Angry Lance

I reread an old blog of mine today that had a comment from Jean that said, "I love angry Lance." Well I don't. And Lance is definately angry today.

It is snowing in Fargo...again. School is cancelled because skinny little bitches like me will blow away into oncoming snow plows the second we step outside. It is 24 degrees outside, but with ice and snow bitch slapping you around at 60 mph it feels much, MUCH colder. I hate winter...a lot. I hate snow. I hate shoveling/snow blowing snow. I hate frost bite, and I hate clouds that create snow. Fuck snow! I will punch every snow flake in the face! Frost bite? Fuck frost bite! I will bite frost bite in the fucking neck! Fuck skiing, snowboarding, ice skating and ice anything! I hate winter. Spring must come soon before I lose my mind.

Fuck snow!

Happy Anti-Valentine's Day!

I reread last years Anti-Valentine's Day, post and thought I would continue my annual tradition. I also remembered talking to my dad last year about my hatred for this holiday and he sent me this e-mail explaining what Valentine's Day is really about. If you have the time please read said email below about the true meaning of Valentine's Day and just remember what I've been saying for years:
"It's not what you buy or what you do; it's why you do it. Don't buy your boyfriend/girlfriend a card or flowers because it's February 14th, do something that only they can appreciate to show them how much you appreciate them...and do it everyday."
Also, don't do things just for your significant others, if you have one. Remember your friends and wish them a happy Valentine's Day too. Let them know that they don't need a significant other to feel appreciated and loved. I know that helped me a lot last year. Now enjoy Saint Valentine's story:

According to church tradition, Valentine was the name of a priest near Rome in about the year 270 A.D. At that time the Roman Emperor Claudius II (Claudius the Cruel - great nickname) was involved in many unpopular campaigns. He was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military leagues, and believed Roman men did not want to leave their loves or families so he issued an edict forbidding marriage.
Valentine was a young bishop who saw the trauma of young lovers and secretly joined them in the sacrament of matrimony. Claudius learned of this "friend of lovers," and had him arrested. How ironic that the future patron saint of lovers was dragged before the Prefect of Rome,who condemned him to be beaten to death with clubs and to have his head cut off. The emperor, however, was impressed with the young priest's dignity and conviction and attempted to convert him to the Roman gods, a move that would spare him from certain execution. Valentine refused.
While in prison awaiting his fate, he befriended his jailor, Asterius, who had a blind daughter. Asterius requested him to heal his daughter and legend has it that through his faith he miraculously restored the sight of Asterius' daughter. Just before his execution on February 14, 269 A.D., he asked for a pen and paper from his jailor and friend. He signed a farewell message to his daughter"From Your Valentine," a phrase that lived ever after.Valentine thus became a Patron Saint, and spiritual overseer of an annual festival.
In 496 A.D. Pope Gelasius set aside February 14 to honor St. Valentine. At that time it was the custom in Rome to celebrate in the month of February the Lupercalia, feasts in honour of a heathen god. On these occasions, amidst a variety of pagan ceremonies, the names of young women were placed in a box, from which they were drawn by the men as chance directed. Those women who the men wished to court were given handwritten greetings of affection. The greeting cards acquired St. Valentine's name. The Valentine's Day card spread with Christianity, and is now celebrated all over the world.

"I got kicked out?!"

Yes, yes I did. I'm gonna Tarantino it up here and start at the end, then we'll work our way back. I remember standing drunkenly OUTSIDE the bar saying, "I got kicked out!?" Genuinely curious because I was too drunk to know why this travesty had occurred to such a responsible drinker as myself. "I got kicked out!?" Now let's go back. Let's take it back to the beginning.

I recently moved to the grand old city of Minneapolis and before I left my co-workers/friends from Best Buy thought it would be really smart to get me so drunk many feared for my life. I probably would've been scared too had I not been too drunk to give a shit. The gist, my good sirs and madams, is thus:

I went to a magical place called Big Daddy's where there are not only 2 for 1 drinks every night after 9pm, but also 2 for 1 burgers on Tuesdays, the day of the week I so happened to choose for my bidding adu party. I started off the night with the usual 2 Bud Lights before I realized Captain and Coke was 2 for 1 as well. About 8 of those later, my Senior at Best Buy finally joined the party after taking care of his son who was apparently vomiting earlier that evening. (He apparently had a theme going on this night). My Senior, Mr. Christopherson, decided he should "start me off," with a Prairie Fire shot AND a shot of Tequila. Ummm...gross. Before these shots, I was golden. I was Lance drunk. Lance drunk is a beautiful place where I become even more laid back, slightly louder, and generally a very good time. Christopherson decided to destroy Lance drunk by getting me obnoxiously, vomiting profusely drunk.

After the first 2 shots, yes FIRST 2, I decided one more captain was enough-as a chaser to get rid of the burning in my mouth and belly-and decided to not so smoothly hand my 10th Captain & coke to Cliff who was apparently not there to help me out, as he stated rather loudly he was not interested in taking my booze. Christopherson, seeing this, says, "Oh no you don't!" Where he then jumps out of his chair to get what I presume to be more horrible, horrible shots. And I was right. He comes back with 2 double shots of 151. Luckily one of those was for Cliff for "accepting" my drink, but a double of 151 was not want drunk Lance needed...but took anyway. Jarod got me a shot that actually tasted good, I believe I had also switched to water at this point. It all kind of starts becoming a blur now. A big drunken blur of nonsense and silliness. Christopherson got me a double of something else that tasted just as bad as his other shots and that's the last thing I remember drinking. And now the story becomes interesting...for us all.

I remember seeing my good friend Kevin Lee finally out to bid me adu, then the next thing I remember is being outside the bar hearing Kevin say I got kicked out, then me walking up to Jared saying, "I got kicked out?!"

"Yes," Kevin says, but does not explain why...because I was too drunk to comprehend at that time. Then, I remember a dreamlike stage of vomiting on concrete. I don't know where I am, how long I've been here and if anyone is with me. I just remember seeing vomit on concrete that quite obviously came from my stomach. Then I remember being in Kevin's apartment where I thought I was vomiting again, hearing Kevin apologize profusely to his girlfriend who I assume gave us a ride home, and something about cleaning the vomit from his car. Then I passed out.

Not only did I feel like shit all fucking day Wednesday, my mom calls me at 9am to pick me up wherever I am to start packing my apartment for my move this coming weekend. She was kind enough to take me to her house and let me sleep until noon while she started packing shit without me. My mom rocks.

Four days later, as I'm driving in the Cities, I get a call from Kevin Lee and ask him what the fuck happened to me because I had no idea. Apparently, by the time Kevin got there I was pretty gone, which I knew. However, he said he went in the bathroom and there was some douche puking in the urinal, not the stall, the urinal. Not wanting to piss next to some drunk douche vomiting he decided to look for an open urinal outside the vomiting perimeter. In his search he noticed the guys around the drunken douche were from computers at Best Buy and that this drunken douche was ME! That's how I got kicked out of a bar in Fargo, ND. By vomiting in a URINAL! That...fucking...rocks! Apparently that wasn't the only info I was forgetting.

Kevin also informed me that after getting kicked out, they had called a cab, but didn't think I would make it without vomiting so he called his girlfriend to give me a ride to MY girlfriend's apartment. Unfortunately, I was too drunk to give an address and could only tell Chelsea, "32nd Ave," which is pretty vague, to say the least. But she drove me anyway until I apparently said something, or just began to vomit again. So, she pulled over at a Stamart gas station where I apparently continued to vomit for AN HOUR AND A HALF. Chelsea calls Kevin, who is now also intoxicated, because she doesn't know where to take me or what to do with me. Kevin finds a ride to the Stamart, buys some 409 and paper towels to clean out his car and wipe my fucking face. They take me back to his apartment, he CARRIES me inside and onto his futon, grabs a little garbage for me to spit in as I'm dry heaving because there's just nothing left anymore. And THEN I pass out.

That was Best Buy's going away present. Kevin's was taking care of me, which I appreciate. I didn't even leave him a thank you note before I left that next morning because I couldn't find a paper and pen, so I did the next best thing, and just took out his garbage in case there was vomit in it. Even later that evening when I went to Best Buy to try and find out what happened, my manager told me I still looked like shit, which I believe since I still felt like shit. Never have I drank that much in my entire life, and never would I intend to drink like that again. I really am a very responsible drinker and am very lucky I had friends taking care of me and that nothing more serious happened. Carrie later informed she was pretty worried about me, especially since I never made it back to her place for some drunk lovin', but also grateful she didn't have to witness that spectacle. I'm glad I didn't have to witness that either. Yikes!

A long time ago in a Blog far, far away...

Wow, I don't really know where to start. I had a fairly interesting summer that went by very quickly because I was working 3 jobs and have not known a weekend off in three months. I am
currently home sick from work. Probably from working too much and being around sick co-workers. So, I thought I would blog, now that I'm up, showered, and blogger has agreed to post my pictures for this long awaited update.

The first thing I did this summer was shave that hideous growth on my face I tried to pass off as a beard. But I couldn't just shave it off, of course. Oh, no. We male bloggers must shave in progression with humorous other possible versions of ourselves to drive you ladies wild. And so I post again the many facial hair faces of your L-Kapitan:


This is pretty much what I looked like all winter.



A little chin strap to keep what little hair I have left on top
attached to my head.



Ahh, the good ol' gotee, how I've missed you and your
bad-assedness.



Speaking of badasses. Who the fuck is this guy and could
he be any sexier?! That is in fact a Harley-Davidson Motorcycle
T-shirt under those dark locks. How come his handle bars don't
match the curtains?



If the many episodes of The Shield I've been watching lately
have taught me anything it is this: "Don't mess with the Captain!"
Umm...officer.



Awe, that's better. I do say I clean up rather nice. Not too
shabby, eh ladies?

As good as I do look (I must say), I unfortunately ended my full year of regular working out by missing a whole month because I was so damn tired and barely had time to eat 2 meals a day, let alone get enough sleep and work out 5 days a week. It took one full year of regular 5 days a week working out and having regular meals 4-5 times a day to gain the 20 pounds I was so proud of. It took one month of not working out and eating regularly to lose 9 of those pounds.
I'm extremely pissed and will not rest until my weight is 10 pounds above my last goal. Unfortunately, I am sick right now, and will have to wait about another week.

I reread my previous post and am very disappointed in how bitter and cynical I sound. I will still say that I'm not cynical but definately a little hopeless. I think I might be looking for too
much in the opposite sex. I might be looking for that someone who fits me perfectly instead of just fitting me well. I broke up with Becky because it wasn't perfect, but she definately fit
me very well. Now she's married and I'm looking for someone with a lot of her qualities and more. In my almost 26 years of existance I at least know what I'm looking for. For the most part I really am just a sucker for a sweatheart with a cute little smile. Becky had that. I like to consider myself a pretty nice guy and am looking for a nice girl who would
appreciate that.

Of course, you might say you want the nice guy but when it comes right down to it, you're just not attracted to them. You might even give them a chance only to drop them for some douche bag who's hotter later on. Tina and I have talked about this several times because she too has noticed the hot girl to douche bag ratio at the bars. She even had a discussion in her communications class with her students. One male student asked why girls always seem to be attracted to assholes. The ladies said it was because a lot of women actually have low self esteem and don't think they could do better or even deserve better. Apparently part of it is also the need to change their man. They try and see that he really could be a good guy and they're just the women to make him better. I don't really know where that leaves me so I'm just going to finish talking about the rest of my summer.



One of the best parts of this summer was my annual Boundary Water trip with the guys.


Chad, Lucas, Brian, Andy, Adam and myself had a great
weekend, swimming...



*I actually swam to that island behind me and back.


...making sun dials out of a stick, a log, and a cheap little
compass/whistle/magnifying glass...



...making raspberry pancakes from the fresh raspberries
growing on our little island campsite...




...and taking several amazing sunset photos while smoking
choice cigars in the most peaceful place I've ever been.



All in all it was a pretty good summer. I worked too much, but the Bank and Best Buy both like me a lot, just not enough to promote me and/or give me more money. I applied to 2 other positions in the bank to finally get off the phones, or at least be on the phones less, and was denied both. I applied for a Production Assistant job at a local TV station and didn't even
get an interview. Best Buy wants me to work full time because I'm such a good salesman. Um, no thanks. I'm currently applying for bank jobs in the cities so I can finally move out there and be closer to all my very good friends. I appologize for not keeping in touch these past few months. Please forgive me, and I will call you as soon as I can.

Happy Anniversary (a.k.a. congratulations on not getting divorced)

Last Sunday was my Dad & Stepmom's anniversary, and I didn't get them anything. In just over a week it'll be Brian & Kat's, and Troy & Cathy's anniversaries. I won't get them anything either. Some people out there might think that's pretty shitty. You might think I'm being a dick and not recognizing their marriage. The truth is I just don't feel it's my place to say anything about it at all. I had nothing to do with them getting married, and especially nothing to do with them still being married after so many years. This is their day that I believe should be shared by the two of them alone. And though I know it's not the intention by any means, I feel when people send cards and wish happy anniversary a big part of that message is congratulations on making it another year & not getting divorced.

This probably sounds pretty cynicle to a lot of you out there as well, but I'm really not. I just think divorce is so common it's verging on something that's almost expected of married couples. So our society views long lasting relationships as miracles and therefore have to make a big fucking deal out of a couple staying together for 25 years...because it is a big fucking deal. It's so rare, and I find that sad.

You say right in your wedding vows, "til death do you part," but that's never expected, and that's why 10 years, 25 years, 50 years, whatever, is such a big deal. Instead of being expected by the simple fact that they got married and promised to be together forever, it's unexpected and considered a huge accomplishment to still be together after all these years.

I don't know if anyone agrees with me or not. I'm really not cynical about this at all, just disappointed that marriage is seen in this way. If I'm ever lucky enough to find someone to honestly make this life long commitment to, I wouldn't want congratulatory cards or parties from anyone. Our anniversary will be just that: ours. It will be me and her remembering the day we recognized there was no one else in the world for us but each other, not congratulating each other on making it another year. I know there are couples out there who do see it that way, and they receive cards from people who recognize that as well.

I know what you're thinking, "If this is how you feel about marriage and anniversaries than when you send a card wouldn't you be saying happy anniversary instead of congratulations on making it another year? It's not like you send birthday cards to your friends and family saying congratulations on not dying. You're celebrating their life, the day they were born."

And I would agree with you. But the difference is death is expected and, for the most part, out of our hands. Divorce shouldn't be expected as an end result of a marriage like death is the expected end result of life. Now you might all think I'm just being crazy. I don't know. I don't even know where this rant came from. Maybe it's because there's so many anniversaries in this month...and I'm going to a wedding this weekend. Whatever your thoughts are on this matter I would love to hear them. Whether you agree with me or not, whether you know me or not, I love to hear different opinions on things so feel free to post your comments at anytime.

Man alive! Look who's 25!

Here's a big birthday blog to one genuine S O'B.  Since I'm

soooooooo behind on my blogging I thought I'd throw in the NFA pics of

Shannon & I so there'd be pictures we haven't seen yet. 

Basically, it's Shannon & I doing what we always do: eating,

drinking & getting excited over the littlest things...like wine in

a juice box!







It's like the Minute Maid of wine...only better.  Right Shan?







"Less talk, more drink.  Mm mm good, and good for you.







And

who wouldn't be excited over free pie?  That's really a

hypothetical question since I really can't answer that. 

Seriously, I'm not a pie guy, but that shit was good!





Shannon is such a good friend, she even fed me my pie...as she was taking this picture.








Look how freakin' happy I am!  And it's all because of Shannon.












Here's me yelling happy birthday all the way from Fargo.  Hope you had a great day you sexy S O'B!

Naughty Nickleback

I was reminded to start blogging more and remembered a story I forgot to share about a month ago. Brian and I got to go to the Nickleback concert at the one and only Fargodome Jan. 31st...for free (Al works at the dome & was able to score us some tickets). The concert was sold out. It rocked. Brian and I got drunk and had a great time...even though we ran into someone from highschool that made us sit next to her and her friends. We would've much rather hung out just us guys and enjoy our 2 for 1 Blue Moons, but at least the beer was still good. Than when we went home we looked at my old year book to see if we could find this girl's picture even though I remembered her name. She didn't remember me, by the way. She came over to talk to Brian because the ladies love that man.

Anyway, back to the concert, and an explanation of my title. Nickleback themselves weren't so naughty, but the concert experience certainly was. As we were walking back to my car in the packed parking lot, we noticed several people just sitting outside their cars waiting until they could actually start driving and not sit in line. We were just walking along, talking about the show, when out of nowhere I hear, "Hey, you can hop in with us if want," from two women sitting outside their car. Flattered, but not quite that desperate, I simply looked at them in slight confusion and continued walking on with Brian.

Than (yes, there's more) as we were waiting inside my car there was a truck behind us who had an occupant that decided it was his Skinny Mc-not-so-sober's job to direct nonmoving traffic. He first tapped on Brian's window to tell us that we needed to let a certain car through because, "The chick is hot." Sure. About 5 seconds later he taps again and offers Brian a hit from his joint. Brian smiled and regretfully declined. In his defense, Brian thought it was a cigarette, not weed. Plus, he was probably just looking out for me; you know, with my criminal record and all.

All in all it was a great night. We saw a free concert that rocked. My self-esteem was boosted by a couple of loose women, and we both got drunk without spending hardly any money or smoking any free weed.