So today I was in the midst of a brief text message conversation and it occurred to me that women can't write their names in the snow.  I mean, I'm sure some have tried but I'm willing to bet "my cursive is going to be perfect" is the last thing that runs through their heads (or your heads, assuming more than one woman reads this) when they are shoveling the driveway and have to go (also assuming that women shovel the driveway).  This struck me as quite sad.  Not only do you have to put up with menstruation, makeup, and the need to wear matching clothes, but you don't get to make cute designs for everyone to ponder, or to simply state that "you were he . . . . "  (sorry, ran out).  Well I guess it's up to me then.  Because none of you ever have I will write your names for you.  Every time I pee in the snow I'm going to write a different female name, well, for as long as I remember too.  There will be a Veronica, a Candy, a Laverne . . . oh yes, all the greats, all the not-so greats, and likely some I make up.  But sorry ladies, the first of the season belongs to "Joe" (with as many squigly underlinings as I have the will to supply).  See that, I'm giving back.

Till next time.

P.S.  I realize it's spring, I guess seasons don't effect (affect?) my mind wandering.

Hey, here I am again.  I noticed that both Mario and Hoz have been putting in more than their usual amount of posts lately and I want to complete the trifecta (or shamelessly try to include myself in something without being invited. potato, potahto).  To catch you up on the last few months it's 2007, Mario has a baby, someone else is now expecting (secret?), and I am inspired to jump on that bus.  What.?  At this rate by the time I get married and have a kid these other two will be in their 7th year of college, so I asked Katie if she would mother my child.  She agreed and with that one fell swoop I will both give my mother the grandchild she won't shut the hell up about and ensure my kid will have a few friends around to describe to him what far away objects look like (see, I'm a good father already).

To continue Tanner and I took a small tour of southern New England and surrounding state this past weekend.  Not only was it fun but I got to wear my wristbands and now I feel inspired to go somewhere else.  Yup, I wrote that.  If there's a free place to stay why not?  I'd put up any of my friends from out of town (or persuade my parents too, rather) so I figure it's time to impose on you, even if you haven't yet on me (ahem, my parents).  Next stop . . . who knows but I'm sure I won't have a problem finding someone to come along.  And I'll probably use your soap. Sorry, but that's the last thing I ever, or ever will, think to pack.

Inspiration.  That is my theme this evening.  And it was all inspired by an away message I wrote, "Do I need to be more proactive?"  At first it was just something I wrote, few of my away messages have any inherent meaning and this one is (or was, depending on when you read this post) no exception.  I've tried it a few times in the past, being proactive, but usually only when I felt very strongly about something.  The little things were pretty hit or miss.  I'd usually rather be not cleaning my room or at the bar.  But then, while showering, "Do I need to be more proactive?" got me thinking.  I'm not usually one to take initiative and do new things, right?  So what if I were?   . . . That's it.  Did you expect something more profound?

And with that I'm feeling inspired to sleep.

Leave a comment.

Well, here I am again.  It's late (by RI standards) tuesday morning and I just got home from the bar (Tanner, I hope you make it home safely).  First time blogging in a while, here goes.  First off Orion has reappeared.  If you have read my previous posts you would know how much I love the man.  He greets me every time I return home from whatever journey I might have been on that evening and you have no idea how much that comforts me.  On that note I was in New York all weekend.  Because of all of the lights and such in the city I was completely unable to see any constellations in the night sky.  I looked, there were but three stars, hardly enough to make out a constellation as glorious as Orion the Hunter.  Anyway, yes, I was somewhere other than here all weekend, and in a city nonetheless.  Is this a new Joe?  Here's a list of the weekends happenings/observations:

• New York, I do believe, is the most expensive place to embark on a drunken expedition than anywhere on earth (unless a very friendly New Yorker buys drinks for you)(which is more likely to happen than you may think). 

• (And good thing it does happen) I returned home with 30 bucks, hardly enough to buy a scotch and a  mango-rita.  And as bad of a thing as that seems it may have been the best 28 dollars I ever spent.

• The New Yorkers that come to RI give the New Yorkers that stay in New York a very bad name.

• Any walls of any building that are right on a street do not have any air conditioning units in them.  I wonder how many people had to die before that law was passed.

• It's almost impossible to get sexy drunk girls to stop playing Ms. Packman.

• Even numbered avenues are one way in the southern direction.

• Damnit, I don't want an M&M.

• I wish everywhere had subways.  But a compass rose at the entrance to each one would be greatly appreciated.

• The bartenders in NYC like Jack Daniels.

• I have a new favorite chair.

• 5 in the morning?  What the fuck are you people thinking?!

• I enjoy walking around aimlessly more than one might think.

• Elevators make me happy.

• Tasman Plaza does not exist.

• If you wake up before 1pm in NYC on a weekend you'll have a headache.

• I was there for 43 and a half hours and I didn't see one gun (other than the policeman's).  There goes that theory.

• If Anne tells me someone's a bitch, she is.

• Alright, I'm going with marble.

• If you meet someone named Anthony in NYC pay attention, it may be totally worth your time (but be wary of his girlfriend (see bullet 17)).

• Indian food is quite delicious.

• You can walk from Brooklyn to Manhattan, which, at the time, amused the hell out of me.

• And finally, yeah, fuck Staal.

There you have it.  All of the things I can remember (and mention) at the moment about my weekend.  If you know what I'm referring to, excellent.  If not, go to New York City for a weekend and if you have half as much fun as I did, maybe you'll catch on.  Talk to you all later.  I hope you enjoyed my return to the blog.

Ah, extortion, works every time.  So I got a reply, fuckin' a. 

I'm going to admit it in writing, I enjoy Trent Reznor's voice and singing style.  There ya go.

Ah, but 4th of July weekend is upon us.  It is right now Friday the 30th of June and boy do we all have a wonderful couple of days ahead of us.  I'm chock full 'o' plans right now.  Can anyone guess what the binding ingredient is?  And I've got mild explosives.  Surely a good time will be had by all.

It's weekends like this one that make me wish I owned an RV.  You're damn right it would rule. 

- "Shit I gotta drive home" 

- Haha, dude that sucks.  It's impossible for me to drive home, cause I parked that shit right outside. 

I'm gonna start saving on wednesday.

Odd, I just got hungry.  I'll talk to you all later.

So I haven't been in in a while.  I don't quite understand what the big deal is.  Honestly, I think about it all the time.  "I should blog today" I says to myself.  But why would I do so if I don't have anything at all interesting to talk about.  So instead of wasting my time (like I am now) I simply don't, and then think we're all better for it.  This here posting is in response to Mario's calling of the kettle black (hm, I think I just coined an catchy yet completely nonsensical saying) in the form of a response to this here blog. 

But this also got me thinking.  I'll admit it, I don't write in this here blog for me, I do it for you.  Why would I write something down that I was a part of, or thought to myself once or on numerous occasions?  That makes no sense, unless of course it is to share with my audience.  It really is quite fun, if you have something fun to write.  So I try to keep it out of the emotional and actually interesting, which I suppose is where Hoz and I differ (ZINGER!!!).  But I often come strolling in to check if I have any responses.  Well, none of you leave any, with the exceptions of Mario (on a bimonthly basis) and Timmy.  Show some support here.  Make a name, they never send you anything or harass you, and leave me a fuckin' comment.  If you do, I'll kindly reward you with another post.  There, comment for a post, seems fair to me.  I'm not just a toy here for you to play with, reciprocate for shit's sake.  Comon, I won't even ask to cuddle after.