Life Is a Circus.

I find it amazing the weird shit that happens around me. I find this to be especially true when I don't have anything to write about. That is what has happened to me the last few days. First it was dudes in Speedo's and now this. Now I don't know if this stuff is always going on and I'm just oblivious to it. Or, is there some all seeing blog god that is throwing some creative scraps my way.

The following occurred this morning on my way to pray to the coffee gods at the alter of Starbucks. It took less than three minutes.

About five minutes from my house I was approaching the second of three stop lights. Out of the corner of my eye I see a man in a wheel chair on the sidewalk. Normally this wouldn't faze the majority of us. Except in this case the old guy was wearing a complete confederate solider uniform and smoking one of those long hook shaped pipes. "Huh, that's weird" I said out loud to myself. When I stop at the light, I see on the corner, a midget guy (I know. . .little person) holding hands with a fat lady. "WTF? Am I jones-en for coffee or what?" *green arrow* I proceed to make a left turn. Not fifty yards after my turn I see an old Chinese guy sitting cross legged on the side walk. "Holy fucking shit. . .the high school nurse wasn't fucking around when she told us about acid flashbacks happening years later!!!"


I spent the rest of the morning looking for pink elephants and monkeys riding dogs like rodeo horses. Which would have been fucking cool. Because frankly, anything involving monkeys is fucking hilarious!!!

Spee-dont!!!

Two incidents have now occurred in the last week that I just cannot let go. With the weather getting warmer here in Cali I fear that these incidents might become more frequent. In my opinion, men wearing nut hugger speedos, is not acceptable.

The first incident occurred way to close to home. My neighbor (lets call him Tony) and his wife just got back from a vacation in the Virgin Islands. Mrs. Titus and I accepted an invitation to go to their house to see vacation pictures. Now normally I would have cut my own throat and lit my hair on fire in response to such an invitation. This situation was different because they are really fun people that; like me, drink like fish.

This will help paint a more vivid image for you. With the help of modern technology we were viewing said pictures on Tony's big screen TV. Now, all is going well for the first five minutes or so. "Here we are . . . blah blah blah. Here I am at . . . blah blah blah." As you can imagine, a typical boring vacation montage.

Without warning, Blam!!! Before my eyes is a big screen hi-def shot of Tony. He's sunning himself on the beach in a white ball choking banana hammock. WTF!!! I just about shot stout out my fucking nose. There has to be some sort of breach of etiquette here. I'll give Tony a small amount of leeway here as he is from Europe. But really, what the fuck?" Like parental warnings that precede a major motion picture. Can you give me some preemptive warning here? To make matters worse, Tony is not a manscaping kind of guy. Again, he's from Europe. Now normally I don't care how or if another dude grooms. I swear it looked like he had a Pomeranian stuffed in his Lycra Man-Thong. Night ruined! Aside from the disturbing imagery burned into my cerebral cortex, let me tell you that Guinness in your sinuses fucking burns.

The second incident happened this afternoon. I was driving around town on errands. It's hot today. The temperature is in the low eighties with no wind to speak of. Without warning and without shame (on his part) I see him. A wrinkled up guy in his 70's. He's in the front of his house that is on a busy city street. He's washing his car wearing flip flops and a baby blue speedo. Uuugggghhhhhh. I verped and nearly crashed the shit box into a light pole. Now apparently this guy isn't a bologna bag amateur. His skin looks like burnt orange leather. He's been doing this a while. I wanted to go kick his neighbors teeth in for never cluing him in.

So dudes, if your ever feel so inclined to throw on one of these testicle trapeze nets, please think twice. Unless you're going to win a medal in the fucking Olympics I don't feel it's a wise move. Let me go on public record with the following promise to all of you. Should I ever see Tony washing the Volvo with his "Caack-n-Boools" hanging out. I will set him straight.

Job Quest, Sad Mac, Happy Jake, and Booze

Before I get on with my ramblings I want to thank everyone for their words of support and encouragement yesterday. The interview went very well. The head of the department invited me to apply for the position. Which means, I'm in. Very strange if I may say so. It is the first time I have interviewed for a position that I hadn't applied for first. Applications in this department are only accepted by invitation. The application is essentially a pre-employment packet to confirm my education, experience, and lack of criminal record. This will most likely take four or so weeks to complete, and then I'm in. In the mean time the department head asked me to take two classes in order to fulfill what he believes would be the minimum standards to teach. Shouldn't be a problem.

Last year my iBook took a crap on me. Having neither the extra time or money to deal with it, I put it in the office closet for a later time. So, Monday I went to the Apple Store and was told that the minimum cost to repair it would be about $350. Yikes!!! Not wanting to commit to that kind of expense just yet, I returned home with the broken iBook in hand. Hours spent on the mac user bulletin boards and I discovered http://coreyarnold.org/ibook/.

With the help of this website, $7 worth of tools from Harbor Freight, and this two cent self adhesive piece of rubber my trusty iBook has found new life.

Thank you Cory you are a saviour.

After looking at my blog this week I decided to make a bit of a change. I realized that none of you probably care what the hell I read. To be honest, time has been in such short supply that I have not been reading nearly as much as I normally do. So fuck it! I scratched the book side bars and replaced it with something dear to my heart. Booze!!!

Now to set the record straight I really love wine. If I were to review wine I would most likely come off as quite pretentious. I love wine, I drink wine, I can usually tell a good wine from a bad wine. The fact is, I really don't know jack shit about the stuff. Maybe in the future I will give a wine review a shot. I'll call it the "Not so weekly Blood of Jesus".

Instead I decided review what I consider to be the

"Food of the Gods."

That's right. . .Beer! Love it and can't fathom living without it. I promise not be long winded. My reviews will be brief and to the point. So I offer to you,

"The Not So Weekly 6-Pack. A Liquid Gold Review."

Wish Me Luck.

First teaching interview is today at 4:00. I'm suprised at how relaxed I am.

Lets Get Ready To Rummmmbbllleeee!!!

Most of you have figured out by now that I am not a church going guy. I have a natural tendency to avoid church at any expense. This morning on my way to work, something occurred that made me reconsider my lack of "churchly"involvement

My morning commute was like all others prior. Frankly it was boring and uneventful. That was until I saw this sign in front of the Wayside United Methodist Church. At first I couldn't believe what I had read. I nearly locked up the breaks on my powder blue shit box commuter. I quickly flipped a u-turn and discovered that I had in fact read the sign correctly.

Let me begin by singing accolades to the Reverend Johnson. You my friend are a marketing genius. I actually began counting on my fingers to see if I could fit in the early mass during football season.

The stop and photo-op had me running late. I hopped in the shit box and headed to work. Now, the remainder of my commute had my mind really processing this holy rolling wrestling league. And it occurred to me that this could be fucking anything. My attendance could vary greatly depending on what kind of fist-o-cuffs was taking place.

Hell, I'd stay home and watch the fishing channel if this is whats going on.

This might get me there for a week. . . . maybe two if they had beer.

Now this would be cool. I'd give up any Raiders game to see this!!! This is fucking Hilarious!!!

O.K. getting better. No beer required. I'd make it every week that the Bears play in the afternoon.

Fuck football. I have TIVO!!! "Honey have you seen my Bible?"

Really, I'm full of it. . .No, really!!!

Last week another blogger described posting on the weekend. He compared it to being alone in the desert. You're all by yourself. You're walking around in a proverbial circle until you collapse from exhaustion and desperation. What the hell do I write about? What the fuck do I say?

That's where I find myself tonight. I've read other blogs. I've Googled ridicules shit for some off the wall inspiration. Shy of pounding my head on the keyboard, I don't know what else to do. I have spent a great deal of time talking shit. Usually that shit is at other peoples expense. Maybe I should spend some time fucking up my own shit. As you know, I have been talking about teaching. I have been putting quite a bit of thought into this whole thing. As exciting as I have convinced myself that it would be, I have also had my doubts.


Here's the thing, I'm no genius. Now let me elaborate. I'm not saying that I'm some sort of "softhead idiot". I'm smart. I can carry my own in most conversations. I'm just not really "brilliant". I've read some blogs that left me feeling. . . . completely lost. They are smartly written with deep thought provoking content. It makes me want to step away from the computer and go watch re-runs of Beavis and Butthead.

The strange thing is, most people that I know, think I'm some sort of super smart dude. I have common sense and I have a brain filled with; what I consider, useless shit. But the topper is....amazing poker face. To bad I can't play the fucking game! I'd be a millionaire. Anyway, this is where I call bullshit on myself. I can be really phony. Here is an example, I've had conversations where a $10 word gets thrown into the mix. I'll tell you what I don't do. . . . I don't say " excuse me but what is a deuteragonist*"? Rather I'd spout of something like "well he's certainly no deusexmachina**"! So, people have come to think that I am a person endowed with some sort of mental superiority. Fact is, much of the time I'm just full of shit! For fucks sake I didn't know what convoluted meant until about three months ago. Amazing what you can learn by picking up a dictionary!

So, now this whole teaching dilemma. Yes I know my shit when it comes to my job. But the act of teaching seems kind of daunting. Maybe I just fear that some little pencil neck brain-i-ack mother fucker is going to see right through me. Game over! Thanks for playing! That would suck. Is my ego to frail? I'm not really sure.

You know, talking shit about myself isn't as fun as I thought it would be.

Hhhhmmmmmmmmm........


Is it just me, or is this some sort of "Mormon Robert Palmer Video"? These crazy bitches scare the shit out of me!

Aaaahhhhhhhhh....... that feels better.


*&** Yes, I used a dictionary. Thank you Mr. Webster.

Running around like a chicken with my. . .

Wow, what a week. So this teaching thing has me running around crazy. It seems that my twenty-ish years of experience are in demand. I have an interview with one of the local community colleges next week. The primary instructors heard of my interest and are prodding the head of the department to pick me up asap. So, I have spent the week tracking down past certificates, transcripts, and licenses. Today I spent a good three hours putting together a new resume'. I forgot what a bitch it can be to format a Word Document. So it appears that while in my current state of chaos, the world has continued to move along without me.

Here are some of the things that I did not have the time to comment on.

Olympic Protesters:
I get it. I agree. It's not going to work. China; like most first world economy's, is fueled by money. Stop the shouting and just quit buying crap from them. No more Yo-Yos, disposable bamboo chop sticks, or glow in the dark titty lighters. Better yet, boycott WalMart.

Obama and the comment:
Face it "those people" also don't have a sense of humor.

Gas prices: I have a hybrid and I'm still spending 40+ bucks a week. WTF!!!!

Car Horns: People!!!! Your car horn was not designed to tell your friends that your out in front of their house. Get your lazy fucking ass out of the car and knock on the door.

Food prices: Again, WTF!!!! When I was a kid the average full shopping cart was about $50. The last three trips I took to the grocery store a full cart is averaging $225. AAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Chad Johnson: Cincinnati doesn't deserve you. Come to Chicago. We'll take good care of you.

Taxes: First of all let me point out that the Alternative Minimum Tax fucked me AGAIN!!! Tax day just passed. That evening I had a chance to watch a bit of the nightly news. Why the fuck do people wait until the very last possible minute to drop their shit in the mail? I guarantee those same slow fuckers are probably pacing like a caged lion waiting for their economic stimulus check! I hope Uncle Sam waits until the last god damn minute to send there shit back to them!!!

The Popes Red Shoes: Lets put it this way. He knows a lot of Broadway show tunes as well.

From The Road.

On the road yesterday, today, and tomrrow. Forced to post from the iPhone. Sucks really because the keypad is so small and my fingers are so big. Kind of like watching an elephant try and make a withdrawl from an ATM. In addition I don't know how to post pictures from the iPhone as of yet.

I was on the way to my Starbucks this morning. When I say "my" I'm not speaking literaly. "My" as in the Starbucks I prefer to visit. The reason that I prefer this Starbucks over the three that I passed by is simple. They know me and they know my drink. I walk in the say "hi Jake". Its kind of like a updated version of Cheers except its not funny. Boy, how lame am I? I thrive on Barista attention.

Yesterday I was forced to go to the Department of Motor Vehicles due to an unexpected problem with my license. Normally I would make an appointment prior to visiting hell. Yesterday I could not. I arrived three minutes after opening. There were four people there before me and two with appointments arrived after me. An hour and a fucking half. WTF!!! And to make matters worse, the error on my license was there's not mine.

Ohhh Canada....Pt.1.

Yikes, don't tell me you all turned Catholic? Anyway, how are all of you? This end you ask,....Status Quo.

• Mrs. Titus:....still sick
• Grandma:....doing better and wanted to try living on her own again.
• Neck:...still fucked up. Disability rating jumped from 7% to 17%.
• Local commercial development in neighborhood:....moving ahead, maybe some of my property value will recover after all.
• The "Branch":....still sucks. Looking for a tie dyed "Barack Obama 08" shirt for casual Friday. I figure hell, why not stir up the hornets nest.
• The ex:....child support went from $400 to $1500 per month.
• Mrs. Titus:.... finally decided to move forward with a career change. She was accepted to school and will start in May.

So....Mrs. Titus and I have been discussing retirement for the last several years. As it stands, I can retire in just over nine years. Considering how my neck has deteriorated in the last three years, the reality is that I may only last another three to five. The kids are almost grown and should be on their own in two years. We have planned to look for property in the pacific North West. If we are able to unload some of our California assets in the next two years, our relocation time line may move quicker than expected. I've been in the California Bay Area my whole life. Frankly, I'm sick of it! One plan we are researching would have us relocate north of the border :>). With Mrs. Titus having a new career (and the old one to fall back on for side work) and my retirement....we should be able to live well.

More to follow....
Jake

The Female Mind

As indicated by my very brief post two days ago, I have had ten or so days of hell. I had every intention of writing about my miserable week and a half. I wanted to rant. I wanted to scream at the top of my friggen lungs. I was simply waiting for time. When the time came, I was going to puke my rage out onto the pages of my blog. One huge misery purge.

Then, the time came. Low and behold. . . . . I didn't feel like spewing all of this shit out! I've gotten over most of it and the rest I'm trying to let go of. But that still leaves the blog. So instead of doing a bullet point rant of all this crap, I am instead going to write about an observation I made last week.

On "Good Friday" Mrs. Titus began to feel like crap. This continued for several days. On Monday I had the day off from work. While she slept in I got up from bed and started doing shit around the house. Here is a brief list.

• I emptied the dishwasher.
• I filled the dishwasher and ran the load.
• I took Grandma to her doctors appointment.
• I took Grandma to her lab appointment.
• I went to the pharmacy to get Grandmas medicine.
• I went home and emptied the dishwasher.
• I folded the cloths in the dryer.
• I did two more loads of cloths and folded them as well.
• While in the process of vacuuming the house (including the stairs from hell), Mrs. Titus wakes up and the following conversation and event transpire. . .

Me: Hi Honey. How are you feeling?

Her: Like crap. Can you make me a tuna sandwich?

Me: Sure I can. Do you want chips with that?

Her: No, just the sandwich. . . thanks.

Me: No problem, you just lay down. I've got everything under control around here.

So I proceed to make us tuna fish sandwiches. Rather than stay in bed, she chooses to come down stairs and eat at the table. Now let me remind you, the house is DIALED IN!!!!! I bring her her sandwich. She takes ONE bite and says. . . .

Her: There is way to much tuna on this sandwich and you also used to much Dijon. I knew it! You just don't love me anymore!

Me:?

Women often say that men are babies when we're sick. For the most part, I agree. But, after having the flu I have never gotten out of bed and discovered. . .

• The oil had been changed in All of the cars, and the Harley.
• The lawn is mowed
• The plants and bushes are trimmed and fertilized.
• The cars are washed and gassed up.

you get the picture. . .

See I don't expect that. But believe me If that happened, the last thing I would say is. . .

Me: Honey, you are a heartless bitch. You fucked up my lunch!

Help me out here. Am I off base? WTF