Not much to say really. Things are going as things go. Don't get me wrong, I've got a lot to say, because I've been thinking quite a bit, but I really don't want to say everything I want to.

I look forward to the movie Hitch coming out. I don't think women truly understand the stress related to being a guy. Oh sure, we may not give birth, or carry children, or even clean up after ourselves. And yeah, we're late, and much less meticulous when it comes to oh just about everything, let me tell you. Its all made up for during the course of dating. Everything that we don't stress about suddenly comes back to destroy us.

Because every man thinks he is "smooth", or that no woman can resist him when he's working the charm. Well with the exception of a few who are indeed very smooth because they don't think they are. But that's neither here nor there. Basically, what happens is every man who thinks he is "smooth" invariably finds out he is sandpaper. EVERY man, regardless of who we're talking about has had this happen to him in the most painful way possible. As far as I know, women don't have that problem. I think its because they get better training from their mothers on how NOT to be idiots, whereas boys, we get trained by our fathers. And come on, we all know our fathers are the world's most inept men, and we often wonder how they managed to get married. At least I do.

So to make a somewhat candid blog short, understand that men we have it tough. Watch Hitch and realize, that every guy laughing in that audience is laughing not because it's not true, but because if they don't laugh, you'll know it is.

I'm actually kinda full for the first time in a long time. Thank you protein shake! Thank you for your protein goodness! And for being 12 oz. of compliment to my tabasco soaked breaded flounder. There's nothing better than that. My lips are burning, but in a good way.

So I've been thinking. "About what?" Well, I've been thinking about starting another blog. Don't worry, I'll keep this blog, but I was thinking about branching off into a bit of blogging darkness if you will. The incredible visibility of this blog, i.e. people I know reading it, really keeps me from expressing some of my darker harsher and less refined thoughts. Maybe call it the black page. And it'd be all dreary thoughts, anger and dislike and what not. Believe it or not, that's what this lovely green page started out as really. A lot of hatred and dislike. For instance, this excerpt from my time in court for my first speeding ticket:

The judge said my name wrong. And I had thoughts of how long you would live if you attacked the judge. You know, before the state troopers restrained you or gunned you down. That was my random thought of the day.

Or:

Today seems to be the day everyone calls Halloween. That means that everyone dresses as if they're Satan worshippers, and then they run around knocking on doors at night. And I guess everyone is okay with that. My biggest gripe with this holiday (other than the incredible pagan roots) is just that. Why would I want someone knocking at my door at night, and then threatening me for candy? Why would I buy candy to give to a bunch of overweight little brats that are driving through the neighborhood with their doting parents? The only reason I can think of is that they might end up with cavities, or even better, have early heartattacks. And so many wonder why America's youth are overweight. There's a whole day where they can get candy just for being dressed up. I'm sure the perfect costume for a lot of the kids is the Stay-Puft Man.

And:

And as I've learned from my time in traffic court, tickets are far more than 15 dollars. Yet this hasn't seemed to stem my desire to speed. I'm not even really going anywhere, it could just be a trip to the local Burger King for some overly fatty sustenance, and I'll still speed like I'm a crack fiend trying to hurry over to the dealer to get my hit.

Also:

Which, by the way, was okay. A lot of, you guessed it, heavy lifting!! There's nothing more fun than lifting heavy objects and moving them elsewhere. AND!!! I dropped a table on my toe!! YAY!! Hard wood at a good velocity impacted with a body part!! YAY!!! YAY!!! There could be nothing better than damaging my foot!! NOTHING!! I'm so excited for my foot. I didn't break it, I think. Too bad. And then I kept doing heavy lifting!! Isn't that incredible?!

And who could forget:

And the government took a seventh of my check. A seventh!! I don't even like this government, but they take a freaking seventh outta my check?! What the heck do you do with a freaking seventh of my check?!? Make war? Fund all the crap that I don't even condone?!?! Pay the freaking cops that always ALWAYS harrass me, that look at me like a threat just because of the color of my skin. Next time a cop pulls me over, I'm going to slap his aviator shades off his face, and get my money's worth kicking his hide. I sponsor racial profiling, so I might as well fit the profile. I just really really really REALLY hate that I have to kick out that kinda money to be harrassed, to some people who personally, I wouldn't mind seeing starving in the street. I honestly swear that there is nothing to be said to me that would even remotely change my mind.

So as you can see, I tend to get really edgy. But then again, I guess I can be edgy on my own time. So I'll just use my paper journal for those moments. Evolution of the site. Its a beautiful thing. The real question is, who really read any of this stuff?

I'm crazy for that lady/She's chic but she's not shady/Sophisticated lady
And she makes me feel good/She's so fine

So I found this site. Its devoted to exposing new artists and independent small label acts to the world, via the saviour of such things, the internet. I had a blast cruising through it, downloading mp3s at will, and hearing new sounds and stuff. The site you ask? Epitonic.com Awesome site. I suggest you browse when you get the chance. You won't find a ton of stuff that you like, but you might find one good independent band. And that in itself is well worth it, is it not?

Here's a song I found. Its decent, though a bit long winded.
Black Diamond - The Mirror Boys

My mood?

I'm so fresh, you can smell me through a ziploc. . .

I've always been against making my life a spectacle. I know, I know, I have a blog, so to some extent, I put my life on display for the entertainment, nay, the perusal of others. However, I don't think one should share everything with everyone. For instance, the new show, Celebrity Fit Club. I'd be inclined not to share a thing like that. Losing weight, getting into shape, that's a thing that should be done personally.

However, as I'm sure the rest of us will attest to, sometimes it takes telling the world to give motivation. It seems that having people know that you're dieting, or trying to be healthier even helps motivate you to be achieve your goals.

My point? Well, I learned recently that I can't get health insurance until I weigh 264 pounds. Well guess what? I weight 290. That's right, I am roughly thirty pounds over the healthy limit, in fact, I'm thirty over the INSURABLE weight limit, and that in itself makes me angry and maybe determined to drop the weight. The beauty of the whole thing is, I have about a month to do so. That's right. And not any month, but the month of February. Excellent. I like a challenge as much as the next man, but this one, well, lets just say I don't know if I can make this. And that's why I'm sharing. Hopefully if I tell people my goal, they will deride me or encourage me.

"But Javann, why would you want someone to deride you?" Because I'm intensely competitive and if you think I can't do something, I often feel the need to do it because you think I can't. But feel free to encourage me. Or whatever. All I know is I gotta get some health insurance, even if it kills me.

The true irony here is, if I happen to pass out from overexhaustion or malnutrition before I weigh 264 or less, I can't afford to go the hospital. I'd call this an impoverished state, but really, its not.

Disappearing acts cover up the facts/conspiracies that we can't track/the answer lies in the shadows behind our backs

So when talking to a friend, and he suggested that I tell you another story about the time me and another friend tried to con someone. So after some thought, I figure, why not? I've told worse stories right?

First, I should clarify a few things. Like what I mean by "con". I mean dupe, trick, finnagle, mistreat maliciously, prank if you will. But why? Why would I, Javann Lamar Jones, have ill intent against someone? That's just the thing. I really didn't. But just as you may have deduced from the first story (its in the Monday the 17th, January 2005 archives if you want the details) I don't have to have much of a reason. In fact, it's usually not a I-don't-like-this-person-so-lets-let-him-have-it type of thing anyway.

Second, this was an attempt, one that thanks, in part, to my incredible mental prowess would have worked. But just as I failed to forsee the obvious fault in what I just typed, so I failed to forsee the one thing that shot the whole plan to smithereens. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all started at Camino Real, a Mexican restaurant off of University/72. I went there with my friend, Mr. Giggles, for lunch after a long day of service. As we set and talked, we begin discussing the "reign of terror" unleashed upon us by none other than RocketBoy. Don't get me wrong, I love RocketBoy. He is entertaining, and he is quite the character, but his idea of party games isn't an ideal that I share. In fact, his party games stink. We were humiliated in the worse way ever. Okay, that's a sever exaggeration, but suffice it to say that we thought that he was alway "pranking" us or pulling some kind of joke that we didn't get until we were knee deep in. . ."the funny".

Mr. Giggles and I kept eating, and afterwards we begin discussing how we could possibly get RocketBoy back. Surely, there's gotta be a way. I threw out my best stuff, from wrecking and trashing his house, to turning all his furniture upside down. I think taking all his clothing was involved in there somewhere. Finally it hit me.

The one thing about RocketBoy is that he doesn't like crazy women. Not wild and crazy women, I'm sure he welcomes those, I mean he doesn't like psych ward regulars. Really, who does? So we decide to "create" just such a person, and get this: everyone would know her, but RocketBoy. This girl shall write RocketBoy all the time, giving him weird email's about little or nothing. So basically we created a TRL fan for RoketBoy's general amusement. Well, this girl needed a name, and that day, I dubbed her Amare.

And thusly she was born. Amare's first act was to get an email account. Then she contacted all of RocketBoy's friends and family (take note of that) and let them in on the joke. So here we are, all of us collectively giggling about how much we are going to mess up RocketBoy's life. Funny stuff, right?

Of course. The first day, when Amare signed onto MSN and spoke with RocketBoy, he flipped out. In fact, I remember him asking me about this girl, and whether or not I knew her like she said I did. First I said no. That freaked him out. Then of course after, I suddenly "remembered" her as that "hot girl" from East Tennessee.

Not that it mattered, because Amare did all she could to whoo the heck outta RocketBoy. Emails, MSN messenger, all forms of communications that gives away that she's a girl but not that she wasn't a girl. But to no avail. However, we still had RocketBoy begging to get this girl to just go away. Well, maybe not begging.

To wrape this up, RocketBoy found out. I'd like to say we dueled to the death and I won, but as I won, I restored peace to everyone of them. No, he found out through his sister, KillJoke. KillJoke spilled the beans, and Amare faded into history. And before we could get the arranged meeting after she called him on the phone. Our plan was to say we'd go with him to meet her, because she was good people, and then when he got there we were going to laugh at him. In all honesty its a good plan till the master gets a sniff of what goes on. Either way, I received retaliation, as I was stalked by a girl, who they didn't make up. That's right, a real girl, however, the letters weren't real. Hard to explain, but it was definitely weird. Which is why I tend to not respond to email of people I don't know now, or even better, people who I don't like. Why? Because it got uglier than the Amare thing got with RocketBoy. Much uglier. But all in good fun that tot. Either way, have a good one.

In retrospect, this pales in comparison to all the other indemnifying stories, but don't worry, I'm not tapped out by any means. I was just really tired when I wrote this.