Time to Rip Something Off

So it's time. Let me tell you a little story about the life of Tyler "To The" Rhoades. Wow...that would be an amazing nickname, wouldn't it. I'll get my people on it right away...just as soon as I figure out the emotion that goes with this face ----> I'm guessing, "Clambaked?"

All right, I'll start off in the 9th grade, because there was pretty much a void for me from 0-14, in what I like to call "The Suicide Watch Years." I'm kidding of course -- only retards commit suicide. And besides, suicide has always been too depressing for me...even though it is, apparently, painless...

So, after 9th grade I went to high school, and started dating my first real girlfriend (no offense Valerie, if you ever read this) Lizzie. I started acting in plays in and out of school fairly consistantly, and decied that I liked doing that. I still like it, and I still do it.

I decided to go to Western Washington University, partly because I heard they had a good acting program, but more likely because I have no driving ambition, and Western was the path of least resistance (not taking anything away from that illustrious place of learning, of course). First year I roomed with a guy named Matt who was very nice. Now that I was away from Lizzie, I could break up with her...because I'm a coward, and I could never have done it if I were around her every day.

After breaking up with Lizzie, I somehow turned into one of those creepy "funny" guys who puts too much gel in his hair, and falls head-over-heels for a girl whom he is only really good at annoying. So, I turned my affections to a troubled female who was too empathic to reject me outright...and my obsession was fed by her ambiguity, until it exploded one night in a fruitless, stupid, love-sick, misguided plea for her affections (which, regardless of what you see in movies, is the stupidest thing a person can do. Ever). This overly-dramatic ball of crap allowed her to unambiguously reject my ill-intentioned advances.

After that lovely, knife-twisting saga came to a close, I entered what I like to call the "year and a half of pouting & early adulthood idiocy." And this wasn't the cool "get drunk and high then screw a lot of random chicks" idiocy that people (like our current president) got to enjoy. This was more "spend a lot of time in my room playing computer games" stupidity, interspersed with stilted, awkward conversations with my burgeoning drug addict friend/room mates from high school, and their newly acquired drug addict friends.

Following that time, I entered this current phase, which I guess I could just call "complete and total narcissism." Most people would call it adulthood...or at least, "young adulthood." I met another lady, eventually, and got very involved. Unfortunately, the relationship became more involved than I had wanted it to be, so we separated after two or so years. I quickly started seeing someone new a couple of months after that, and she started hating my guts for that. That was a trying time. So it goes...

I'm still with that "something new" girl after a good two and a half years...give or take. I graduated from Western in 2003 with a degree in theater arts, and I've been in about 45 full-length plays in my lifetime which includes about 6 professional productions (I'm not trying to brag here, because a good 60 percent the shows were total shit...but just so you have some perspective...). I currently work at a bank, I have a 401k, life insurance, a Roth IRA, car insurance, renters insurance, health insurance, a dental plan, quickly diminishing debt, and all of those other great things that adults are supposed to have. My transition from "dependant" to "independant" was surprisingly easy.

As far as my history of employment, I've worked (in order) as a newspaper delivery boy, at McDonalds, for some grocery store whose name I can't remember, Fred Meyer (sorta' the middle-class man's Wal*Mart), Target, as an electrical parts delivery person, and finally as an employee of Washington Mutual. I've also worked as a professional actor around Seattle, though at this point it's still more of a "paid hobby" than anything I could possibly do for a living.

Now, I'm a robust 220 pounds of balding whiteness...not unlike young Mr. Brimley whom I have chosen as my avatar. I'm currently involved in a production of "Man of La Mancha" which I suppose you could call professional (inasmuch as the company pays you a couple hundred dollars at the end of the 1 month run). I'm living in Seattle with the girl of my dreams (which makes the balding and heftyness not such a big deal with me...unfortunately for her...) who is breathtakingly gorgeous...and she is as funny and smart as she is beautiful. Which works pretty good for me. Not to be cloying, but I highly recommend it.

As far as friends go...well...I've got a couple of those...with an ever growing list of "acquaintances." My old college room mates and I have fallen "out of touch." It's no one's fault, really -- we just wanted different stuff out of life. They wanted to be cool...I wanted to be left alone...so we just didn't work out together. I got much love for those guys, but they're pretty much out of the picture at this point. I've also got some current close college friends scattered throughout the country. They are the "Hey, what's up? What have you been up to" types. There are a few, though, who I met later in my college career (during my narcissim period) that I'm still close with...whatever that means.

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold. I learned that in elementary school, and I still don't know which is silver, and which is gold. Personally, I found I didn't have much in common with a lot of my old friends after a while. So it goes...

And yes, I know I'm ripping off Kurt Vonnegut there. Sue me.

And yes, I enjoy a good book, a good TV, "thought-provoking" video games, and all the available mass media I can get my hands on. I mistreat my body phisically by eating horribly and not working out consistently...but I'm far more interested in growing my brain than my muscles. I consider myself fairly liberal, though not extremely so (honestly, though, I feel like I should be more extreme to counter the current "right" movement taking over the United States Government now). I spend too much time staying up late at night, and not enough time taking care of myself. I'm full of equal parts self-loathing and narcissism...which makes for an unhealthy, volatile combination that I am totally fine with. Not really. But I am. No, I'm not. Yep. Nope. It's cool. No, it isn't. Yeah. Nah.

Okay, ripping off Eddie Izzard now. Shameful.

And believe it or not, I really don't like talking about myself that much. In that instance, the self-loathing wins, because I can't imagine anyone actually finding any of this information interesting. But the narcissistic part of me is confident that there are people out there who will not only read this information, but will be amazed by it, and praise me endlessly. Perhaps I'll even get a book deal? "Tyler, may we print your blog entries? Here's $100,000!" Truth be told, I'm positive that I'm not so reviled or amazing as I think...and that's how I feel about abortion.

Passion

So it's time. Let me tell you a little story about the life of Tyler "To The" Rhoades. Wow...that would be an amazing nickname, wouldn't it. I'll get my people on it right away...just as soon as I figure out the emotion that goes with this face ----> I'm guessing, "Clambaked?"

All right, I'll start off in the 9th grade, because there was pretty much a void for me from 0-14, in what I like to call "The Suicide Watch Years." I'm kidding of course -- only retards commit suicide. And besides, suicide has always been too depressing for me...even though it is, apparently, painless...

So, after 9th grade I went to high school, and started dating my first real girlfriend (no offense Valerie, if you ever read this) Lizzie. I started acting in plays in and out of school fairly consistantly, and decied that I liked doing that. I still like it, and I still do it.

I decided to go to Western Washington University, partly because I heard they had a good acting program, but more likely because I have no driving ambition, and Western was the path of least resistance (not taking anything away from that illustrious place of learning, of course). First year I roomed with a guy named Matt who was very nice. Now that I was away from Lizzie, I could break up with her...because I'm a coward, and I could never have done it if I were around her every day.

After breaking up with Lizzie, I somehow turned into one of those creepy "funny" guys who puts too much gel in his hair, and falls head-over-heels for a girl whom he is only really good at annoying. So, I turned my affections to a troubled female who was too empathic to reject me outright...and my obsession was fed by her ambiguity, until it exploded one night in a fruitless, stupid, love-sick, misguided plea for her affections (which, regardless of what you see in movies, is the stupidest thing a person can do. Ever). This overly-dramatic ball of crap allowed her to unambiguously reject my ill-intentioned advances.

After that lovely, knife-twisting saga came to a close, I entered what I like to call the "year and a half of pouting & early adulthood idiocy." And this wasn't the cool "get drunk and high then screw a lot of random chicks" idiocy that people (like our current president) got to enjoy. This was more "spend a lot of time in my room playing computer games" stupidity, interspersed with stilted, awkward conversations with my burgeoning drug addict friend/room mates from high school, and their newly acquired drug addict friends.

Following that time, I entered this current phase, which I guess I could just call "complete and total narcissism." Most people would call it adulthood...or at least, "young adulthood." I met another lady, eventually, and got very involved. Unfortunately, the relationship became more involved than I had wanted it to be, so we separated after two or so years. I quickly started seeing someone new a couple of months after that, and she started hating my guts for that. That was a trying time. So it goes...

I'm still with that "something new" girl after a good two and a half years...give or take. I graduated from Western in 2003 with a degree in theater arts, and I've been in about 45 full-length plays in my lifetime which includes about 6 professional productions (I'm not trying to brag here, because a good 60 percent the shows were total shit...but just so you have some perspective...). I currently work at a bank, I have a 401k, life insurance, a Roth IRA, car insurance, renters insurance, health insurance, a dental plan, quickly diminishing debt, and all of those other great things that adults are supposed to have. My transition from "dependant" to "independant" was surprisingly easy.

As far as my history of employment, I've worked (in order) as a newspaper delivery boy, at McDonalds, for some grocery store whose name I can't remember, Fred Meyer (sorta' the middle-class man's Wal*Mart), Target, as an electrical parts delivery person, and finally as an employee of Washington Mutual. I've also worked as a professional actor around Seattle, though at this point it's still more of a "paid hobby" than anything I could possibly do for a living.

Now, I'm a robust 220 pounds of balding whiteness...not unlike young Mr. Brimley whom I have chosen as my avatar. I'm currently involved in a production of "Man of La Mancha" which I suppose you could call professional (inasmuch as the company pays you a couple hundred dollars at the end of the 1 month run). I'm living in Seattle with the girl of my dreams (which makes the balding and heftyness not such a big deal with me...unfortunately for her...) who is breathtakingly gorgeous...and she is as funny and smart as she is beautiful. Which works pretty good for me. Not to be cloying, but I highly recommend it.

As far as friends go...well...I've got a couple of those...with an ever growing list of "acquaintances." My old college room mates and I have fallen "out of touch." It's no one's fault, really -- we just wanted different stuff out of life. They wanted to be cool...I wanted to be left alone...so we just didn't work out together. I got much love for those guys, but they're pretty much out of the picture at this point. I've also got some current close college friends scattered throughout the country. They are the "Hey, what's up? What have you been up to" types. There are a few, though, who I met later in my college career (during my narcissim period) that I'm still close with...whatever that means.

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold. I learned that in elementary school, and I still don't know which is silver, and which is gold. Personally, I found I didn't have much in common with a lot of my old friends after a while. So it goes...

And yes, I know I'm ripping off Kurt Vonnegut there. Sue me.

And yes, I enjoy a good book, a good TV, "thought-provoking" video games, and all the available mass media I can get my hands on. I mistreat my body phisically by eating horribly and not working out consistently...but I'm far more interested in growing my brain than my muscles. I consider myself fairly liberal, though not extremely so (honestly, though, I feel like I should be more extreme to counter the current "right" movement taking over the United States Government now). I spend too much time staying up late at night, and not enough time taking care of myself. I'm full of equal parts self-loathing and narcissism...which makes for an unhealthy, volatile combination that I am totally fine with. Not really. But I am. No, I'm not. Yep. Nope. It's cool. No, it isn't. Yeah. Nah.

Okay, ripping off Eddie Izzard now. Shameful.

And believe it or not, I really don't like talking about myself that much. In that instance, the self-loathing wins, because I can't imagine anyone actually finding any of this information interesting. But the narcissistic part of me is confident that there are people out there who will not only read this information, but will be amazed by it, and praise me endlessly. Perhaps I'll even get a book deal? "Tyler, may we print your blog entries? Here's $100,000!" Truth be told, I'm positive that I'm not so reviled or amazing as I think...and that's how I feel about abortion.

Did You Get Any Sleep At All?

So it's time. Let me tell you a little story about the life of Tyler "To The" Rhoades. Wow...that would be an amazing nickname, wouldn't it. I'll get my people on it right away...just as soon as I figure out the emotion that goes with this face ----> I'm guessing, "Clambaked?"

All right, I'll start off in the 9th grade, because there was pretty much a void for me from 0-14, in what I like to call "The Suicide Watch Years." I'm kidding of course -- only retards commit suicide. And besides, suicide has always been too depressing for me...even though it is, apparently, painless...

So, after 9th grade I went to high school, and started dating my first real girlfriend (no offense Valerie, if you ever read this) Lizzie. I started acting in plays in and out of school fairly consistantly, and decied that I liked doing that. I still like it, and I still do it.

I decided to go to Western Washington University, partly because I heard they had a good acting program, but more likely because I have no driving ambition, and Western was the path of least resistance (not taking anything away from that illustrious place of learning, of course). First year I roomed with a guy named Matt who was very nice. Now that I was away from Lizzie, I could break up with her...because I'm a coward, and I could never have done it if I were around her every day.

After breaking up with Lizzie, I somehow turned into one of those creepy "funny" guys who puts too much gel in his hair, and falls head-over-heels for a girl whom he is only really good at annoying. So, I turned my affections to a troubled female who was too empathic to reject me outright...and my obsession was fed by her ambiguity, until it exploded one night in a fruitless, stupid, love-sick, misguided plea for her affections (which, regardless of what you see in movies, is the stupidest thing a person can do. Ever). This overly-dramatic ball of crap allowed her to unambiguously reject my ill-intentioned advances.

After that lovely, knife-twisting saga came to a close, I entered what I like to call the "year and a half of pouting & early adulthood idiocy." And this wasn't the cool "get drunk and high then screw a lot of random chicks" idiocy that people (like our current president) got to enjoy. This was more "spend a lot of time in my room playing computer games" stupidity, interspersed with stilted, awkward conversations with my burgeoning drug addict friend/room mates from high school, and their newly acquired drug addict friends.

Following that time, I entered this current phase, which I guess I could just call "complete and total narcissism." Most people would call it adulthood...or at least, "young adulthood." I met another lady, eventually, and got very involved. Unfortunately, the relationship became more involved than I had wanted it to be, so we separated after two or so years. I quickly started seeing someone new a couple of months after that, and she started hating my guts for that. That was a trying time. So it goes...

I'm still with that "something new" girl after a good two and a half years...give or take. I graduated from Western in 2003 with a degree in theater arts, and I've been in about 45 full-length plays in my lifetime which includes about 6 professional productions (I'm not trying to brag here, because a good 60 percent the shows were total shit...but just so you have some perspective...). I currently work at a bank, I have a 401k, life insurance, a Roth IRA, car insurance, renters insurance, health insurance, a dental plan, quickly diminishing debt, and all of those other great things that adults are supposed to have. My transition from "dependant" to "independant" was surprisingly easy.

As far as my history of employment, I've worked (in order) as a newspaper delivery boy, at McDonalds, for some grocery store whose name I can't remember, Fred Meyer (sorta' the middle-class man's Wal*Mart), Target, as an electrical parts delivery person, and finally as an employee of Washington Mutual. I've also worked as a professional actor around Seattle, though at this point it's still more of a "paid hobby" than anything I could possibly do for a living.

Now, I'm a robust 220 pounds of balding whiteness...not unlike young Mr. Brimley whom I have chosen as my avatar. I'm currently involved in a production of "Man of La Mancha" which I suppose you could call professional (inasmuch as the company pays you a couple hundred dollars at the end of the 1 month run). I'm living in Seattle with the girl of my dreams (which makes the balding and heftyness not such a big deal with me...unfortunately for her...) who is breathtakingly gorgeous...and she is as funny and smart as she is beautiful. Which works pretty good for me. Not to be cloying, but I highly recommend it.

As far as friends go...well...I've got a couple of those...with an ever growing list of "acquaintances." My old college room mates and I have fallen "out of touch." It's no one's fault, really -- we just wanted different stuff out of life. They wanted to be cool...I wanted to be left alone...so we just didn't work out together. I got much love for those guys, but they're pretty much out of the picture at this point. I've also got some current close college friends scattered throughout the country. They are the "Hey, what's up? What have you been up to" types. There are a few, though, who I met later in my college career (during my narcissim period) that I'm still close with...whatever that means.

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold. I learned that in elementary school, and I still don't know which is silver, and which is gold. Personally, I found I didn't have much in common with a lot of my old friends after a while. So it goes...

And yes, I know I'm ripping off Kurt Vonnegut there. Sue me.

And yes, I enjoy a good book, a good TV, "thought-provoking" video games, and all the available mass media I can get my hands on. I mistreat my body phisically by eating horribly and not working out consistently...but I'm far more interested in growing my brain than my muscles. I consider myself fairly liberal, though not extremely so (honestly, though, I feel like I should be more extreme to counter the current "right" movement taking over the United States Government now). I spend too much time staying up late at night, and not enough time taking care of myself. I'm full of equal parts self-loathing and narcissism...which makes for an unhealthy, volatile combination that I am totally fine with. Not really. But I am. No, I'm not. Yep. Nope. It's cool. No, it isn't. Yeah. Nah.

Okay, ripping off Eddie Izzard now. Shameful.

And believe it or not, I really don't like talking about myself that much. In that instance, the self-loathing wins, because I can't imagine anyone actually finding any of this information interesting. But the narcissistic part of me is confident that there are people out there who will not only read this information, but will be amazed by it, and praise me endlessly. Perhaps I'll even get a book deal? "Tyler, may we print your blog entries? Here's $100,000!" Truth be told, I'm positive that I'm not so reviled or amazing as I think...and that's how I feel about abortion.

What? A Serious Entry?

(originally posted October 20, 2005)

Here's what I figure. I could go on in life, cheerfully filling my blog with any old crap, and the 2 people who read my blog (the other user ID I use in which I pretend to be a hot 23 year old female named Chela, and my mom) might get a hell of a kick out of it. But I think it's time to raise the level of discourse; kick it up a notch. Bring this blognation to what I like to call "The Next Generation." That is, I need a serious blog entry...

Because I was thinking about it. Sure, I spent the first week or so looking up people I used to know. I did manage to find people I knew well such as my best friend from elementary school (What's UP, The Hunt?). I also found all sorts of crazy people whose names I remembered but who I never really talked to. And God Bless those people for existing, because I truly cherish them, but I don't think they're really interested in "what I been doing with my life since they last saw me..." because they really didn't know me...and most people aren't really interested in a stranger's life story (especially if they create huge, cumbersome run-on sentences with elipses and parenthesis littered throughout the length of the thing).

But then there are the forgotten ones. Or, as I like to call them, "The Forgotten Ones." Sorry, I'm not creative at all...but I am good at capitalizing letters. Anyways, these are the people who I had one or more conversations with, who might actually remember "who I was," and might be "interested in what I was doing," but who I didn't actually look up...because I forgot that I knew them. Those people, I thought, deserve an update...partly because I feel bad that I forgot about them, but mostly because that's what you do when you meet people you haven't seen in a while. You ask them what they've been "up to." You tell them what you've been "up to." You make out. You cry a little bit in the car ride home. You pick daisies from the side of a hill and go home and create your patented "Daisy Shake" in the blender, and you sip that while watching reruns of "The Gilmore Girls."

But I digress (damn, and I promised myself I wasn't going to digress...but here I go digressing all over the place...shooting my digressions is sticky wads all over the keyboard and mouse). So I've decided to spend a post updating all interested parties on what I been "up to," because really, the only reason I decided to log into this site was to see what people from my past were "up to." I figure they deserve the same from me...and I'm not really interested in dating you (sorry ladies...why did I have to be a heartbreaker) because I've already found & moved-in with the perfect girl, like, 2 years ago. I don't want new friends, because as interesting and cool as you are, I've got friends with an actual corporeal form who are much more fun to hang with. And I don't want to have dirty, dirty, dirty cybersex with you...because I have to type with two hands. Sorry. It's just this thing I do (and honestly, have you ever tried to type "I am unbuttoning my jeans to bring out my 12" rod; do you like what you see?" with your left hand? It's damn near impossible. The quotation marks alone make the whole endeavor just not worth it)

Damn digression! And a gross one too...great...there goes any chance I had with all those hotties from my past (kidding, Erika ) (wait, is that the "dead" emoticon? Awesome!). So anyway, I now realize that this entry has gone from "way the damn hell too long" to "eternal." So, I might actually just stop typing now, and save the update for later...probably tomorrow. Actually...I think that's a fantastic way to build up a little suspense. "Wow, I can't wait until Tyler updates his blog tomorrow! I won't be able to sleep a wink until I find out!!!" (the only people saying this will be Chela and mom, of course).

In the mean time...do try to get a little sleep Charlene and Chela...because that's how I feel about abortion (man, I totally forgot about that closing line).

Give Me Twenty Dollars.

(originally posted October 10, 2005)

Speaking of Life, one thing I didn't get: why did you get money at the end of the game for the number of kids you had? It always struck me as a little creepy -- I hope my mom doesn't sell me off when she retires.

Speaking of love (and I wasn't), have you ever noticed that the more you love something, the more full of darts it becomes? It's like this motorcycle I never owned, but loved with what I like to term a "long distance" relationship. I mean, I'd think about it all the time (especially when I was pouring concrete), and when I finally did get to spend a weekend with it, all I did was throw something like 50 darts into seat. Something wrong with that...let me tell you.

Speaking of tell, my new favorite word is "jam." I'm going to use that word instead of "jelly" all the time. Such as, "Pour that grape jam all over my chest, Mischa."

Nope, But I Will Slap You

(originally posted October 09, 2005)

That's right...now, I wouldn't normally send flowers to a person, but if I knew the home address of Shaun at Nerdhelp.com, I would send him 30 roses wrapped in tinfoil...because I know that is the nicest gift anyone could receive. For those who care, I have removed my Trojan.Vundo virus. The day is mine. Now, the night is mine, and I must sleep.

Nice Suit!

(originally posted October 08, 2005)

Seriously, anyone talking about Religion and Philosophy in their blog needs to send me $5, so I can hire a plumber to come over and grout their tiles.

So, I've decided to talk about Gatorade instead. Let me tell you something -- sort of a "personal story" about me and Gatorade. When I was six years old. Well...Gatorade...touched me. Down...down there. I...I can't believe I'm actually talking about this now. I've been dealing with these awful emotions for years. Repressing them...blaming myself. Turns out, Gatorade has been doing this kind of thing to young boys for decades...starting in the late 60s when he was first released from prison.

Well now that I've made this stunning confession (which I bet 3...perhaps as many as 4 people might actually read), I think I can finally move on with my life.

Well Sumbitch...

(originally posted October 07, 2005)

Well, dammit all to hell, I've managed to contract something called "Trojan.Vundo" that has gummed up the works of the ol' computer somehow. I had this amazing blog entry all planned out, then something has to go and demand a completely unrelated blog entry...with no comedic value at all. Well Mr. Vundo, whoever the damn hell you are, I hope you are happy. You've made an appearance in what I like to call "The Verdana-est Blog On Myspace." Wow...I can actually place an appropriate "mood" with this entry. Damn, blast, and hell.

Holy Crap, I Just Blogged Myself

(originally posted October 6, 2005)

So, I think I may have just made the most important decision in my life. See...I was looking at the four fonts...and I always thought Times New Roman was the worst font that God ever created. I'm pretty sure God created Times New Roman right before he invented herpes, and Antonin Scalia. So, that was out right away. And Courier New is about as interesting as getting kicked in the side of the head, so I won't even go into a discussion about that. Plus, I think all font types with more than one word are racist.

That left me with Verdana or Arial. Now, this was a choice that I don't think Sophie herself could have even made. It's like chosing between Mark Ruffalo and Mark Wahlberg! Or Granny Smith apples and Fuji!!! Now, don't get me wrong, I love me some Arial. In fact, I think I had my first kiss while I was typing with an Arial font (Narrow, I believe). But, Verdana won the day. I'm not sure if it was the pseudo-Italian undertones, or the fact that it started with the letter "V." But whatever it was, I was hooked, and I don't think I could ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever turn back. Ever. Unless I change my mind.

Now on to more important things...like my damn mood. I never KNEW there were so many adjectives to choose from...though I didn't see "dying" in there -- which is how I'm always feeling. Stomach cancer will do that to a person. Fortunately, I don't have stomach cancer, but if I've heard that people die from it. No, I'm just dying a slow, illness-free death. It's as exciting as it is boring.

So, to split the difference, I'm going to put "accomplished." Because, well, it was the stupidest word on the list. And that is saying quite a bit. No, actually, it's only saying 20 words. But it felt like a lot.

And why can't I put "typing" in what I'm doing. Listen, I love Blogs as much as the next man, but with these limited choices I might be forced to go outside and actually talk to people. Trust me, you do NOT want that.

So I put "Watching DVD/Video" (which I hope is short-hand for porn, though I'm not totally sure about that). I can't wait until tomorrow, when I can make all new life-changing choices. Now, if only I had a snappy ending that I could put at the end of every Blog entry. Something like, "And that's how I feel about abortion." Hmm...I like it.