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My prayers to God and my hopeless rage and confusion were not totally unanswered on what to this point would be the last night I have ever drank. I wasn't exactly relieved of any of my alcoholic confusion, rage, or remorse, but I was given something that I didn't think would have been possible at the time. I was able to fall asleep, and I was able to wake up with enough knowledge to immediately get on my knees, in my jail cell, and beg God for whatever it would take to keep me sober for the rest of the day. I wasn't asking about help on the arraignment, homelessness, the 100 or so apologies I had to make, just please give me the gift of not having booze in me damnit! My head was like a NASCAR race, and I was still in complete and utter shock over what I had witnessed last night. I was horribly hateful toward everyone who had been telling me the truth about me all these years, because up until last night, these stories were common, but I had never actually been there to witness them.

The arraignment was simple enough, there were no violent charges against me, because no one would come forward, simple "disturbing the peace" and "public intoxification" which were a 5th and 8th for me respectively. My pride over never having driven drunk, was starting to get mired in all the other drunken offenses I had accumulated. The last charge of resisting arrest and assaulting an officer were for the most part dismissed because the officer in question didn't fell it was necessary to pursue them, so I only had a 250$ bail with the 12$ personal recognizance on top of it. It was my shock and dismay that followed when my room mate showed up with the bail. His only stipulation was that I leave Dover, like I had promised, and never come back to "HIS" apartment again. This was a normal thing for someone like me, as I had left a rather large trail of burnt bridges behind me, it was always the easiest way to find me in the dark after all.

Everything I owned fit into one Shaw's Supermarket paper bag and was waiting for me when I was leaving the jail, and with that I was off to Manchester, with a new place, a new job, and very little hope.

Now for anyone out there who doesn't understand what a bottom is, let me explain to you where I really was at this moment. I was moving an hour away from any streets I even knew the names of, to go work in the Stoneyfeild Yoghurt Factory. When you work in a Yoghurt factory, you have officially hit bottom. It is disgusting, it pays really bad, and when you couple this with the fact that it was the only job in the entire state of NH that would take me, it is lonely. My first night in Manch-Vegas, I made a phone call to AA, and I just wanted to get to a meeting, and hopefully one that I could walk to. I was in luck that there was one, exactly one street over and the woman on the phone said that it started at 7. I white knuckled my way through the entire day. I had DT's really bad, and my entire skin crawled with what I often described as spiders, and I could feel them in my throat and my belly as well.

When I walked into the meeting, I was well aware that I was in the right place, and not in the right place. There didn't appear to be any men at the meeting, and there were well over 40 women who were already there. I didn't have a chance to bail, because the woman at the door took one look at me and said "Welcome. I can see you need to be here, so sit down, shut up, and this hopefully will be the last time you ever go to a women's meeting," and she was right about that at least. I was given a raffle ticket, I was given a seat right up front, and the topic of the meeting immediately became, step 1 - 2 - 3. The raffle was held, and after calling out 8 or 9 numbers, they finally reached mine, so I was given a Big Book. Third edition, hard cover, and already full of phone numbers (as it was the tradition of this group to put the phone numbers of the members in every Big Book). Change had happened. I had crawled to my first meeting, and I was listening to a bunch of women, and I felt ok about it.

I made it though an entire day sober, and when I woke up the next morning, I was on my knees, sick as a person who just went through a bought of pneumonic plague, but I was thanking God, first of all, and begging God second of all. It somehow worked the day before and I was going to try it again. The phone rang, waking up one of my new room mates, and she brought the phone into me. "It's Joe," she said as she let out a rather nasty sounding yawn, and although I could never remember knowing a Joe my whole life I very weakly said "Hello."

"My wife came home from the meeting last night and told me I was your new sponsor, so I have to set some ground rules right off, ok?" was the voice that came over the phone. Once again, I had no idea who this person was or even who his wife was, it could have been any of the ladies there last night I suppose. The only thing I could do was say "uh huh" and he finished, "First of all, and most importantly, YOU WILL, be going to two meetings a day," bear with me that I knew nothing of suggestions my first year, it was all, you will, or you won't, and that was fine by me, I was finally sick enough to listen for a change. "I know your boss, and I told her last night that I will be taking you to the Londonderry Nooner and bringing you back, afterwards. You can then work an extra half hour, when I will pick you up from work." which shocked me because I didn't know my new boss yet, much less that she was a woman either.

Well come to find out my new boss was indeed a woman and she was at the meeting the night before, her best friend who happened to be my new sponsors wife, and her developed this little scheme to get Joe, and me together. Joe apparently had retired the year previous, and Mary (his wife) was damn sick of him already. You see how we were all starting to get what we needed. For the first 90 days sober, I was going to the nooner everyday, leaving work to have dinner with my new family, and heading out to a meeting in a minivan full of alkies every night. I was a little dim as it did take me about 2 months to finally realize that the biggest city in NH did have night time meetings. Joe took me at least an hour away to every nighttime meeting, and I had AA rammed up my ass each way, by the Yiddle Bus O Drunks.

I made a conscious decision to move my sorry ass back to the seacoast, and perhaps go to college if I could finagle my way in by the time I had 90 days, and I had the blessings of my new family, but I had to do one thing before I left. My sponsors anniversary, was approaching in October, so I was going to give him his medallion. I had NEVER asked him how long he had been sober and he wasn't one of the people to just wax on and on about things that didn't involve the present, so I was shocked when I heard him speak at the meeting, believe it or not. I found out that he had 39 years, and hadn't been to a meeting or celebrated an anniversary in the last 5. His Higher Power, whom he called God, had brought a new alcoholic in his life that gave him the much needed kick in his ass to get back with the program, despite his self loathing that he felt over abandoning AA, fo whatever reasons he had so many years before. He also made it a point to say, "I am just a drunk, who managed to stay sober despite the committee in my head who tries to get me drunker everyday" and that has always stayed with me.

Upon coming back to the seacoast I had no place to stay except for an ex (and becoming present again) girlfriends condemned cottage in Wells Me. which wasn't all that humbling for me, as I was a very accomplished street drunk who slept in crypts for Gods sake, but it was very cold as fall was starting to set in. I was still going to two meetings a day, and the humility was stemming from having to talk to everyone about my brilliant relapse, as people who actually knew me started looking for me in the halls again. I did 2 meetings a day everyday regardless for my first two years. I was going to College, playing Hockey, running a lab, working full time, and doing my meetings. Sleep was limited to about 2 hours a nite whether I needed it or not. Stepwork was limited to 1-2-3 whether I needed it or not, and I was just muddling by on what little serenity I had, but I still hit the knees every morning, because I wanted to keep what little I had as well.

During this time, I had a pretty bad week when I discovered that a girlfriend of mine, had miscarried, but she was going to get an abortion anyway without telling me. I lost my job, because I wasn't able to keep up without sleep, my grades in college (now just starting year 3) were going into the toilet, and to top it all off, I was having a really raging case of the "guilties" over my lack of step work. I did the only thing that any normal person would do, and I locked myself in my room (which by now was an apartment above my fathers house) and started starving myself to death. The human body can go about 7 days without food, and when my friends from AA came looking for me (because that's what happens when you go to 2 meetings a day everyday, and just stop) I was on day 6 and I was hysterically crying over running out of Cigarettes and diet Pepsi.

Off I went to the oogie boogie ward. I was almost 3 years sober and I was a total wreck. I hadn't asked God for anything except death for over a week, I hadn't eaten, and I was desperately in need of some mental help. In the oogie boogie ward I had learned some fascinating things about myself though. There was probably a chance that absolutely everything bad that ever happened to me was not completely my fault. I had a large part in some of it, but sometimes I am a victim of my own environments as well. I was actually reminded of what was really keeping me sober this time around, and that was because I am a DRUNK, a falling down, stinking, filthy, violent, drunk when I drink, and I don't have to just be that anymore. I don't have to be passive, because all I know is violence, and I don't have to always laugh at what stupid things I do. Although I learned that gratitude is being able to laugh at the stupid things I do. I was no longer just an Alcoholic, I was a human being, who had to start working the steps, before I was officially cured of Alcoholism once and for all, through death. The hard process of step work was about to begin.

Upon leaving the oogie boogie ward, I decided that step 4 was going to happen no matter what I truly thought of myself or what pain was involved. My sponsor (Rocky) was willing to do the whole process with me on a few conditions of his own ... The first was that I redo the one I first showed him because he said "Step 4 is not about beating yourself up and taking your lumps, It's a moral inventory, and nobody is really all bad", but of course I thought he might be all bad for making me redo the damn thing! Of course I understood his point and started again, by being clear and concise about what I found to be my morals in an inventory format, with hardly any examples, because that was supposed to be coming in step 8.

The day I was ready to finally give this whole pile of Jeremy over to my sponsor, I waited at our favorite hang out, until his room mate showed up. Gloria was such a wonderful woman, she had known me since the first day I had stepped into rehab, and was always the smiling face of AA I tried to remember throughout all of my "out of AA" adventures, and relapses. She wasn't smiling, and she wasn't at all comfortable with what she was about to tell me either. Rocky had died the night before, and she knew I was here waiting for him because he had left a note on his desk saying "Don't forget lunch with the kid" and everyone knew ... Jeremy was the kid. My flood of emotions was probably priceless, as I blamed everyone in the world, Rocky, Gloria, God, Me, for what was going on. How dare HE chicken out of this, and leave me here to have to face the world alone. It's amazing looking back how self centered I had FINALLY become.

The 5th step was done with a Catholic Priest who happened to be in the program, it was Rocky's sense of humor that made me realize that if he were in my shoes he'd want to kill two birds with one stone also. I have always made it a point to address myself as "I'm a drunk and my name is Jeremy!" whenever I am to speak in front of other Recovering Alcoholics, and yes it has made some people uncomfortable, even after I have been in recovery now for 16 years, but as often was the case when I was newly sober (any of the times I was newly sober) that it was more important for me to remember that I am first and foremost a falling down, stinking , filthy, violent drunk, that crawled into AA completely ruined for drinking before I ever had the opportunity to walk up to a bar with a legal ID, and buy a drink. The Alcoholic in me is what still tries to get me, when the Committee who meets every three days and tries to vote me off the Island (16 years strait of winning the immunity Idol thank GAWD) and will win if I am not afraid of what I am when I drink. Today I am capable of being a Human Being, instead of just a Human Doing, and I try to remember what I can do today. Quite simply put by so many in AA .... I do the next right thing, to the best of my ability. ;8o)

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Now, as usually is the case when I run into the "Rainbow Societies answer to Jay and Silent Bob" I am sitting in downtown watching all the hotties in their business skirts walk by. I personally think that it is Gods way of amusing himself that when I am being a pervert, my Ex-Wife and her Girlfriend always come along, mostly to show me what a good relationship looks like. Mind you I am not having a Mojo day today, so most of the women walking by are simply ignoring me, so talking with them isn't exactly cramping my style. I do wonder though, why they always plop down on each side of me. It's like that good angel and bad angel on your shoulder, only with much worse taste in clothing and hairstyles. I did comment that they both have lost a lot of weight, and it was getting very obvious, and it was met with "and you dumped this guy?" which made me chuckle a bit, but I still called her a "bitch".

You see the Ex-Husband - Ex-Wife ... Ex Wifes Girlfriend relationship is kinda like picking up a spare set of estrogen producers, for when you really need to know what's wrong with you. It also helps when you are trying to find the woman who is gonna be victomized in your dreams that night as well. It's sad that I have realized that they both have far better taste in women that I do, also. You also start feeling less dirty looking at women like sex objects for a change when you have the approval of your ex-wife. She of course is just praddling away at her favorite subject like she always does {herself}, and I am left to point, and be pointed for, by her girlfriend.

I decide to start throwing out a few of my random "Mental Notes" because that is what I do, and it is boring to sit with me over coffee, I know, but thankfully my ex's present, likes to hear my psychotic ramblings. I was blathering myself in no time about how, I am starting to feel like a pig, thinking of downtown as a candy store. She would simply chuckle now and again, and point at another hottie as they walked by. Once again, thank God it isn't Mojo day because having two women and I guy pointing at you when you walk by must be alarming to some, but the invisibility cloak is holding. Thank Harry, I'll get it back to you by the next book.

"You realize that I personally think the biggest problem you have had, is that you HAVEN'T looked as women like pieces of meat, and it's good to see you acting like a boy," was the out of the blue comment that she had for me today. I was of course taken aback because I thought I did very well at being a pervert, but I guess I have been lacking the drool or something ... Mental Note - Start dragging your knuckles, you're losing your shwerve. "You've justified every woman you have ever been with by falling in love with her, and desperately trying to make her ... the one and only forever ... and some of us like that for ego's sake, but most of us have ADD too, and then of course realize that we are lesbians," which after a smirk from me was followed by, "Ok maybe the two or three women who aren't are out there waiting for you, but until then look, drool, and imagine" followed by laughing and leg patting. I had to add one of my favorites after that, "I do well as long as I don't touch or taste."

We spent a good half hour just admiring the scenery, since Saturday mornings are always full of scenery, until the Ex realized as she usually does sooner or later that we haven't heard a word she said. Of course she still had to say "Are you two having fun?" which was followed by me saying "Boy are you skinny now," and her present saying, "Ok, now I see why you left him," and the three of us laughing together as usually is the ending of our Two Guys and a Drunk episodes. I hugged them both, and was told that they were gonna try that whole "Juggling Fetus's" thing, as long as I provided the bail, which I was all too happy to promise.

It's very funny that I have a good relationship with the Ex who left me for a woman, and I still can't tolerate the other two. The first one is still ok, since she totally removed herself from ever having to be in the same room as me, but the second one, well let's just say that she provides humor in so many other ways. Perhaps there is a blog entry in her behavior forthcoming, but I hope that SHE doesn't read it daily. It's just too bad that having any form of relations with two women at once is just too confusing for me, cuz then perhaps I would have a REALLY good edition of "Things I Learned from The Ex Wife's Girlfriend" but In all reality I kinda like having my Blog on the non-adult side of Yahell. Ya know what though, I'd probably get a lot more hits if I added some nasty photos anyway, but until then I'll stick with what works. ;8o)

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Well it started last night when I was accused of being a liberal (Thanks Trapt), that I realized that maybe I really am one and should try to live my day as a liberal to see how that goes. Of course the day was mostly spent in hopeless daydreams for it was really hard for me to think of anything really practical that liberals bring to the world, I was able to at least think up a topic that I could get on board with. The whole "stem cell" debate was all over the radio today because Bill Frist (another closet liberal, who I will try to get in contact with A.S.A.P. to compare notes) has decided to break ranks with the President on whether or not the government should fund it or not. Now mind you, Bush is the only President in the history of the good old U.S. of A. to actually propose funding it at all, but my new found liberalism has allowed me to see right through his evil plot (of course with some help from that wonderful CNN reporting) and see that he is really trying to outlaw it. He can't fool me, I used to vote for people like that, but not anymore!

To think that there are still countless millions of people out there who actually think that the umbilical cord of a newborn has just as many stem cells as a dead ba... oops ... the conservative in me ... bad Jeremy bad ... as a "choice" is purely insane. Everyone out there with a dog in the stem cell fight knows that you can only have research if you "choice", so I have finally gotten on board with this idea too. As a matter of fact I have put great thought into the whole argument today, and I am going to share all of my wonderful ideas with all of you, but first let me share some of my research with you, and see if any of it matches other research out there.

You see, until today, I was one of those evil bastards who thought that life was a wonderful thing, and now that I have finally seen the light, I was able to see it rationally like the other people who believe in the dictionary definition as the opposite of life ... "choice". It was very easy to do actually, I finally put myself in their shoes. I researched (very little honestly) what the typical screaming "NOW" advocate was, and it was startling. I thought originally that it was "The National Organization of Women" but realized that roughly 97% of the women in this country aren't a part of it, and actually forget to go vote on the leaders. Shame ... shame ... especially considering that this organization complains like 2 year olds often that only 50% of Americans vote, but enough about that. Upon recognizing that the other 3% were my target audience to truly understand my goal (which cutting to the chase is blissful ignorance), and have separated them into two categories ... Women who don't have kids, and men who want to "DO" women who don't have kids, and are willing to resort to "yes maam" to get there.

Now that I have lost half of the people reading, allow me to continue. The whole argument that abortion is great (ok just acceptable then) is that "It isn't a baby!" ... " It isn't human!", so I have my reasoning for wholesale slaughter of them for the purposes of bettering medicine ... whew ... justification is accomplished I am ready to move on. MY problem now, is that we aren't going far ENOUGH! I really like to throw myself into things you see, and I truly believe that since these "choices" that are left over, should be put to good use (waste not want not) I have devised a very small list of things that would be fun to do with "choices". It is a free country after all, and I don't believe that you should only work. Like most Americans I work hard for my 19 different HBO's and I need to relax too.

Let's start with my favorite, and I'm gonna do this one ... Fetus Juggling! I mean why not, I could simply stand out front of the metropolitan museum of art with 3 (ok better have extras they might get damaged) 3rd trimester fetuses, and just start juggling them around and make tasteless jokes about it. You have to use the third trimester ones that are desperately fought for the right to "chose" because all the other ones are too little and not as cute. I could have on my clown make up, and my pointy hat, the big shoes. Oh hell this would be HUGE! From what CNN has been trying to tell me over 60% of Americans are pro choice, so I should already have a very good sized audience. Some of those whacked out evil people who like God (God is Bad), might be pissed off, but screw them I mean these aren't babies and they aren't even human after all, right? I bet the mental image of that is downright infuriating some people right now, but closed mindedness can't interfere with my freedom ya know. I have the right to free speech and fortunately most of the people I have met thinks that mean I have the right to be heard too .... woooohoooooooo!

Perhaps we can figure out a way to grind up fetuses and make a cleaner fuel alternative! I think that it could be possible if we were to just let them sit and rot in the sun that some form of methane could come out of them, and after watching Mad Max - Beyond Thunderdome ... I am an expert on methane you see. I mean we would have to employ people to rake around all of the little "choices" with some sort of enzyme, but hey it gets rid of things that aren't human, and shouldn't be talked about. Better than that it really sticks it to those bastards with the oil too. We could simply stop fighting over oil and start loving ourselves with dead ba ... damnit ... evil Jeremy ... "choices" that can fuel the nation. I bet it won't hurt the ozone layer either, but if it does who cares I can be a hypocrite now!

Wow something else came to me, while I was writing this. Why couldn't we just feed all these leftover "choices" to our pets? I mean we are dying and fighting like children over getting these things for medical purposes, and it really is the only solution to that, right? I mean I love MY cat, don't you? Perhaps anything that could have saved poor old Christopher Reeves could make my cats coat shinier, and I can't see why anyone should have the audacity to get furious about something that isn't human, or alive to begin with, doing it. I don't see anyone crying over the wheat flower that is in there, and that is at least considered alive by all scientific evidence. Perhaps if it isn't good enough for my cat then Phiser shouldn't be trying to make stuff out of it for me? Oh my GOD (oops sorry keep forgetting God is bad too, but I am trying) Phiser is trying to kill me, and they are getting me to beg them to do it! Geeze ... I'd get arrested for even thinking about doing this to a litter of day old cats. I'll start petitioning the Supreme Court on that one next.

Ok now let me be serious for a moment. You see, I am rather perplexed about another problem I have with all this. Now that I am a liberal, how can I keep on bitching about Phiser making a billion dollars on a medication that cures impotency, after spending about half that getting it through the FDA? I realize that it is ridiculously unfair of them to charge 10$ for an erection. While we are on THAT subject, trust me if you can't get one you'd pay a million just to anyway, so stop trying to lie about it. Is it better when the U.S. government gives them free taxpayer dollars to develop it and then makes a billion dollars? Or is it all just a wonderfully organized plot to get everyone to keep thinking that the opposite of "life" is "choice"? I better break out the dictionary again and see if I am a liberal. ;8o)

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I have often heard the phrase "I became an alcoholic the day the doctor smacked me on the ass, and of course that was my first resentment!" which has become a rather bland part of many of my humorous antidotes. I find more solace in the knowledge that another often over used statement truly applies to me that being "I don't remember the first time I ever drank an Ice Coffee, and I live for those now. I will always cherish the memory of the first time I drank alcohol, and it tried to kill me daily."

I was unfortunately born, the ugliest smallest kid in the history of Portsmouth NH, and I was terrified of everything from the moment I was introduced to someone other than my mother. I never fit in anywhere, and that wasn't fine with me, like most people will pretend to be the case. I had no goals, and very little made me happy as a child, from what I actually remember. I also was an only child, so there was nobody on this earth that was actually "forced" to play with me, so I started right off as an isolationist. My fantasies were never in sync with my realities, so I did what most children in my position would do, after my mother left at 5, which was strive to become an adult. I had such wonderful role models to follow as well, since that was the only way I was to truly accomplish my goal. Observation taught me by the time I was 7, that adults .... Drank a lot ... Emotionally abused each other ... And they all ran away from their problems. I was already prepared to embark on this adventure toward adulthood.

The clearest memory that I have from my childhood had a beginning and an end, but absolutely no middle whatsoever. I share this because it adds to the drama of this whole adventure that spans my past. It was a night just before my 7th birthday, my father was at work (teacher by day, bartender by night to try to pay off the debt my mother left) and I was left home alone, as I always was. The neighbor would check up on me every once in a while. I found a bottle of Dewars (yes I remember the bottle to this day) and proceeded to drink it. I drank it strait, I drank it long, and I drank it passionately. I also know that somewhere along the line I stopped remembering drinking it at all.

A major signpost was just run over you see as I woke up the next morning not remembering anything, and both my arms bandaged up. The story was pretty simple ... the neighbor found me passed out, and I spent the night screaming about all the 1st graders I was going to kill while a police officer held me down in the hospital. My father was not happy, but it was one of those times for him to hide from a problem. The issue wasn't discussed unless it was needed by a family member who wanted to install some sort of guilt on me for being a bad person all along. You see how this works?

I learned absolutely nothing from the whole event. My mind was fixated on feeling like I did before I passed out that night, and it was actually a little excited about the craven lunatic I appeared to have become when I didn't remember as well. Nothing from that day forward ever kept me from booze. I was the sad looking little boy picking through trash cans at the ball field, or near the sleazy bars in downtown Portsmouth, hoping to find anything left behind by those weirdoes who, well leave behind. I had become very good at recognizing who it was in the family or circle of friends that had "a hard time keeping track of their booze" and I supplemented my "trash can" social drinking with whatever I could pilfer. The vicious cycle completely removed my childhood from me. I remember so little before the age of 15 it has been known to scare family members. The sad part about it was that I was the 80's version of the functioning alcoholic, I did ok in school, and I managed to stay out of trouble, even if I was starting to become the town drunk to many.

The uneventful ramblings of a teenage alcoholic became pretty serious when I was just leaving 8th grade and moving into the 9th grade. My daily "beatings" had made me a very pain tolerant, and angry young man, who's fantasies were becoming more psychotic. My 8th grade guidance counselor started making note of how many days I had come into school "not" reeking of booze (3 as he told me later) and my father, who was one of the teachers at that school, was still running and hiding from it. Covering for me as best he could, just until I could get over to the high school. My temper was becoming a bit of a problem though, as I now was starting to lash out, at people I really despised. The summer between the two school years was spent getting brought home by the police often, and I don't remember a single day of it. My swan song at the local High School was famous in these parts for many years, and I don't remember it at all.

As I ran over this sign post it was yet another one of those after the fact moments, that didn't make me miss a beat. I woke up in one of the stone houses at the cemetery down the street. The school truant officer was there waking me up and telling me that I was no longer welcome at High School because I am far to violent, and I never remembered BEING violent. I also noted that I had never seen the inside of one of these things before (or so I thought as there were a lot of liquor bottles around) and I was a little confused as to how he even found me there, since I was rather shocked to find me there. He assured me that the police told him that this is where I slept if I wasn't at home.

My new school, was a very wonderful private school nearby, that my father (who is still running) managed to pull some strings to get me into. I heard a rumor that the Headmaster slept with my mother when my parents were still married, but I have no proof and nobody really talks about it, that I trust anyway. I was there for a while, but I really hated these losers that I was going to school with. I wore a shirt and tie with a wonderful blazer to school every day, and that sucked rocks also. I was officially the worst kid at the best school, and I was not only telling myself that daily, but I had reassurance that for once in my life I might be correct about something. The alcoholism, and my daily drinking followed me there too. I had been sent to live with my grandparent, who had plenty of booze for me to drink, and fell under the category of, would never notice.

It wasn't much of an existence over the next year, but I stayed out of trouble somewhat, the school gave up on keeping me on campus so I was starting to just wander off at will and get drunker. The culmination of all of this led me to the sign post that first brought me to AA, and I wasn't to happy about it at the time, but it was a starting point at least. You see, some things go full circle, and you never know when a vicious cycle might be broken either, in one form or another.

I woke up in my bed at my grandparents house, my arms were bandaged up, and I had no recollection of what had happened the night before. I do remember laying there in bed terrified to leave my room. I knew that I was going to hear something horrible about myself, but I might as well just try to get through it and wait for everyone to run and hide from it afterwards. This was different though. My father had spent the night on the couch, and he looked like he had had an awful night. He told me the story personally about what really happened when I was 6, and was now telling me about how last night was exactly the same only I was going to kill 10th graders instead. The police (because it took 3 this time) had done everything short of shooting me to keep me under control, and I had to get some help. Period.

Rehab wasn't really that bad. I liked the food, I think, but I heard absolutely nothing in that 60 days, or so I thought. I also remember watching the famous Bill Buckner moment in the World Series while I was in there. Beyond that ... simply put ... I had sex and moved in with the first woman in rehab that wanted me, and was drunk within 6 months ... single again within weeks, and worse than that .... I became a public drunk officially.

My evenings were spent at the beach fighting, and being totally clueless about it the next morning. It became apparent to me that I was falling apart at the seams, but the worst thing of it all was I had this nagging agony in the back of my head that I knew better. It was killing me really, but it took another sign post to bring me back to AA. Waking up in jail. Fighting, destructive behavior, and it could have been attempted murder from what the officer said. Hat in hand, I went back to AA.

I was ready to get sober, I told them all as I entered the room at the noon time meeting, and I was ready to absorb all of the wonderful pithy statements I could, and go to a lot of meetings, and of course get hooked up with the first sick woman I could get my hands on. I learned nothing, and I was damn ready to prove it. After that incredibly sick relationship ended I started just going to meetings to make her have to look at me. I didn't drink for almost 23 months, and I was still acting like a bar room drunk. I was still at the beach every Saturday (and logged a lot of time in the jail for various violent things) but worse of all I was just being a sad representative of anyone who ever quit drinking for whatever reason. My whole attitude was based on ... Well I could Be DRUNK .... I'm an alcoholic, and that's why I act this way ... Deal with it!

I dealt with it the only way a still suffering alcoholic does in the end. The month of Hell, as I have so often called it. Nothing special happened to make me drink. I just did it. It seemed smart at the time, and as weird as it sounds I still thank God for it. You see I was a diseased animal without an identifiable symptom. I wasn't drinking, and to the non-alcoholic that is usually the only symptom they understand. This last hurrah was spent waking up EVERY morning with no recollection of the night before. Most mornings with blood on me, and very frightened people around me. I was a complete and utter drunk, with nothing to show for his existence except fear from anyone who ever came in contact with me. It was finally time for me to run, and I had made all of the arrangements to move to Manchester and start my life over, drunk as I always truly wanted to be.

My going away party, was a big surprise, for me at first, and for everyone else in the end. I don't remember the start, and for the first time ever I remembered the end, before I woke up with bandages on my arms. I came too, with my knee on the back of a total stranger, and I was trying to kill him. Perhaps that was not the real intention, but it was the only thing that I could think of, since it was obvious that I was slamming his head in the door of my oven, so many times that the entire front of it was smashed to bits. I started screaming at the passed out stranger, because I desperately wanted to know what he did to me, and thus forced me to do this to him. The people who were there, wrestled me out of the apartment, and to this day nobody there has been willing to talk about the whole incident. The police came to pick me up, as they so often did, and I spent the night in jail crying, begging God to give me anything. Sanity, death, clarity, I didn't care I just wanted help, and the police who were there that night didn't come anywhere near my cell, because they knew already what everyone at that party finally realized. My insanity had finally gotten the best of me. ;8o)

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Now mind you, I fought with myself long and hard for a few days over whether I was gonna write this one or not. Entry number 10 is the perfect time. I have leaned against the third rail of what can and can not be said in public (according to very few) enough with the 9 previous entries, but I have to make a few observations. After all that is what I do for the most part in my Blog anyway, so I finally decided that this shouldn't be any different. There is a good side and a bad side to everything, and this, of course, is no different than every other action I take throughout my life. I will start with the good, but will drift at times when a learning moment ties in, because I have to be positive for my own sanity.

The most positive thing I have learned is that I might actually have a talent for writing and for being humorous, in my own way. {I of course will throw out that the few that have to knock my ego down will enjoy telling me this is not true, but as they always say ... I'm rubber, you're glue!}. Many of the people who have read my Blog have enjoyed it and have come back to read new entry's, and some of them often. Not to say that the old adage ... Say what they want and they'll be back ... Say what they hate and they'll be back often! ... hasn't applied as well, but most of the people who have found something to be angry about have only read what they were angry about, and nothing more. More funny than that is that they always get their ego gratifiers to come and read too, so that is also a plus. For lack of a better statement, I have learned that they are all pretty full of sh** anyway.

The learning just keeps on flowing, as I have also learned that there are many people out there who think like I do or have the same experiences and much hope to share with me on different things. I have been blessed to meet many wonderful people through this blog, while the nastier less appealing people simply reveal themselves as well, and I can just let them wonder if I care or not. I also can actually take credit for 6 other people starting Blogs, after reading mine! I have enjoyed reading them as much as they have enjoyed mine as well, so we will call that a plus. If that isn't enough, my daily readership includes, my ex-wife {the lesbian of course and her g/f}, a few nurses {who have in one form or another related to my candor}, my boss at work {who is even more confused about me then ever}, many friends online {because I nagged them to begin with}, a few ex-girlfriends {for good or bad}, and of course a silly princess from out west {who is almost as sick as me and will enjoy the plug}. I will outline a few of these people later in the bad things I learned ... hehehe.

Last of the good things for today, I have learned that I might actually be interesting to people who aren't after something out of me, or should I say actually interesting. Although a few of the people who have read my Blog were spying on me and wanted something to throw at me, without a doubt most of the people reading this are just curious, or better yet intrigued by what I have to say or am doing at the moment. This is a good thing for I like any other alcoholic can get mired in the feelings of "less than" just like anyone else. When I didn't do a blog entry on Monday it was because I wasn't feeling to good to be Jeremy, and people actually cared enough to ask. Put a price tag on that! Well you can't because it is priceless, but it is just a wonderful thing you learn when you share with others sometimes.

Now for some of the more notable bad things and of course some of the good things that have come out of it. I of course will start with what is most obvious, {I'm sick of the I told you so's ahead of time, thank you}, people get pissed off when you share feelings that they don't think are valid. The pissy people are now looking at that and saying "That's not it ... 'I think that you are wrong', or 'I think that you are sharing things to personal', or 'Why do you have to put that stuff in your profile?' etc etc etc" but it doesn't translate to what it really is and that is as I said, {They don't think that my feelings have any validity} and I don't care what they think ... period .... end of story {yes I learned that and it is good}. I am just like everyone else in the world. I don't want people angry at me, but ya know what? I can't change how other peoples feelings are. So I accept their validity, and move on from there.

The last paragraph was simply formed out of one statement "The first being the "famous" one which ended up with myself and the wonderful woman I was with ending up hurt pretty good. I thank God that she is doing well and (trust me) she is still the most beautiful woman who ever lived. The second being the straw that broke the camels back in it's total lunacy and complete and utter sickness on both ends." I did place both lines of that in here because it was another learning experience. Some {not all} women are very petty. Go figure, who'd have seen that one coming. That statement erupted into many arguments that culminated into fights, and others getting involved. Some were my fault, some were not. The fact of the matter is that they were both true statements, and I still stand by them. The person who is number two was furious that I called number 1 "The most beautiful woman who ever lived" more than our insane relationship that ended with me, myself, Jeremy, being very, very hurt. Let's keep in mind that I was already horribly sick of the manipulation {on both sides there as well}, that had been going rampant since the end of the relationship. Lets be honest about two things here. I could have said so many worse things that would have been caustic and done nobody any good, but I didn't. I could have used bad words, but I didn't. I could have done all of this without any care in the world since no names were mentioned, but I didn't. I summed it up honestly {and a lot of the flame throwing I could have done would have been honesty too, at least in my mind hehehe}, and with the least amount of vinegar I could muster. The first one ended very poorly, and it was, very probably, more my fault than hers, and she probably ended up more hurt than I did. Feelings have validity you know.

On the lighter side of all of this I learned that my temper is still REALLY REALLY BAD at times, since I jumped right into the playpen after a fray as well. I did it with her, her friends, and anyone else who wanted a piece ... hehehe ... The amazing part of it all was simply this ... For some weird reason, the women were incensed and just wanted to victimize, tell me my problems, and realistically tell me off ... the men were all ... Sorry didn't know, and handshakes {yes I did learn something from this as well, but I need not piss too many people off with this one}. Now since nothing was ever discussed rationally because the feelings {which have validity} were never taken into account, and I have done my best to not assume that some women just feel that men are not entitled to any feelings at all {Ok that was generalizing but I am sick ya know}. Forget the fact that the woman who was angry is still in the top 5 for beauty easily, forget that she is the sexiest woman ever {honesty} or that she had a ton of good points, you see, that was not to be discussed because, another woman was complimented. WOMEN! .... I just had to get that out, stereotypical I know. The good is simply this, I know how to read reactions a lot better than I used to. I've also learned to be wary when crossing into hostile territory.

The lighter side of the bad things I have learned is that Yahoo is making me come to Jesus on a lot of things too. Perhaps it is a good omen that I cannot "edit" Blogs that are already posted, or even delete them for that matter. I had actually thought about getting rid of the first Blog entry, but found out that I could not, just like I won't be able to get rid of this one that is going to defray a few tempers as well. I am not too worried about it all really, you see I have learned another great thing throughout all of this. The people who came here to be pissed off in the first place already are, so they haven't had any reason to come back. They simply think that the first entry was the only one that mattered and that I am a such and such. The sad news is that they believed that to begin with, and nothing I ever typed was gonna change that. I am elated to know today that my feelings have validity, and I'm running with it. ;8o)

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Well, I took a day off from the Blog to get some other things done, and I was pleased that a few people kinda missed it. I was fighting with one of two topics today ... this one ... or Things I Learned since I started a Blog. I chose to go with the one that will cause the least amount of resentments, but be forewarned .... It's coming.

The back has been getting worse over the last two weeks and I am sorry to say that I am now starting to loose the use of my right leg. The strain from the ruptured disk is pinching off the nerve that controls it, so I am suffereng atrophy that is really starting to show. I have to force myself upstairs a little harder with my arms, and bending at the knees is really becoming a chore if I am not next to something that I can pull myself up with. I am not complaining actually, since I find this whole process fascinating. I don't have any pain anymore, so that is a real plus, but I have to get some surgical procedures done. This will lead me to the first part of what I learned this time.

Well the first thing I learned since Bad Back Volume 1, is that there is a time when having a huge needle jammed into your spine, is very appealing. I mean I am a kinkoid and all, but the reasons for being happy that cortisone injections are being pumped directly into my spine is simple. I have an 80% of a full recovery with them. The new doctor told me that I am healthy as a bear except for this nagging back issue, but it was a freak occurrence and NOT congenital. Of course, when the doctor explained it all to me it still sounded like a very sadistic old form of rabies vaccines, but I was ecstatic to hear about it. You see, I am a big freaking pussy when it comes to needles (which always goes over well when the doctor sees all of my tattoos), but I am a downright coward when it comes to getting a knife. Of course a knife along your spine just gives me the chills typing this. I also faint at the sight of blood or any other sort of fluid coming out of a person, which I learned all too well when I had the bed next to my ex-wife at the birth of Darius. For Sabrina's birth I was in the waiting room reading a book, thank you very much. So as I said ... knives to back ... BAD ... Big ass needle that looks like a metal fire hose ... WOOOHOOO.

The second thing I learned is that I actually have some of that pride stuff I thought I had given up for coffee and tampons. It is a daily lesson in humility having to be the guy helped with everything over 5 pounds. For those who know me I am somewhat intelligent, but more of an oaf, and very proud of having been a big dumb grunt too. Now I end up bending at the knees to get something and being horribly out of breath from the effort it takes to stand up again. The one idiot at work who enjoyed all too well, pointing out to me how stupid I looked all the time, got fired yesterday. Seems that not only is that illegal, but my boss also didn't like living daily with the fact that this moron was a goner when I was off light duty. I guess we'll throw temper management into the list of learned things too, but humility 101 is definitely being achieved daily. The good news (I think) is I haven't really had the opportunity to see if sex would be more humiliating than normal too.

Third and most importantly, I have definitely learned who and what are important throughout all of this. The people who left due to the hard work I am having to go through have been gone a while now. The friends that I have had all along definitely have not. I often forget that there are people out there who genuinely care for me, cartoon character or not, guy with minivan who can lift heavy objects or not, shoulder to cry on or not, are still rallying around me to this day. They have been growing actually as well, since a lot of the people who were just casual friends have become closer to me than they ever were. It's not all about what I had to give, but what I still have to offer with a lot of them and what I have to offer has changed considerably over the last two months. I am very proud of the many great people in my life today, whether online or offline who have been such a great influence over me. Most of them probably don't even know it, but I am going to have the gratitude and humility to change that. ;8o)

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Ok so last night I went to bed rather late, after many chat-a-holic adventures in PM's and I pretty much hit the pillow and zonked. I have always been a very vivid dreamer and have been able to visualize much angst through my dreams. The angst for the most part usually had been sexual in nature and almost always directed at whatever hostage I had taken at the time. At this point in my life where I am hostageless I merely find myself cycling through the many failed love affairs or drop into my favorite wanna be hostage (Nina from 24 wowie zowie), but last night had no sex and a very puzzling, cryptic perhaps, methodology. So you know me I think I will share.

Well I was standing on the pitchers mound at Fenway Park (It's my dream, I'll pitch wherever I want to) and was throwing very good actually. Heaters ... sinkers ... curves, you name it. and the catcher was none other than Jeri Ryan (that total hottie 7-of-9 from Star Trek Voyager ... hubba hubba) and I was getting a little chuckle every time she called signs because it looked like she was making a little ding-a-ling, which at the time was very hilarious. The music in my head was KoRn ... Shoots and Ladders (Ringa Round da Rosie pocket full o Posie's .... ashes ashes we all fall doooooooown) but I could still here the crowd yelling "you suck!" and the usuals. Upon looking down at my uniform I noticed I was pitching for the Red Sox, so in Red Sox fan terms ... they had to be talking about me.

The first batter I faced struck out miserably (once again ... it is my dream after all) and the second hit a very sad ground ball back to me, which I immediately distributed to the first baseman for an easy out. By this time I have also noticed that it is the Mariners that I am facing, but A-Rod is still on the team. Smack .... hit him in the back .... always hated that whiney jerk. OMG ... Ken Griffey Jr. is back too ... wonder if I'll get Edgar after him ... that was a great Mariners team, but I get back to the dream before I get too into romanticizing the game. The first baseman ... Anna Kournikova (hey this dream is getting pretty HOT) comes running over to tell me that A-Rod won't stop crying about his back, and she would like the inning to be over, so she can stop listening to him.

Damn Griffey, worked a walk out of me on 4 pitches, now I have to face Manny Ramirez?? Damnit what a traitor ... "You're on my team you jerk" but after he flipped me off, I had to drill him too. Oh great here comes Edgar, this guy really pisses me off because he is so frickin clutch, but I ran out of bases, and the third baseman (Anna Nicole Smith of course) is now starting to heckle me with the rest of the crowd. Now I am surrounded by beautiful woman and resentments, and I can't figure out how to deal with the analogy, but I think the only thing right now that is absolutely obvious is that I am finally starting to have a yen for blondes.

The first pitch was in the dirt ... damnit ... Manny is heckling me, but I got reprimanded for hitting him already. That damn umpire ... he's out to get me ... I've known it for a long time now. Edgar is just staring at me slowly bringing the bat off his shoulder, and pointing it out at me. Next pitch ... strait down the middle ... ball?? ... I told ya ... frickin umpire ... Third pitch ... slow curve ... swing and a miss, and I almost got blown over from the breeze of it to boot. "Call that one a ball you prick!" I shouted out, but the umpire chose not to acknowledge my outbreak. Fourth pitch ... oh crap I hung one ... he missed it ... ha ha ... No comment presented because I really got away with that one ... Fifth pitch ... take some heat ... crack ... holy crap I did it this time.

Even in a dream I could feel my neck craning as I watched that ball fly way over my head and clean into another town. I got down on my knees and looked detested, what am I gonna do now, should I get pissed off at God because I always give him all the credit when I do good? Should I go to home plate and hit on Jeri? Maybe I should trip Edgar as he does his victory lap? Or perhaps I should simply see it all for what it really is. My life is my life and I can spend it screwing up a wet dream if I choose, but perhaps I should go with the flow instead. Stop creating my own problems and be happy for what I have. ;8o)

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Ok so I have already established the removal of pride treatment in Deadly Sins Therapy Volume 1, but I have a new maintenance routine that has been offered to me in the last few years. Once again ladies I must apologize ahead of time for how my therapies tend to work better for men than women, but I will try to leave a list of suitable female alternatives at the end of this edition. This volume of Deadly Sins therapy, was sparked into remembrance by yesterdays entry "Things I learn from the Evils's" and is the continuation of the Big Evil (Lazius Boycrazius) Saga.

The misadventures of Singledaddyman would never be complete without some sort of conversation with the nearly teen daughter about feminine hygiene products. This is an ongoing battle due to the fact that both of us are pretty lazy. Throw in the fact that I am totally "confused" about the whole monthly visits from "Aunt Flo" debate and it makes for some funny dinner conversation. This was the usual of course, where as I have just taken the laundry out of the washer and one way or another there is a maxi pad in the washing machine. Has anyone else out there noticed how HUGE those things get when they are run through the washer! They are nothing compared to the pull-ups that used to make it through, but this is my problem at hand since the wee one no longer uses pull ups. This one was one of those particularly wonderful times when the thing had torn open leaving little gel balls all over the laundry, so I wasn't too happy about it. You would wonder who is more used to this ... her having been yelled at about it once a month for 3 years, or me having had to rewash the laundry every time.

Let me take you back to the time when my daughter had just turned 10 and it became very obvious that she was going through the change. It was a white pants day of course, and she came home from school early, humiliated, and confused of course. She didn't know confused until I tried to wrestle my way through explaining it to her. I'm sure that at the time I did my best, but I do suffer from two problems that were really flying away on me at the time ... 1. I babble like a teenager on a Telephone when I am nervous, and 2. I have a very hard time using any words that even moderately refer to human sexual "areas" even when talking to adults {and yeah laugh all you want ... that was hilarious when I was in a long distance relationship, and most of the sex was over the phone, I'll tell ya} but I had to deal with the "life crisis" that was a bleeding confused daughter.

I of course tried the "Text" book approach at first ... {Well you see sweety, there comes a time in a woman's life when} .... followed immediately by "Why?" which kinda threw me back on my heels, my genius should have come through swimmingly and all should be perfectly understood right now! Well I tried to field that one .... {Well boys and girls are different you see in} .... "Why?" ... {Um .. Well you see Girls have} ..... "Why?" .... Ok this is not going very well, she is supposed to just completely understand the first time damnit!! Didn't she get the memo? ... {Look this is going to happen to you for one week a month ... I'll get you these pad things and you just tell me when you are out of them OK?} there ... I solved that! .... "What do I do with them?" {... uh ... uh ... Well you stick them to the inside of your underwear and they take care of it} ... "This is going to happen to me forever???" ... {Well it's part of being a girl} ... "It's not fair" ... I'm sinking fast here, so as any man would I reversed the argument ... {Didn't you take Health class in school?} ... "Yes" ... (long pause) ... {Didn't they talk about this?} ... "Yes" ... (long pause) ... {Were you listening?} ... (long pause) ... "I don't know" ....

Mind you the curse of all this is that her mother is useless, so I can't send her to talk to her mother about these things, and she doesn't come around much anyway. I finally did the smart thing and called my Aunt who came over and explained it to her. She obviously forgot to tell her the part about throwing these stupid pads away when she is done ... left in her underwear to go into the laundry ... stuffed under her bed ... left on the bathroom floor ... found one under the carpet once ... found the dog chewing on one several times ... I have become much better at talking about these things with her over the years but it usually has more to do with her incredible laziness than anything else. The pure thought of another daughter slowly creeping up that ladder along the way as her 5th birthday approaches has me living in fear daily.

Now as I promised, here are the male to female alternatives for this "pride extraction" routine. Picture these lovely moments that are merely bonding for us boys ... "Look mommy, it's standing up" {The easy answer is ... Don't worry about it standing up, it's later in life when it won't anymore that should scare ya} ... Picture your little boy standing on his bed over a very damp carpet with his pants around his ankles saying "Look mommy I made Gahzimes!" and I'll let you find your own for that one, and the wonderful lectures you will have to give about respecting your mother and sisters needs to "sit down" when they pee, whether it's seat up first or seat down after.

On a lighter note I have to appreciate my youngest daughter on this one ... after having two children who took almost 5 years each to get out of diapers (and at 4 1/2 lets face it they don't actually make diapers that hold it all) Little Evil scared me for about a week, when she wasn't going to the bathroom at all. She was barely 1 1/2 and I was feeding her juice and fruit and anything I could think of just to get her to fill a diaper. It was that one day when I walked into the bathroom to see her sitting on the toilet, diaper around her ankles grabbing each of her toes and saying "This little piggy went to market .... this little piggy stayed home ..." that this lazy ass daddy thought to himself ... maybe she'll teach herself the whole menstrual game and give her ol' man a break there too. ;8o)

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I heard it once said in a video I got from the library, that parents are actually wild animal trainers. We aren't friends. We aren't simply guardians. We are wild animal trainers. Kids are NOT little adults with adult feelings and problems. They suffer from an inferiority complex because they are ... well ... inferior. They are smaller, they have lived less time and learned less so far. They are also totally controlled by their instincts. Their instincts are what tell them that having a screaming fit in the middle of Wal-Mart might get them what they want, and they full well know that it is playing on your fear of humiliation. They also display many other manipulative traits that I am going to outline as I go through the various phylum of Wild Animals that I have here. I will also give examples of what they do and how I have learned from it.

I'll just start with yesterday. My 4 year old Sabrina Lynn {named after the witch on TV, and the witch who gave birth to her ... Code Name "Little Evil" ... phylum "Imtoocutus"} starts screaming bloody murder downstairs. This child is killing me. The daddy instincts go into effect, and I am forgetting completely about my bad back and the doctors orders of no lifting anything over 5 pounds. I do what any crisis like this needs, I pick her up in one arm ... immediately go upstairs to the freezer ... get a popsicle {cuz a popsicle cures everything} ... take her up to the bathroom ... clean the foot where she had stepped on a nail {note to self ... kill the boy} ... put on a Dora band aide ... kiss the BooBoo, and put her in bed to watch TV. Crisis number one solved. "Imtoocutus" has been tamed for the moment.

Now I must go downstairs, so that I can find out why I am going to kill the boy. There is Darius Franklin {named after the king of Persia and his lovable father ... Code Name "Captain ADHD" ... phylum "Ididntdooit"} standing on his head watching television. Now during the last half hour apparently Captain ADHD has managed to stand on his head 35 times, change the channel 40 times, completely rip the stuffing' out of a pillow that I once loved, and of course ... take apart the coffee table, which was exposing the nails that Little Evil had stepped on. Now the problem here is what to do about the boy since he had already forgotten that he had even taken apart the coffee table and, right now is concentrating on Karate moves. Most people don't understand that the school and the camp get the wonderfully assertive Darius who is tonked out on Adderol during the day, and I have this one who had already burned it out of his system on the bus ride home.

So I try to give him the long boring lecture about destroying things, and I stop every once in a while to make him repeat what I said, this is still an exercise in futility, while he is still working on his acrobatics. In the end it usually boils down to him saying something along the lines of "So you don't want me to have any fun?" followed by "So you hate me then?" and the poor hero in this story trying to reassure the boy that I don't hate him. This is then followed by another long lecture about owning up to his responsibility, then another "Yeah but" or two. Does this seem like I am having a little adult conversation ... NO ... wild animal training.

Ok ... I have the angry little soldier in bed now and I have to go check on little evil, but along the way a new animal that never seems to be trained Szarah Jaqueline {name origin unknown ... Code Name "Big Evil" ... phylum "Lazius Boycrazius"} is still laying around in her clothes from camp knowing full well that she should have changed by now. Well it's only been 3 hours, but who's keeping track. She is doing her favoritest hobby in the whole wide world too ... winding up the 6 and 4 year old ... you see she's 12. She has to go to bed at the same time as the other two because she won't put her clothes in the hamper every morning ... no more no less. I can't get it through to this animal that it isn't really that hard. This animal might have to be put to sleep someday, but I will keep trying for now. I'll save the single father trying to explain menstrual cycles to her for another volume of Deadly Sins Therapy and move on. The son is kicking the wall ... kinda sounds like the theme to Dragon Tales ... Little evil has started screaming again ... off goes Superdaddyman ... Sabrina is crying so hard ... I ask her what is the matter and she gulps out "I hu hu hu .... hurt .... daa dees ba ba ba back" .... Oh the guilt I have some days ... This kid is killin' me, did I tell ya that? ... ;8o)

Want More Free Art? ...Visit the new angelis deZines on the web at www.jeremycrow4life.com/angelisdezines or check out my galleries at CherryTap

It's important for anyone who enters the FOBW chat room to understand how totally inane an adventure it can be, and to understand that nobody who has been going there for any length of time takes it very seriously. There are certain instances where recovery related chat can be exchanged, but for the most part it is simply a diversion from the everyday spent hanging out with sober (hopefully) friends, and not an AA meeting. At the first entry into FOBW chat you are given the rank of Newbie ... this carries no stripes and you can usually be spotted by certain elements of what you give to the conversation. The usual dead givaways are "When are the Meetings?" or "Who is Bill W?". In other circumbstances "ME CHAT SEXY WOMAN NOW!" which probably doesn't apply here because you most likely wouldn't be reading the English version of this Blog anyway. Here is a typical list of Ranks that you can accomplish along your FOBW journey and how they are accomplished, or at any rate the milestones that will give you your stripes.

1. Stripe ... Dingaling ..... You have successfully gotten it through your head that there are no meetings and this is not actually AA chat, but have chosen to stick around for a while to see if you can keep up with all the crazy sex chat.
2. Stripes .. Dingbat ........ You have now figured out a few of the names of the daily participants, and have realized that yes certain of us do not actually have a life outside of chat, but are desperately trying to seek our approval for some insane reason.
3. Stripes .. Moron ........... You have finally learned how to use the iggy, and or have set your preferences to Ignore those not on the list .. This is noted by those in the room by how you have stopped complaining about Paki IM floods, or arguing with the loser who constantly calls everyone inappropriate names.
4. Stripes .. Buffoon ......... You have now learned to Iggy the people who come in and type in Arabic BEFORE they start typing "ME CHAT SEXY WOMAN NOW" or start saying "Hu-low ... Hu-low" repeatedly on the Mic. Good Job ... you now have earned the right also to explain how to set PM's to Ignore.
5. Stripes .. Flaming Idiot . Mind you this is different then just Idiot coming up, but at this phase you have decided to start defending your sobriety beleifs whether it be recovered or recovering to the point that you now have many people who have you on iggy.
6. Stripes .. Idiot .............. Upon successfully defending your right to stay sober your way, you have now started getting off of other peoples Iggy's and now are starting to just understand that such debate is useless, and move on to checking out hottties profiles.
7. Stripes .. Pervert .......... You now start realizing that some of these chatters are the opposite sex of you and want to start flirting with them all obsessively .. MENTAL NOTEThis is for the people who actually didn't walk into the room immediately doing that looking like desperate freaks who have been locked in a closet by thier mothers for many years. They never climb up the ranking system and stay at Dingaling.
8. Stripes .. Resenter ........ You now have realized that most of the opposite sex participants in the room are A. Not totally gorgeous Penthouse Playmates .... and worse yet B. Not totally in love with ... but that doesn't change what you tell everyone at work.
9. Stripes .. Dreamer ........ After the brutal reality of the resentments wear off you finally meet that person you have been looking for your whole life, and you start spending all of your free time in the little chat box off to the side with them.
10. Stripes .. Ubra Resenter . You just found out that the person you have been spending all that time in the chat box was in plenty of other chat boxes too, and was probably recycling all of the romantic stuff you said to the others that they are cyber dating ... This prompts you to take it to the room and blather on incessantly about the other person.
11. Stripes .. Dumbass ......... You've now gotten over all of the chat romance resentments and people are talking to you in civil tones again ... You now start praddling along constantly about how "This room used to be ... way back when" forcing people to start including certain traits of yours in thier inventory.
12. Stripes .. Enlightened ..... You now start picking up more and more friends from the darker side of the room, mostly because you like all of the IM's popping up the second you say something nice about one of the so called "haters" and are actually starting to get mentally ill by the "golightlies" anyway.
13. Stripes .. Instigator ......... You are finally starting to reccognise Paul or Michelle simply by thier nicks when they come in the room and start having conversations with them ignoring everyone else in the room while talking to them ... welcoming yourself back to many Iggy bins again.

Upon transcending past this level of rank in the FOBW rooms it is advised to simply start over again at Dingaling. Perhaps there is another nick you have desperately been wanting to be, or better yet here's an idea. You can try out the MSN or AOL chat rooms for a while (keeping in mind that the new nick is still your best option when you get sick of those) and pretending that the whole experience was a horrible dream that will go away with a splash of cold water. I think in all reality the best thing to do is simply stop taking it all soooooo damn seriously and become a cartoon character like me, before you start folding into the model to which I answer the burning newbie question "Who is Bill W?". On a good day I will always reply ... "He invented the resentment, and we meet here everyday to perfect it!" ;8o)

Want More Free Art? ...Visit the new angelis deZines on the web at www.jeremycrow4life.com/angelisdezines or check out my galleries at CherryTap

Catchy title huh? Well I have found that the best thing to come out of my last marriage has been the inclusion of my ex wife's lesbian lover. As sad as it sounds the two of them remind me of Jay and Silent Bob. The Ex saying anything and everything and her G/F simply listening and then throwing out a really intelligent observation every once in a while. Yesterday was no exception as I was sitting in downtown with a coffee, watching the business skirts (yes I have a serious yen for the women in business skirts) walk by. The day was particularly unusual in the fact that I was actually getting attention from some of the women, and even quite a few smiles. It's rather unique in my life as a cartoon character that I get attention from any women much less the hotties in the business skirts, but I was enjoying it anyway. About 30 more minutes before I have to jump in the ol' MiniVan (a big time chic magnet for sure) and pick up the kids from camp.

It was amazing how the day changes as your ex-wife and her lover (who of course as I said before is a woman also) come along to sit with you, but I have learned to be a decent ex-husband over the last year, so I offered them the seats on my bench next to me. The Ex started yammerin away at something unimportant that probably had to do with her favorite subject anyway ... HER ... while her girlfriend decided to enjoy the scenery along with me. I was still fascinated at how I could smell like sweat, look like poo, and still be fascinating to anyone. I finally had to ask my ex (who lets face it is gonna tell me if I am an ass or not pretty easily) if it was my imagination or if I was being flirted with. She told me I was an ass, and went back to her topic again. Her girlfriend on the other hand came up with some great pearls of wisdom as she said "You're having a Mojo day dude."

Now I had to ask what a Mojo Day was, and she was already there with the answer "It's just one of those days that everything you touch turns to gold. You are more attractive to others, and you probably are gonna learn a lot today." and she then added "You should take advantage of it, cuz you probably won't have another one for months."

My passive aggressive sense of humor kicked in as I said "Look what it got me the last time," this done while pointing at my ex, and the two of us broke out into laughter, which after about a minute was joined by my ex.

The clarity factor wasn't added to the mix until later when I was talking to an ex girlfriend about various problems she was having and it hit me. An epiphany that I desperately needed as she was talking to me. I finally realized something about myself that I had desperately missed and was rather excited to finally figure out. My guilt over the many wrecked romances of the past might not actually be my fault after all. I saw it through her that perhaps it might be possible that some have fallen in love with the concept of me rather than ever even knowing me at all. The fear of losing me far out weighed anything that was actually real. I in turn had done the same. My last few relationships were prime examples of this as I am pretty darn sure that I was merely a bump in the road. My guilt had been lifted all of a sudden and I had the ability to forgive. I thought that I should call my ex-wifes girlfriend for council on my breakthrough, but I figured that it might be one omen to many in one day. Even though as I look at it now, she might have sadly been the only ex that didn't get one worse than me afterward, forcing me to wonder wtf?

Well needless to say I didn't take advantage of my Mojo day, although the woman at the bus stop who told me I looked like that freak from Stone Temple Pilots yesterday told me that that was a compliment today, I figured that it was more conducive to her settling, and I am sick of either being settled for or settling with, since that is always how the ":concept of love" romances get started. Now that everything is back to normal today ... I think I'll go downtown and watch the business skirts walk by, and keep working on that goal of being a well trained old pervert someday, and not being taken seriously ;8o)

Want More Free Art? ...Visit the new angelis deZines on the web at www.jeremycrow4life.com/angelisdezines or check out my galleries at CherryTap

So some have tried to tell me that pride is the deadliest of the seven deadly sins, but I have a remedy for that, that any of you can try. Now mind you it probably only works with men, but I am sure that many of the ladies reading this can find some workarounds to accomplish the same pride extraction that I had undergone many years ago. I will of course, first set the stage for the upcoming pride extraction so that you all can see why I tend to have no pride whatsoever, and hopefully so that your own personal pride extraction goes right the first time. It is NOT recommended to attempt this too often.

Ok first you must get married to the meanest woman you can get your hands on. I don't mean kinda mean, I am talking about the type of woman who will pick the biggest man in any venue and decide that his girlfriend is a whore, and she's gonna tell everyone about it really LOUDLY. This is the type of fear that you need to live in to understand what is to follow. Now that you have done that proceed to 4 days later, where you are finally off to Niagara Falls (don't tell the third wife I did a Niagara Falls honeymoon ... she thinks it was original idea for her) for that honey moon you had always desired. Fun ... Frolic ... Wedding Gown Model with Anna Nicole's figure ... all we need now is to interject the Dunkin Donuts franchise. You see this is how it went from MY perspective at this point ...

I ordered the X-TRA LARGE Black Coffee (for those who know Dunkin Donuts it's FLAMING hot) and was still holding out my hand to receive it when the woman dumped the entire thing in my lap. The pain was without a doubt, the worst thing imaginable, my mind was racing but I did the first thing that came to my mind ... I jumped out of the car and ripped my pants down. Mind you this is a Saturday night at about 10:30 so the place is packed and I am jumping around screaming with my pants around my ankles. MENTAL NOTE: It always helps to draw attention to yourself when you have your pants down in public. Please keep in mind that this is only phase one.

I can still hear the bitching the whole way to the hospital ... this is going to ruin the honeymoon ... why'd ya have to ruin the honeymoon ... blah blah blah blah. Now on the trip to Exeter Hospital (a wonderful establishment with a rather PACKED waiting room) I had burned my arm on the zipper of the pants now to. Had I mentioned that it was Saturday night nearing 11pm? Now mind you the only thing going through my mind still is the bitchy wife and the blisters forming all over my shmekie ( a word I discovered when trying to explain the event to my mother), so I had no problem walking into the packed waiting room, pants around ankles, with one of my work shirts wrapped around my waist, because I hadn't quite lost enough pride in the Seabrook DD parking lot and realized that jumping around nakid is embarrassing.

The wonderful waiting room was just a short stay really, since burn victims usually get top priority, but all the rooms were filled. I had a wonderful little triage set up for me off to the side of this incredibly packed waiting room with curtains around me. The nurse insisted that I be restrained because the burns were bad enough to get infected pretty easily, so I was restrained and de-clothed.

Now the meanest woman on earth has decided to go call her father to cry about how I had ruined the honeymoon so I was left alone to be introduced to little Jeffrey. I hate Jeffrey. I only know Jeffrey's name because all you heard that entire night was .. Jeffrey No .. Jeffrey Stop .. Jeffrey .. Jeffrey, and I am sure that there is a lot of Ritalin keeping that kid in school these days, but I digress, let's get back to how "Jeffrey" is a valuable part of the pride removal technique that is being explained. You see ADHD (and evil) Jeffrey liked to open things ... as a matter of fact .. the first time he opened my curtain so that the whole waiting room could see my nakid blister