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I wanna take a chance.

6 Jun

I wanna take a chance; not just any chance. I’m talking about a chance at life–a chance to be what/who-the-fuck-ever I CAN be.

As hard as it is for me to say this, I wanna take a chance to cry and feel…truly feel. You know, like you do. I’d like to walk into someone’s arms openly and not think, “I can’t trust you. I don’t know who you are; yet, I know you’ll hurt me.” When you put your arms around me, I want to know that we’re building crystal castles that are wavering, but we’re steadying the foundation together.

I wanna take the chance to be poetic. I’ve dreamed of writing prose that will sustain life force and carry a generation–better yet, you and I–into the prowess of tomorrow, conquering everyday one raindrop at a time. Is that too much to ask?

I wanna take a chance and grab today by the balls. (Without pain, there’s no virtue…no…gain.) I’m talking letting go of apprehension, indiscretion, judgement. This is taking a sigh of relief and knowing understanding accepting that everything will be what it will be. I’m imperfect, so what?

I wanna rise above my selfish. Yeah, that if-you-ain’t-got-yours-too-bad (sad but true), should be a thing of MY past…OUR past. I. Want. To. Embrace the fact that I’m a solitary orb arbitrarily on a course with the unknown, and quite frankly, I can’t control it. Redundant, but the way it is.  Damn right, I want a releeeassseeee!

Bottom line: I wanna take a chance and put this into the ionosphere in hope that you feel what I feel. Take a chance to know that I’m not alone.


Should I leave or should I go?

4 May

“Eye of The Tiger” is playing in the background. I’m leading the team as we’re running down the tunnel. We step out and just before I close my eyes, a cool breeze brushes across my cheek. Then…rip–right through the paper hung under the field goal post. The topper: said papter is decorated in glitter, rainbows, and the words (finger-painted in some foreign(?) secretion) Bitches, wee’rrrre baaaaccckkkkk!!!! 

Don’t judge my pre-game fantasy. This is our first post in a coupla months. I’m entitled. Now on to why you’re here. The thirty talk.


My choice is go w/ hands flailing, eyes closed, and mouth open. Just be careful of the bugs. #yuck

So, last night I got a pleasant, surprise call from a bestie. We’ll call her Kimchi. (Sidenote: If you knew how spot on racist this was, you’d be in a fit of laughter with me right now.) You see, Kimchi has called Denver her home for her entire 32 years of life and simply needs a change. I don’t know about you, but I get it. Hell, I don’t know how she lasted this long. I left Georgia on the first underground railroad car I could stow away on. She needs similar escape and to experience more in life. To grab the unknown by the balls and face fuck it.

Two days into her decision to choose the 3rd largest city in the good ol’ US of A to move to she started to panic. What if this is a bad decision? How can she leave a career that she’s worked so hard on with a stable company? What about not having the same support system in her new city? Will she make enough money to maintain the new-city-equivalent lifestyle  as she has in Denver? WHAT. IF. SHE .FAILS? <<<<I want to stay here for a moment. Let’s think about the role this question plays on the stage of life-changing decisions. Just marinate

After an hour and a half or so of conversing, she’d gone from panic mode  to loose preparation. I’m sure this isn’t without a modicum of anxiety for her; however, she’s thinking it through. Storyboarding, mapping, planning, whatever you want to call it–she’s doing it.

I bring this subject up today because I’m thinking that many of us have been here. I’ve been going through it myself since I quit my job 5 months ago. What age do we stop moving around from place to place and job to job? Especially those of us that are childless, marriage-less, and without any real anchors. When you hit 30, should you just settle with your current job if it’s safe and secure? Or is it okay to live on the edge a little if the mood strikes you? I mean, we’re not in our 20s anymore when being careless was a viable and totally reasonable option.

Scoundrels, are you ready to talk thirty again? GO!

And then there was us…alone together.

3 Feb

Whether we want to admit it or not, insecurities are a constant struggle. -theVar

While perusing the internet last night I came across an article on the state of “our” sadness in correlation to Facebook. Wow. What an eye opener. I’d never thought about the fact of Facebook creating this mode of thinking that other people are happier than me. I seriously attributed my self-deprecating tendencies to the lack of happy pills in my routine. Maybe I should remove Facebook from my life?! *raises eyebrow* Naahhhh! I’ll gladly subject myself to this “grass is always greener” mentality–mostly because I’m a masochist. Just ask my last boyfriend.

In all seriousness though, Elana Premack Sandler brings up a good point about how “I [am] playing into this dynamic myself.” Despite the fact that I’d like to think I have and will tell my Facebook constituents that I’m a scared little boy and don’t know what I’m doing with my life or how I couldn’t pay my rent because of poor money management, the reality is I’ve created this bubble of My. Life. Rules. My selective identity is very close to the one she describes for herself. Hell, this rings true for 99% of the people I follow on Facebook. But then again, is Facebook the place to air your dirty laundry?

I’m going to be the first to tell you I don’t want to hear about your sad sack of a life. That’s why you pay your therapist; however, throwing out dirty intel about your less than perfect life here and there couldn’t hurt either. I mean, we have to be honest with ourselves first if we intend on growing as individuals. Your…correction…Our lives aren’t perfect, and to pretend otherwise makes us seem, well, fake.

I’m not saying that I’m going to tell you about the next time I get diarrhea and shit my pants in the grocery store, but I will give this notion of Facebook making us “alone together” a little more thought the next time I compose a status update. What are your reactions now that you see Facebook through a different lens?

Does a man’s sexuality change in his 30s?

25 Jan


Straight from his mouth to God's ears.

You may think I made that up, but no! Someone actually found TTTM by searching for today’s blog title. First, I’d like to offer up, “Oh, man, thinking about the sexual conquest possibilities really makes me squish.” Clean up on aisle Var, please.


Anyhoo, I can only assume that this Googler, or whatever, was attempting to find out if men tend to come to terms with their sexual curiosity in their 30s more so than any other decade of existence. Personally, if someone were to say yes, I’d contend bollocks. That’s not to say it doesn’t happen, but that it happens when a person is comfortable enough with who they are and don’t worry about how the world views them. I’m not basing this on any statistics I’ve read or any specialists I’ve consulted. This is just my gut instinct.

Now this brings some questions to mind for me. 1.) Why would someone question their sexuality after 3 decades? 2.) <I pray the Googler is still following the blog, and if so, are you in a state of flux/questioning about your own sexuality? Do you have a friend experiencing this? Essentially, why did you google/yahoo/bing this string of terms? 3.) Hell, I want to know the answer to all of these when you substitute ‘woman’ for ‘man’. We’re dying to know your thoughts, so feel free to pipe up. In other words, comment. Do it!

I’ve gotta say I’m feeling very Dan Savage right now.

Long time no post, right?

24 Jan

Have you missed me? Quit lying. I know you have. Gosh, where do I begin? Hmmmm…let’s get an update going.

Well, since I last told you about me leaving my job, I’m proud to say that I’ve grabbed this new venture by the ears and is giving it the face-fucking of it’s life. Ahhhh, you’ve missed that colorful, yet ah-mazing imagery, haven’t ya?! What’s been interesting is that my eyes are now open to so much more. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t have the constraints of the 9-to-5, office environment, or because I dick around on the social webs all day trying to spark conversation. Either way, possibilities are truly endless in life, and you can do whatever you want when you want.

I’ve found that I have so many friends doing such great things. There’s 12 Questions that Spencer and Becky are tackling–you won’t regret this one. Sport and I are going to be their first interview. So. Effing. Exciting! Then there’s also Monk and Mao Photography and Crazy Mae’s Vegan Treats, which our girl Amber is going to drive right on home. Seriously, these cupcakes are a slice of heaven. Oh, and last but not least, there’s the Denver Craft Ninjas. Yeah, Becky has her hands in everything. She’s becoming my hero. (P.S. You can follow all of these amazing ventures on Facebook and Twitter.)

What else is there? *sighs* Time will tell, but I know one thing for sure. We are back people and ready to tear da club up. For those of you not with the lingo: We’re back and in gear. :)

Until tomorrow, scoundrels.

#reverb10 winding down

30 Dec

December 29th Prompt – Defining Moment: Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.

January 23rd I walked into the place I had planned on going for several months. Only the circumstances were very different. I had planned on walking through the door a newly married woman with a husband on my arm. Instead, I walked in alone. Sure I had a barrage of insanely supportive friends waiting inside. Sure I was about to drink my weight in martinis. Sure, even then, I knew I had done the right thing. But I swear to you all, I’ve never felt a heavier door in my life. – Sport

December 22nd Prompt – Travel: How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?

I didn’t. Come to think of it, I haven’t traveled much over the past 3 years or so. It’s really easy to get trapped in your localized lifestyle and disconnect from the reality that is much more global than your microcosm. Wouldn’t you say so?

But, this ends now. I’ve adopted a new lifestyle, and it’s all-inclusive. From Portland to Tampa to San Fran and beyond, I want everything these foreign lands have to offer. Scoundrels, who’s ready to see TTTM mobile? I know I am. -theVar

December 21st Prompt – Future Self: Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)

Um okay, I’m just going to skip that whole first part of this prompt for several reasons. One of which being that this is not an episode of Quantum Leap and the intellectual acrobatics required to get the verb tenses correct are just not what I’m about today.  But the bonus…

Dear Sport 10 years ago,

Stop buying all those damned Backstreet Boys albums. You’re just going to throw them out later. Other than that, keep doing exactly what you’re doing. You’re learning a lot and making tons of mistakes that will only yield wisdom upon reflection.


-Sport today

December 20th Prompt – Beyond Avoidance: What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)

Hahahaha. Boy, oh boy! Dating. I ran from that shit like it had stank on it. Scared, worried, unsure, insecure, busy, otherwise deterred, you name it; I’ve had the excuse for not doing letting some hot specimen enjoy the scrumptious that is theVar.

Will I do it? Bonus? Ha—it is to laugh. Precedent set, I’d have to say no. I’m not sure this is an affliction(?) I can get over. 2011 may have a better plan in store for me on this front. Here’s to hoping. *cheers* –theVar

Weekly Rant – F*ck You, Facebook [Updated]

21 Dec

Update (12/22/10 9:51am): Okay, so Zucker-bah. *sighs* Zucker-bah. Zucker-bahhh. Awww, screw it. Zuckerberg isn’t so bad after all. I’m not so much a bastardized dick that I can’t see the greatness in him donating $100 million to the public school system of Newark, New Jersey–a place, as the article points out, he’s never lived. *golf clap* to you Zuckerberg. But, make no mistake. I’ve still got my eye on you, buddy!


Head in ass

Get your head out of your ass, Facebook.


If I may be frank, Clean. Your. Shit. Up. You can consider this our coming to Jesus talk. I’ve told you once, hell, I’ve told you twice–I have no problem giving Twitter 100% of theVar’s time. (You see this shit. You’ve got me talking in 3rd person. That’s how fed-up I am.) Where do you get off constantly changing crap and just telling your users to deal with it. Wait. Correction. You don’t tell us anything. Nawwww, Facebook. You think that because you’re a big baller on the social web front, we’re suppose to eat and like everything you’re serving up.

And I’m sure Zuckerbucket getting Time Magazine’s Person of the Year is going to your head. Is that what happened last week? Sure, you say “some internal prototypes caused the site to be inaccessible” to the majority of your readers. Let’s be honest, asshats. You became overzealous in light of news of  the Zuckerloser announcement.

Hmmm, come to think of it, I should be mad at Time Magazine. They know you turds are arrogant and full of shit. Why would they give you such an award? Scratch that. I guess it would only be fitting they give it to Zuckerbooger. Hitler received the same award in 1939. Could the two megalomaniacs be related? *shoulder shrug*

I like you, Facebook. You definitely serve a purpose. All I’m asking is that you see what your users want. Stop leaving us in the dark, changing shit up, and pissing us off to the highest of pisstivity. Is that too much to ask?

Consider yourself #gloveslapped, fool!

Weekly Rant: Really mom?

17 Dec

I’m coming to you from the back of my closet, knees tucked to chest, and a bottle of whiskey in hand. She’s invaded, and the fate of my world is looking bleak. Dun, dun, dunnn…


I’m grown now. I thought it would be clever and quite effective to tell my mom just how ridiculous she is. Come on. Who likens boneless chicken breast you get from the grocery store to a chicken breast sandwich at McDonald’s? And when asked why she wouldn’t eat it, replies with ‘it doesn’t have a bone in it.’ :/

Or, how about this. We’ve eaten fried, fried, and did I mention fried(?) for 6 days now. Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that she’s cooking for me, but dayum!

Speaking of food, there has been the case of the gourmet hot dog, with mustard, ketchup, and onion only, that was the nastiest thing she’d ever had. (For those living in Denver, I got dogs from Steve’s Snappin’ Dogs. Steevvveee’s. You can’t go wrong with Steve’s.) O_o

If you’ve ever visited my place when the boiler is on, you know it’s hotter than two bats in a wool sock fucking. But, to my mom, it’s 2 below–even when the temp gauge says it’s 70 degrees in December! Yet, I have to suffer and bear the radiant heat being on. Seriously, my ball sweat is sweating. :|


You see, what you’ve been reading, I opened the door for these situations to happen. I invited my mom to visit me. In my 1-bedroom. During December. For 29 days. What? I was trying to be a loving son. One that’s attentive and caring and the best. My mom has heart issues and other medical complications I’m trying to be sensitive to here. She’ll be 58 tomorrow, and I want to see her live long and prosper. She’s here because I like to see her experience more than rural Georgia has to offer. <3

As a result of trying to reconcile the radness of having her around,  guilt for my indignance, sadness about her health, and frustration over her approach to her health needs,  I’ve since found out I’m actually the son that’s suicidal and impatient and ungrateful. Ultimately, the <=8

Oh, it’s 8am and I’ve heard her recite Denver’s temperature timeline for the day to 3 different people on the phone already. *smh*

Pray for me. We still have 23 days left. :P

365 Days of 30

14 Dec

I’m a day late and a dollar short, but you’re gonna sit down and read this. Why? Because, we’re about to embark on a journey. Not a journey of the average variety. This is a journey of Var from December 8, 2009, to December 8, 2010. A journey of food, eating, sleeping, pooping, drinking, pissing, and an occasional ‘fuck your life’ and ‘kiss my ass.’

You’re about to get a glimpse into the first year of a 30 year old. The do’s and don’ts. While reading this you’ll learn what it’s like not to have as much sex as you like in your thirtieth year. How a new chapter of life was started, new friends made, good-bye said to some, and the others – they need to be strangled.

Oh yes, my friends, this is a journey. One that you’ve pretty much heard the extent of already. One that I’m honestly tired of rambling about.

How do you like my attempt at the dramatic? Don’t judge me. I know it was an #epicfail. Jerks!

No. Seriously, this first year of my thirties has been one of great transformation. I’ve never felt more alive than now. The world is my oyster, and I’m going to take it by storm. This feeling of control is quite exhilarating. With full clarity, I understand that I’m my sole determinant and the only one that can stand in my way.

It is weird feeling like an “adult”–whatever in the hell that’s suppose to mean. But I am starting to react differently to situations and view my life from a slightly awkward angle. I feel the need for grown up things in my apartment. For the abode not to look so much like a bachelor pad or dormitory. I want to do things with my friends that resemble the scenes I witnessed my parents act out when I was a kid. Now I entertain; not just pre-party. Shit, my 31st birthday was a sophisticated(?) birthday with two friends at a nice restaurant and a night cap at a local pub, complete with a fantastic Gin Gimlet.

Did I mention the early bedtimes? Holy titty fucker of Mary Magdalene, I’ve become no stranger to a 9pm nighty-night–sometimes 8:30. Hard to say most nights. Sport, can I get an amen?

Many of you scoundrels are in your thirties already and have your on war stories about year 30. To you, I charge you to share those in the comments. For those that are entering your thirtieth year (or close to it), know that you are about to own this shit.

Okay. Now I’m tired. I have a glass of wine to finish and bed. Scoundrels vs. the wine. You weigh it out and tell which wins. Deuces, bitches!

Brunch (via Hot Sofa)

11 Dec

We get to spend our brunch with Enya from Hot Sofa and some of our other favorite lovelies tomorrow. Don’t be jealous!

I’ve gotta say, I’d never thought about the maturation of my brunch habits until Hot Sofa laid them out for me. Check it out. I think she hit the nail on the head.

Brunch I have a hot brunch date coming up on Sunday. After much schedule discussion, taking into consideration adequate time to accommodate for some holiday party hangover recovery, this group of friends decided on a time. One-thirty in the afternoon. Bring on the waffles! I fully expect this “brunch” to last at least three hours. I’d be shocked if it didn’t. Something about tasty food, catching up, and planning future events does not bode well for a sh … Read More

via Hot Sofa

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