Ooh ooh ooh yeah

There isn’t much going on in my little world. I’ve been trying to climb out of this rut that I got myself into, only the harder I try the deeper I get. What I’m finding is that once you let negativity into your thought process it becomes a cancer and takes over. From that point on no matter how hard you try, the negativity will corner you in the shower and have it’s way with you. I refuse to let negativity corn hole me.

I’ve developed a nice little tool (Ha! little…tool) that helps me fight off the negative thoughts. When I feel them coming I stop what I’m doing and scream “I am no longer your bitch anymore. I…I say who gets to corn hole me. Not you, you bastard!”. This helps me push those feelings away and it invites the positive thoughts in.

Seriously, thanks to some medication I’m able to see some light at the end of the tunnel. To say it’s been a nice departure from the normal doom and gloom would be an understatement. With the fog lifting, I’ve been able to get an idea where I want to be in the grand scheme of things…professionally speaking (typing) that is. I won’t go into what I want to do right now. I tend to lose some steam on these types of things when I let them out of my head too soon. Hopefully, I will be able to stay focused on the goals and actually achieve them. Man, having a sense of achievement would be an awesome feeling, one that I haven’t felt in awhile. Bring it on!

There are some things I’ve been meaning to post about and I will get those done this week.

Keeping that in mind, I’m going to share a personal story today. A story where I faced, probably the biggest, challenge of my life and the lesson I learned.

In 1998 I graduated high school and moved out of my parent’s house to Austin, Texas. After the move I went through what college freshmen refer to as packing on the ‘Freshmen 15′. In my case it was more like the freshmen 60. A goal I achieved by eating Taco Bell 3 times a day.

Looking like the Michelin man, I adjusted my diet. I removed the Taco Bell and added healthier foods like Subway. I started to lose the freshmen 60 but I developed some issues, stomach issues.Every time I would eat red meat, I would get messed up. I would take the first bite and need to be on the toilet 2 minutes later.

Knowing that red meat does this to them, most people would cut back on it. I love red meat too much to turn my back on it. Plus I didn’t think it was an ongoing problem. I can honestly say that it never crossed by mind when it came to making dinner decisions.

Hey Rob, want to go devour a cow tonight?

You know it my brother!

2 hours later I would need a nap because I was exhausted from reenacting the dropping on Little Boy on Hiroshima in my bathroom.

Looking back now, I can see how the stomach issues progressed. It went from getting home just in time to drop the kids off to using public bathrooms (something I never did) to oops.

I thought I hit rock bottom the night I was forced to use a public restroom. We took my wife out to dinner for her birthday, then decided to go to a 80′s dance club. It was just a short walk from the restaurant but halfway to the club I started getting the cold sweats. By the time we reached the club I was squeezing my butt cheeks so hard you would have thought I was trying to turn a piece of coal into a diamond. I had to stand off in the corner looking like a party pooper (Ha!) because I had to concentrate on not soiling myself. It was hard though. I was clenching so tight that sweat started to build up down there, breaking my concentration. I hurried upstairs and found a toilet that would have won the ‘Most Disgusting Toilet’ award if there was such a thing.

It felt so good to relieve myself but I felt dirty for even sitting on that toilet. I tried to hover but I got weak in the knees when the action started. There was no turning back. Today, I don’t even think twice about using public restrooms.

Then the issues got more fierce and unpredictable.

One weekend we made plans to go to dinner and a movie with my sister, bil, and mother-in-law. For dinner we went to a place called Hoover’s. I strayed from my normal Ham Steak dish and decided on their Smoked Sausage. oops. After eating we headed to the theater in separate cars (Like so many times before, the bubbling started in the car. It couldn’t happen when I’m within range of a bathroom.). On the car ride, I was sitting a few inches higher than normal, due to my butt cheeks being clenched. All of my concentration was on holding my cheeks closed and thinking about the bathroom at the theater.

This episode felt different from the past ones. All of my muscles felt limp. I would try to tighten things up and they wouldn’t respond. It was a harder fight than normal. When we arrived at the theater I let everyone know I was having stomach issues and needed to concentrate on walking. The ladies went ahead to buy tickets while Mike stayed with me on my slow walk. He was trying to make conversation and I was replying with grunts and nods. After getting the idea I couldn’t talk he started walking a little ahead of me. At this point my butt is clenched so tight I’m walking like Forrest Gump in leg braces. In a moment of weakness I look up and spot the entrance of the theater. My cure is behind those doors. Before I could go back to concentrating…

“Mike! I just shit myself!!!”

“Whatever!!”

“Awww it’s running down my leg!”

oops.

I can still remember that feeling of the warm flowing poo working it’s way down my leg and into my shoes. As if crapping myself was not embarrassing enough, I had to drive home with my ass hanging out of the window.

A few weeks (maybe months) later, Alev and I went to Chuy’s for lunch. I ordered my favorite dish, a Steak Burrito with Deluxe Tomatillo sauce. A few hours later we decided to go see the ‘Some Kind of Monster’ documentary. The only theater playing it was a 30 minute drive to South Austin. On our way down there I had a few rumbles in the stomach. They were spaced out so I didn’t think much of them. By the time we got into the parking lot it had become the real deal and decided to head home.

This one had the same characteristics of the last one. Because I don’t go around crapping myself everyday, I didn’t know if I could trust my ability to hold out until we got home.

Halfway home it hit hard and I knew I needed a bathroom NOW. Alev was aiming for the next exit so I could find a bathroom to use but I couldn’t wait that long. I told her to pull over right then and there. In a quick movement, that would put The Flash to shame, I was out of the car and squatting on the side of the road. With traffic flying by and honking at me I relieved myself right there. It felt like it took forever to finish my business but when I did finish there was a ant hill size pile left there. I cleaned myself up with a print out of a eBay auction and went along my way (with another stop at a Exxon bathroom).

Luckily I haven’t experienced these issues in a few years.

You may be asking yourself(probably not) If I could go back and change anything, would I?

Not a thing. I learned a very valuable lesson in all of this unpleasantness that I will carry with me till I die. That lesson is, If I ever feel like I’m about to crap my pants in public I won’t hold it trying to get to a restroom. I will pull down my pants and empty my intestines right where I stand. Yes it will be embarrassing and disgusting but so is crapping in your pants. If I’m going to be embarrassed either way it’ll be easier dealing with the embarrassment in a clean pair on pants.

Plus, it gets expensive throwing out shoes every time you crap yourself.

If you ever make it to Austin, you can find this spot by traveling northbound on Mopac and it’s right before the 2222 exit and in front of the cemetary.

The family hooked me up with some sweet gifts. One of them being a Wacom Graphire tablet from my wife. This thing kicks so much ass. I’ve been playing around with it trying to get used to the feel of everything. I thought I would share the results of my testing with you…in the form of a wallpaper. I’m kind of lazy, so I didn’t resize it. It’s only 1920×1200.

Click on the picture for the full size.

There was some other cool stuff from this week I want to talk about. Right now, I have to get ready to head to a local brewery. Sir Robbie Rob Out! (Seacrest stole this from me)

One afternoon on my way out, I ran into a guy I haven’t seen before. We exchanged the generic “nice weather for a ride” and he went into how he rides his “bike” no matter what weather is like…”Well, unless there be ice on dere roads”. He keeps talking about his “bike” and I’m just nodding along. I start to look around to lot because he is talking this thing up like it’s a custom from West Coast Choppers. I don’t spot anything that would fit the hype this guy is throwing around.

So I asked him “Which one is yours?”

He pointed in the direction of a stock looking Harley Davidson, nothing impressive. Being the nice guy I am, I told him he had a “Nice Looking Harley”. He replied to me was “No, not the Harley. It’s the one behind it”. I take a second look and sure enough there it is…a freaking scooter. I’m staring at this “bike”…scooter thinking this guy is messing with me. The guy standing in front of me is the biggest Redneck I’ve encountered in recent memory. He is a few months away from losing all his teeth and has a beer gut that would put Artie Lang to shame. You know a stereotypical Harley rider. There is no way this guy is for real. Only he knows way too much about it for him to be joking. In my stupor, my only words to him were “Ahh Cool”.

Coming out of my daze I hear him talking about the repairs and modifications he’s made to the bike (At this point I want to slap him and tell him it’s a scooter). One of the repairs he had to make was to the throttle housing. Because he couldn’t find the parts for his Chinese scooter he had to use duct tape. What he did next blew me away. He looked at me and leaned towards me:

“I had to use the duct tape…”

He looks around to make sure no one is around.

“…to African-American rig the throttle.”

H-O-L-Y C-R-A-P

I couldn’t tell you what he said after that. I was completely blown away.

On my ride home (on a real bike, not a toy for a Barbie doll) I was going over what he said in my head. I can’t even tell you what this guy was thinking. He must have thought by saying “African-American rigged” he was being politically correct. It’s really more screwed up than the original saying (I don’t feel a need to post it here). With that saying you could almost (no, not really) pass it off as fixing something as an ignorant person would (term shouldn’t be used at all and I’m making no excuses for someone using it). He implies that all black people are known for fixing things in a cheap and incorrect way. Idiot!

I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to a racist asshole before (The only thing that stands out was someone yelling “Hey OJ!” to My Mom, Step dad, and I while driving around D.C.). Racists are one of those things I don’t quite understand and don’t think I ever will.

The thing that terrifies me about this whole encounter, this guy probably has offspring running around. Those little bastards are going to knock up their cousins and then teach their mutant siblings the same ignorant crap. The government really needs to start enforcing the no inbreeding laws. If not, we will be over run by these hicks and they will replace our water supply with Brawndo: The Thirst Mutilator (Referring to the Mike Judge film, Idiocracy). But the government won’t step in. They know if they did we would run out of politicians.