every night. Drinking and promiscuous sex every night. Then they glamorize that kind of lifestyle by putting it in a song with a catchy beat and hot women shaking their butts in a video. Speaking of, where do they FIND these chicks for these videos? Is there a factory in Akron somewhere? Anyway, I'm pretty sure that drinking every night is bad for you. I'm also pretty sure I can get medical science to back me up on that. Also, all that sex with different ladies means that someone is going to catch the HIV, and that's not good for you either, unless you're rich. Then HIV will make you look GREAT.

5. Finally I answer the question. What is a G6, and why is it so fly? First off, I'll tell you what it isn't. It isn't a bird. It isn't a car made by GM in 2004 bearing the surname Pontiac. It isn't a type of can opener. It is this:


That's right folks. It's a plane. A plane that is very fancy I guess. The Gulfstream website says "it is quite simply, the gold standard in business aviation." You can check out the specs on the plane here. You know, in case you're interested in obtaining one of them. Because hey, you've already had your sizzurp, you're gettin kind of slizzard, you got a bunch of sober broads around you actin like they drunk, and you have about 60 million that is burning a hole in your pocket. 

Or is that the chlamydia? 

P.S. I wrote this post because The Ginger that is Mandy asked me to. When I tweeted that I was going to do it, she acted a tad ungrateful and kind of sort of demanded I make the whole post about how awesome she is. While she is a very awesome person who lives in Detroit and spent a lot of time moping about how her boyfriend went to London lately, she is not the whole topic of the blog post today. She is, however, the whole topic of the P.S. So there, Mandy. Enjoy. 


P.P.S Mandy is not psycho. I just wanted to clear that up. She's a very nice person. She also didn't ask me to write this. 

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

You Spin Me Right Round...Plus The Okay Christmas Parade: 2010 Edition!

"Hey Susan, let's go to spin class!"

"Yeah, I just got done with spin class, I'm pretty tired."

"I'm going to spin class, I'll be back in an hour."

I can't tell you how many times I've heard these statements and similar ones on TV over the past 28 years. Everyone was talking about spin class. Carrie Heffernan was talking about it. Elaine Bennis was talking about it. If you were a woman in the 90's-early 2k's, you were concerned with spin class and talked about it often.

Now before I admit something very embarrassing to you, I feel like I should preface it with a little "about me." I'm the type of person that figures things out on his own. To you ladies out there saying, "Well yeah, you're a man," you can hush it. I just usually take a word or phrase, see the context it was used in, and go from there. I've done it all my life until recently, in fact, just the other day. That's because just the other day I found out something about spin class.

I found out that it isn't this:



Yeah. I know the girls in that video are twelve. But it was the first video I saw that really kind of matched the image in my head for "spin class."

Go ahead, finish laughing. I'll wait.

As it turns out, spin class has a lot to do with riding a stationary bike and nothing at all to do with having to get dizzy. Unless you're having some sort of cardiac fit on the bike.

So that's that, as it were.

If you were hoping to get an adoption tidbit thrown in here, you're in luck. Adoption Update REEEEMIXXXX! The progress has slowed down a bit, thanks to someone who has trouble keeping appointments and doing things when she said she would. I really don't have any idea why someone would purposely delay the rescuing of children from bad situations, but I guess there are people out there who feel that since they have that power, they can do it.

The lady wound up typing up a report on our lives. I read over the report, and I realized that Alicia and I have a pretty nice little thing going on. We've hit some rough spots, and there have been times when I'm sure we've both been ready to call it quits, but overall that report seemed to say that we have a good marriage, there is money in the bank for stupid stuff most months, and we would make some pretty decent parents when it all comes down to it. I was happy about that.

So now that report is going all over the world it seems like. Once it lands in the hands of our case manager, we'll either be approved or denied. I'm not going to lie. If they deny us, hide yo kids. Cause I'm going to be snatchin one up. I'm kidding, but geez. I really don't think we'll be denied. The only negative in our report is the fact that we said we'd "sometimes" spank our child, but wouldn't if they came from an abusive background. Y'all can say what you want, but I got spanked a LOT as a child. It worked. Mostly.

Also, I'm trying to get back in college. I'm going to be a writer, and I know that the only way those artsy fartsy editor douchebags will ever pay attention to anything I write is going be if I get a piece of paper that says I can do it well. Things are rolling for me to get back into it this spring semester, but we'll see how it pans out.

ALSO.

Most of you remember the Okay Christmas Parade video I made last year, and the ensuing drama. A good portion of you stood behind and grimaced at the view while we fought against 2 people in my hometown who thought I was being mean.

Well.

They had another parade this year.

So...ahem...I made another video. Here it is in all it's glory, and I wish you all a Merry Christmas. I promise next time to maybe not let so much time pass between bloggins.