Lack of Class

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I’m not a very classy man. I pretend to be. I like to withhold my “swears” in public. When my weight is in the acceptable range, I like to wear button up shirts (when it’s not – it’s a hooded sweatshirt. Guess what I’m wearing now). But when it comes down to it, I don’t drink with my pinky extended. My car has an ever-growing rust infestation, and, much as I hate to admit it, I’m a member of the lower class.

Years ago I was at a small cookout with some people I knew from MSU (one professor and a couple students). Becky, the professor and sweetest person you could ever hope to meet, had all types of meat to grill. I may be misremembering this, but she had steak, hamburgers, hot dogs and even the fabled cheddarwurst. For some reason, I imagine rednecks sitting on pink flamingos around a broken down Ford that’s been turned into a grill chomping on their hot dogs filled with cheese.

Of course, I wanted the cheddarwurst. And, of course, I hesitated. Don’t get me wrong, I would have happily eaten the steak, the hamburger, hell, anything that once had a pulse and blood running through its veins. Thankfully, some cheddarwurst made their way to the grill.

At the same event we were talking about our “bucket lists”. I don’t remember everyone else’s, but I know most were wanting to go to Europe or Asia or some other country.

My list, in no particular order…

1) Go to Kansas City (for years I’ve wanted to travel to Kauffman Stadium to watch the Twins because it looks so damn beautiful. Also, Negro League hall of fame is a bonus.

2) Beat Wizardry for the NES (Don’t laugh, this game is tough as nails. Finally beat around a year ago due to creative use of the reset button)

3) Make a feature-length movie (Almost, almost had this one finished a year or two ago, but alas…)

I know, aim high, right? Instead of going overseas, one of my goals in life is to make a less than 10-hour journey. Shit, I could finish the other two goals by the end of 2011. The movie wouldn’t be very good, but still… I could do it.

Lately, I’ve been caught in lines at gas stations where the guy at the front of the line is sitting at the god damn counter buying and scratching off lottery tickets. This pisses me off to no end. I don’t care that people waste their money on scratch-offs. In fact, I’ll buy the occasional lottery ticket myself. Even though my life’s work is 1/3 complete, I don’t have a lot of time. Especially when my cheddarwurst is cooling in my hand. So take your ticket and go scratch it at the back of the line.

Have some fucking class.

 

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Be Like The Duke

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The last time I gave up on writing, I felt a little lost, like I do now. I have ideas, but they don’t become fully formed. Obviously that’s because I’m not working to flush them out, but I don’t feel the pull to do that.

For the longest time, I thought that’s what writing was. Writers, by definition, write. Call it my Christian upbringing, but I believed in a form of divine inspiration. When the time was set to write, the ideas would pour into me. But apparently this writing thing is supposed to have a little “work” involved.

Anyway, I hadn’t been inspired in a while. My confidence was low. I didn’t write anything for a long time.

Then I got re-acquainted with “The Duke.” No, not the big ass burger Graves and I tackled in our college days, and no, not John Wayne.

David Duchovny.

I rented “Californication” for obvious reasons. Duchovny, sex and…. well…. that’s about it. What I discovered was something that would inspire me. Here was a badass writer who smoked, drank (par for the course) and got laid left and right! (abnormal).

“Weed, whiskey and Warren Zevon” as he would say later on.

Duchovny is writer himself. Supposedly, he wrote the screenplay for a little-known movie called “House of D” in six days. My friend The Governor and I heard about this and would joke about it from time to time, calling it “The Duke Challenge.”

Before “Californication” I tried my own version of The Duke Challenge. I would stay up late, sometimes all night, brewing coffee and writing. I only got halfway through, but the seeds were planted.

Sometime soon, when I get into writing mode again. When I can write more than 400 words and have the piece make sense, then I’ll know I’m on my way.

Return of the Rambler

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I feel like I’ve done this a time or two before.

We’ve ALL done this a time or two before. That’s why we’re here.

I know no one wants to hear a sad story, or a story where they can’t sympathize with the protagonist, so I’ll try just to do this once.

I used to have something to say. I used to have blind ambition. I used to have balls.

Film was my desire. After watching “Clerks” for the first time I was motivated to make movies. I bought some Syd Field books and wrote a Clerksish screenplay about my gig at the movie theater. Being the person I am, I was determined to shoot THAT movie. You know, get some camcorders, some bad high school actors, and try to make it turn out. Thankfully it never happened.

Instead, we shot “Pizza Delivery Man”. Yes, THAT “Pizza Delivery Man”. A story about a Pizza Delivery Man who had a philosophical pizza chef at his parlor, a horny friend and an “easy” delivery. Which, after a rewrite with a friend (who had the best intentions) replaced the Tommy Chong-like chef with a slutty boss. Which was toned down to get our high school theater teacher to be in it….. and then she turned it down because it was still too inappropriate. So our PDM was shot with a 18ish year old playing the slutty boss, Tom the Pimp as a bench-humping friend and myself as a a bad-acting co-star.

The 20-minute film wasn’t even good enough to make MSU’s amateur film festival. One of the films that beat it out was called “Objects”… or as a title card on the movie read…. “Ojects”.

Yes. That was better than my movie. But, if you get me drunk enough, I’ll let you watch it some day.

(short entry, but I’m building some writing muscle…)

To Be Continued…..

 

Since Jeremiah Brought It Up…

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I have really fallen off the post-every-day wagon. Or gotten back on the wagon — much like that episode of Seinfeld, I’m confused.

Anyway, I have done an overly crappy job of posting every day. If we take a look back on what I did post a majority of the days where I posted every day, it’s not like I had a lot of high quality, gee-Lindsey-you-do-a-great-job posts. So I might bow out of PTQ soon, in the hopes that I find my voice again and write things that I’m proud to put out there, not things that make me say, “Yikes! I hope no one I know is reading this!” PTQ definitely helped me to get back to my blog and back into caring about my stats. Unfortunately I let other things in life, like work, bring me down and squash any creative ligament in my body (I know that isn’t a catchy phrase, but why is it always the bones that are creative?).

Moving on.

I am going to work harder at blogging, but I’m going to do it on my more public blogs, only because I know I will work harder to put quality content there than I do here. And by putting out content that I don’t find to be of relatively decent quality, it just beats down on my ambition that much more.

So I’m going to spend some time finding my voice again, then hopefully I’ll post to my other blogs again. Then maybe this group can decide what the fate of PTQ is…?

Misery Loves Company

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We are all down in the dumps, it seems! I want to figure this out.

Maybe we are just entering (or have already arrived to) a point in our lives where our actual lives are exhausting us. Well, I think that is fairly obvious based on the majoring of the complaints we write about. Work and school are wearing us down and while we are doing things–fun things, mundane things that make for good stories–and interacting with people–fun people, horribly annoying people who make for good stories–we’re just exhausted. We see value in blogging–we’re all talented writers and we all get that energy charge when we’ve written a good one, or at least one that is well-received by our readers. But it seems like the momentum and steam we had before (when we didn’t need this blog) has just been wiped out. We might post a great or decent blog nowadays, but then too much time passes before we get another great one or we (namely: me) follow it up with something we consider mediocre or forced, and we (again, me) throw in the towel and hope the inspiration will come another day. Maybe it does, but for me, that day comes weeks later, when for the sake of my blogging soul, I need it maybe a day or two later.

It’s like I’m hungry to take pride in what I’m putting out there, but the material I’m writing is leaving me far from satisfied. It’s like I desperately need to get groceries because all I have in my kitchen is a carton of almost expired eggs. I could try to make something with those eggs and it might turn out OK, but we’re either at the expiration date or past it and the chances of a delicious meal are slim. Something is preventing me from getting groceries and re-stocking my kitchen, but I don’t know what it is or how I can change it.

This was basically a re-statement of everything we’ve all said. I just decided to list one more analogy that really doesn’t make anything better. Argh!

On a more positive note, I took my epidemiology exam tonight and while I don’t have the official results, I think I probably got a solid B, at least. So I’m happy.

Now I’m off to “eat that frog” and change the sheets  on my bed, fold my laundry and put it all away.

Ickity Sickity

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I do not feel well. I’m not sure if it’s the migraine-like headache or the “medium” cooked hamburger I had at Ruby Tuesday’s. I have been thinking about eating a burger all day today and when I found out my boyfriend had the evening off, I immediately started planting seeds in his head about going out for dinner (which is usually an every-other-Saturday ritual to Applebee’s for half-off appetizers). My powers of persuasion worked because I got my burger.

The Ruby Tuesday’s we went to was inside a mall and we decided to do a little shopping after our meal. I thought this would be good since usually if I feel sick after a meal, walking it off feels better…that didn’t happen tonight. I just seem to feel a little sicker as the night goes.

So I’m going to take another Excedrin Migraine tablet and hit the hay.

Songs That Make Me Laugh

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Most of the songs I’ve shared my disapproval about have been by men, so I thought it would only be fair to pass some judgment on something by women. Enter: Danity Kane’s “Damaged.”

I like how this song sounds — I like the music, I like the way Danity Kane sounds, I would listen to it if it was on the radio if nothing from Justin Bieber was on a competing station…it’s just the actual words to the song. A brief synopsis of the song: Woman was in bad relationship, guy hurt her feelings, now she’s ready to date again but wants current potential boyfriend to know how bad her previous relationship was. Awesome! Where can the dude sign up?

“Do you have a first aid kit handy?” she asks. The guy is probably a little excited: Maybe she has a cut or something that I can bandage and show how gentle and smooth I can be. Women love that kind of stuff. This is going to be a cake walk!

“Do you know how to patch up a wound?” My tape-wrapping skills are finally going to prove valuable! Maybe I can whip out those special Sponge Bob band-aids that help showcase my goofy, yet sensitive side. Girls love crap like that.

“Are you patient, understanding?” Well, things just started to sound a little girly, but I’m still up for it.

What guy wants to answer that? And it can’t be a good sign if the girl feels the need to ask that question. As if the guy is going to say anything other that, “Yes, very patient, understanding.”

“Cause I might need some time to clear the hole in my heart.” Whoa, things definitely took a bad turn here — I was just hoping to use a couple band-aids, maybe wrap an ankle.

Would you want to get involved in this? There is NOTHING this girl could say to save herself after that.

“I really want to be your lady, but the one before you left me so damaged.” This is not good at all.

Yikes, get out of there now, buddy! She’s carrying LOADS of baggage and is hoping you’ll help schlep the load around. Would you tell a guy that? Do most guys find that to be a fun challenge to attempt?

“Damaged, damaged, I thought that I should let you know.” Right. Sign me up for that.

Like, right now? Maybe wait until you’ve been seeing each long enough to decide that you want to keep seeing each other, like after he has an idea if you’re crazy or not…nevermind.

“And you can blame the one before.” Great, she’s going to talk about her ex now.

“My heart is missing some pieces, I need this puzzle put together again.” Whoa, whoa, sister, how did I get roped into this? Sorry, sweetheart, that sounds like a lot of work. Isn’t there an Oprah episode about this?

Guys love a “project.” Oh wait, no, that’s women.

“How you gonna fix it?” Here’s a business card for a therapist.

Cue the lack of returned phone calls, text messages and emails.

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