Exorcise ball

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26 July 2011

GF’s younger brother, AJ, visited us a couple of weeks ago. GF asked that he bring some of the items from Ogden she missed. One of these items was her exercise ball.

If you read this blog and know me, then you know how exercise-conscious I am. In the last year alone, I managed to perform a total of 200 crunches and 24 push-ups. I am fitness.

Even with my keenness for cardio, I am currently uncomfortable.

You see, I am sure GF’s exercise ball is trying to kill me.

After pumping the ball to life like an attractive Dr. Frankenstein, GF placed the alleviative accoutrement in our bedroom.

The ball creeps.

Every morning I see the demon device has crept ever closer to my side of our mattress.

The ball lurks.

I am convinced the possessed possession is going to eventually roll over me in the middle of the night and entrap me as if I were a victim in The Blob.

My view of terror

Insufficient fun

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25 July 2011

I have a palpable sense of pre-precipice-ness.

I am dreadfully frightened of being a successful comic. I know I can make people laugh and I have something to say, but I am afraid I will be fully successful and step out over that entertainment cliff and free-fall with no safety net pattern.

Today, I finally watched the documentary American: The Bill Hicks Story. Watching his passionate, inspired and scathing performances make me feel my comedy is insignificant. I have imaginary friends, pop culture references and nerd-friendly puns. Such a routine is not life-altering or brilliant or even inspired.

I went to the Arlington Cinema & Drafthouse over two months ago to sign up for their open mic stand-up night. I got on the list, but was too far down to perform. I have not been back yet. I was primed to jump off the diving board once, but now I’m looking over the edge and afraid to go again.

If you are reading this, I promise to start going to open mic nights and trying out new material.

I promise to go out and find my voice and jump off the cliff.

Sunday is coffee cake day Charlie Brown

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24 July 2011

In February or March of 2010, I was on my way out of Salt Lake City. I left my job at Planned Parenthood Action Council and took up a temporary position at the Tracy Aviary. I knew I was on my way out of the city in my move back east, but I still had no specific clue as to how my life would look.

So, GF’s parents were kind enough to let me stay with them for a while prior to my transition from the West to DC.

I have many great memories of that time. First of all, I was not working (which hurts a little bit now on the financial front), but I did get the chance to relax, watch television, play video games and simply sit and speak with GF’s family. I remember feeling safe and at home in such a welcoming family environment.

While I had the opportunity to eat many tasty food dishes, one of my favorites was GF’s dad’s coffee cake.

Today, we brought that tradition to our neck of the woods.

After a quick phone call to Utah to clarify some instructions, I took to whipping up my first attempt at the dish. I think it turned out quite well, mainly due to GF eating more than one piece. The best compliment.

Out of the oven and on the stove to cool.

Corner piece with home-made coffee mug from AJ.

I was quite pleased with the dish as well, especially when paired with fresh coffee in a mug GF’s brother made in pottery class. The combination is what I love most about Sundays. Sitting around with homemade breakfast and fresh coffee, while watching television or simply talking about life with a close friend.

Speaking up appearances

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23 July 2011

Today was one of those lazy days that make you feel bored as a kid and lazy as an adult. However, I feel neither.

GF and I awoke at 11 AM, which is sleeping in late for us. Another human recently told GF that snoozing does not count as sleeping late unless you wake up in a PM time. Our youth will lead us forward.

We wound up on the couch watching Tabatha’s Salon Takeover, a salon makeover show in which the titular hard-nosed Aussie literally made over a salon and its staff.

I heard straight, adult men are not supposed to like show’s on Bravo, but I quite enjoyed this show. In my time of sluggish stupor on the sofa, I considered why.

The primary appeal of this show, and others like it, for me is that I am a passive-agressive human who finds it quite difficult to speak up and tell someone right out that I dislike something. Attribute it to genes, Southern upbringing or my constant intake of British television in which beating around the bush was the primary mode of speech. So, Tabatha allows me to feel I spent my time speaking those scared thoughts of straightforwardness. Yet, I know this is just another delusion.

Example:

Me- I had such a great time standing up for myself today. I really took no nonsense and just told it like it is.

GF- Really? That’s great.

Me- Oh, wait a minute. Actually, I just watched three hours of Tabatha’s Salon Takeover. By the way, I have to work all weekend.

Background and nudity

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22 July 2011

Today is the third day of my week-long vacation.

So far, I have watched loads of television, listened to new music and thought about my latest creative projects.

Yesterday I posted the latest episode of my currently-monthly podcast The Joseph Richards Show. About three episodes ago, I decided to abandon a script and just see what happens with a loose list of possible topics. You be the judge.

On to important tasks. I have gone back and forth on what to choose as the background for this blog. I began with a picture of downtown Irwinton, GA, the town where I was born and raised. However, the title of the blog blended into the sky of the booming metropolis.

I am currently settled on the chalkboard at Cafe Marmalade in Salt Lake City, where Joey Cougar & The Starfish played prior to finding a drummer.

You can see the sorts of dilemmas I have when I have too much time on my hands.

Speaking of hands, I started watching the documentary Naked States today. As may seem obvious, the picture has me thinking about being nude. So strange that nudity and the naked body are so charged with anything. I’m sure that the boring, White Christian God, if he was not imaginary, was really upset that the first humans were ashamed of their nakedness. Strange also that knowledge came from eating fruit. Common knowledge says that fruit was an apple. I don’t think so. I think it had to be strawberries. What other fruit would have made them realize their naked sexuality so? I’m sure they just started rubbing strawberries all over each other and licking and getting all sexy in the garden and then non-existent Deity strolled up and caught them. (If the Garden of Eden is not an archetype for parents’ basement, I don’t know what it.)

So of course, they thought they would be punished. Instead, the fake Man upstairs was just going to bring them a Tantric book he just invented (immediately after creating Gordon Sumner). But, no! Those scared jerks doubly-handedly created guilt, shame and the fashion industry.

And now that guilt is in our jeans.