Generation Y Not...

I'm so happy to live in the times we do, and sometimes we don't even realize what advantages we do have. In today's society you can become a doctor after 40. You can wait to get married, be a bachelor at 50! A black man could become president.

I think there is no real goal for this generation, and none of us give a shit. Our parent's got married in their twenties and had kids. Some got divorced in their thirties and had more kids. And now live in the "Family Home." This generation we are so lazy. We aren't buying, we're renting because we are indecisive. And it's true with relationships as well. There's no heart in it, because we are in a what-if-something-better-comes-along mindset. The really funny thing is something better will always come along. The the compartment size of a gigabyte of information has shrunk half the size of the previous year since the 70's. And who said wine is the only thing that gets better with time?

So all my Gen X and Gen Y homies, be indecisive, do what you want, and tell those Baby Boomers to suck it next time they tell you to grow up. Take your damned time.

Bradley James

Fairy Tale Facade...

For ages these stories have been passed down. Hans Christian Anderson and the Brothers Grimm immortalized them on paper for the world to compare their lives to. Now it seems more than ever these fairy tales are no longer leading us toward something to work or look for. They have now become evil, something to try to live up to but somehow always fall short.

Which one of these is fairy tale curse? Are you Cinderella, cursed into a life of abuse which later leads to substance abuse waiting for your NA in shining armor to sweep you off your feet? Or guys, maybe you're the beast on the outside with the heart of gold? Repunzel with her abandonment issues? Whoever your story is about the problem is all the same.

Today's real love stories are based on games. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, it's our most basic animal instinct reinventing itself. Now it's not distance that makes a heart grow fonder. It's knowing that you won this battle, but now that stakes have changed from lives to hearts or trust. Now to really mix my metaphors, is when you realize there is no real prey/predator just wolves in sheepskin. How do we know who to trust or how even? You don't and that's the last lesson you shall learn today. Don't hate the player, hate the game.

Bradley James

Concluding My 30 Day Project...

I know I still have a week to go on the 30 day project, but with no real perspectives in my future I've decided it's time to fess up. What did I learn from my experience thus far? It's hard to say. I know I've realized how different it is trying to date in the straight world than in my world. Dating pools are smaller and more spread out. Also being a picky guy hasn't helped. In fact the best two dates, per say, were people I already knew.

Interesting development, I knew both of the guys I had the most fun with before the project. Maybe it's gotten to the point in your life, when all that you need is finally right here. Or maybe it's that sad point when you really exhausted every other option and now you are left to your own sloppy seconds. How depressing. Well at least I'm not in glass-half-full mode anymore. Back to dark and dismal.

What else have I learned? I've learned you can't put a time limit on finding someone, much less to find someone to love. Well you can, just really lower the bar. Remember these hopeless losers are single for a reason, either damaged, homely, or too concerned to get their rocks off to even fathom a relationship. You think you found that last good single guy (Diamond in the rough, much?), you're very wrong or as dumb as the guy you're going for. Good luck you crazy fucking kids.

I suppose to conclude this project what I really learned was all those cliches people tell you, "if you're looking for love first check your backyard" kind of shit is cliche for a reason. Most of the shit is spot on. Seems to me if you can't find love, or are just incapable of it, great lovers and great friends will fill the gap just fine. At least if you're in your 20's. Maybe every decade alone just gets more depressing. Then I'm out Thelma and Louise style bitches.

Bradley James

Building a Mystery...

I figured it would have been too much to put this part of my trip in my last blog so I made a complete different segment. By the way if anyone knows anything pertaining to this series of events let me know ASAP. Stalkers are no bueno.

**

So on my way back from the Whee and hiking I see I have a new voicemail(and I suppose no missed call, because I had no signal). It was a call from Fritas. She said my mother called my job to say she hadn't seen me in a week, so as soon as I could I called Momma to let her know I was ok, even after the slew of texts I sent her. When I talked to her was when it started getting creepy. My mother didn't call and got all my messages. Huh?

By the time I made it to Ctown it was the last thing on my mind until Berger told me the rest of the story. Not only did they claim they were my mother, but wanted to verify if the cell number they had for me was right, and what my schedule for the week was. So not being the brightest bulb in the tanning bed the bitch starts telling this woman my information until my boss hears whats going on and asks to speak to the woman and when he tries she hangs up. Creepy right? I'm starting to feel less like me and more like Jonbenet Ramsey.

Now that I'm sufficiantly freaked I meet up with my boss at work to get to the bottom of this. He thinks he remembers the area code and we go through the call log on Sunday. Two matches come up via reverse phone lookup, one out of Wilmington and one that says no service. I call Ms. Wilmington first only to find out it's someone I work with. She must have called to check her schedule right? Not the case when I speak with her, she claims not to have called there Sunday but also doesn't have our work number programmed in her phone. OK... I tried door number two and much to my suprise, it's been cut off. The seond caller had their phone shut off between Sunday night and Tuesday afternoon. Now that is fucking freaky.

So what's your input? Is it the crazy girl at work stalking me, or the disconnected phone line? Either way I'm flattered I have a stalker, really I am, but maybe join my fan club instead. You get an autographed poster and all. Please leave all stalking to the professionals, do not try at home.

Bradley James

My Big Adventure...

I've tried my best to be as honest as possible with my blogging, and I think I've more than held up my part of the agreement. This weekend I went up to visit Big, in return to some of your comments. When it comes to the matters of my heart, I've learned to keep it out of public eye. Guess you'll have to wait for the book kids. I will tell you a little bit my adventure though.

So after the day from hell at work, I made it on the road by 9pm and was there at a very punctual midnight. It's funny not seeing him for years, and I know it's cliche, but we picked right up where we left off telling inside jokes and regaling our troubled pasts. I'm not even sure how late we stayed up drinking wine and catching up, but we woke at 7 in the morning to go hiking. It was COLD, but it was so worth every minute. We went hiking behind waterfalls and up mountains, and found a house(that looked more like a castle) that could have weathered the siege on Normandy. After our lunch of Subway and Sun Chips on the lake we jammed like some hella white kids to Missy Elliot and Queen, and then went in search of Suki.

We found her at The Rusty bar backing, I'll skip the obvious joke. Well Suki is my Wiccan friend who happens to have worse taste in men than I do. Like Big, I haven't seen her in quite a few years and let me tell you she looked like the same girl only half the size. She looked great. She told me about some of our old mutual friends. Brands is married and on meth, Blondie graduated, and Folkes is back from Sweden, and Suki got married too?! Hold on, this is the girl who dated the bipolar DJ with a Napoleon complex named Synergy and now she is married and, sort of, seperated. Well they had a Wiccan wedding which was not recognized by the state(just like mine would!!), and good thing too. Like most religions, anything in excess(say booze) is a faux paux. So the sauce and the fact he didn't want to move up to the Whee were the bigger problems leading to the bigger breakup. Once me and Big finished our pitcher of Yuengling, and his couple whiskey sours we left.

The rest of the night I got to meet his friends in the complex. My personal favorite was the MILF that lived two cabins down. She was a hot 48 and witty as hell. What really attracted me to her was her drink of choice, Sex on the Beach, and she finished it during our conversation in the bitter cold of the Smokies. I think I had the most distaste for his roommate. She was a shady character with eyes set too close together. After that drama, which would be boring to all of you, I helped him make lunch for the next day while we watched Family Guy. Now it was time to crash, and crash we did. Elephant tranquilizers couldn't have put me down faster.
.
In the morning I gathered my things and bundled up while he got ready for work. I got one of the best hugs of my life before we parted ways. I spent the rest of the morning/afternoon hiking in and around Asheville, but it's not the same without a buddy. In fact it feels more like Deliverance than fun. Made it home in more than enough time to have a late lunch with Fritas and a few drinks with Jer-bear and Berger. Then I crashed.

**

Hope you all enjoy these blogs, but I'm still not seeing more traffic or comments. I've put the effort in so sit there on your lazy ass and tell a friend via Myspace/Facebook/telepathy. Thanks for reading again, and I will have a few new one up ASAP!

Bradley James

PS. I hope you liked that picture. It's one of my all-time favorites!

The Quickest Way to Get Shot Down...

I'm sitting enjoying a scotch with some friends, when one of my acquaintances comes to sit next to me. The debate was on, so we talked about that for a while but she had other ideas. She brought up this guy that she works with, this guy that had given me his number a month or so ago. She was not the first one to do this. If it's been a month and I haven't called, get over it.

So she tells me he's such a nice guy, smart, and loaded(sorry I'm not that shallow, and I'm pretty fucking shallow). She also mentions he's coming through the door in a minute to hang out. "Jose Gold por favor!" Scotch and tequila equals the quickest way from buzzed to Cynicismville. He sat down and talked, and he did seem nice. Too nice. I'd break him. So my friend was still behind me, so he tried to bail me out with bringing up a book he had me read, "Killing Yourself to Live" by Chuck Klosterman. He-who-was-not-getting-the-hint then shoved his foot in his mouth. "I like reading too. I just finished this great book called "Storytelling" by Tori Spelling." I didn't mean to, but it just came out. I literally laughed in his face. Tori Spelling, that money hungry piece of shit so-called actress is one of the quickest ways to make me lose my hard on. Now had he said I read Shannon Doherty's memoir "How I Kick Bitches Teeth In: A Love Story" then maybe you'd have a chance.

Bradley James

Oo Rah!

As a "writer," I can't wish for a better day than yesterday. It was going to be a chill day, a day to reflect. Those are the days you realize you are up shit creek and have nothing but your Choo's to paddle with.

Fritas and I went to lunch, like we do practically everyday. Only today was not every other day. We sat on the patio and ordered our regular entrees, but out of the corner of my eye I see a commotion on the playground. Thinking the worst(you have NO IDEA), I ran to the fence only to see Dancing Girl. This girl is infamous in our shopping center, and spotting her is like catching a Bigfoot orgy. So I grabbed Fritas' camera phone and started taking video. After jumping, twirling, and a few pop and locks she realized she had a crowd and dipped, or her E started to wear off. The rest of lunch we had plenty to talk about.

After that Fritas had to nanny, so I caught an early movie. I watched Nick and Norah's Playlist, and essentially it was like every Jennifer Love Hewitt movie, but with out JLove. I figured since I was done killing brain cells for the day, I'd go to the book store and catch up on some reading. I ended up picking out a pretty decent book, at least for the fashionista that lives within me. Bringing Home the Birken was a good story, the writing was a little juvenile, but entertaining non the less. It passed my time for a few hours until Fritas called back. We had some Firebirds for dinner and decided to part ways. This is where the night got interesting.

I go to my regular watering hole for a beer before I get some down time at home. I sat next to the manager, who I knew very well, and chatted for a bit. A few minutes, and half a beer later this bohemoth guy walks in and plops in his chair with his friend a few seats down from me. They pounded a few shots and waited on their pizza. The big guy then looks at our group and says "OOO RAH," the Marine cry. "Hey, HEY. Say Ooo Rah. SAY OOO RAH!" I half heartedly said it back when he flipped out. "What the fuck did you just say?" His pizza arived in front of him in a to-go box. By this time I had turned my chair out enough to get one great shot in. The manager told him to get the hell out, so Big Guy opens the box lid and hurls the pizza at the plasma screen and runs out leaving his friend behind. I had to listen to his friend apologize and fill out police reports for the next hour and a half. Some fucking day huh?

Bradley James

Are you an Eye Sex Offender?

Today is one of those scatterbrained days so I may be a little disconnected and go back to refine this later, but for now I won't keep my mouth shut for crab covered phallus.

Fritas and I were discussing the last blog I posted over philly cheese steaks and fries. We sat there and tossed back new ideas when it hit me like a donkey punch. A group of guys(most likely a high school sports team) waltzed through the door. One particularly caught my eye, tall, blond, blue eyed Adonis here in Penn Station subs. I knew then what I'd report on today. I started from his hair and work my eyes over him twice. The infamous eye fuck. Taught and perfected over many generations. Royals, commoners and slaves alike have all been victim.

According to UrbanDictionary.com, the definition of eye fuck is "to star at someone flirtatiously insinuating sex." So as always I have more questions than answers, so I set to the street to find out more.

I found out that an eye fuck can only occur when both parties are consenting. Otherwise this move would be considered an eye rape. Can we not come up with a bit more literary flourish than eye rape? Visual molestation maybe? I also learned there are different degrees of eye fucking. Did you know you can have an eye quickie or an eye threesome? Aparently the longer visual contact id held between two or more persons, the more intense the eye fucking is. I suppose I would fall into the category of quickie, eye fucking serial rapist. And here I thought so highly of myself. So the next time you catch the eye of a stranger in the soup isle, be aware you may have just lost your eye virginity. Keep those eyes chaste my friends.

***

In other news Paris Hilton released her first single off her new "album." Her song, My BFF, sounds like what you would hear if you through a hungary badger into the next stroller you saw. To electro beats. And worse yet, this is also the theme song to her new MTV series, My New BFF. Since the Paris and Nicole split of '05 this poor damsel has been in need of something to mask her lonliness, and thanks to the MTV gods she got her wish. A reality tv show to find her a Nicole replacement. Yes people, hide your eightballs and children, the bitch is back.

The link to the new song is here. Just be prepared. Thanks to all the people who read this crap again.

Bradley James

You Do That Like It's your Job...

Most good writing is done in the wee hours of the morning with a cigarette and some scotch(ie. Hunter S. Thompson, Jack Keroac), but not today. Today I opted for a midday blog, so lets see how this shit goes.

So the other day after chilling with Fritas and the kids, I was in the neighborhood and decided to swing by Ash's place, and was I happy I did. First of all let me tell you about Ash. She is a five foot ball of red hair and energy. And did I mention smoking hot. You're only as attractive as the company you keep. So growing up she was my project, cute southern belle to a vixen, and I fine tuned it. Now she gets to use my cell as a rolodex for guys, and I just let her go.

Anyway, while there we started on the discussion of ex sex. She claimed it was always the best sex. Or as she described it "They know how to get there; three rights, four lefts, second star to the right and straight on til morning." Eloquently put. I've never been one to have ex sex, so it raised speculations. Is it the same as repeats or fuck buddies? Or do you need the moral apprihension of fucking someone you know is totally wrong for you? Or is it just plain wild and angry, or a mixture of it all? She didn't have the answers I was looking for, so I may have to take matters into my own hands.

I'm a little pressed for time today but wanted to say thanks for reading this crap. Check me out tomorrow, or later in the week, but for now I'm going to purge myself of these feeling that keep coming up.

Bradley James

P.S. Hypothetical congrats to an actual friend. Get some strange.