The Blog of Eternal Stench

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"I wish you all that your heart desires..."
-Bart Simpson, "Happy Birthday Lisa"

So my birthday was last Wednesday, and I did all kinds of crazy crap. I went to Michigan and spent 3 days with my brother, then came home and had an impromptu party with a small mob of people that I hadn't seen for months, then played D&D for 15 continuous hours, demoed coffee machines, then saw Spirit, where I received fabulously nerdy prizes and a heartfelt card- apparently she is as overwhelmed and enthralled by this bf/gf thing as I am.

"Question:

Why is it that bums ask me for money,
when I ain't got none?

Man, lemme tell this dude here who ain't got no money...

Man, FUNK DAT!

(beat plays)

GET A JOB!"
-Sagat, "Funk Dat" (his sole claim to fame)

So I've been fretting about my taxes, and the lack of (untaxed) freelance and demonstration work that has been coming in, as well as the fact that the T-shirt venture that about 1% of my social network seems to give a shit about isn't exactly foundering, but it's close to it. We have some plans for the immediate future that should get us where we need to be, but we have to get through April.

Anyhow, right now, according to the H&R Block website, my taxes are somewhere in the area of all the money that I have saved. Not the money in my checking account mind you (not like that is any great amount either), the money that I have saved.

Essentially, if I paid my taxes in full, I wouldn't be able to pay my internet, student loan, or phone bills. Seeing as how the first and last are simultaneously what got me into this mess in the first place, as well as what keep me as a (somewhat) gainfully employed person, that's not exactly an option.

The IRS has an installment plan, but for reasons that I can't readily understand, there are pretty hefty fees for someone who CAN'T AFFORD TO PAY THEIR TAXES IN THE FIRST PLACE.

I mean, more than $100 if I don't want my account directly debited, and $50 even if I do? What the hell, man?

So, as you might have guessed, I'm a little frazzled over this. While on the way home from the studio tonight, some guy asked me tor money to buy enfamil for his baby. To make the long story slightly less long, (as it's 1 in the morning, and I still have things to do before I can not sleep enough and go back out tomorrow to not make any immediate money,) I took pity on this vagrant, and meandered around the immediate vicinity looking for cheap formula.

We didn't find any. My cynical side wondered if it were a well thought-out ploy, and if it were, perhaps he had earned some of our money for forethought. My compassionate side gave him $5, while debating if we should spend $20.

On some level, I'm not even sure that I did the right thing. I don't know. I'm tired and stressed out and hungry, among other things. I'm going to take out the garbage and go to bed.

Hope you all are well.

"Money, money, money, money mon-eee-eee-eeeee...."
-From "The Million Dollar Man" Ted DiBiase's theme music

As if freelancing (or pretending to) wasn't hard enough...


I want to make an Irwin R. Schyster reference, but I am too confused and intimidated by all this paperwork right now.

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want -- good or bad. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.

"If you ain't lovin', then you ain't livin' "
-George Strait, "If You Ain't Lovin' "

Just when this day had settled into the mode of "another damn day," I get a booty call.

I could get used to this "bf/gf" thing.

"Never think evil thoughts about anyone..."
-WIllie Nelson, "In God's Eyes"

There's so much pressure involved in being Good; no wonder that there's so much evil in the world.

Between policing your thoughts, turning your cheeks, seeing only the good in people, and that enigmatic, pleasant lie that you're forced to tell yourself called forgiveness, there's really no room to actually be a human being...

Unless you like the taste of guilt.

So I was supposed to do a number of things this weekend, and they fell apart mostly. I ended up patching them together with running errands and hanging out with Spirit; who was nice enough to let me shamelessly parade her around in front of my D&D-playing friends, who she actually had some things in common with- just not the passion for pretending to be someone else.

Anyhoo, we made our way home and spent the next 12 hours or so in bed (we didn't have sex,) and at some point on Sunday Morning, we started talking about Harry Potter. We had varying predicitons for Book Seven, and she was actually a little peeved that I didn't agree with her.

I thought it was rather funny that she was so worked up about it, but I conceded the discussion to her. We made up, and (eventually) got out of bed. Over lunch, she asked me if I would draw something, so that she could watch. I asked her what I should draw. She replied, "Harry Potter, because you love him so much."

So I drew this:



She was quite happy with it; and I think that I will color it.

"You should never argue with a crazy man..."
Billy Joel, "Movin' Out"

I don't know if I can deal with this. Or maybe I should say, them.

I'm tired of being run roughshod over and fed pap about caring and how insensetive I am while she tells me what a good person I am for letting myself get shit on, and how we have to leave it to God, as we can't fix it.

Of course we can't fix it! He doesn't want to be fixed!

I have made a lot of sacrifices, monetary, temporal, and mental in the name of what I thought would maintain Harmony.

But in the interests of my own sanity and well-being, I may have to invite Discord.

And may God have mercy on us all.

(Sometimes I hate my flair for the melodramatic.)

"And if he falls in love tonight, then our dear old pal is dooooooomed..."
-Timon from "The Lion King," in the musical sequence "Can You Feel the Love Tonight"

So there's a rather good chance that I might get some tonight; if anyone needs blood or other virgin stuff, gimme a call before 6.

"Of all questions, that is the one question that I feared the most..."
-Carolinus, the Green Wizard, from the Flight of Dragons

So an enterprising space hamster asked some hard-hitting (and much easier to respond to) questions that I figured I would share with the rest of you:

"My main query is... did it happen?"

No, not yet. There's a number of factors for this, some that are post-worthy, others that are only partially related, and are part of the sordid details. I've been too busy with conventions of my own, being sick, and somewhat unhappy with the situation at home (something else that I should write about, but just haven't really made the time for,) to stop and write them.

"And also, are you happy?"

Yes; and slightly overwhelmed. There's been a bit of a paradigm shift. To put it simply, compared to my normal, cautious, glacial pace, things have occurred at breakneck speed.

This is all so strange and new, I don't always know what I "should be doing," and at the same time, it's caused me to look at other people differently. Maybe I'm wearing rose-colored glasses.

"Are things going well?"

Yes, they are. She even came to Comic-Con on Saturday(and is part of the reason that I missed the dinner).  Even if it doesn't work out romantically, there's a lot of mutual respect and admiration; she's someone that I might have made up my mind to like over a longer period of time after being (unwittingly) relegated to the friend ladder.

And now it's back to work.

"OJ Simpson...
Still not a Jew"
-Adam Sandler, one of those Haunakkah Songs, possibly the third one.

So I've decided not to "kiss and post," as it were. If you want to know what's been going on, gimme a call/ IM/ carrier pigeon.

 We don't talk enough anyway.

"...Pinky, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
-"The Brain," from "Animaniacs"

Now we all know that Gmail reads your mail- how else would it be able to give you such well-aimed advertising as it does?

But it read a conversation between me and Spirit, a perfectly innocuous one at that- I emailed her a image file with nothing in the body, she replies:

hey,
thanks for sending it to me. it's a great drawing - i love the use of
the blues and the guy is oh-so-creepy!

see you tomorrow,
Spirit  :)

And the "sponsored links" were:

How To Find A Good Guy
Learn The Secret Psychology You Need To Attract & Keep Any Guy.
Dating-Tips-For-Women.com

Guess How Much I Love You
Great Selection - Get 5% back Free shipping with minimum purchase
www.drugstore.com
Damn you Gmail, are you watching me in real life, too?

Sordid details to come at some point soon, I promise.

"This is the song that does-n't end...
yes, it goes on and on, my friends..."
-Charlie Horse, from Shari Lewis' Lamb Chop's Play-Along

Okay Coach, I get it.

I got it the first time you said it, even though you were speaking in anger/fear/ignorance then. It's been more than fpur years now, and your tune has not changed yet, only been remixed slightly to match the times.

You think every ailment that may or may not plague the inhabitants of this house are psychosomatic, and are (once again, the same way that you have been) reveling in the fact that you are more than likely one of the causes, and that you think that Mother, (and yourself) should get therapy.

So whay are you looking to fight with me? I am trying to help you with your bullshit, you smug bastard.

You talk about "escapism," and in the same breath, you prepare to have an extended argument with me, about something that does not realte in any way, shape or form to anything that was being discussed, or is even relevant to the situation at large

You claim that you "can read me," but at the same time you refuse to acknowledge the fact that I might be aware of your methods at this point?

Lead by example; go barter, trade, or plain old lie to some holistic therapist, councillor, or other "transpersonal" type, and see how it works out for you. You can listen to all the Eric Butterworth you want to, but my "perception" is that you're not living it, no matter how many people you feel compelled to inform about it.

And this is another reason that I don't like you.

"...now, I told you that story so I could tell you this story..."
-Ron White, comedian, from his "Tater Salad" routine.

So after a great amount of ado on Saturday, I found myself in my house. D&D was well underway off in Manhattan, and there wasn't much point in trying to get out there to jump in the game.

So, checking my email, I had gotten a message from Spirit, who was looking for a bed for her new apartment (she moves this week), and said I could come along if I wanted to.

With nothing else to do aside from stay in and play WoW, I called her, and after we made arangements for our vegan date, I told her that I might be able to get my grubby claws on a copy of Hedwig. She immediately offered her place, even though it was really jsut a room with her computer in it, and even said that she would clean up.

So after some last-minute attempts at contacting people, I couldn't get a copy of it, so I let Spirit know. She suggested that I just bring anything, so I brought Shaolin Soccer.

What? It's a good movie.
I'd have brought Flight of Dragons, but she only had her computer.

Anyway, we met up for dinner, and I spent a lot of time trying to explain to her about how D&D works, and disabusing her of some misconceptions that she'd had about it. Among other things, she was confused as to how the game itself actally worked, the concept of roleplaying existing solely in the imagination was totally alien to her. She also talked to me at length about her passion for the Sims, and her desire to expeience things that were "uniquely New York."

I suggested "The Cart," this halal (I think) cart that's somewhere around the 40s or 50sin Manhattan. She doubted its existence, but I told her I'd do a follow-up on its whereabouts.

Anyhoo, we left the place, and were making our way to the train, when I spotted a video rental place. We popped in, and found out what the membership procedures were. It was surprisingly simple (and free), so I signed up, and she paid, we had Hedwig, and she was congratulating me on my idea to stop in there.

We got back to her place, and I met one of her roommates, a guy named Laurence. He seemed pleasant enough. We went to her room, which was exactly as  she'd  described it, a room, with a bed, and a table with some sort of fancy Mac on it. She put on a stick of Green Tea Incense, and then put on "Prolonging the Magic" by Cake, as Cake happens to be her favorite band, (they share a hometown, and they were big while she was in highschool) and she had been telling me about the album while we were at Dunkin Donuts one update ago.

So the two of us were there, reclining on her bed and listening to music, and, well...

*ahem*

I'll spare you the gory details (although I bet that sinonmybody will want to hear them), but to make the long story slightly less long:

• We never watched the movies.
• I found out her exact bra size.
• Lawrence knocked on the door some 2 hours or so into everything to let Spirit know that he'd reconfigured the network.
  I found this terribly amusing.
  
• I never thoguht hearing someone say "oh, fuck," could be quite so arousing. I suppose it's a matter of context.
• I didn't get home until 9 AM Sunday Morning.
• I rode my trusty unicorn home, but it was giving me reproachful looks all the way there.

EDIT: for clarification's sake; we didn't actualy have "the sex,"  but we were close. Laundry needs to be done, on both sides, for various reasons.

"Spirit, some people hear it,
some people fear it.
Spirit, some people just won't go near it!"
-Doug E. Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew, "Spirit" (From Ghostbusters II soundtrack)

You know all those things that They say that girls do when they are interested in you? How they're supposed to play with their hair or touch their faces, or mimic your body language?

She (who for the sake of pronouns, I will hereafter refer to as "Spirit") did all of those, and probably a few that I was unaware of.

And before I get ahead of myself, I did write that Dating Agreement. It wasn't as tight as I might have liked, but it still impressed her, and we did more or less stick to it, except for Article II.

Okay. So, I got there, and I was a little worried that she might not show up, or she would make her way to the other Chip Shop location, so I set my phone alarm for 7:20 and waited. While I waited, an Asian girl with long black hair (like Spirit makes a point of mentioning in her Lavalife profile) ran up.

Oh, I thought, maybe she was worried about being late, and is running to meet me-

She promptly ran past.

Hrmm... Let's hope that wasn't her, but that would be a great way to evaluate your date... I filed that away for future reference, and waited. Spirit arrived shortly after.

I figure I should describe her here. She's about a head shorter than I am, and a bit on the chunky side. She does have a nice set of breasts, (likely a result of her size,) which her coat couldn't disguise. When we got into the restaurant, I was well pleased.

Her mouth had a curious downturn to it that I hadn't expected from her photo, where she has a wide smile. (As the night went on, I would end up attributing this to nervousness, and I think I was right.) She has a bit of freckling on her face, and her eyebrows are thin.

We smiled at each other, and she extended her arms to hug me, which caught me a bit by surprise. For all my love of order and such, I never bothered to research the protocols of an Internet date, aside from the safety precautions. At any rate, we went inside, and were seated.

We carried our online conversations into greater depth, and broke new ground. I found out why she had said in her profile that she was looking for someone nerdy (which I might not have mentioned)- she doesn't go out much, and would rather stay in playing with Adobe Illustrator than "hit the club."

She is a geek, but a geek of a different shade than I am. She's a theatre buff, and longs to produce. She likes art shows and cultural things, and she writes on occasion. She's more of a journalist than a storyteller, but either way is fine with me. She's also a rabid Harry Potter fan; so there's still hope. She also seemed interested (or perhaps confused) when I told her I was a gamer; the only thing that she really plays is The Sims, but she was willing to listen to me talk about geekery.

She ordered the fish and chips (we were at the Chip Shop, after all,) I had a salad. A salad with chicken fingers in it, so I met my RDA of Grease for that evening. She turned down the prospect of the fried candy selection at Chip Shop, and as we were both having a very nice time, we decided that we would make our way to the Chocolate Room.

On the whole, the Chocolate Room was unimpressive; the only thing of consequence was the company I was keeping there. The aforementioned "signals" were at their strongest there- halfway through the fondue, I realized that she was actually doing them. While she played with her hair, I noticed that she had light brown highlights in it, and commented on them.

She explained that she was letting them fade, but was thinking of donating a length of her hair, and dying the rest. I suggested some "unnatural" shade, as I love those. I suggested a cherry red, or a purple. She had actually been thinking of purple herself. I asked if I could play with her hair, (another online profile reference) and she said I could, so I reached out and toyed with a bit of it while waiting for the fondue to arrive.

The chocolate was darker than I was expecting (I prefer milk chocolate to dark chocolate of any kind,) and the fondue was semisolid, cooling quite rapidly, to my dismay.

She didn't mind, as she loves chocolate. I missed an opportunity to make some sort of chocolate double-entendre, but she said it was okay, and if I came up with one later, I still could. There was something else that I noticed about her at the Room: When she smiles, her entire face seems to change. Her eyes almost light up, and she almost looks like a different person. I was glad that I was able to keep her smiling; I might have missed that otherwise.

The fondue eventually ended, we paid, and left. The night, while cold, was still fairly young, so we walked about, talking about family and points of origin. At one point, I reached out and stroked her hair as we walked, which somehow led to me having my arm around her shoulders, and hers around my waist. I'm not entirely sure how it happened; I just accept it.

We got to a point where we could walk over to the Manhattan (I think) bridge, or go back the way we came, so we opted to turn around, disengaging each other as we did. Somehow, amidst the disengaging, I ended up with her hand in mine.

Walking with her hand in mine was probably one of, if not the most pleasurable experiences I've had in a long time. I don't even know how to describe it; I haven't held anyone's hand since I was in grade school. But it was amazing.

Anyhow, as we walked, we talked of other things, like movies and such. She told me her favorite movie ever was Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and felt that we should watch it together (and there's your relevancy). I told her about the Flight of Dragons. As we walked, we came across some public benches (which excited her, she's originally from California, and apparently they don't have public benches out there), and sat on them, swapping nerd stories. She told me about how she and two of her friends were the first three people to buy one of the new HP books at the stroke of midnight (much to the dismay of the local papers), I told her about Strip D&D.

After I failed some Fortitude saves against the cold, we decided to go into a Dunkin' Donuts, because she wanted a White Hot Chocolate anyway. I took a bit of time to warm up my hands in the bathroom, and then we shared the chocolate (I was afraid that it might make me sick, so I sipped it sparingly.

About halfway through the chocolate, she told me that I was “different” and “interesting,” and that she liked me. I was flattered.

We left DD’s around 12:30, where we both came to the conclusion that we should probably call it a night. We hugged, then holding each other at arm’s length, took a stab at kissing.

The first kiss was hesitant, but pleasant. We looked at one another, and without speaking, tried it again, with equally, if not more satisfying results. The third kiss had the slightest whisper of tongue, and whether it was that, the harsh cold, or the homeless guy sleeping right next to us, we stopped there, and bade each other a hand-squeezing goodnight.

Anyone got a copy of Hedwing and the Angry Inch they could lend me?

Relevance to come later.

"No part of this broadcast may be retransmitted without the express written consent of the NFL"
-That disclaimer that plays at the end of football games.

Somehow I forgot to mention the backstory for this in the previous updates, so here goes:

I got a smile back, from someone local, so I bought some credits, and emailed her. We have been IMing since then (tonight was our third IM session, each one has lasted upwards of an hour and a half.) and we seem to enjoy each other's company, at least online.

So she asked me my birthday, for Zodiacal purposes, and I told her. She didn't know much about Tauruses, but she was ready to tell me that as an Ares, she could be a handful, and she liked to warn people ahead of time. I asked her if she came with a Terms of Service. We "lol"ed, and then she linked me to a film called "Consent," about a pair of daters who resort to legal action to determine just what goes down betwixt the sheets.

We both felt that it would be a lot simpler if such procedures occured IRL, and I offered to draw one up for us, which was apparently the magic word, because shortly after I offered, she asked me what I was doing this week.

So we're going out.

First to the Chip Shop (she's a little leery of the notion of a fried Twinkie, but otherwise undeterred) then, assuming that the vibe is good, the Chocolate Shop. A night of unhealthiness indeed.

We agreed on two things off the bat: There's no pressure to  carr things any farther than necessary (hence the two-part evening) and. our next date (if there is one) will be vegan, to make up for this one.

And now I have to write up that contract. It should be fun.

" I was gettin some head
Gettin gettin some head
I was gettin some head
Gettin gettin some head
I was gettin some head
Gettin gettin some head
I was wit the kinda girl dat make yo toes curl"
-Shawanna, "Gettin Some"

So Me and the Gster got together for some strategery in the world of online gettin' some. He still hasn't uploaded a profile picture, nor has he been sticking to hsi end of the "10 smiles a day" theory, although the idea to get together tonight, nevermind doing this thing in the first place were both his.

After I helped him re-write his porfile, he suggested (repeatedly) that we try "the chat line." With nothing else to offer, I sighed and said "sure."

After 10 minutes of setting up a mailbox that neither of us will ever use, and skipping over (much to my dismay) the one girl who mentioned her impressive bra size in her introductory message (and yes, I did put up a fuss about that) we ended up talking to two...

*ahem*

ladies of dubious morals. (their message said something to the effect of that they were looking for "generous men," and I said that that was a warning flag. G in his emminent wisdom, decided that we should talk to them.)

Without saying anything that's too incriminating, G has long since left my house to meet up with one or more of them (hopefully that's all he will meet up with, and I did warn him about the obvious dangers involved) and will likely be poorer for the meeting.

After he left, I went back to working on comics.

In other related news, I got a smile back on lavalife, and have conversed with the young lady on AIM twice. Things are looking up, but on the whole, it's a very poor return for the sheer volume of smiles that I've sent into the aether...

Smiles are free, damnit.