Drunken Expat Writer

Wow.

They certainly finally found a way to make the show dark and creepy again.

1. Once again, for all her crazy Bree always makes the right decisions when her back is against the wall.

2. I never, ever, ever thought they'd manage to make a Lynette Scalvo plot point interesting - but they did. Of course, she's still boring, but at least they have a character in her orbit that's interesting.

3. Finally they are admitting that Lynette's parenting skills suck and border on the criminal.

4. Does anyone give a shit about Eddie Britt anymore?

5. The drug plot is another yawn.

6. Bree in that pink blouse towards the end makes me want to give her more babies.

The Pentagon may start giving out Purple Hearts for psychological wounds.

Now, that's all well and good. Fuck, I understand mental health issues. But, here's my question:

Is there anyone in the military who wouldn't qualify? If you are sent to Iraq or Afghanistan you are asked to kill other human beings and/or constantly worry for months at a time about getting shot or blown the fuck up.

Who wouldn't have psychological injuries? Is there some super Alpha Male out there who's going to come home and start working at the local Wal Mart as though nothing had happened?

Shit, I bet even President Bush has psychological injuries from this war at this point.

After spending an hour and a half with my shrink my writer's block is gone and I've gotten five pages written in 40 minutes.

And, they are fucking good pages.

Thank god I'm seeing my shrink today. I've been completely stressed out since talking to my stepmom on Sunday. I wasn't able to write yesterday and work is piling up. I need to get some stuff written today or else I'll start pissing off clients, but I just have no motivation.

The stress feels almost physical. Bad sleep, stomach cramps, a lack of desire to eat much. All I want to do is chain smoke and sip beer.

My parents are going to be out here in June and I can't wait to see my dad, who I haven't seen in two years. But, with my stepmom clearly baiting me to start a fight with her, I'm really dreading her being here for three days.

I don't want her to embarrass me in this very small and gossipy town. I worry she'll say something to Rome Girl that will hurt Rome Girl. I'm terrified she's say something to me about Rome Girl or Trixie that will just push my buttons too far.

On the other hand, sometimes she's very nice and charming. So, I'm also worried that she'll be really nice and then I'll feel like a piece of shit and a bad son for being scared of her arrival.

Meanwhile, she's told my dad that she's thinking of not coming, so my dad has asked me to encourage her to come - a request that is tearing my soul apart.

So, I'm being nice. I respect my father and will follow his wishes.

But, I'm still sitting in the land of the horrible heebie jeebies.

Would you wear this to a movie premiere?

This will only make sense to those people who know me really well.

But, for those people let me rant.

My stepmom after failing to get me to react about my ex wife on Sunday, started asking me today about when I'll be back in Barcelona.

And, let me tell you, that question cuts much more to the bone than questions about my ex wife does and is a much more open wound.

I was still calm, but I'm about ready to lose it.

The Barcelona question hurts.

Balk, thanks for linking to me.

Sorry my spelling was bad.

I still like the way you write, motherfucker.

I fixed the typo on my end.

Bart

When I was writing blog entries today I was fucked up.

What happened was that I passed out drunk at like 9 p.m. Sunday night and woke up at 4 a.m. today completely awake.

Then,I made a joke about Radar writer, Balk.

Who knew he would link to me.

If I had known, I would have spell checked my entry even though I was feeling like hungover death today.

Anyway, thank you Balk and thank you Balk's Cock.

Bart

This morning five different people on my friends list have posted Balk's latest rant about Indiana Jones as though it were true.

It's not.

Balk is a semi-famous underground blogger whose entire metier is making satirical things up out of whole cloth.

For an even funnier Balk moment, check out his review of Cosmopolitan Magazine.

Today, I'm writing my seventh sales letter in two months for a book on how to pick up girls.

What makes this interesting is that in seven years of freelancing I'd never gotten asked about a single job for pick up artist books before this.

So, clearly this is a growing trend industry.

My question, is, why?

Is there something going on in America that I don't know about that has made pick up artists suddenly cool?

Man, what do you think it would be like to work for these people?

Project Description:

INNOCENT AT THE ALTAR STORIES
True original stories wanted for a book about remaining INNOCENT until your wedding night.
.
Topics include:

(ALL RELIGIONS, ALL COUNTRIES).
Those who are still innocent, in every sense.
Those who are still innocent, in the main sense, but have indulged in other activities.
Adults who are still waiting and are innocent, even those over 40 who may have feelings of regret for waiting so long.
Those who have lost boyfriends or girlfriends by postponing romance.
Those who had romance and now regret it.
Those who had romance and now want to abstinent again, until marriage.
Those who lost it without their consent.
.
Those who caught AIDS.
.
Those who got pregnant while single.
Those who had the baby and kept it.
Gave the baby up for adoption.
Those who experienced a lack of offers for dates, after becoming a single parent.
Those who have had abortions.
.
Those who were called very bad names.
Those whose entire families have harshly judged them or rejected them. This includes social punishment through the mosque, synagogue, temple or church.

.
Those who are married, and were still innocent on their wedding day.
What color and style of wedding dress you wore.
How special that first night was.
If you’re comfortable, send photos of yourself when single, on your wedding day, and now, with your spouse and children.
.
Do you have special, in depth knowledge, of your religion’s scriptures on the topic of innocence? eg Hindu writings like the Bhagagvad Gita, the Koran or writings of the Shiite or Sunni leaders, the Torah or Talmud, Old or New Testaments? (If so, let’s also talk about that, as something additional.)

How do you manage to stay innocent?

WHAT DO YOU GET?

Mainly you get a chance to tell your story. Get those feelings off your chest. Warn or encourage or support others if needed. If you want it, you could have your picture in a book.

One story per category would be good, per religion. Religions could be broken down into basic categories eg Orthodox and Reform Jews, Shiite and Sunni Muslims, Catholic and Evangelical Christians, Polygamists and standard Mormons, Hindus, Buddhists.
.
Fifty dollars is the payment offered.
.
You need to sign a short form giving permission to use your story and photo to encourage innocence until marriage.
.
Each story should be, ideally, at least 25,000 words long. (Ten pages at 250 words per page). There is no maximum length, it can be longer.
If your story is much shorter, you could donate it for free, if you wish to.
.
EMOTIONS:
Include all of the emotions you experienced, in graphic detail, if you can.
Make readers cry, laugh, sing, smile, praise God, express anger or outrage, regret.
If you felt used or manipulated, how was this done to you?
Were you the user or manipulator, if so, how did you achieve your results?
Do you want revenge on him or them now? How did you get back at him? Was that a mistake?


WERE THESE OTHER EMOTIONS ALSO PART OF IT?
Curiosity
Desire to please the one you loved
Insecurity
Optimism (no harm will come of it)
Boredom, wanting a thrill
Feeling too happy to care
He broke dates with you, and aroused your emotions more
.
Anger
Pride
Shame
Desperation (what can I do, I’m no longer innocent? or I’m pregnant? How can I tell my parents?)
Passion for life, romance, your church
Love
Loneliness
Surprise
Envy of your friends who had romantic partners or lots of dates (maybe because they had bad reputations, people knew they were easily available for romance)
Sympathy
Disgust
Lust
Guilt
Fear

Confusion
Stupidity

The shock in this story isn't that Playboy is losing money.

It's that Playboy exists at all.

Who the hell pays money for a magazine with naked girls in it, when you can see all the naked girls you want for free?

Waking up at 8 a.m. and discovering that I'm out of cigarettes.

Then, realizing that it's one of something like 19 federal holidays in May in France which means the cigarette store won't be open until noon.

I'm actually twitching at this point.

This is how I know I'm getting healthier.

When I phoned my step mom for Mother's Day she started telling me, in detail, about a birthday party she threw for my ex wife's dad last week and how great it was to hang out with my ex wife again.

"I can't believe your father didn't tell you about it," she said.

Instead of responding "Eat shit and die you evil troll," I merely commented, "perhaps he simply knew not to."

Then I let her describe it.

I think I deserve a gold star, a plaque and a martini.

I took another day off from work today and spent most of it drinking fresh squeezed lemonade and reading Norman Mailer in the Place de la Comedie.

Then, I went and had a beer and a shot at the Vert Anglais in preparation for calling my parents for Mother's Day stuff.

Afterwards, I'll head back to the Vert Anglais to hang out with Hippy It Boy and possibly meet one of my blog readers for the first time.

When I get home, I'll have the new Battlestar Galactica to watch.

All in all a very, very good day.

Bart

P.S. I watched the new episode of Lost last night and think the show has now completed its long slow crawl to jumping the shark.

It's Disco Night at the Vert Anglais!

Strut your stuff!

I was talking to my shrink the other day about how so many of my dreams involve cold, clean water.

The other night I had this dream where I "woke up" in the dream and was really thirsty and needed to drink ice cold water. In the dream there were dozens of refrigerators in my apartment, but as I opened them up I could not find what I wanted.

Instead they were full of bottles of gin and vodka - which looked like water but couldn't quench my thirst. Every so often I would find a bottle of water, but it would be warm, or full of sand or salty.

The more I looked the more bottles of booze I saw around the apartment ad the less water. Even the tap in my sink didn't work. Finally I really woke up.

I've also had dreams where a faceless woman - who tells me I need to figure out who she is - keeps transporting me to different places, each time carefully washing my feet in cold clean water.

And other dreams where I'm swimming up a river and keep getting washed to the bottom. Before I start I drink from the stream and the cold water makes me feel strong and powerful and able to start up again, even though I never reach the top and always get washed down to the bottom again.

I was just instant messaging my dad about Mother's Day, while trying to write the home page for the gay bear site.

It's a strange feeling to be trying to come up with dirty jokes about fat, hairy gay men, while holding a conversation about where he should take her for brunch.

Since my brother graduated from Notre Dame last May, my stepmom has been bitching about him finding a "real job."

The background on this is he wanted to bartend in Madrid for a year but was told he'd get cut out of the will if he did so. In response he's been living at home and bartending on weekends.

So, now he's decided he wants to be a high school teacher.

"That's not a real job," she told him. "Too many Calendars have been teachers."

I just don't get it. I know that she wants him to be a banker or a stock trader or something of that scale - but you can't make someone want that life.

Fuck, America needs smart high school teachers. It's a fucking noble profession.

I'm unsure how she thinks she'll accomplish her goals or what the point of her goals are. Does she really want him to make a lot of money but be miserable?

Apparently even British celebrity girls don't wear panties anymore.

( Hermione pubes. )