So I had a good time hanging out with Brian and Andrea tonight. In addition to them, Mike & Cassandra, Mike & Bethany, Sham & Macheal (and the kids), Ryan, Big John, Nate, My sister and a friend of hers (whose name oddly won't come to me right now) were all there. It was a lot of fun getting to hang out with everyone. Now that I've gotten that out of the way it's time for the bitching.

You knew it was coming.

It's what you come here FOR.

We went to The River City Tavern in Parkersburg, which has changed hands yet AGAIN. We've been there several times and they were decent before. Tonight was an exception for two reasons.

The first reason, it was karaoke night. That shouldn't need further elaboration, but I'll go ahead anyway. See, it's nice when hanging out with friends (especially ones you haven't seen in a while) to be able to actually talk to one another and be heard. This is why I was happy that we weren't going where we usually go, Buffalo Wild Wings (B-Dubs). Now, I DO like their overpriced wings, but you can barely hear the person next to you let alone someone sitting at the Last-Supper-esque row of tables we need to accommodate everyone. Since this is Memorial Day Weekend and there's a UFC fight on Pay Per View there we couldn't get in, so we went to River City.

And I was glad to be away from B-Dubs so that we could have conversation if not the aforementioned tasty, yet overpriced, wings (I really can't stress OVERPRICED enough), but also because of the Karaoke Principle. The Principle states that the more you hate karaoke multiplied by how much you try to avoid it equals the likelihood that you will encounter it.

The only exception to this is Punk Rock Karaoke at Circus on High and Fifth in Columbus, which I actually LIKE. This has a LOT to do with the fact that it's at a goth bar and nobody sings country music there. Well, except the occasional Johnny Cash song, but Cash was as goth as country could ever get and if you have a problem with Johnny Cash you can go goddamned fuck yourself.

Anyhow, many a time have we gambled with the Karaoke Principle and many a time have we been auditorally raped. Most notably by these three cackling harpies that used to go to B-Dubs EVERY karaoke night (which is to say every night that we were all able to assemble together) and sing the SAME DAMN SONG.

That damned song? Why that would be Earl, by the Dixie Chicks.

How bad was their singing?

It made me feel bad for EARL.

Made the Dixie Chicks sound a lot better by way of comparison though...

Come to think of it though, that song always bothered me even before those screeching gorgons got a hold of it.

I mean, basically it's a song about a girl in a small town who, for whatever reason, waited a little too long to get hitched or something and there was only one available guy left, the titular Earl. She never mentions anything about being attracted to him or loving him or even seeing a single positive quality in him whatsoever, just that he was the only guy left. So she married his ass and get this, Earl, as it turns out, isn't Prince Charming! I know, right! He's an abusive pigfucker of a shitbag! So because Earl is, well, EARL, now he's got to die. It's like wanting a puppy, but there are no puppies left so instead you take the pit bull from the back that nobody wants and when it turns out to want to rip your flesh off rather than say, play fetch, you bash it's fucking head in with a shovel.

I understand that some people are trapped in shitty towns and sometimes make bad decisions and whatnot. I also understand that there are a LOT of shitbag guys out there who abuse women and Earl was undoubtedly deserved to die. I'm just critical of the reasoning here. It would be one thing if she thought she was in love with him, or one drunken night after the big football game she got knocked up and she felt she HAD to marry him, but there's nothing like that in the song. It's literally: "Wanda looked all around this town and all she found was Earl".

She had ONE thing she was looking for in a man and that was that he, well, basically existed. Beyond that she didn't seem too goddamn picky did she?

All I'm saying is you don't scrape the bottom of the barrel and expect to get a fresh, shiny apple.

And you sure as hell can't blame the apple. Or at least not that gleefully.

Guys like him DO deserve to die and all, we're on the same page there, I'm just sayin...

Anyways, where was I?

Oh yeah,

River City was perfect till the Karaoke started. Partly because we were all drowned out by shitty renditions of Eagles songs (fortunately though, no Dixie Chicks) and partly because that's when my food arrived, which brings us to reason number two, my food SUCKED.

See, it's River City and they at least USED to be known for decent seafood. I like seafood and have ordered, at least twice in the past, the fish & chips which were quite satisfactory. It was a nice big, deep-fried fish fillet with steak fries. Tonight I got, well, you know the really cheap-ass, 'minced fish portions'? The really shitty ones that you got with your high school lunch? The ones that if you took them to the zoo and tossed them to the penguins (or really ANY fish-eating animal) they wouldn't recognize them as food? I got three of those resting on fries that were so small and poorly cooked that I couldn't eat them all.

Let me give you a second to process that.

I am a fat bastard. One of the fattest you're ever likely to meet (at least till my surgery comes through) and I was served food that I could not finish.

Someone that lives close to Rich Sanders may want to go over to his place and see if he hit his head when he passed out after reading that last statement.

To add further insult, the 'fish' cost me $9.99. I know for a fact that I could buy a whole box of those goddamn things for just over $2 AND a 5 lb bag of frozen french fries and it wouldn't have cost me $9.99. And furthermore I'd have FUCKING COOKED THEM PROPERLY!

I also had a dinner salad which was ok, and split an appetizer sampler with my sister which was also just ok.

Essentially I paid $34 and change for a microwaved meal from the Walmart freezer section that I could have prepared better myself at a fraction of the cost.

That $34 included like a $4 tip that was automatically added to my meal. Granted, my gripe wasn't with the waitress, she was good, but I hate this bullshit of automatically adding the tip to the meal. It's not a TIP that way. It's a SURCHARGE.

Anyhow, that's Murdoch's River City Tavern at 3420 Murdoch Avenue, Parkersburg, WV 26101

I shan't be going there again. Avoid it at all costs.

Matter of fact, if my stomach follows through with what I think is coming on I may have a whole new list of reasons for you to avoid it in the morning.

I may be building up to a Ring of Fire...



UPDATE: Tossed and turned all night, not that unusual, and had nightmares about zombies, slightly more unusual than you'd think. See, I almost never have dreams, at least not ones that I can remember. Gee, I wonder what could have brought on some fucked-up dreams?

Also, I realized why River City didn't serve the same quality fish as before. It's most likely due to the entire Gulf being covered in BP Oil, but you know what? If they had said "Due to the oil spill we're not serving fish." or "The fish isn't up to our usually quality, we recommend you order something else." then I'd have happily ordered something else, but they didn't do that. They brought out 'fish' of a quality that McDonalds wouldn't have served and charged me the same price as they would have for fresh fish.

I'd have sent it back, but nothing ruins a good time out like someone being a dick to the restaurant, even if said restaurant truly deserves it.

Again, that's Murdoch's River City Tavern at 3420 Murdoch Avenue, Parkersburg, WV 26101

If someone you know wants to go there then please pass this story on.

Ok, so here's the thing. Remember a short while ago when I mentioned that things are happening in my life right now that may be changing my life considerably? Well they're happening again.

Quite a bit of what's going on I'm still not at liberty to talk about, but the gist of it is I'm getting the fuck out of here as soon as fucking possible.

This is not a new plan. I had this plan back in 2001 when I couldn't find a decent job in this fucking town, but then I did the one thing that living in this town is actually good for. I died. And I'm here to tell you that dying will really fuck your life up completely and as I general rule I don't recommend it.

Actually that's not true. I'm sure if I kept a list by the end of each day there's be six people on it that I could heartily recommend a sudden, painful death to, but I don't have the kind of time to stay on top of lists like that which is why I go days at a time without going outside.

So I'm here, working a job I hate because I can't find one I hate somewhat less, then I die and things get considerably worse. I move into my Grandmother's old house to save money and be less of a burden on my family while I wait for the best medical science that the 1800's can provide to patch me back up and send me back to the job I couldn't stand that was probably, in at least SOME small way, contributory to my lower intestine exploding.

It seemed the prudent move at the time.

Except that I hadn't taken into account that the house was right in the middle of all the groups of people that I most hate and try to avoid. Now I'm not going to say that somewhere, on a purely masochistic level, that it hasn't been entertaining. It has been very entertaining. Mostly to you people, but entertaining nonetheless.

But I've come to realize that ever since I died I've been spending my time waiting on the next thing that's supposed to fix everything and all the while awaiting the inevitable failure of said solution.

It only took seven years.

I never said I was smart.

But when I finally got up to Morgantown to get my surgery done, the one that was supposed to be the final solution to everything, and it catastrophically failed I started thinking. The realization was that My life isn't going to move forward here.

Living in Parkersburg is like treading water in the middle of the Atlantic. It'll keep you alive, but what's the use? The rescue party isn't going to find you. Your only hope for a quick end comes with an Oscar award winning score by John Williams.

What the fuck was I talking about? Oh yeah. I suddenly find myself with no next thing that's supposed to fix everything and this depresses me, so I decide to start seeing a therapist again.

I'd managed to put together that when I'm here I feel bad and when I go away I feel good and you don't have to be Sigmund-fucking-Freud to figure that the fuck out, but I felt trapped by the whole “Just a few more months and everything will be ok” phenomenon which I've now COMPLETELY abandoned, which feels fucking GREAT!

The other thing that kinda kept me here, apart from believing that if I went elsewhere I'd never get my body fixed (which is ironic in that waiting for my body to get fixed has been steadily killing my mind) is that I'm afraid that if I spend enough time in any one place then I'll come to hate it too. That it's not the place, it's me, so why not stay in a place that really DESERVES my contempt, you know?

Well I'm now preparing to move to the next place that I'll surely come to hate in time. A lovely place that will quickly become the target of my undeserved wrath and you ungrateful bastards had better enjoy it.

Where was I? Right, the therapist. I'd been seeing one before and I liked her well enough, but after like the first visit when she assured me that I wasn't insane I really only kept going because the government was paying for it and she had really nice tits.

Fuck you people. I built this little corner of the interweb from which to say whatever the fuck I'm feeling. Not my fault you come here and read it.

But after the most recent medical fuck-up I was feeling kinda down, so I got a new therapist. I only stopped seeing the other one because she moved to Richie County and FUCK THAT PLACE.

In addition to having a nice rack my last therapist really didn't contribute much to what was going on. I'd go in, talk for an hour, stare at her chest, she'd take notes, probably ABOUT me staring at her chest and then I'd go home and engage in a bit of self-therapy and that was that.

One hour once a month for me to bitch about my problems to someone that doesn't know me. Some people say they can't talk about personal stuff to someone they don't know and I don't get that. I'm the other way. If I'm with someone that I don't know, they don't know me, we're probably never going to interact socially EVER there's is virtually nothing I can't tell them. The two reasons for this being that A: they have no preconceived notions about the things I'm saying based on having known me in the past and B: it's not like they're going to tell my friends.

It also kinda strikes me that I talk about a lot of shit on here too and most of you people have never and will never meet me and there's a lot more of you coming here than I ever expected., so, you know, thanks for contributing I guess.

And if I move to a place that I don't hate every minute of every day can I still be funny? It's like when my new therapist suggested anti-depressants, as have virtually all the medical professionals I've seen in the last ten years, (including, it's interesting to note, my DENTIST) I pointed out the following. I am a writer and an artist. I work primarily in the field of comedy and the heart of comedy, it's very soul, is Tragedy. More specifically, tragedy happening to SOMEONE ELSE.

Think about it. You get kicked in the balls, it's a tragedy. Guy across the street gets kicked in the balls, fucking HILARIOUS. So if I start taking drugs that distract me from the pain in my nuts then can I still entertain you fuckers? Most likely not. So my pain fuels my writing which entertains you guys which makes me happy, but drives me to continue being depressed.

So see, it's all YOUR fault.

Assholes.

So ASAFP I'm moving to Columbus Ohio.

I'm doing this for a variety of reasons. The biggest one being that they have good hospitals there. It's also not too far from home (but far enough that the Mid-Ohio-Valley air and water can't poison me anymore) and I know people there.

I know people here too, I know, and I encourage them to take my example and move to a place where the local economy isn't based on poisoning them.

I'm serious about that too, I've had a near-constant sinus infection for like the last year, spent two weekends out of town and it cleared up. Back home and after just a few hours my lungs hurt. Next morning, you guessed it, sinus infection. It's either this town or this house or both and since my only real option for getting out of this house is going back to my Mom's I'm going to Ohio.

I've got a lot of other stuff going on right now, but it'll have to wait. Got to get up early, hit the bank and drive up there to go apartment hunting. With luck I'll be up there before the first of next month.