Tom Cathey 2: "Through Being Cool."

2011 Review: The Year in Gaming

2011-01-05T08:43:00.000-08:00

"Dude, you haven't written anything in six months and you're 'coming out' in 2011 with a video game blog?"

It's absurd, I know, especially with the wide breath of psychological delvings I'm engaged in the past several months since I kicked off the blog. It'd make an interesting case study for armchair psychologists like myself and good 'ole Somalian refugee Dan Starr (I say that because the Dan I've always known was like a kind and gentle Jack Black. Now he looks kind of like Peter Griffin in the episode of 'Family Guy' where he gets plastic surgery and has all of the fat sucked out his ass).

By the way, I have been writing an NFL blog for a group of high school buddies and that occupied most of my writing free time; so all of my time hasn't been a complete waste. The rest of my time has been consumed by my son, Starkiller, the transition to a new job and the weekly viewing of approximately 24 hours of NFL football. That said I managed to log in quite a bit of gaming time this year (as per usual), playing on a 15-inch 2004 Samsung LCD with the sound off or slightly whipsering through a 1998 set of Sony headphones.

I had to delay my now annual list a few weeks to allow me time to get to a few games I needed to play to make a sound judgement in what was an oustanding year of gaming on all consoles except the Wii, which gathered six months of dust until the Goldeneye redux hit.

So, now I give you my top 10 games of 2010.

10. Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood XBOX, PS3

Leading up the release of AC: Brotherhood, let's say my excitement was tepid, kind of like a puddle of vomit in Charlie Sheen's pool house. Just last year UBISOFT (Assassin's Creed publisher/IP owner) stated that they wanted to let the AC property breathe to avoid Nickelbackish-oversaturation. I guess $80 million in additional revenue was too much to pass-up. After 2 hours into what I felt was an obligatory playthrough of a game in a franchise I really liked, Brotherhood sucked me in. Brotherhood isn't just AC 2.5, it's a game that stands on it's own as a true sequel to one of the best games of last year. Ezio (something Italian) returns to wage war on the Pope and other corrupt denizens to restore justice to Italy. What Brotherhood turns out to be is a satisfying, sandbox romp with sweet-ass play mechanics, a solid story and supposedly great multiplayer (which I won't touch because if I talk too loud it'll wake up Starkiller, then I have to put him back to sleep; I'd rather get kicked in the face with a golf shoe). I'm salivating for the inevitable 2011 AC entry and the continuation of a pretty shocking/confusing ending sequence.

(Note-Ubisoft announced today, actually, that a new Assassin's Creed game will hit shelves this year. I guess when you've got two hit franchises in your stable (Splinter Cell being the other), why not oversaturate the market, like Scott Stapp.)

9. Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker PSP

It's no secret that I have a secret man-crush on Hideo Kojima and David Hayter (voice of Snake and Screenwriter of the good X-Men films). Last year I listed Metal Gear: Solid as the best game of all time, and Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots was as rivoting as 80% of the films I've seen in the last five years. Peacewalker began development as Metal Gear Solid 5, but when Kojima decided to take the franchise in a new direction after the end of Solid Snake (I'm talking about the Raiden game, who redeemed himself quite nicely in MGS4 after the relative debacle of MGS 2) he moved it to the PSP. Peacewalker is simply the MGS we know and love, with groundbreaking graphics and sound never seen on a handheld. In addition to the awesome, familiar gameplay, there's actually a pretty cool Strategy/RTS element that adds hours and hours of gameplay. Simply put, if you're a fan of MGS (and who isn't), Peacewalker is worth purchasing a PSP alone.

8. God of War: Ghost of Sparta PSP

Greece's angriest man/god Kratos makes his second appearance on Sony's fading portable system in jaw-dropping fashion. It's officially a prequel game, and the story's script does a great job of telling most of Kratos' backstory and adds a much-needed human touch to gaming's biggest jerk. What developer Ready at Dawn accomplishes on PSP's hardware is mind-boggling, with gorgeous visuals and trademark GoW sounds filling your headphones. And what's better is that the game runs without an install (here's taking a shot at you, Peacewalker and your .8 GB install on my 1 GB Memory Stick). Ghost of Sparta might be the last great PSP game, but as a part of a stalwart, must-play franchise, Ghost of Sparta fits in nicely with the rest of the GoW catalogue.

7. Fallout: New Vegas XBOX 360

I played Fallout 3 until my eyes bled in the Fall/Winter of 2008 shortly after my job cratered. Bethseda patterned their virgin foray into the much-beloved Fallout IP after their Elder Scrolls series, which basically melded into an Oblivion-FPS experience that to this day goes unmatched. For New Vegas, Bethseda handed the development duties to Obsidian (Knights of the Old Republic II), and they didn't disappoint. New Vegas, while not as good as Fallout 3 (based on Qui-Gon Jinn alone), does a damned fine job of taking the humor, action and exploration from Bethseda's book and making it their own. While initially buggy as hell, the game update in December made the game very playable, and well, one of the best of 2010.

6. God of War III PS3

As mentioned above, Kratos, gaming's angriest man, is a absolute blast to watch as he slays his family and every single Greek god ever on a hellbent path of Frank Castle-esque revenge. God of War II launched in early 2007, five months after the release of the PS3. It was so delightfully tasteful that the legions of Kratos' disciples clamored for the next-gen installment. Luckily, David Jaffe and the team at Santa Monica delivered a spectacular coup de grace for the blood-drenched Spartan. GoW III displays some of the finest visuals on any system anywhere, and classic series' epic set pieces do not disappoint. Twists and turns in the plot keep you from setting your controller down start to finish. The end of Kratos was a beautiful thing to experience, or if you're like me and sat through the hours worth of credits (hyperbole), is it the end? Millions of dollars tells me that we'll be seeing the God of War again.

5. Halo: Reach XBOX 360

Earlier this year when Bungie announced that it had finally broken free of Bill Gates' Klingon grip (with a D&D dice strapped to a biscotti from Starbucks) and was going to work independently for Activision on a new IP, the Halo Universe was turned on it's head. Bungie promised to deliver on their final Halo entry, as Halo 2 and 3 disappointed in the story department (who the $%#* wants to play as a brute voiced by Keith David?). While there is no Master Chief (directly) in this entry, Reach does a fine job of establishing an emotional tie between a sqaud of unknown characters in a Master Chief-less game and weaves the tale of the launch of the Halo Universe as we know it. What's amazing while playing through this game is the realization that the controls haven't changed a bit (other than the sprint function) since Combat Evolved on the OG XBOX. It goes to show how the first Halo entry redfined the FPS genre on consoles. Well done, Bungie, and good luck on your exclusive deal with Activision. Maybe we can get a non-Halo/Blizzard game with a damn out of that conglomerate without soaking your new IP in vats Guitar Hero mind-washing.

(Note: Activision suspended Guitar Hero last week. Thank. God.)

4. Call of Duty: Black Ops XBOX 360

Meh. Call of Duty. Modern Warfare 2, while critically well-received on the strength of it's robust multiplayer package, sucked as a single player experience. I'm not a fun of online multiplayer gaming unless it's with one of my stabe of gaming buds (Martin, Wall, Doosh, Dan). There're too many 13-year-olds who just learned how to cuss and berate everyone within earshot. Black Ops didn't rate high on my anticipation meter. Especially after Activision literally (I'm not kidding here) locked members of developer Infinity Ward in their offices to work Korean-Slave-Labor hours until CoD games were finished, which led to a nasty lawsuit and the break-up of the Infinity Ward team. The recipient of the Call of Duty IP? Treyarch. The same Treyarch responsible for Spiderman and Spiderman 2 (last generation XBOX and Playstation) and the average Spiderman 3 on 360 and Playstation. While I thought the game would be crappier than Will Ferrell's last four movies, Black Ops was the one of the most engrossing and exciting single player FPS experiences in years. A pretty sweet-ass voice cast consisting of Ed Harris, Sam Worthington and 'Are We There Yet' star Ice Cube, among others, makes this one a must have.

3. Heavy Rain-PS3

After 23 years in development (sarcasm), Heavy Rain hit in early 2010, and it did not disappoint. Sure, a serial killer who abducts male children and and leaves creepy clues about his victim's murders might be a bit, uh, distasteful, Heavy Rain adds life to a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' genre that needed a reboot. There's little true 'gameplay' to be had, as you make your way through the game on quasi-rails segments that are punctuated by excellent story telling. Every single decision you make alters gameplay and helps create one of dozens of endings that affect each of the main characters' fate. It's nigh impossible to do everything the 'right way', because there is no 'right way'. My playthrough yielded the untimely death of my favorite character, all because I couldn't press the X button quick enough to save him from careening off a cement platform. Heavy Rain is phenomenal and a must-play experience on every level.

2. Mass Effect 2- XBOX 360

Bioware, the masters of RPG storytelling (Knights of the Old Republic, Dragon Age, Mass effect) haven't lost their edge despite being purchased by EA Games. Many gamers grimaced when the news came that meddlesome EA had control over the famed developer, but it appears Bioware retained a unseen amount of control. Mass Effect 2 builds upon the excellent story of the first game, where many of your decisions were saved and implimented based on your Save Data from the first entry. Mass Effect 2 is a 30-hour-romp through multiple planets with the same great knack for story, setting and feel that made the first game so great. The game is smoother, slicker and more polished. If you're a fan of RPGs and you haven't played Mass Effect 2, you're doing yourself a grave inservice.

1. Red Dead Redemption-XBOX 360

Do you remember Red Dead Revolver? The game released in 2004 to little fanfare as Rockstar's (Grand Theft Auto) take on the Old West. Rockstar purchased the game from Capcom, and the final product was very psuedo-Japanese, complete with exploding effeminate clowns. Fast forward to 2010. After five years in development, Rockstar released Red Dead Redemption, the spritual follow-up to their first game, and it's one of the greatest games ever made: PERIOD. Red Dead is GTA in the Old West, with a real-time ecosystem and environment. A beautiful, expansive world with gorgeous graphics, an amazing soundtrack (I almost cry when I hear 'Dead Man's Gun' on my iPhone) and a protagonist that blurs the line between right and wrong. The Housers crafted a wonderful script with great 'Deadwood'-like dialogue, and the engrossing 30-hour single player playthrough is satisfying even as the credits roll. To boot, Rockstar added the hands-down best DLC ever in Red Dead Nightmare. I'm sure we'll get another Red Dead game based on the smashing success of this title. Congrats Rockstar, you've done it again.

Epilogue

While 2010 was a good year in gaming, 2011 looks to be the best of all-time. Dead Space 2 (just played through; totally sweet), Dragon Age II, Metal Gear Solid: Rising, SSX, Resistance 3, Max Payne, LA Noire, Uncharted 3, Arkham City, Gears of War 3, Marvel vs. Capcom 3, Elder Scrolls V, Bioware/EAs MMO Star Wars: The Old Republic two new handhelds: 3DS and NGP, Hunted, Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, Team Ico's The Guardian, are some of the highlights, and there are others that show serious promise. If you want my early pick for 2011's GOTY, it's Uncharted 3.

If I could be serious for a second...

2010-08-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

Just as I finished my fantasy football blog this afternoon, I sat for a second, pondering topics on which to write. Mel Gibson? How much the sports teams in Houston suck? The midpoint review in video games? It all pretty much sounds like garbage.

The standard thing to do is to just start writing about my life. That's just way too boring for me. I'm a guy with a child and a wife. I have a dog named Simon. I go to work, have a few hobbies, sleep...you get the picture. It's just not very entertaining, nor is it exciting to write about, which in the end is the ultimate goal. So that leads me to my, "what do I do, now?' moment.

My last post, the 'Starbucks' post, was just way too long, and to be honest it's pretty taxing. But it's what I like to write. I like to write stories, whether it be about my life or a Self-Made Diva. So I've decided I'll try something new to stir the pot. I'll be rolling it out over the course of the next few weeks, but it'll take a lot of work. So I don't know when I'll be updating the TC2 blog; that is unless you want to read about what I had for dinner every day.

Starbucks: Back the $##%@ Off

2010-07-06T20:31:00.000-07:00

It is Friday. The four grueling days that exploded into each other to create an evil, doppelganger Voltron from hell (one really long day) lay strewn across the Toll-Tagged path in my rearview. It is Friday. It's dry-cleaner's day. It's garbage day. It's, "What are we doing this weekend?" day. It's also Starbucks day.

The green, digital microwave clock blinks 6:59; the green digital microwave clock right beneath it blinks 7:00. I didn't care enough after the most recent power outage to completely synchronize the two down to the second. I'd half-assed it, which in many ways summarized my life.

I begrudgingly grab my black leather work bag, a low-carb protein shake from the fridge and an arm full of dress slacks and button-down Oxford shirts. I kiss my son of the forehead, who's beginning his day with a six-episode run of the 2002 'Masters of the Universe' reboot before choking down a gallon's worth of breast milk. I pause briefly as Skeletor threatens Teela with the destruction of Eternia, and think for a moment, "Didn't Frank Langella play Skeletor in the Dolph Lundgren live action version?" After five seconds and no answer I commit the question to memory in an effort to jog the mid-commute 'check IMDB on my cell phone' forty-five minutes later. Screw you, Oprah. When's the last time you've driven anywhere?

On my way through the utility room I fumble a red Van Husen shirt and a pair of Greg Norman khakis. I curse under my breath before bending down to reach for the lost articles. My ridiculously heavy work bag slips off of my shoulder and crashes to the floor. I curse under my breath, again, but this time I add a few extra hyphens to the tapestry of profanity.

I slam my work bag and armful of four-year old clothes into the trunk. At the same time I'm proud and ashamed of my wardrobe. Ashamed because I've spent approximately $5,000 on videogames since I've last spent a dime on dress attire (WWE t-shirts not included in this estimate), yet beaming since I could still cram my steadily expanding ass into an ancient pair of slacks I've owned since 2006.

With the household garbage can positioned at the right-hand corner of the driveway (it's got to be on the right hand side or it won't be picked-up; no kidding), I wheel out of the driveway toward my weekly cup of the world's finest premium blend.

Starbucks: You either love it or you hate it. It's became the catch-phrase, main stream embodiment of a Microsoft-like empire, ripe for an anti-trust declaration and socialization of assets. It was the coffee house that all of the enlightened hipsters went to before Starbucks 'sold out' and went mainstream, thus causing the beatnik-crowd to seek out Ma and Pa coffee shops that nobody goes to. Now that everyone over the age of 13 patronizes Starbucks regularly, it's a social cliche wrapped in a metaphor wrapped in fable. To me, it's a great cup of coffee; but with that great coffee comes a few thorns.

So this coffee Friday, the local Starbucks on Sawdust Road in Spring, Texas came to behold all that is good and bad about America's favorite coffee chain. The following is presented in first person narrative form.

The drive-thru line seemed to stretch longer than the cars stacked behind each other in, 'Field of Dreams.' Reluctantly I pulled into the log-jammed parking lot, which resembled I-45 at 5:30 P.M. on a Wednesday, and luckily found a spot on the edge of the parking lot. In the all-time history of parking lots, this spot would likely be considered in the bottom fifth. But at Starbucks on a Friday morning? Golden.

I turned of my ignition and watched as a hunter green Dodge Caravan pulled in next to me. A squatty, middle-aged woman looked at me behind Sally Jesse-Raphael eyeglass frames. We sized each other as we got out of our cars. I paced around the back of the minivan. You guess it: Soccer Mom. Three kids, 'Jaden', 'Baden' (WTF is Baden?) and 'Kayden,' were stuck to the tinted rear window of the pitiable family wagon. Jaden was number 9 and he played baseball. Baden was 11 and she was a cheerleader for the youth football league. And little Kayden? She was a Girl Scout, while another in the band of 'Adens' was on the elementary honor roll.

While I was wasting time pondering the 'Aden' epidemic (and the ridiculous amount of people just flat out making up names for their kids, Soccer Mom was in full power walk glory. Her flat, brown sandals were plodding against the concrete while the excess from her Zack Morris leather braided belt flapped wildly in the breeze. Soccer Mom beat me easily to the door and into the Starbucks. With Soccer Mom in front of me, I knew I was screwed (more on that later).

The interior sounded and looked a lot like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. There were an assortment of employees, running around crazily and shouting esoteric terms that mean absolutely nothing in English.

'Venti Half-Caf No-Whip Soy Mocha Latte with no Sprinkles!"

And of these employees, two looked like f*&$ing vampires (more on that later, too).

The line was longer than usual for a Friday, with a lot of faces I didn't recognize from past Friday runs. In a perfect world, with each of the folks in front of me getting coffee, I'd be out in less than five minutes. However, people don't order coffee at Starbucks. They order drinks.

For example, let's take Soccer Mom, who was standing in front of me. Now, by the looks of Soccer Mom, I put a Caramel Macchiatto on her, with the potential for extra whip. Now this on it's own wasn't too bad. Yes, the assortment of Lattes and Frappes at a Starbucks can potentially add an additional three minutes per customer worth of wait, but it's a calculated assumption when ordering at a Starbucks. However, Soccer Mom comes with some risk. For Soccer Mom it's Friday, and with the flock likely at baseball camp/Mother's Day Out/summer school, it could be scrapbooking day, or bridge (card game) day with all of the other Soccer Moms. You know what that means? Instead of one 'drink' that adds three minutes of wait time, there're six drinks that add 18 minutes to the wait time. You catch my drift?

The line slowly began to dwindle, and the 'barista' at the espresso machine asked Soccer Mom what she wanted. Right on cue, Soccer Mom rattled off five drinks, three of which were hot chocolate, however (meaning that the kids were likely still waiting in the car) and two lattes.

'Not too bad,' I thought. The barista then turned to me.

'What'll it be, bro?"

I wanted to scream out loud.

'All I want is a cup of F*&$ing coffee. Plain-ass black coffee.'

I didn't say that, though. I answered politely.

'Just coffee for me.' What a douche.

There were still two people in front of myself and Soccer Mom, so I took the free time to survey the 'dine-in' crowd at the Starbucks on Rayford Road. All of the old standbys were there. There were, "Morning-Meeting-At-Starbucks-Business Guys" at one table. 'Unemployed-But-Hanging-At-Starbucks-Because-My-Wife-Is-On-My-Ass Guy' lurked in the corner, cramming a bagel whilst wiping his hands on the want ads. Then there was my favorite, "Working-On-My-Manuscript-On-My-MacBook Pro-Guy." This guy is in every single Starbucks on the planet 24 hours a day. Not only is he so cool that he has to be seen working on his manuscript, but he also has the audacity to drink his coffee out of a mug instead of the provided to-go cups. MacBook Pro + Brought-From-Home Mug=complete, total doucher.

My turn in line was fast approaching, with only Soccer Mom's 1988 hair do absconding me from the endgame. The cashier was clad in black save for his green Starbucks apron. Two of his fingernails were painted black, and he wore dark eyeliner around both of his eyes. On the front of his apron were two buttons, "Team Edward", and "Team Jacob."

Now I think I've been pretty outspoken here in my criticism of 'Twilight' and everything it stands for, so I don't want to stray too far down that path. But it's alarming to me the number of young adults these days fancy themselves as actual, true-life vampires. Pale skin, eyeliner, dyed black hair...you all are single-handedly making vampires out to be total soppy douches.

More than one person has pointed out my Star Wars fandom as a counterpoint to my hatred of the Twilight epidemic. This point does have some validity. However, are there adults living their daily lives, or better yet working at a Starbucks dressed as Jar-Jar Binks or Ephant Mon? Didn't think so.

Just as I finished pondering Twilight and it's relative lameness, Soccer Mom grabbed her tray of drinks and did the PTA walk out of the building to meet her cast of 'Adens' Finally, it was my turn.

'What are you having?' asked one of the ranking members of Team Jacob/Edward.

'Large Coffee.'

'Just a coffee?'

'Yes. Just a coffee.'

I Know they say there's Only like, 5 original stories, but c'mon...

2010-06-07T18:41:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago suburban married 20-something wannabes (chicks) put on their skaniest cocktail dresses and sauntered out to Saturday matinees in droves to catch the latest exploits of Sarah Jessica-Parker and her merry band of sea-hags as they attempted to bring their unique brand of Western sleeze to the Middle East. Trust me, these women exist in all age brackets, skanking-out and dressing-up like their favorite film stars in public.

While it's socially acceptable for these women, these bastions of what's socially acceptable what's not ('videogames are for kids', 'fantasty football is stupid', etc.), to play make believe, it's apparently the height of all geekdom to dress like Grand Amdiral Thrawn and attend a Star Wars convention. At least the Star Wars nerds are doing it behind closed doors amongst their own.

With the coming of, 'Sex in the City 2', 'Iron Man 2' and the new Shrek film, it's obvious now more than ever that Hollywood studios lean a bit too much tried-and-true franchises before taking a step onto the ledge with new properties. While sequels are generally an okay proposition (according to me) considering that they're typically based on original properties, the newest epidemic threatens to undermine every single film we hold near to our hearts. That epidemic? The remake.

When I read that Will Smith's kid, Jaden (quick hats off to Will and Jada who were at the forefront of the 'choose a letter and end the name with 'aden' movement), I almost broke down into tears. It's bad enough that Will Smith, Jr.'s getting his own vehicle based solely on the fact that his dad is Will Smith (and that he plays a great whiny little kid in 'The Pursuit of Happyness'), but what's worse is that Hollywood is remaking films left and right, and ruining our classics in the process.

Want proof that Hollywood is out of ideas? Okay, let's start with the most recent, "Nightmare on Elmstreet" remake. Remember the "Halloween" remakes of last year and a few years earlier? What about, "Alice in Wonderland," "Clash of the Titans"?

And you want to know what's coming? "Total Recall", "Tron", "The Neverending Story" and now maybe freaking "Jaws"! Isn't anything sacred? It's bad enough that we have to deal with the F&$^ing "Twilight" epidemic and vampire craze that's running rampant across the landscape, now we're remaking bonafide classics. What's next, "Gone With The Wind" starring George Clooney and Halle Berry? (I know what you're thinking; a black leading actor in a Jim Crow Southern setting? Look, if Nick Fury can be black, then anything's possible).

So for anyone who still holds, "Sweep the Leg" near and dear to the hearts, here are a few films I think have to happen.

ALF: The Movie

Say what you want, Alf had a hell of a run in his day. A bonafide hit TV show that finished near the top of the ratings for years running is absolutely due for a motion-picture redux. So following on the heels of 'Miami Vice' and 'The A-Team', here's what I project for 'Alf: The Movie'.

Title: "Alf: The Movie"

Tagline: "What the *&$% not?"

Director: Ang Lee

Cast:

Alf-Sarah Jessica-Parker

Willie Tanner-Charles Grodin

Kate Tanner-Julia Louis-Dreyfuss

Lynn Tanner-That Chick From Twilight

Brian Tanner-That Guy From Twilight

Synopsis: The Tanner's world is rocked when a furry brown alien, Alf (played by Parker; no need for make-up)crash lands in their back yard. Willie Tanner (Grodin) and wife, Kate (Louis-Dreyfus) take Alf in to promote as a circus sideshow act across the country. Lynn and Brian (Twilighters) fight to keep Alf as a member of the family and save him from their parents' exploitation. In the process, Lynn and Brian fall in love and scheme to adopt Alf, who finds value to the SPCA as a cat-eater.

Punky Brewster: Brandon Strikes Back

Title: "Brandon Strikes Back"

Tagline: "Brandon's had enough!"

Director: Tim Burton

Cast:

Punky Brewster-Helena Bonham-Carter

Brandon the Wonderdog-Sarah Jessica-Parker

George Gaines-Johnny Depp (Who else?)

Plot:

All is well for George and Punky in their new found life until mysterious paranormal activites start ravaging their Chicago apartment. George consults a priest (Michael Keaton) who performs an exorcism on the abode. Brandon (Parker: Once again, no make-up) reveals himself as a long lost descendent of the Egyptian God Anubis, says that he requires the blood of a virgin to complete the ultimate pyramid in heaven. The entire cast is swallowed whole into the bowels of the Earth and turn into claymation.

Perfect Strangers

Title: "Dance of Joy"

Tagline: "Don't be ridikulas"

Director: McG

Cast:

Larry Appleton-Christian Bale

Balki Bartokomous-Sean Penn

Sheamus McEvil-Phillip Seymour Hoffman

General Frenzy-Sam Elliot

Plot:

When Larry Appleton (Bale) gets word that his cousin, Balki (Penn), is coming to live with him, things get raw. Appleton, wary of his cousin's past (secret agent for the Myposian government), begins to fear for his safety. General Frenzy (Elliot) catches Appleton off-guard, and ensnares Balki at O-Haire airport. Frenzy recruits Balki and Appleton to take down the evil Sheamus McEvil (Hoffman), an oil magnate obsessed with covering the East Coast of the United States in oil. Appleton is forced to come to terms with what his cousin is capable of, and must learn how to be a man in the process of confronting McEvil.

Okay New Orleans, Get the #$%@ over it...

2010-05-03T18:55:00.000-07:00

Count me in the 'hates-puppies' camp, as I was among the three people outside of the state of Indiana (and the Manning family) pulling for the Colts to win the Super Bowl last February. The Saints had barely eeked their way past Brett Favre to 'earn' the right to play for professional football's biggest prize, and nobody on the Saints team really gave me the Rudy-vibe underdog vibe enough for me to cast my vote in their camp. Plus I just could not get over Drew Brees' year-long tape worm as it clinged to his cheek like the tattered shred of a pap smear gone wrong. (Counting down the seconds here until every boat-shoe wearing, greasy-hair-having dude whose last name ends in 'eaux' comments with a, 'it's from a birthmark you douchebag.' 5....4....3....2....)

Here we are four months later, and the tattered Saints flags are still waving from car windows at an alarming rate. Aside from the undying, unyielding purveyance of black and gold vehicle decor, the constant crowing of the once petrified and ashamed fan base is borderline insufferable. It actually reminds me of LSU fan, who now is out in full force after Nick Saban (take that) turned around the fledgling program and made it into a national power despite Les Miles' best efforts to ruin the 'Dynasty that Saban Built (more boat shoe wearers in any minute...).

But Drew Brees recently made damn sure to dismantle the Saints dynasty built on savvy personnel moves and Vicodin (I'm talking to you, Sean Payton) when he agreed to be the cover athlete for this year's NFL Madden 11 videogame, which is due to release this August. It's long understood that Madden cover athletes are cursed to some sort of demise, permanent or temporary. The laundry list is longer than Greg Oden's...

Michael Vick served prison time for running illegal dog fighting ring, lying to federal investigators and animal cruelty leading to a year-long suspension. Vince Young took a 9 millimeter pistol to eat a basket of chicken wings, was suspended by the Titans and had a 9/17 TD-INT ratio in 2008. Daunte Culpepper, Eddie George, Marshall Faulk and Shaun Alexander all experienced the genesis of their decline in their 'Cover Seasons', before becoming NFL has-beens. Ray Lewis, Donavan McNabb and Troy Polamalu were all injured for the first time in their careers. Cover of Madden an honor? Probably. Chances of you making it through the next season unscathed? Zero. (Except for Brett Favre, and to be honest, Brett Favre is a cut above the rest of these douchers. Brett Favre is a man. He wears Wranglers. He plays pick-up football games in muddy pastures with his best friends from high school. Oh, and he posts the best season of his career when he's forty. What's your dad doing when he's forty? Exactly.)

Given the obvious, indisputable evidence supporting the Madden Curse and all of its ramifications, it's interesting to ponder what the power of the Curse could wield if it were used for good. What would happen, for example, if we put Tony Romo on the cover? Could Tony quit choking like Nick Anderson in the playoffs? Could Jerry Jones and the Stay-Puft Marsh-----er----Wade Phillips hold a non-Landry/Johnson Lombardi trophy above their heads?

As much as I hate Tony Romo and the horse he rode in on (Jessica Simpson), I'm willing to put the 'curse' to good use. So I present to you, five years of the curse used for good as we all know the NFL looks more like an episode of 'Playmakers' than those stupid NFL Play-90 commercials.

Madden 2006-Ricky Williams

Actually a legitimate candidate to brandish the cover, Williams left the Dolphins to pursue his true-love; pot. Ricky loves getting high more than making millions, and if he had been on the cover of Madden in 2006, Ricky would have pulled the 'Stud' and 'Turd' role. Even though the only cover Williams has been in is 'High Times,' he's still somewhat rehabilitated his career, thus continuing the fine run of upstanding UT running backs in the NFL (sarcasm).

Madden 2007-Tank Johnson

While it's rare for defensive players to get the Madden Cover, it does happen (Ray Lewis, Troy Polamalu). In 2006, as the Tank had been arrested for unlawful possession of a fire arm and verbally threatening a police officer, sh&t hit the fan when police raided his house to discover six unregistered firearms (including two assault rifles. Nice, Rambo.) Not only did he illegally possess these arms, they were also loaded and easily accessible to the three children in his house.

Madden 2008 Dual Cover-Michael Vick and Adam ‘Pac-Man’ Jones

Perhaps the most beat-into-the-ground sports topic of the last decade, Michael Vick's arrest for animal abuse and running an illegal gambling ring out of his back yard still draws tense conversations to this day. Largely billed as a 'White and Black' issue due to the cultural ties of dog fighting to the African American community (thanks DMX) Vick was sentenced to prison and suspended by the NFL for an entire season following his release. Ron Mexico found his way back into the NFL as a glorified back-up behind Kevin Kolb (how far you've fallen, Madden 2004 Cover Athlete).

After 'making it rain', and stripper was shot and killed by a member of Jones’ entourage in Las Vegas during NBA All-Star weekend 2007. He was also cited for reckless endangerment before being involved in another strip club shooting in Atlanta. When you think Pac-Man, you think of someone you’d want your daughter to marry. And you think of strip clubs.

Madden 2009-Plaxico Burress
So imagine you’re a Super Champion, emerging tier-one wide receiver and you decide to get krunk on a weekend in NYC. Well, if you’re heading to a club, you can’t roll without your strap, right? Well, Plax rolled with his pistol, and a shooting occurred. But the dumbass didn’t draw it on some clown looking to cause trouble; the gun went off in his pants and a bullet ended-up in his leg. Thanks to some of the strongest state and city gun control laws in America, Plax landed in the clank in is suspended indefinitely from the NFL. Nice.

Madden 2010-Donte Stallworth
Fresh off signing a multi-year, multi-million dollar contract with the Cleveland Browns, Stallworth partied the night away with his posse at a Miami hotel. Stallworth mounted his Escalade and killed a pedestrian. Of course Stallworth was hammered, he was jailed and the Browns voided his contract. Oh, and he was suspended the entire 2009 season.

Madden 2011-Ben Roethlisberger
Big Ben might not be guilty in a court of law, but he’s sure as hell guilty in the court of all-time creepy bastards. After beating a rape charge in 2009, Big Ben ‘had relations’ with a girl in the bathroom of a Georgia bar in 2010 when his bodyguard prevented a girl’s friends from coming to her rescue. Memo to Ben-Dude, you’re a multi-Super Bowl winning, multi-millionaire quarterback. I’m pretty sure you could score without raping chicks. The good news is, his public image is destroyed for the rest of his career. Serves him right.

They're not role models. So what?

2010-04-21T19:34:00.000-07:00

In 1993 when Charles Barkley stated succinctly that he wasn't a role model, the American public went all wet and rubbery.

I knew who Charles Barkley was at the age of 12. Who didn't? The 6" 4' 'Round Mound of Rebound' had established himself as a bonafide All-Star and legitimate Most Valuable Player candidate every season. While PTA moms and ideologue fathers decried Barkley's honesty, I sat oblivious. Here's what I knew about Charles Barkley at the age of 12: If you picked the Phoenix Suns in 'NBA Jam' you were going to roll with Barkley and Dan Majerle.

I didn't care that 'Sir Charles' wasn't a role model. I couldn't have cared less about his personal life and his point of view. Did I look up to Charles? Sure I did. It wasn't, however, because he was what a man was supposed to be. It was because he rebounded the basketball like a beast as an undersized power forward in the NBA. Later on I learned he had a gambling problem and possessed the propensity to toss smart asses through bar windows, which did nothing to destroy my fond memories of glorious 'NBA JAM' sessions.

Amid the dreams of the adolescent youth that aspired to be like Barkley and the rest of his professional sports brethren laid an undiscovered secret long buried beneath billions in revenue and mistresses: Professional athletes are humans just like us, and boy do we all have problems.

As Tiger Woods worked his way through the hallowed golfing grounds of Augusta National earlier this month, I sat at home with my wife watching every second of the tournament I'd grown to love during the course of my fascination with golf. It'd been awhile since I'd seen Tiger, the whirlwind force that drove millions of kids to the golf course in the mid-1990s. It was his first appearance in a tournament since he came clean (well, unintentionally) that he'd slept with about 50 women that weren't his wife. Following the Thanksgiving TMZ-induced haze that had the nation gawking at the three-ring circus that was Tiger's sideshow, the American public (and Tiger's sponsors) firmly decided that Tiger was something they no longer believed in.

I'd made my mind up months before that I couldn't care less about Tiger's infidelity. After all, that's not why I watch him play. Sure he nailed some pretty stellar pornstar talent (and some questionable Waffle House waitresses as well) and made a mockery of his seemingly manufactured marriage to Elin Nordegren, but in the end Tiger is who Tiger is. He is the greatest golfer of all time, and he likes to have sex with women who aren't his wife. But as he played, hiding behind new Nike-branded sunglasses as if to hide behind a lonely mask, something felt different. The unflappable, distinguished glare and dedication that had led to 14 major championships and untold wealth was lost to a sense of vacated confusion. Yet there he was, one of the most amazing athletes in human history being condemned for a private life that's nobody's business but his own.

Talk radio and media outlets burned with scorn for the once untouchable hero. Mothers blasted Tiger for his poor judgement. Some cried for Tiger to be banned from golf for life. More than one disappointed father openly lamented that their own children could never look up to someone like Tiger because he is what we aren't; morally bankrupt.

The problem is, America, our landscape is rife with moral bankruptcy. Our business tactics, billion dollar bailouts and bonuses to under performing executives; ashleymadison.com and interoffice affairs are freshly exposed for all to see. But we overlook our faults because we are average. We are not elite. We hold human beings with special talents to higher standards simply because they are different and they have more. It's sure easy though to overlook a drinking problem or an abusive personality amongst us regular people, but the second you lay a DUI on a Major League Baseball manager the world wobbles on its axis.

There was that time you were maybe a little too heavy handed with your kid, and maybe you got a little too close to your secretary at last year's Christmas Party. And in the end that's okay because you didn't get caught. There weren't 100 photographers hovering around like ravenous vultures waiting to get a piece of you. Don't worry about Tiger. He's paying for what he's done. He's lost millions in endorsements, his reputation is in the toilet and his wife is about to take him for half of what he's worth.

Tiger Woods isn't your problem, and he shouldn't be your kid's role model unless you want him/her to learn how to knock a 7-iron stiff from 200 yards. Leave Tiger to the golf, and you worry about who your kid is looking up to. It just might have been you when you didn't tell the checker at Kroger that they over-refunded you $20.

There's a line in a pretty famous book that says, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." Me? I'm keeping my stones in my pockets and enjoying the talents of one of the finest players the world has ever seen.

Obama Takes Aim at Next Target

2010-04-01T14:46:00.000-07:00

Gang, just got the heads-up on this from one of my buddies who works at Fox News. This story will drop next week. Check it out!

March 31, 2010

Washington, D.C. (AP)- With massive healthcare legislation overhaul in the rearview, the Obama Administration has set its sights on its next agenda item: Cap’n Crunch.

Weeks of swarming rumors were validated Wednesday when White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs briefly addressed Crunch’s stronghold on the children’s breakfast cereal market.

“What we’ve got to condition this country to, is that when you’re successful and better than everyone else, you’re going to pay for it. And by pay for it, I mean give your resources to those not as good as you so that everyone is on an even playing field,” said Gibbs.

For decades now, Cap’n Crunch has held the top 3 spots in the breakfast cereal market with his ‘Cap’n Crunch, Crunchberries and Peanut Butter Crunch cereals. Market experts have attributed his success to the creation of a proprietary preservative process that indeed makes his cereals, “the Crunchiest!”

“The dude’s a f------beast,” said Tony the Tiger, whose Frosted Flakes slipped to seventh this year behind Corn Pops. “I mean, when you’re 3-foot-4, rocking the top three brands and banging Britney Spears; you’re doing something right.”

While most expected President Obama to address the sagging economy and immigration, his move to curtail Crunch’s runaway success comes to many as a surprise. The Obama Administration has long resented Crunch’s success, deeming it ‘bad for the common good.’

“Obama wants to nail his ass to wall,” said an anonymous White House insider.

Crunch patented his ‘Crunchiest’ formula in 1977 following an acid trip induced with Willie Wonka and three Oompa Loompas. The seven-day event, which was dubbed, “The Sugar Shacktory’s Mystery Tour”, spawned ‘the Crunchiest!’ formula.

“It was all about love, man” said Steven Ware, Willy Wonka’s head Oompa. “What came of it was pure domination and a few STDs.”

Cap’n Crunch immediately utilized his new formula in every batch of cereal. Within three years Crunch had etched his way to the forefront of the breakfast food movement, thus leaving his competition in his wake.

The White House’s “Crunch for All” initiative calls for ‘The Crunchiest!’ to be made available to all cereal manufacturers operating in the United States. By 2012, it’s estimated that Crunch’s market share will dwindle to that of lesser-known cereals such as, “Billy’s Poopy Treats.”

“Vat it does, eez, it geeves us a shot, you know,” said Count Chocula whose cereal is now back in play along with Frankenberry, Booberry and Fruit Brute.

Brute of 'Fruit Brute' fame went out of business in 1983 after allegations of methamphetamine addiction. After multiple rehabilitation attempts and a failed love affair with Kirsty Alley, Brute was most recently seen on VH-1’s ‘Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.’ The first episode featuring Brute never aired, as Brute’s altercation with Grease star Jeff Conaway led to his dismissal from the show.

“Conaway is a douche,” said Brute in a recent issue of US Weekly, “but ‘Crunch for All’ means I’m back, baby!”

Cap’n Crunch is not the White House’s first attempt to bring down a cereal magnate. In February of 2009, the House Subcommittee on Children’s Foods began preliminary investigation of Toucan Sam of 'Fruit Loops' fame. Sam avoided congressional intervention following allegations of an extra-marital affair with House Speaker, Nancy Pelosi after Sam posted a picture of his penis on his Facebook wall with the title, “House Majority’s Peter.”

"The Captain and Speaker Pelosi are just friends," said a congressional spokesperson.

Crunch initially planned to fight the White House, but was recently quoted as saying, “I’m moving my s--- to India.” He declined to be interviewed for this story.

For now, the White House is excited about the change in our nation’s breakfast cereal competition, and hopes to attach a few ‘riders’ to “Crunch for All” legislation, including a federal mandate that all Americans must buy Band-Aid brand band aids or else face a fine.

“Band-Aid brand is outstanding,” said President Obama speaking to a 2nd grade class in suburban Washington. “You can have SpongeBob on your Band-Aids, and even the X-Men, too. Imagine what Wolverine and a little Neosporin can do to that scrape on your knee.”

As of press, the Trix Bunny, Snap, Crackle & Pop; as well as Dig ‘Em Frog and the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Chef have come out in support of Cap’n Crunch.

"Who's next," asked Crackle. "We're s-----g our pants, here."

America: Rise of the Empire

2010-03-30T10:24:00.000-07:00

Let me be upfront before I get started: I did not vote for Barack Obama.

Call me out of touch, afraid of change or racist; I’ve heard it all. I was raised a Conservative Republican by Conservative Republican parents in Conservative Republican East Texas. Politics like religion are typically etched into the maturing psyche, and kids raised as Mormons typically end-up practicing Mormons. The same goes for Catholics, Buddhists, Muslims, etc. We are who we are primarily because our parents raised us to be that way. My mother and father raised me on Regan, Bush and the oil industry, and thusly; that’s why I am who I am.

On Election Night 2008 when the Western world celebrated ‘Change’, my wife and I shuddered to think what would become of my career. Just days before the FDIC ruled that my employer, Franklin Bank, was insolvent and no longer operable, the student loan industry that had constituted the nation’s higher education was squarely in the crosshairs of the Democratic Party. For years Ted Kennedy and his constituents hungered to make the Department of Education the only provider of student loans, thus driving private competition out to pasture and making Big Brother the only avenue to get a degree.

When Obama made his acceptance speech, I hung my head and muttered to my wife.

“It’s over.”

In 2008, like all years I’ve ever voted, I voted selfishly. Who was going to impact my bottom line and how? Who was going to enact policies that would most benefit my family? Obama and his party’s appetite to destroy the student loan industry made it an easy choice for me. I voted for John McCain in hopes that the Republican’s Party commitment to capitalism and private competition would stave-off a necessary career change. Unfortunately, Barack Obama’s overhyped rise to power couldn’t be stopped, and I was officially out of not only a job, but a career.

Fast forward 16 months and I’m doing just fine. I have a new career and a beautiful new son that keeps me up for hours on end. But it’s worth it. The American Dream somehow found its way into my life, and my continued pursuit of happiness drives me toward a better life for my family. As for our country? Well, the economy still blows harder than Paris Hilton after a lobster dinner, and the unemployment rate is soaring as higher than Robert Downey, Jr. circa 1990. Obama’s approval rating is in the toilet, and his ‘Change’ is on its death bed looking for a defibrillator. While the sluggish economy and failed stimulus initiative should be at the top of this Administration’s ‘to-do’ list, Obama and the Democratic Party has blown the last year attempting to ram a titanic health care bill down the throats of the American people.

I’ve always had healthcare. I’m going to venture that I will always have healthcare. It’s never been a concern or close to the tip of my tongue. Although I’m a ‘have’ as opposed to a ‘have-not’, I do recognize the need to reasonable access for those below the poverty line who simply do not have the means to acquire it. On the other hand, there are millions of parasitic-welfare drones sucking at the teats of government handouts that have no desire to better themselves simply because somebody else is going to do it for them. Universal Health Care has been the golden cow of the liberal Democratic Party for decades. Term after term they’ve tried to get it through, and finally after enough rule-bending, backdoor deal-making, Barack Obama’s legacy is near completion. Barry did it. He accomplished what Kennedy and Clinton could never do. He got a massive; almost $1 trillion healthcare bill passed that’ll insure 32 million uninsured Americans. It’ll restrict insurance companies from denying coverage to those with pre-existing conditions. Children will be able to remain on their parents’ policies until the age of 26. Those with health care plans will get to keep their own plan. What’s not to like?

The crooked process taken to achieve the ‘dream’ of healthcare reform sours our entire political process. Obama campaigned on a transparent political process, and he even declared that all healthcare conversation would be aired on C-Span. Apparently our President had a change of heart when it struck him that some Americans would be appalled at sweetheart deals given to Louisiana, Nebraska, New Jersey and others to buy votes. After Scott Brown won the Massachusetts senate seat long-held by Ted Kennedy and openly declared that he’d vote against the proposed Health Care initiatives, Pelosi, Reid and Obama scrambled to find a backdoor route to get the Democratic ‘dream’ to go through. As the President’s dream lay dying, he spoke plainly to members of the House and Senate.

“My presidency is at stake, here.”

So much for what’s good for the country, huh? In a few simple words the President illuminated the number one concern for all of our politicians: How am I going to get re-elected?

Barry’s got a fight on his hands with the Health Care Bill. Thirty-six states are in the process of taking legal action against the federal government (on the grounds that it violates the Constitution when the government forces us to buy things; like health care) to stop this bill’s passage, so Reform isn’t a slam dunk just yet. But that won’t stop him and his cronies from moving onto the next item on their agenda. You’d assume it’d be unemployment and the economy, right? Think again. It’s an immigration battle where liberal lawmakers are seeking residency/citizenship for 10 million illegal immigrants. As soon as these folks are granted residency/immigration, they’ll qualify for health care under the Obama plan. And somehow, these 10 million illegal immigrants weren’t included in the Budget Office’s cost estimate. Odd.

We’ll see where the country is in a few years. The Democratic Party is likely to lose its grip on the House and Senate in the mid-term elections, and a Republican legislative body will likely stymie further efforts by the Obama Administration to socialize American institutions. Obama will lose in 2012, and the country will skew back toward the right. Too much of anything is not a good thing, including 8 years of Republican rule.

Tacked on to the Health Care Bill is a little piece about the government abolishing the private sector’s right to make student loans. It’s not a big deal, after all. It’s just that 90 percent of American students pay for their college education with student loans. When the Department of Education seized control of the consolidation loan business in 2007, they were so backlogged that they stopped taking applications for six months. When’s the last time a government-run social program has functioned more efficiently than private industry? Never, that’s when.

Before too long your hospitals, doctor’s offices and student financial offices will look like your local social security storefront. Just remember, America; you asked for it.

Setting the Record Straight

2010-03-16T07:23:00.001-07:00

I guess this may come as a shock to some of you, but I love my wife unequivocally above anything in this world. She is what drives me to become a better person and be a better man, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to be kicking off our family any day now. She is the most important person in the world to me, and I can’t imagine living my life without her.

I don’t want anything I write to be misconstrued as vitriol toward my wife or women as a whole. Hell, I love women. Women are awesome, spectacular works of biological genius above reproach. When I sit down to write on my blog, I do so to entertain, whether that be to incite frustration or elicit a fist pump. Like I said in my Facebook post: “Mission Accomplished.”

My goal is this most recent rash of postings is to pave the way for my book, “The Plunge,” which has been in the works now going on three years. It’s all but finished now after seven rewrites, and after I rework the introduction it’ll be going out to agents and publishers. As I’ve been writing new blogs I’ve been thinking of topics relevant to single guys going into relationships, which is a lot part of what “The Plunge” is about. The last blog that I posted was about older, single men being run-off by older, single women due to overbearing behavior. It’s actually directed at two of my friends currently going through that situation. It had nothing to do whatsoever with my current situation or my marriage. And I expected to catch some heat on the ‘Slurpee’ blog, but not for the reasons I caught it. Oddly enough for all of the negative feedback, I got just as much positive.

Sometimes the things I say are misinterpreted and taken out of context. Other times they’re not. My wife edits any blog that may be taken as negative toward her. You know what? She put her stamp of approval on that blog and gets exactly where I’m coming from. When and if “The Plunge” sees the light of day, my wife will have read through every single line and given her stamp of approval. Trust me, there’s probably some stuff in there that will irritate folks as well; but that’s the point. Entertainment.

So in summation, I love my wife. She’s my best friend. Oh, and she approves my message. Have you had your Slurpee today?

Stage V Clingers: A Comparative Analysis vs. The Slurpee

2010-03-05T13:42:00.000-08:00

Memo to women: Guys want to be in committed relationships.

It’s true. It might come as a shock, but trust me on this one. Just as much as chicks start to freak out when they surpass the age of 25 without tying the knot, men, too start to feel their heartstrings tugged on by the finality of perpetuity. Think of it as the male version of the biological clock; we’re just tired of doing all of the fun stuff.

You’re probably thinking, “What the hell does that mean?” It’s an interesting premise altogether. For a woman steadily marching toward her thirties, when she’s considered ‘past her prime’ much like a 30-year-old NFL running back, the noose tightens steadily as all of her friends find men and settle down in remote suburbia. I can tell you from experience that when a woman is in her upper-20s and she’s never been close to tying the knot, warning sirens echo in the prospective male brain like a nuclear reactor meltdown. Why? Well, we’re wondering what’s wrong with you. Are you a Self-Made Diva? Are you too high maintenance? Do you wear deep-seeded emotional scars from failed relationships past? More often than not, the above questions aren’t what make you radioactive. The main problem is that you’re most likely a Stage V Clinger.

For a bachelor is his run before midlife, life is pretty spectacular. Unlimited free time, possibility, booze, chicks, sports, videogames, road trips and financial liberty are simply glorious. Those things that we love are the reason sometimes we decide to go it alone, because when you’re in a relationship a lot of that stuff goes out of the window. And do you know what that stuff is? That stuff my friends, is fun.

But in the end we get tired of that fun. Bars, apartments and occasional moments of shallow emptiness drive us toward the desire to settle down and become 'adults'. However, keep in mind that all of the fun stuff isn't easy to let go of. Women and relationships burn through time like hot knives through butter, and that knive signifies to imminent reduction of unencumbered time. When you've got a Clinger on your hands, brother you can multiply that by 1,000.

Let's use a Slurpee as an analogy. 7-11 stores, the owners and creators, of the Slurpee are pretty rare in these parts. And let's just say you're a huge fan of the Slurpee, and it's been years since you've had the pleasure of tasting one. At first you can do without Slurpees, because there are other things to hold your interest like ICEE and Parrot Ice. ICEE and Parrot Ice are initially outstanding; a new explosion of flavors create a cornucopia of fresh flavor that temporarily makes you wonder why Slurpee was so great in the first place. But over time, you start to ache for a Slurpee. You start to miss Slurpees and regret that you ever dismissed them for the love of ICEE and Parrot Ice. Slurpee becomes the nagging voice in the back of your mind, the bone in your fish-stick if you will. Slurpee kept getting stuck in your throat and setting-off a mean gag-reflex reserved for bachelor parties. And suddenly, just as your powering up your laptop to surf the web for good, free porn, you spy a headline that reads, "7-11 acquires 250 Houston Shell Stations." Bingo, my friends; Slurpee rides again!

After a few days, 7-11s begin popping-up across the land, and you rush into the first one you see. You order the largest Slurpee available and rip into it. Each gulp is delicious and fresh, baptising you in the everlasting love of high fructose corn syrup. But happens when you have too much, too fast? That's right; brain freeze. Too much of anything is never good, and the body revolts in excess. This relates directly to Stage V Clingers; your overbearing instances are a huge, pain-in-the-ass brain freeze.

Stage V Clingers want their new man every second of every day. After work? At her place. Before work? At her place? Staying the night? At her place? Want to watch the game with your buddies? Nope. At her parents' place. There is not one second that is excused from her presence, and do you know what happens if you try to do something without you? She digs her talons in deep, like a bald eagle into the scales of a snake and never lets go. And this is because the Clinger is afraid that if you leave or spend a night without her, you'll find something better and the pendulum of her biological clock will snap right off. This misconception on the part of the Clinger is what potentially drives Slurpee-loving men away. It's the misconception that just because we want time to ourselves, we don't like them anymore.

And to some extent, this is a manufacturer's defect with women as a whole. Men are lone wolves; roving souls at heart looking for excitement at every turn. To women, it's unfathomable that men could possibly enjoy hobbies and other interests that don't involve them. Somehow by enjoying these other things, we are selfish, immature bastards that don't care about who else we hurt. The Clinger takes this to the maximum level cap, and creates an atmosphere of perpetual misery.

Clingers, remember that men all want their Slurpees. ICEEs are okay for awhile, but in the end we want to be slotted where the natural order says we should be placed. However, brain freezes suck. Don't give men a brain freeze, and your biological clock will be serviced in due time.

51/49: A Philosophy of Life for a More Civilized Age

2010-02-23T05:28:00.000-08:00

Could somoene please tell me why my wife finds the lives of dwarves...er...little people so mesmerizing? She's pounding a turkey sando, a can of Sour Cream Pringles and a 32 oz. bottle of Gatorade while taking in her SECOND episode of 'The Little Couple'. Too bad we're out of tequila...

I've been so damned busy putting the finishing touches on my book and writing query letters that I haven't had the time to write new material for the blog. So this week I'm airing the equivalent of the 'retrospective episode', you know, the episode of you favorite show where the main character hosts a bunch of flashback clips? Hell, even Seinfeld had a 'retrospective.' In that vain, I present to you something from my archives; 51/49.

In 2004 a good friend of mine, Dan Starr, created 51/49 out of frustration, and we ran with it for years. I hope you find it enjoyable, and if you don't, well; I'm sure you can still catch 'The Little Couple.'

Dan and I both found ourselves reunited years later after we first met still working within the same community college system where we had met four years earlier, neither of us making any progress in life doing the same job. My college degree disappointingly netted me the exact same position I had before I transferred from my hometown to Austin. The new campus became an exercise in exhaustion. We were underpaid, overworked and weary of doing the same thing.

I worked at the point of attack in the front intake center. Waves of mothers and students bombarded me daily; as a promiscuous 33-year-old Pakistani immigrant co-worker did everything he could to fan the flames of their discord by hitting on every woman that walked through the door. I slumped into a deep gloominess, losing 35 pounds and dying my hair bleach blond in a useless attempt to affect change in my dreary life. I experienced a quarter-life crisis, culminating in the purchase of a brand new Chevrolet Corvette, which I couldn’t afford.

The front counter was the waste disposal position of all college jobs, and I flushed my life down daily when I crawled through the door. The only advantage was that I’d get to check out all of the young girls who walked past everyday in short shorts and skimpy spaghetti tops. The scenery, however, provided only momentary respite from the dearth of my situation.

Dan worked in the back and had an office as the advisor to incoming international students. He had the joy of slicing through thick accents to determine whether or not a particular Middle-Eastern student named Amal had legally entered the country, and wondered if each student he saw was a terrorist. We hated our jobs, which is no different than most Americans I suppose. We occupied time by chatting on our interoffice messaging system, voicing our disgust with society like two haphazard revolutionaries looking to overthrow the status quo.

We’d shoot messages back and forth, and at times we’d each have the joy of listening to each other complain about all of our problems, namely his marital travails. As Dan complained about everything having to do with being married. One day like an absurd, Dan typed in a message after complaining about his son crying all the time, “It’s about 51/49, dude.” A seed was planted.

The idea birthed easily in passing, but over the course of the last four years it has matured into something that’s much more concrete, serving as a rally cry for pushing through the muck of female trials. We came to reason that out of a possible 100 happiness points, marriage and relationships made you happy on average 51 percent of the time, and miserable the other 49. The converse was true for being single, it’s heavenly 49 percent of the time, but lonely, self-destructive and vacuous the other 51 percent.

Both lifestyles have advantages and shortfalls. For example, if you’re in a relationship, then you’re never lonely, typically have a steady supply of passionate sexy-time, have someone to build a life with and also have to someone with whom you confide in. Conversely, being in a relationship reduces your free time drastically, restricts your from controlling what you want to do with your money and causes you to be responsible to someone every second of your life. Happiness prevails 51 percent of the time, but 49 percent of the time you wish you imagine what life would be like if that person wasn’t around.

51/49 fluctuates quickly, rapidly changing like the markets. For clarity, let’s take a look at a few scenarios. Let’s suppose that you’re a single person, living alone in a dank apartment. The few friends you have are busy and can’t be bothered by you for the third consecutive weekend. You’ve got nothing. You work your cell phone, racking your brain with ideas of who you can call to get out for the night. Then you realize that there is nothing. You realize that you’re lonely. You wish there was someone for you; to keep you warm through the lonesome nights. At that point, you may think that being single registers about a 20 on the positive scale, and an 80 on the negative scale. Therefore your number is 20/80 toward solitary living. But wait! The cell phone rings and it’s one of your friends returning your earlier desperation call. Before you know what happens, you’re invited to a party where there will be free booze and food….and possibly women. Suddenly the worm has turned, and not being shackled to someone else feels like the for certain best way to live life. That 20/80 number in the negative instantly becomes a 90/10 for the positive. If you weren’t single, you’d never be able to go out so whimsically and have the potential to pick-up other chicks. You feel like being in a relationship or even dating someone seriously sucks. 51/49 evolves with your current climate, and the average is slightly affirmative for relationships, probably on the strength of not dying alone.

Ideally we’d all like to have it both ways, but it’s inherently impossible by the very nature of relationships to have your cake and eat it, too. Relationships are self-dying and sacrifice. You have to give-up some things to enjoy to the fruits in return, and for some people, that’s the reason that their relationships fail. I love to play videogames, strum my guitar, watch movies, workout and write, but when I interject another person in my life the time I have to do all of those times flies out the window. To compromise I have to give-up some things I enjoy doing in order to give some of myself to that other person. That means watching some lame comedy rerun on the WB or a ridiculous reality show instead of playing my favorite game online with my buddy in Dallas because that’s what she likes to do; watch brain-wasting television programs. The bottom line is that successful relationships are give-and-take, involving a lack of selfishness and personal interests. And most of the time, if a man doesn’t give her woman her way; it’s an all out bitch-fest until she gets it. So what’s the point in even fighting it? Just roll over and accept it.

All of the days I spent self-aggrandizing, immersing my brain in worldly interests eventually became tiresome and pointless. I might acquire the most sought after items in a videogame or watch all three Lord of the Rings films in one sitting, but those activities were complete empty-headed wastes of time. Did it make me a better person, or was I building toward anything life? It seemed was that I mired in mind-numbing actions to dull my senses until death. There had to be more juice to squeeze out of the fruit of life.

After spending a few months of indulging in hedonistic pursuits, I would inevitably begin to feel like a loser and be lonely all of the time. My 49 percent slice of the pie became moldy. Like clockwork I’d begin to scan MySpace for women who were single or cling desperately to any shred of possibility with any woman anywhere. I searched for any remote possibility on social networking sites. The bottom of the barrel wasn’t scraped; it was busted through! A rainy night and cuddling on the couch with that special someone, watching a movie and giggling together sounded like heaven. I’d pray for a date night or a walk in the park. No matter where I was the grass was always greener on the other side of life, and it is in those moments of realization that I needed to be honest with myself to see where I wanted to be. So it came to Dan, then to me that the line that separated happiness in relationships was somewhat of a blur, but we always concluded that it was slightly better to be involved in the pursuit of love. But just barely.

2010-02-06T13:02:00.000-08:00

It’s universally accepted among those with a dual set of X-chromosomes that videogames are for kids, and adults that play games are insecure losers fit for a lifetime of cat ownership and pay-go porn sites.

I honestly had a chick tell me one time that I’d never find a woman because I played videogames. She looked me square in the eye with her judgmental, vacuous, self-righteous view of the world, and condemned all gamers as losers with no social skills or aptitude. Of course I couldn’t call her out at the time; I was in the midst of an epic chick-slump that hanged tighter than Rosie O’Donnell’s top button. I had no comeback, no rallying cry I could call upon to combat her ignorant slander of myself and my brethren. Never mind the fact that I was in my early-20s, had few friends and spent more time with a console controller than I did working on getting to second base. Of course I proved her wrong with the emergence of the Self-Made Diva some months down the line, but her contention was one I’d been battling my whole life: Videogames are child’s play.

In 2004, I wrote an article about videogames and their explosion into popular culture. Sean Connery (You’re the man now, dog!) had just finished reprising his role as 007 in the videogame adaptation of ‘From Russia With Love,’ and Vin Diesel (yeah I know he sucks now) was on the verge of starring an original ‘Riddick’ game. It only took 25 years, but videogames had finally been accepted into popular culture. I referenced a popular Australian study (http://blogs.theage.com.au/screenplay/archives//004937.html) in my article that suggested that half of all gamers were women, and the average age overall was 28. I felt like the little kid tired of being bullied who finally sticks his chest out because his big brother (science) steps in. Take that, snooty chicks!

“If Heath Ledger can play videogames (pre-OD), then so can I!”

I rolled with that study every time I encountered a combatant woman or doucher who questioned my favorite hobby. I was untouchable, unflappable even. I didn’t feel like a pedophile walking into Gamestop (I’ve got to admit, it was starting to get weird). I was vindicated, and with the burgeoning explosion of gaming I could finally emerge from behind a stack of Nintendo Power magazines and come clean.

“Yes, I am a gamer. No, I’m not an overweight, socially awkward loser.”

As it turns out five years later, I could possibly be an overweight, socially awkward loser.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8206163.stm

When this hit, my wife took about three seconds to say, “See, I told you!”

Was the nation of gamers growing older, fatter and socially inept? Was I more depressed than everyone else in America, or were gamers catching a bad rap?

To be honest, the answer lies somewhere in the middle. On average, we probably look like the stereotypical Chuck Taylor-wearing, Wolverine t-shirt-sportin’, Depeche Mode listenin’ virgins. But can we really paint an entire segment of our culture with broad strokes? Does stereotyping really exist in America of all places, the freest country in the galaxy?

Hell yes, stereotyping is running strong, and woman line-up in droves to expound just how immature gaming is.

“Why can’t men grow-up?” they often ask while ignoring the fact they're obsessed with ‘Twilight’, the poorly-written book series that spawned the equally inept movie franchise. Does anyone realize how many women are obsessed with this stuff? The books are about a bunch of young vampire kids reciting cardboard dialogue. So realize that this book franchise is aiming for the 15-year-old demographic, not the 28-year-old demographic. And does anyone else think that ‘Twi-moms’ obsessing over Rob and Taylor beside their daughters is disturbing in a ‘The Graduate’ sort of way?

Geez, as long as women are watching/reading Twilight in droves, they might as well go ahead and watch MTV reality television to complete unsatisfied high school dreams.

The Real World. Jersey Shore. The Hills. Laguna Beach. Road Rules. Super Sweet 16. These are just a few examples of the youth-driven programming that airs on the Music Television Network. And you know what? Women love that stuff. Six shows, all with the same dialogue and created for girls in training bras.

“I know, right?”

“Like whatever!”

“You know, like, I wanna like him but like, you know, like; I just don’t know.”

All I’m saying, ladies, is that you’re not as mature as you think you might be.

Don’t get me wrong; they’re lots of gamers that look exactly like this guy:

Then again, there are gamers that look like this: (Obviously before Chris Brown used her face as a speed bag)

So ladies, the next time you’re chiding your men because they’re playing a videogame, put down your copy of New Moon, turn off The Hills and take a look in the mirror; preferably the mirror in your ‘Edward’ compact.

Facebook Realizations: The High School Reboot-Retox Part Deaux

2010-01-21T06:07:00.000-08:00

The second time my friend request went unaccepted, I became suspicious.

"Maybe he's busy or something," I told myself, trying to convince myself that something wasn't wrong.

Why would anything be wrong? I hadn't talked to him in over a year, and there wasn't any bad blood between us. Surely my dangling request was a simple oversight. I'd resisted the Facebook urge so long that I assumed my premiere would create shockwaves across the social-networking universe, and my long-awaited appearance would result in hundreds of friends in no time. (As it turns out, people couldn't have cared less.)

I spammed the request again, as my old friend's account had remained relatively inactive. He had no Wall Posts about discovering a cow in the fields of Farmville, nor had he posted any new pics of his 24 kids. He hadn't even moved a stack of dynamite in Mafia Wars. Without these hallmarks of Facebook activity, it was clear he simply hadn't received my request. Without a doubt he'd get to me the next time he was on; it was only a matter of time.

But alas, a day later a new comment appeared from my friend on a mutual friend's wall, and my most recent request still had not been accepted. What the hell was going on? Did this guy have a beef? Was I on the verge of acquiring a nemesis without really even trying to cultivate one?

I was confused. Though I hadn't seen this guy in over a year, Facebook would be the great uniter, the Jesse Jackson of the technology generation (minus the thinly-veiled racism). Or so that's what I thought. I contacted my friend who also had intimate knowledge (non-Biblical) of my Facebook target's daily activities. I caught-up with him via Google chat (via Iphone at work, no less).

Tommy Cathey: Hey man...what's the deal with Brigham Young (a pseudonym for Facebook target. Don't read anything into the name. It was chosen completely at random).

Friend: What do you mean?

Tommy Cathey: I've had, like, three friend requests go unanswered.

Friend: Yeah...he's still pretty upset about not getting an invite to your wedding...

Stop right there. Did you catch that? HE is STILL UPSET about not getting invited to my wedding. A man, a full-grown man is hurt because he didn't get invited to a wedding. Now, there is only one cohort of grown men for whom it is acceptable to pout about not getting invited to a wedding, and that's the Italian-Mobster cohort. Any other man who's upset about not getting invited to a wedding is a complete doucher.

But this scenario got me thinking; when was I ever upset/disspointed/a doucher for not getting invited to a party of any sort? The only thing that came to mind was Natalie Carter's 8th grade birthday party, when I had to perpetrate a myriad of behind-the-scenes antics to finally get a half-assed 'your-invitation-was-lost' invite.

So, where in the hell is all of this going? High School.

Things I've Learned from Facebook High

1. Cliques and Attractiveness

If women in high school were a stock market, where would you have invested your money on a ten-year plan? All I know is that I would've lost my ass. Like, Enron times WorldCom lost my ass. Time can do terrible things to a body. If I had to estimate the collective amount of weight gained by folks I associated with at Tomball High School during my run, I'd say it's got to be over two tons. My God, what are people doing; eating sticks of sugar-covered butter?

In hindsight, high school adolescents ran in packs, like culled coyotes. The jocks all hung with each other, further segregated by sport. The Marilyn Manson/Misfits fans, all clad in black (and huge fans of Spiderman comic books, oddly enough), plotted their next cigarette break in the Senior Hall bathroom. And then there were the women. Was/Is there anything more vicious, shallow and heartless than high-school-women-posses? Outside of Miley Cyrus, no.

From a guy's perspective, these female cliques were cells to be infiltrated. Within these cells, there were varying amounts of quality. You had your prize, Grade-A talent, the hotness of which determined the overall desirability of the female cell. Then you had your mid-level stuff, your 6-7 on the 10 Scale stuff. These were solid, mid-level performers, and there was no shame in 'going steady' with one of those gals. At the bottom lurked your, "Association Girls." Now, these chicks would typically have no business hanging with the girls in that cell, but because of childhood friendships (getting into the group before being hot matters) and or convenience (has a swimming pool), they're still around. In the realm of high school, these chicks didn't typically get to date guys from the corresponding clique based on gender (i.e. Cheerleaders to Football Players; Youth Christian Group Chicks to Soccer Players). Instead, they were saddled with an FFA guy, or even worse an underclassman.

QUICK SIDENOTE: Notice that the gender-dating age mechanic gets established early on. Men are allowed to date younger women, but if a girl goes younger it's either Cougar or desperation.

But you see, in high school that's the natural order and not too big to overcome. A group of guys can cavort with a popular female group, while the 'Association Girl' toils in dating obscurity. When you transition to the collegiate/post collegiate dating scene, it gets a bit more complicated.

Fast forward. You're 24 years old and at a bar with your boys. It's been a long day at work, and right at 5:43 p.m. you took off your tie and rolled-up your Oxford button-down sleeves. You grab a low-carb beer and survey the scene. It's slow, but it's early, and you're not worried about scene just yet. But as you survey the landscape, you spot a coven of good-looking women your age at a cocktail table in the corner. The diluted beer begins to taste even more like water, and life gets good. You elbow your buddies and begin to determine the pecking order; who gets who? At this stage, you and your guys lay claim, starting with the hottest chick and then subsequently down the ladder. There's some light negotiating here, including the purchase of drinks or roommate house-cleaning duties. Once you're at the bottom, someone has to own the duty of taking the 'Association Girl.' And guess what? There isn't an FFA guy in sight; it's just you and your posse. Assuming that there is no FFA guy in your group, somebody's got to take the lowest rung on the ladder. This man, this hero; is what we now call, 'The Wingman.'

The Wingman is a position of sacrifice and honor. He has to spend the entire night pretending to be interested in the Low Rung while his buddies laugh-it-up the night through. And being the Wingman does not come without risks. What happens if you have a few too many and you end-up off site with the lowest rung? Alcohol can make you do some regrettable, horrific things; like some 'Crying Game' things.

NOTE: This blog got way too long, so kudos to those of you that made it this far. I've decided to make this an ongoing series as long as Facebook relates to high school. From the looks of things, I'll be working on this for months...

The Adventures of Tom Cathey: Episode XIII--Self-Made Divas and the Rise of the Douchebags

2010-01-03T16:32:00.001-08:00

When you're sharing a bathroom with a 26-year-old dude whose bedroom smelled like Nick Nolte's breath after a DWI arrest, you start to re-think your place in the world.

I was 25 and single, with three roommates; two of which were a fiance-future groom combo and the aforementioned smelly-guy. Something had to give. I'd spent the better part of two years trying to remake myself into everything Maxim told me I needed to be to Dean Martin with chicks.

For starters, I worked out way too much and flamed 200 bucks a month of supplements that the FDA wouldn't approve with a bag full of lobbyist blood-money. Carbs were the plague, and I consumed so much protein my colon excreted an odor that should've been used as an interrogation tactic at Gitmo.

Magazines and websites told me what I needed to wear, and somehow they convinced me that it was socially acceptable to shave my entire body and moisturize with products 'for men.' I stopped short of joining a tanning bed or fake tanning at home. I did, however, purchase at-home teeth whitening kits in bulk. What I didn't realize, however, is what I was becoming.

I was at the forefront of the Douchebag Movement, which hit its peak in the years 2005-2008. To be a card-carrying, uniform-sporting douchebag, the following was required:

1. Obesession over phyisical appearance (six-pack abs, being 'ripped')
2. Interest in 'designer' clothes by clothing companies not made for men (Coach, BCBG, Lucky Jeans, Prada, Gucci, etc.)
3. Excessive use of hair product (purchased at salons only)
4. Trucker hats (worn to the side, or 'crooked.')
5. Popped collars (self-explanatory)
6. Enjoyment of the bands, 311, Nickelback, as well as an interest in the 'Texas Country' movement
7. Low-carb Beer
8. Pointy-shoes (you know the ones, the leather shoes that look three inches too long with the toes curled up at the end)
9. Stocking caps or beanies, worn in the middle of Summer when it's 100 degrees outside

In 2006, I was a douchebag. A soppy, soaking, dyed-in-estrogen douchebag. My hair was spiked and glistening, my too-tight long-sleeved shirt's sleeves were rolled-up and my teeth were whiter than a line of Lindsay Lohan's coke hit. Every weekend I spent hours in dubious bars, surveying 'the scene' with dozens of other douchebags that looked exactly like me. We all competed for the same vacuous, delusional wannabe chicks who thought themselves Houston-incarnations of the 'Sex and the City' tramps.

During my douchebag-run, I didn't have too much success in the dating realm. There were a few bingos, but not many. Sometimes I didn't get it. Sometimes I didn't understand what made the other douchebags a better douchebag than I was. For the life of me I couldn't figure it out. What I needed was a slump-buster, a sure-thing, an ace in the hole. What I got, was the Self-Made Diva.

The Self-Made Diva (SMD going forward) was a fairly-attractive, young, self-centered, egotistical spoiled brat who got everything she wanted. Her parents were blue collar, living in a modest home on the outskirts of suburban Houston. The made middle-class money and drove middle-class cars, and on the weekends they danced at country bars with sawdust on the floor. The SMD was an only child of average intelligence and above-average looks. She thought she was Beyonce; the white-Beyonce.

I began dating the SMD in the summer of 2006, and I went full-throttle. At first it was fun, a new hobby instead of the same-old crap. I plotted fancy dinners and fun events, while pushing my body in the gym. And the SMD was pretty solid, I'd say a 7.5 on the famed ten-scale (others would say she was a 8.0 or so). If you could imagine the most shallow, self-absorbed materliastic woman in the world, take that imagery and multiply it by 20. This chick was the worst I'd ever seen.

For starters, she had a little toy dog named, 'Gucci'. I shit you not. Not only was the dog named, Gucci, but she also carried a $2,000 Gucci bag. And you better freaking believe that Gucci was carried in the Gucci bag. Yeah, it actually happens outside of 'Legally Blond.' By the way, that was her favorite movie. Number two? You guessed it; 'Legally Blond 2'.

She wore only $200 jeans, and $500 Jimmy Chus (women's shoes) were the norm. I was actually in the store with her when she bought the Paris Hilton album. She looked-up to Kim Kardashian, Coco Chanel and that skank that divorced Reverend Run. And as stomach-churning as I knew she was, I didn't care. You want to know why I didn't
care? Because she was hot. That's where my priorities rested; hotness.

Our relationship moved into October, and even though she was an idiot, I was pretty content. She was away at school during the week, which allowed me time to relax and get away from her. I was only dealing with SMD on the weekends. Now, the SMD refused to to pay for anything. She stated up front that she wasn't going to pay for dinner, movies, coffee, gifts...nothing. And I didn't care because she was hot. Then Halloween came.

SMD's work friends were having a party in a bad part of town in Houston. It was in the part of Houston where hoodlum rides a bicycle where the handle bars scoop way out so that other hoodlums can ride on the handle bars. It's like the movie, "Baby Boy" starring Tyrese and Snoop Dogg. It was pretty scary.

SMD was such a financial burden that I couldn't afford to roll with a tight costume. Instead I went as Neo (Matrix) for the second year in a row. SMD? She went as a 'Gold Digger.' What does a 'Gold Digger' costume look like? It looks like this:

Please Note: SMD was not even close to this hot. This kind of hot is like on a different scale of hot, an abnormal, 99.9 percent-of-the-world-can't-compete-for- this kind of hot.

Now, I wasn't okay with SMD wearing this, but it wasn't a deal breaker. When she took a picture of herself bending down and thrusting a golden shovel into my wallet (my actual, honest-to-goodness wallet), the deal was broken. At that moment, I began to plot an exit strategy. That strategy dragged on way longer than it needed to.

It was Christmastime, and I still hadn't dumped the SMD. I didn't really like her all that much, and her obnoxious materialism wasn't as novel as it once was. And since I'd been unable to dump the poor snob, I was saddled with a Christmas gift purchase. What did SMD want for Christmas? SMD wanted at $2,500, diamond-encrusted Tiffany necklace. When I promptly told her she was out of her f*&^ing mind, she lost it and began screaming at me.

"You've ruined Christmas for me!" she said, her MAC lipstick flying from her lips.

Eventually she calmed down, and out of the kindness of her heart she went to the mall and picked out $600 worth of jewelry.

"I'm saving you almost $2,000," she said.

And not only did she select her Christmas gifts, she obtained the sales person's card and told the salesperson, "he'll be in later." So when she told me of her actions and gave me the card, do you know what I did? Can you even guess what I did to this pompous wretch? Yeah, that's right; I went straight the mall and bought the damned jewelry. All of this for a person I hated more than reality shows about midgets.

My exit strategy had spilled into 2007, and after Valentine's Day I wasn't any closer to breaking-up with SMD. My inability to man-up and do the deed had cost me $2,000 in additional gifts/restaurant bills. Something needed to give, but the future looked pretty damned bleak. Then out of the blue, like a miracle kissed from the lips of God, I had my opening.

Now, I'm a smartass by trade, which surprises no one. So one day after I made a joke about the size of her ankles (I know it's pretty tacky, but you have to remember, I didn't give two craps about her emotions) she refused to go to an evening wedding shower with me. THEN, she sent me an email saying, "You need to decide what you want. We can go two ways. 1. We can talk through this and resume or relationship. 2. We can go our separate ways." It was a miracle! She actually brought up the possibility of a break-up!

So later that night after the shower, I came home after a night of macking on this older chick. She was digging me, which helped to convince me that I still had decent-enough game to bag a woman somewhere down the line. The hit was finally and mercifully put out on SMD. Now, how to carry out the kill.

I didn't have much experience dumping women. I did know that there were three options:

1. The In-Person

Considered the most difficult to pull-off, but definitely the most honorable. This sit-down style is typically carried out in a public forum where screaming/throwing of objects are minimized. There's always the risk of tears and possible reconciliation, thus damning one to additional, unwanted weeks of a broken relationship.

2. The Over-The-Phone

Not the best bet, but certainly not the worst. The Over-The-Phone is a live format, which is always nice. You don't have to worry about airborne objects, and at any second you can hang-up and end the conversation. Still, it's kind of weak and spineless, but at least you're giving the dumpee the courtesy of a real human voice.

3. The Electronic

If you're a complete spineless, weak, gutless coward, than this method is for you. You're given a lot of different formats here. It's basically anything online or text messaging. Facebook, Myspace, text message, email...you name it, it's yours. Here you can say it, edit it, re-edit it and get it out without fear of reprisal. That's a plus. However, you are a complete tool to go this route, and probably a bad person.

So which did I choose? If you guessed The Electronic, then you are correct. I hammered that email, and right before I got ready to send it I deleted my Myspace. Why did I do this? For starters, I was friends with all of her friends, and there were just too many damned pictures of her to delete. Plus I didn't want to have to put up with all of the, "What happened?" comments from everybody. That's what I do when things get tough. I run away and hideout until the coast is clear. And yes, I'm a spineless tool.

With my Myspace account deleted I sent the email, and I never heard from her again. She did, however, get in a parting shot. One day while sitting at home (lonely, of course), I checked out her Myspace account. SMD had embedded a YouTube clip from "Sex in the City." It's apparently some famous clip about a guy who breaks-up with Carrie via a Post-It Note. I actually laughed. The SMD had gotten in a shot. Hell, I deserved it for resorting to The Electronic. And in the end I couldn't have cared less. I was rid of her, Gucci, and designer clothes. Oh, and her fat ankles.

2009 Resolution

2009-12-31T09:07:00.000-08:00

The holidays are winding down, and it's only a few hours before 2010 is upon us. Wait, isn't it time for a Space Odyssey?

Every year I make my own resolutions. I think about them the week after Christmas, and ponder what it is I want to accomplish in the coming year. I keep those, private, though; you know, like the hidden Tiger Woods videos soon to be released?

So my resolution, to the social-networking galaxy, is to have no more boring blogs about how little time I have and how hard it is to write books.

There.

Until next time...

"So this is Christmas..."

2009-12-27T15:06:00.000-08:00

So Christmas is already over, and march toward a blazing hot summer and a Spring purgatory of bland Sunday sports viewing is on. The build-up toward the 'Most Wonderful Time of the Year" is epic, almost mind-blowing. Now that it's over, it's almost, "Now what?"

Christmas, however, was pretty special. I didn't spend it with my Mom, Dad and sister as is the typical tradition, but instead with my wife and her family. It was year two of the 'alternating' format, where we spend the 'big ones' (Thanksgiving, Christmas) with different families. This year, Christmas was with my wife's family, and I've got to admit that it's a lot more fun to crash than to host. But my wife and I hosted two Christmases (one with my family last weekend) to some critical acclaim, and we notched a few bars of hosting-experience that will undoubtedly aid us in future excursions.

Christmas Eve was special. It was just the two of us, with plates of food and sweets in our gameroom running the gamut of holiday film favorites.

1. How the Grinch Stole Christmas
2. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
3. Simpson's Christmas (five episodes)
4. A Christmas Story
5. The Santa Clause
6. The Santa Clause 2
7. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
8. It's a Wonderful Life (Spectacular on Blu-Ray)

Of course, don't forget the egg-nog and seasonal beer. Christmas was wonderful.

Christmas and its break allowed me to rest now that all of the holiday work is done. For the first time since I can remember, we just sat around the house yesterday. There was no baby-registering, buying stuff for the house or shopping for groceries. It was sheer relaxation. I got at least seven hours of sleep two nights in a row for the first time in months. But work comes back tomorrow, and work sucks. The commute blows, and I'm reaching my wit's end with it. I did some rough calculations; on this track, I'll have spent 28 days of 2009 in a car driving to and from work.

The Christmas holiday did allow me some much needed time to get back to work on the books. My peak time for writing is first thing in the morning with a fresh pot of coffee. With the buzz coursing through my veins, I'm able to pound at the keyboard for hours. Any other time I'm spotty, especially with this 're-writing' garbage. Once football season ends (my addiction), there will be a lot more time on the weekends.

So honestly, who gives a damn about the Girl Next Door and resident skank, Kendra Wilkenson or whatever the hell her name is? What's she famous for? Being a skank? The same goes for Kardashian, Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton; you are famous for what? You are famous for being rich/skanky. And you know what? America eats it up, I mean absolutely eats it up. Every time I see a reality show focusing on a celebrity's life, I want to vomit blood. And as stupid as American Idol and Dancing with the Stars and Sing Off are, at least those shows are chronicling the every day minutia of celebrites' lives. At least there's some competition between everyday people (sorry America, Joey Lawerence is no longer better than me. Actually, that ship sailed right after his guest-starring run on the WB classic, "Half & Half) doing something that I can't do.

Who wants to watch Kate Gosselin and her ugly as sin ex-husband squabble over who siphoned $80 grand out of the 'reality tv' account? Who wants to watch Tori Spelling's emaciated skeleton plan a $100 thousand party for a one-year-old? Who does? Apparently everybody, because for crying out loud we've got a show about the offspring of the guy who played, 'Renegade'!

Until next time...

"You'll shoot your eye out, kid!"

2009-12-20T16:49:00.000-08:00

It's the most wonderful week of the year, because I only have to work two days before two days of feasting and present-opening. And the two days of work? No problem, because the legion of soccer moms that typically clog the highways will be at home making gingerbread houses and buying Legos for snotty-nosed kids. So all-in-all, the week's shaping-up to be extremely positive.

I love Christmas. No, love isn't the right word; maybe it's more of an addiction. I'll line-up the Christmas movies on DVD, fetch some seasonal beverages (fully-loaded egg nog) and bask in the crisp winter air to my heart's content. This Christmas is going to be awesome. I haven't settled on the exact Christmas movie line-up, but I'll narrow it down the day before. One thing that's for certain? Charlie Brown and The Grinch will be slotted in their traditional positions. A Christmas Story will be enjoyed to begin and to end the day's festivities.

The downside of the Christmas, though, is the mall. The mall sucks anyway, with long lines, grumpy people and miles of convoulted parking. My wife has succeeded and in dragging me to the mall for three weekends in a row; it's Dante's third stage of hell. Thankfully, that part is over, for me at least. She'll be braving the crowds on the 23rd to pick-up a few items (including my gift, which is supposedly awesome according to my wife). Then it's off to baby-registry land, and trust me, it's a total cakewalk compared to wedding-registry land. I can't hear the phrase, "charger plate" without gritting my teeth and punching the wall.

My writing hasn't been going too well. Actually it's trickling. At least it hasn't stopped. When I sit down to write at night, I suddenly become exhausted. Like, all-night-missle-watch-at-NORAD-exhausted. The days are really long, and I just want to go to sleep. But then I try to summon my Rocky Balboa-inspired determination and work through the bags under my eyes, which gets a line of incoherent babble that streams forever after falling asleep with my finger on the trigger. But all is not lost. I mean, I haven't given-up. I guess I'm just moreso disappointed that I haven't gotten further along. In the past I've been critical of myself for watching TV or playing a game instead of working on the books, but now I just need to 'veg out'.

I've been on Facebook for a few weeks now, and it's by no means crack or anything. It is fun to get on and make fun of people, though. The iPhone makes it possible.

My parents came into town over the weekend to celebrate Christmas with Amanda and me. Check out a bit of my haul below. Until next time...

THE Top 10

2009-12-13T10:48:00.000-08:00

I've been playing videogames on a consistent basis since 1986, when like 98 percent of the rest of American kids got a Nintendo Entertainment System for Christmas. For over 20 years, some of my greatest triumphs, disappointments and late night adventures (pretty sad, huh?) have occurred with a videogame controller in my hands.

Recently, Game Informer Magazine published their 200th issue, which chronicled their 200 top videogames of all time. Since my gaming 'career' has covered the history of modern gaming, I've decided to publish my personal top 10 of all time.

Criteria are as follows:

1. Amount of time spent playing the game

2. Games that revolutionzed gaming/a specific genre

3. Games that stand the test of time (Still Damned Fun)

One thing I struggled with in compiling this list was the 'sequel' factor. For example: Grand Theft Auto III is one of the most influential games ever made. However, it was a PS2 game that looks like crap on today's high definition displays. Grand Theft Auto IV, released last year for PS3 and XBOX 360 is gorgeous with improved controls, visuals, sound and gameplay over the venerable Grand Theft Auto III. Should GTA III be penalized because it was released nine years ago? For me, each game is ranked taking into consideration it's merits when it was released.

10. Uncharted 2: Among Thieves-Playstation 3

Uncharted 2: Among Thieves is one of the most cinematic, visceral, well-acted, enthralling, exciting; well, you get the picture. Uncharted 2 was released in November 2009 as a PS3 exclusive to tremendous critical acclaim. This game nails the cinematic-feel unlike any franchise in gaming history. The progtagonist, Nathan Drake, is a cool, likeable guy you'd like to have a beer with and pick-up a chick or two. And he's damned funny. For every second of the games 12-hour main story you're on the edge of your seat, with twists and turns better than most Hollywood efforts. The voicecast nails the ensemble feel of a motion picture, and leaves everyone wanting Uncharted 3 to have come out yesterday. Toss in the best visuals in a game to date, along with a cinematic score and hilarious commercials, you've got THE reason to own a PS3.

9. Super Mario 64-Nintendo 64

Oh, good 'ole Nintendo. I still don't know if they've figured out how to launch a videogame console. When the long-delayed Nintendo 64 launched in 1996, the system launched with two, that's right, two titles. One of those was the neat but boring Pilotwings 64. The other title marked the much anticipated return of the most recognizable gaming mascot in the world, Mario. Thank God. Super Mario 64 revolutionized videogames as the first truly 3D platforming title to integrate a questing mechanic with the flavor of the beloved franchise in an exciting way. I played through the 40-hour main quest three times, and the final boss battle with Bowser remains one of the neatest moments in the history of videogames. Mario 64 made every other action/adventure/platforming game on the market today possible.

8. Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic-XBOX, PC

I love Star Wars. It's one of the finest and most successful concepts ever imagined. But by God, George Lucas, what the hell? Jar Jar Binks single-handedly ruined the film franchise along with wooden dialogue and more plot holes than The Last Action Hero. KOTOR was a revival for RPGs, and it pulled Star Wars on television screens out of a steaming pile of Bantha poo doo.

Bioware created an immersive and expansive universe set thousands of years before the events of Star Wars (the good trilogy), and crafted an action-RPG experience that works still today (Mass Effect, Dragon Age: Origins). KOTOR gave the option of turning to the Dark Side, or walking the path of Yoda on the Light Side. And these decisions were truly difficult. Do I help the poor woman find the parts to fix her landspeeder, or do I cut her head off and steal her money? Tough call. There were two endings and a the greatest plot twist in the history of gaming. The Force is strong with KOTOR.

7. Halo: Combat Evolved-XBOX

When I picked-up my XBOX Launch Bundle at Kay Bee toys, I couldn't have been more disappointed. Afterall, XBOX exclusive Obi-Wan, a 3D action game set in the Star Wars prequel universe was delayed and the only three games that looked worth a damn were Dead or Alive 3, Oddworld and Halo. That morning before classes at Tomball College, I popped in Halo after a good review on IGN.com. Then I never looked back.

Bungie took Rare's Goldeneye formula and turned it up 1,000 degrees. A console split screen campaign? Networked multiplayer with up to 16 players? A cool sci-fi story with a hot digital escort? The rest is history. Halo's control scheme is mimicked by every shooting game that has been made since. Halo's multiplayer occupied hours upon hours of my life. We were all so obsessed with it that we all braved a Central Texas ice storm when the city was shut down to get a game together at my apartment. Halo is and will always be the standard for shooters, bottom line.

6. Super Mario Bros. 3-NES

When I saw the commericals for 'The Wizard' starring Fred Savage, I almost pooped in my Ninja Turtles Under Roos. In the commericial there was live footage of Super Mario Bros. 3. And what? What was that? Was Mario wearing a Raccoon Suit? Was Mario flying? Holy Crap Mario is flying!

That was my reaction. Super Mario Bros. 3 took platforming to new highs. Sure, there still wasn't a story, but there were mini-games like Memory and a fast-moving shape line-up thingy. With a variety of new suits and unique vertical level designs, Mario 3 is a classic that has legs even today. The Wii Virtual Console has sold over 1 million copies of Mario 3 alone. My wife and I still waste hours running through as both Mario and Luigi only to get owned in Level 5. Super Mario Bros. 3; still freaking awesome.

5. The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion-XBOX 360, PS3, PC

Elder Scrolls IV was supposed to be one of the must have titles of the 20-odd-something games that hit with the launch of the XBOX 360. After it was delayed, we were all stuck with Perfect Dark Zero (ruined developer Rare forever), King Kong (crappy movie, crappier game) and Kameo (huh?). But after five months of additional development, Oblivion hit store shelves (prompting Dan Starr and I both to re-buy XBOX 360 consoles two months after selling them). It was well-worth the re-purchase. From the second I heard the silky stylings of Patrick Stewart, I knew we were in for a ride. I sunk over 140 hours into this game over two years of play time. Right now I could turn off the computer and fire-up the XBOX for another 20 hours. It's that good. Branching side-quests, a cool main quest and a sweet soundtrack (humming it right now, matter of fact) make this game stand out above the rest. My buddy Dan and I still relive our adventures in Tamriel through song and drink; hurry-up, Betheseda. Where in the hell is Elder Scrolls V?

4. The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time-Nintendo 64

When my mother allowed me to open Ocarina a month before Christmas, my friend (Zach Stinnett) and I played it for 8 consecutive hours. When all-time great developer Shigeru Miyamoto was allowed to expand into the third dimension, he re-invented the wheel. Hyrule burst to life in vivid color, with vast fields of classic monsters and beasts to the tune of past musical themes. A time-travel element accompanied by catchy tunes explored the grown-up themes of aging as Link glimpsed into the future to see his adult self. Winding quests, unique characters and the introduction of Link's horse, Epona, created a one-of-a-kind experience. Ocarina is a gaming masterpiece that still enjoys a fantastic shelf life today.

3. Grand Theft Auto: III-Playstation 2

Hard to believe it, but this game snuck-up on me. A week before its release I caught wind of it through a friend. Per his recommendation, I took advantage of Toys R Us' buy 2 get one free deal (a tradition to this day) by picking up NHL Hitz 2002, Batman: Vengeance and GTA III. What ensued was a twelve-hour play session and the missing of an important specch in Personal Communication. For the next two months, I lived GTA: III. I played it so much I dreamed about it every night. What GTA: III did was create a new genre of games, now called 'Sandbox' games. You were given a living, breathing world, complete with pedestrians, businessmen, housewives, hookers, skyscrapers, slums...you name it. You could go anywhere and do almost anything (except swim). Who didn't enjoy the services of a working woman, then shoot her in the face with a shotgun and get your money back? GTA's seedy underside, adult language and themes pushed the envelope and brought uptight soccer moms out of the woodwork to complain about something new. Every game since has borrowed from GTA in some form or fashion, and frankly the world is a better place for it.

2. Mike Tyson's Punchout-NES

Looking back on that Christmas season of 1986, I can't believe I still didn't get it. My Aunt Debbie gave me both Mike Tyson's Punchout and Bases Loaded for NES and I didn't even have an NES. And yet, I didn't get that I was getting an NES for Christmas. But when Santa did deliver on Christmas day, I dove right into the arcadey-goodness of Punchout. The creative character design and funny music quickly made it a fan favorite. Matter of fact, my Dad was the first 'kid' on the block to figure out Bald Bull's Bull Punch. Where the old man left off, I picked-up. A short while later I climed through Soda Popinksi, The Sandman and Super Macho Man to face Mike Tyson himself. At the age of five I defeated Mike Tyson over, and over and over. I love this game and it's catch soundtrack. Little Mac's pink jogging suit still rocks.

Someone hand me an NES paddle, and I'll enter 007-373-5963 at the title screen and lay a fat (probably TKO) knockdown on Iron Mike. It's my best drunken party feat.

1. Metal Gear: Solid-Playstation (PSX)

It was 1998. Solid Snake emerged from the frigid waters outside of Shadow Moses and overheard Liquid Snake as he ascended up a freight elevator into the Shadow Moses complex. I was given control of Snake. Two patrolmen walked about the exterior and I held my breath before moving Snake toward a corner. My buddy Martin and I began to talk as I crept closer to my prey. Then it hit me; we were whispering to each other. Our voices couldn't disturb the, uh....TV.

For the first time in my gaming life I had become so immersed in the suspense of a game's atmosphere. The cinematic cutscenes and voice acting (though cheesy, admittedly) made games like Uncharted possible. The unforgettable cast of villains and cool quirks (what's on your memory card) were icing on the cake. Plus when you died, Richard Cren...I mean, Col. Campbell yelled, "Snake? SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!"

In all honesty, the Metal Gear saga has struck a primordial chord that remains with me today. Last year when Solid Snake's story in the saga wrapped, I cried (yes, actual tears) as this ficticious hero made his way to his demise. That's the true measure of a game. What makes you feel the hero's pain, the hero's quest? Metal Gear: Solid: The greatest game of all time.

'Hey, It's Tiger..."

2009-12-06T14:20:00.000-08:00

Whew, what a weekend.

Friday featured snow and me working until 9 p.m., which was absolutely terrible. Then Saturday I ran in and out of the mall and everywhere else. My wife and I did do a lot of our baby registering, which was not near as terrible as registering for our wedding.

To this day my wife and I still can't talk about the wedding without shuddering with a sickening feeling. It consumed everything, and transformed us all into surly jackasses hellbent on the search for misery. Those who I've let read pieces of, "The Plunge" either revel or quiver upon hearing what I went through. This past week I got to sit down a few evenings and work through some of the early chapters I hadn't visited in awhile. I'm pretty optimistic about getting through it in short order. After this week, work will slow down significantly and I'll get home earlier instead of at 7:45 p.m. Then it's a pot of coffee and a pocket full of dreams.

So, I've finally caved and created both Facebook and Twitter accounts. The iPhone just makes it too easy, and I decided I'd swallow my antisocial ways and self-promote some. If you haven't already, please look me up at:

www.twitter.com/tomcathey2

There's a link to my Facebook on the right side of the blog.

Most of my friends know that I'm a huge Tiger Woods fan, and I've been getting a lot of questions pertaining to Tiger's 'dalliances' and whether or not it affects my 'fan ship.' Well let me know say that no, it does not. I'm able to separate the preparation, skill and determination that he puts in to be the best in the world at what he does. I'm not so certain I'd work so hard as a uber-millionaire, but Tiger busts his tail (nice pun) to stay at the top of his game. Let me say though, that I emphatically disapprove of his infidelity. I'd never want my son to know that I was a cheater, and I'd never want the guilt. I know I'd never get over it. That said; c'mon Tiger. Voicemails? Steamy Text Messages? Illicit photos? NOT KEEPING A SEPARATE CELL PHONE? Dude, you're worth like, what, a billion dollars? Have one of your cronies, or Scott Van Pelt run out to Cricket and buy you a pay-as-you-go job for $39.95 per month. And please, if you're gonna cheat, go out in a blaze of glory. Don't put half of your financial worth on the table for a tribal-art-tattooed-tramp that looks like she walked out of 'Mel's Timeout Sports Bar' in Lindale, Texas.

Until Next Time...

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2009-12-01T19:10:00.001-08:00

Up until my 82nd minute of this morning's commute, I was feeling pretty damned good about myself.

So here we are, Thanksgiving is gone and already we're knee deep in the Christmas shopping season. Our Christmas trees are up, and we've already begun shopping for our family. I know if I have to make one more trip to the mall on a Saturday I'm going to have to choke someone. People come out of the woodwork at Christmas, man. Have you seen the classic, "Rudolph" claymation bit? Remember the Isle of the Misfit Toys? Well, that's the human equivalent of what crawls out of the woodwork during shopping season. It can get pretty scary.

December has roared in with a bang. It's pouring outside and about 42 degrees. I mean it's nasty. The dog won't even venture out to take a crap that's how bad it is. Now there's talk of snow on Friday. I've got to admit that I get a little giddy when I hear about snow, considering that I've seen it maybe 10 days of my entire adult life. Pathetic, I know.

I've been toying around with the idea of posting pics on the blog and using this venue as more of a facebook/myspace for myself until I get my books rolling. The new iPhone makes it possible for me to do a lot more with this sort of stuff.

The books are still coming along, albeit it really slowly. God willing there won't be any more rewrites.

Until next time...

Hangin' Tough...

2009-11-23T20:05:00.001-08:00

Who really cares about the public option?

It's Monday night, but it feels more like a Thursday. Tomorrow (Tuesday) is going to be my last day of the work week. I've taken a precious day of vacation on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, to make our next baby appointment and drive to my parents' place in Tyler. It's going to be a big family Thanksgiving, which is just fine by me because I'd rather not do any work for the event.

I've been fighting off a mean sinus infection, and I'm on a course of antibiotics that will hopefully knock it out. I'm also back at the gym this week. I'd allowed myself some time off to heal-up and rest. I know these three days I'll spend in the gym are for naught with the glut of calories coming, but it'll be psychologically beneficial if nothing else.

We've been stocking up on Christmas gear this year, as it's going to be our first at home. I've got to tell you, I've get a lot of respect for my mother's massive Christmas paraphernalia collection. Sure it might consume every square inch of closet space, and sure my Dad complains about it every year as he's lugging boxes around; but it'll take us years to acquire that much crap.

So personally, I'm still tired (seems I've been writing that a lot). For two weeks my bed time has resembled that of a 70-year-old. By 9 p.m. I'm beat and nursing my wounds in the bed and dreading the 5 a.m. alarm clock. This Monday I feel rested, perhaps a positive effect of the antibiotics running their course. So, with me getting home at 7:30 p.m. and going to bed at 9 p.m., the books haven't been at the forefront. I've really wanted to go back to my novel, but have been fighting off the urge. The bachelor book needs to be put in the ground. At its core, it needs to be gutted. There are moments of really crisp, really vibrant and clever writing that is exciting. But just as often there's just boredom. For example, a story I tell in the book about going to register for gifts. There're some funny parts about all of the stupid stuff that people register for and don't use. Then I counter with a boring few paragraphs of step-by-step minutia. Right after that is a funny bit about Bed, Bath & Beyond and how stupid married men dress. Then it's more minutia. So all of the minutia needs to be taken out, but I just don't have the patience (or time) at this point.

But I know what needs to be done, and we'll have to see when I get to do it. I always preached about working on stuff at least thirty minutes a day, but now I just don't have it. And with Luke on the way, it's going to be even tougher to find the time.

That said, there's a pretty neat little writing possibility coming up that could be a huge foot in the door. It's a long shot (like making it to the NFL long shot), but it's a chance nonetheless. So Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Be safe.

Until next time...

Damn it Feels good to be a Gangster...

2009-11-09T21:15:00.001-08:00

To this day I cannot read the phrase, "PC Load Letter" without laughing my ass off...

So, it's Monday night late, and all is quiet in the Cathey household. Our little dog, Simon, is sleeping close to me on the floor of our living room while the washing machine hums quietly in the darkness. It's a normal night, a typical night; laced with the tinge of hours long sacrificed at the feet of weekly paycheck.

My mind is quiet at the moment, but at the same time a storm is brewing within. A strange formation of concentrated thought and unchained freedom combined into one coherent stream of conscious. Whoa. That was deep. I better dial it down a bit...

Monday night means another night of NFL football and WWE wrestling in the books, along with the first day of a horrific work week pasted into the sticker book of the Book of Life. The sun's time is growing shorter in the sky each day, and causing me to forget what the hour is constantly.

Okay, okay; now I'm back. I don't know what got into me. I think I was trying some experimental writing that didn't turn out exactly as I had planned. Or then again, maybe it did. Who knows?

I checked my watch today and realized that it was November 9th, 2009. It was nearly one year ago that I pulled up the corporate email on cell phone while at my in-law's lake house in Coldspring to learn that the bank that I'd work for had closed. Needless to say it was quite a shock, and a jarring beginning to a marriage only one month in. I settled into an interesting state that saw me shrivel into a dark room and consume 10 hours of XBOX per day. I played Fallout 3 until my fingers fell off. Everyday after Amanda left for work I'd march upstairs and play until she made it home at 6 p.m. I was completely lost and nearly hopeless. For four years I'd built a career in an industry destroyed by the federal government (thanks Obama, you total douche.) Suddenly I found myself without direction.

Then I got the idea to write a novel, and in a few short few months I finished an original fiction tale. I couldn't have been more proud. Of course now I think the story sucks and needs 100 hours more work before it gets consideration to submit to publishers. But nevertheless, I wrote a novel in less than two months; that's got to count for something.

So tonight I sat down and resumed my final edit of 'The Plunge.' The story is good so far, but we'll see how it holds-up. This rewrite has got to be it. If I don't think it's worth making, then I'll release it on a blog somewhere. I've already got a sweet back story cooked-up to launch the franchise.

In a nutshell, the Cathey familly is still working toward the birth of Luke. I feel him kick his mother everynight, and it's quite a cool feeling. The books are coming along now, and I'm re-energized to get them finished. Remember; there's"

"Never a day without a line."

Until next time...

No; I am your father!

2009-11-01T18:12:00.000-08:00

Time flies when you don't have any...

So apologies for the lack of posting action. It's been pretty busy around these parts, which you know; that's pretty much how life goes. The last few weeks have had their share of ups and downs, with most of the downs being work-related. Actually, all of the downs in my life are work related. On one hand that totally blows, but on the other I guess that means that my life is pretty good save for the office.

The big news around these parts is of course the expecting of mine and Amanda's first child. This past Tuesday we had our first ultrasound in two months, and it was the most exciting thus far as we'd more than likely be able to determine the gender.

The unscientific, gut-feel consensus was that we were going to have a girl. I didn't really have a feel. I guess you could say that I wanted a boy, but didn't lean too far to either side as long as the child comes out firmly in the 'healthy' column.

Well, the verdict is in. And....IT'S A BOY! Luke Isaac Cathey is extremely healthy and according to our doctor extremely large. At this point he's in the 90th percentile for size, and grades out at over 20 weeks even though he's a few days shy. Large babies run in the family. I was 9 lbs. 11 oz., our nephew was over 10 lbs. as was Amanda's brother. Hell, my sister was 9 lbs. 2 oz.! Needless to say, Luke is on track to be quite the large kid. Poor, poor Amanda and her tiny little self. It looks like it's going to be a rough ride for her.

In other news...

The books. Ah yes, those wonderfully frustrating books. Well, they've been pretty much untouched for the last week. To be honest I just don't really have the energy to sacrifice the sleep recently. I think if I ever got the time to just sit down and work uninterrupted I'd get through the thing in a weekend or two. But as life is presently constructed, I just don't see that happening any time soon. I'm trying to make it more friendly because apparently (according to Amanda) I was pretty harsh in the last rewrite. I think I'm still looking for an identity to the story. Hopefully it will come out this time around. I'm sorry to keep disappointing on this thing. The emails I got after the last go round expressing disappointment at the delay made me feel good and bad at the same time. One day it'll be done...one day.

It's 9:20 p.m., but I think I'm going to call it a day. It's always best to get that one good night's worth of sleep before a Monday. Monday's always blow.

Until next time...

So Seriously, WTF?

2009-10-26T18:43:00.001-07:00

Ray Park is just as cool now as he was 10 years ago when I met him in Austin...

Production Delays Suck...

2009-10-21T19:42:00.000-07:00

Damn. I was this close, too...

I spent all of last week meditating on my query letter. It's daunting, you know, trying to condense two years of my work into a one-page sales pitch. I kicked the idea around all week, putting it together in my head. When I finally sat down to write it this past weekend the words did not come easily. But I did make progress. I found it funny that I could write 90,000 page books, but a measily 400 words was like authoring the US Constitution. Just when I started to feel okay about my query progress, my wife emerged from her months-long editing slumber to inform me that, "The new draft is just way too harsh."

"What?!" I thought. What did she mean, "harsh"? I mean, sure, I bash women and weddings and everything having to do with tying the knot, but that's not harsh. After pondering her comments, though, I began to ask myself who my audience was.

During, "The Plunge," often times the audience was myself. After pasting a love-themed heart stamp on the two-hundreth engagement party invitation, I'd just about had it. That moment made me angry and I wrote about it. But what my wife said I lost during the multiple rewrites was the light-heartedness that tied the whole thing together. Instead it was replaced by a hard-edged cynicism. Most times cynicism doesn't sell.

So what does that mean? Well, it means that I'm going to rewrite, "The Plunge," one more time. No really, this time I really mean it. This whole rewrite thing is really a bummer because I want to start on my novel. The novel is where I want to be mentally right now.

Looks like I'm about to fall asleep so I'm going to get started on another rewrite.

Until next time...

It is finished...

2009-10-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

By Job, I've done it! I've actually done it! Six or seven rewrites, two years and lots and lots of coffee; it's done. The final-by-God-finished version of 'The Plunge' is finished. I don't know if there's anything else I can do to it to make it any better. From what I've gathered, that's when you're supposed to submit it to an agent for help. It's grammatically correct, and it transitions and flows just like any narrative should. The question remains; who the hell wants to read it?

Well, that's the real trick. I don't know who would want to read this book. I'm assuming that my friends would want to check it out, as would most of my family. But who else? The book is an insight into my head and thought processes while transitioning from a bachelor into a married man. Of course it's slathered with my cynicism and commentary on American culture, which adds a bit of comedy (or irritation, depending on your gender). I don't know, I guess I just think the idea has got some legs. I mean come on, we have an entire channel dedicated to weddings (WE). And have there ever been any books written from a guy's point of view?

So this week will be 'query letter' week. A query letter is a pretty big deal, as it's basically your personal ad saying 'please market/buy my book.' Even though the letter itself is going to be one page, I'm going to write and rewrite it a few times to make sure that's it's right. Then I'll start working my way down my list of agents. There are hundreds. Surely someone will take a chance on it.

Two weeks from now I'll begin rewriting my novel. I think it may be in line for a massive rewrite. I've got a decent story arc in mind, but the first book might be too plodding to snag the audience. I'll make-up my mind over the next two months.

Personally, my wife and I spent the weekend in San Antonio. We had a lot of fun and enjoyed getting the hell of Houston for a bit. Houston can suck the life out of you sometimes. The commuting and all that; it blows, hard. We've already been married a year, and we'll have a baby on the ground by the end of March. That's when the REAL plunge begins!

Not much on the horizon for me this weekend outside of my nephew's birthday party on Saturday. Other than that, the Cathey's will be chilling at the house and putting the finishing touches on decor before we start on the nursery in January.

Until next time...

Nobody Likes You When You're.....28

2009-10-03T18:50:00.001-07:00

It's the eve of my 28th birthday and honestly, I don't feel any different that I did 10 years ago.

It's been awhile, I know. I think I tried to post something on Wednesday of last week, but I fell asleep at the keyboard, a line of the letter 'j' the only work that I got through. My head was cocked against back of the couch in our sun room (now with furniture!), and my head hurt the entire next day from the enormous crick. That was the only earnest stab I took at writing on the blog. But here I am on October 3rd, watching college football. Amanda's sleeping on the couch next to me. Her tummy's getting pretty paunchy. If I didn't know any better I'd think she had a beer drinking habit.

This past week Amanda bought me an Iphone, which has been near the top of my 'wantlist' for months now. With my work schedule, I'm not able to keep up with my personal affairs. So when I finally do get home from work at 7:30 p.m., I have to spend an hour catching up on email and current events. Now I'll be able to communicate with everyone in a more timely fashion. I'm even kicking around the idea of creating a Facebook.com page. I always knew I'd put one up when the books were finished. If I can ever force myself to sit down and do it, I'll put myself out there. I've got to be honest, though, there're more than a few people that I don't want to be in contact with.

I'm still on a Beatles kick. Their stuff is just so damned good and influential. I'm looking to expand my musical interests a little bit. I'll start playing around a little more on Itunes to see if I can't pick anything out. Movie wise, I picked-up the new Wolverine film and I'm still working through season 2 of Dexter while keeping up with the new season of The Office.

So, back to my birthday. Tomorrow my in-laws are coming by to drop off a few things. I have to get a haircut, get the grocery shopping done and get back before kickoff of Week 4 of the NFL. I can't wait. Amanda's in a pick-em league (where she picks winners of games each week) and she's in second place. Both of my fantasy teams are in contention, and the Texans should right the ship this weekend. Plus it's going to rain. Rain makes me feel justified in my laziness.

My friend Martin and I caught the Blink-182 concert last week at the Woodlands Pavilion. For some reason, there are a lot of high school kids into Blink. I just don't get it. They were last truly relevant in 2002, and their 2003 album didn't do much commercially. So where's this cult Blink love coming from? If anyone knows, drop me a line at tomcathey2@gmail.com The concert was pretty damned fun, though. It was nice to spend some time with Martin, too.

So, an update on writing...

Well, it's going. I still try to write everyday, but I don't get very far. I fall asleep too easily. I do my best writing first thing in the morning after a few cups of coffee. But if I'm in the right mood, I can do good stuff with a shot of caffeine. But now I'm still on editing 'The Plunge." I'm nearly two-thirds finished with the final (and I really mean it this time) draft. I read a few paragraphs to my parents today (in town for a birthday lunch), and they thought it was hilarious. Amanda and I were talking today about just how bad planning that damned wedding sucked. And everything was a ball of contention. The good thing is, though, it makes for really interesting reading. So, I'm a little up on my writing right now. The book just feels good. I'll be sending out query letters pretty soon. I think I'll be ready by the end of November. There's a chance that if I meet that goal (I know, I said I wouldn't set goals), I can get my novel done by 2010. Then I'll start on my all-of-the-sudden project.

This coming Sunday Amanda and I are heading to San Antonio to celebrate our first anniversary. It's going to be so nice to get away. I can't believe I've already been married a year. Time flies...

Until next time...

Big Week

2009-09-19T17:06:00.001-07:00

Greetings, True Believers!

I'm back with another delay and unanticipated blog concerning the life and times of one Tom Cathey. As I'm writing this, my wife and I are getting ready to watch the first hour of the Texas vs. Texas Tech game. We love football season here in the Cathey household. Then at 8:00 p.m. we'll begin watching the undercard to the huge Floyd Mayweather, Jr. vs. Juan Manual Marquez bout on PPV. Amanda's a big Mayweather fan, and it's expected the be a hell of a bout. I don't care either way, as long it's fun to watch. So I've got Amanda into boxing, football and professional wrestling. I'm still working on Star Wars figures, but something tells me that's not going to stick. I'll keep trying, though.

Last week I was mired in a work training at hotel near the airport. It was relatively informative, but more importantly it was good that i didn't have to drive the full 45 miles to work this past week. It was tiring, though. Maybe it was because I was out of my routine. I managed to pick-up the recently released X-MEN ORIGINS film featuring Wolverine on my haul of media. I've also been on a big Beatles kick. Has anyone ever heard of these, Beatles? They made some pretty good music. Who'd have thought?

So, I got to write some this past week, but not as much as I'd have liked. If I could just manage to take a few more hours this week I'd get through a rewrite. But I will say that I began work on my third novel this week. Not too many details, but I'd been piecing it together for so long (5 years) that I'd put something down on notebook paper. It'll take at least through 2010 to finish (it's kind of epic), but I like the idea. "The Plunge" is what I'm currently on. My editor (wife) has fallen behind on editing, so I've pushed ahead. Speaking of my wife, she's getting really, really pregnant. Nausea is getting better, and we'll be finding out the sex of our baby at the end of the month.

So coming-up this week I have the Blink 182 concert on Thursday night, which I will be attending with my buddy Martin. On Saturday the 26th we're getting some furniture for our gameroom. Well, that's just about it. Getting ready for fight time!

Best to Ita....

I'll be back, soon! Best wishes to you and yours and good hunting!

Until next time...

Less than 24 Hours Away

2009-09-09T19:43:00.000-07:00

We've been waiting all year and it's finally upon us. The kickoff to the 2009 NFL Season is here! Tomorrow night is just the appetizer, a Thursday night game (that I won't get to see until the second half because of work), but it's still football nonetheless. This Sunday my pregnant wife and I will pig out on tons of fast food, all while watching 12 hours of pro football. We can't wait.

As for Amanda, well, she's sick. She's sick a lot. Part of the problem is that she can't vomit, which blows when you're in the midst of any sort of baby sickness. But she's hanging in there. Hopefully at the end of the month we'll be able to determine the sick. Either way we have names picked-out, and in March we'll have the newest addition to the Cathey family.

Work has occupied a substantive amount of my time recently, which is frustrating, especially when you're putting in 11 hours per day. But I still write all of the time. Last night after getting home at 8:30 p.m. I fell asleep at the computer on the bedroom floor. I'd at least made it to page 50. But at least this is the LAST rewrite on 'Plunge.' We're getting close. And I'm done setting goals with rewrites. It's just pointless. This past weekend (at my parents) I planned on writing most of the time. What happened? I slept my ass off, that's what I did. And I think I deserved it. During the week I get on average 5.5 hours a night between writing, occasional gaming and waking-up to work out. There was a part of me awhile back that just wanted to work. I'd get home after a long work day and write. I'd fall asleep somewhere uncomfortable then get up and do it again. It's taxing. Now I'm taking a little more 'brainless' time. That 'brainless' time is consumed by movies, television and sometimes videogames. I'll go crazy if I don't take it.

Jesus...another vampire commercial. I'm so f'ing tired of vampires...

Until next time...

No One's Going to Do it For You; You've got to go for it and Take It...

2009-08-30T08:59:00.001-07:00

It's Sunday Morning, and I'm feeling just fine despite the lack of sleep. Finally a quasi-cold front blew through, which makes it a hell of a lot more pleasant outside. It's a sleepy day here in the Cathey household. The freshly-shorn Simon (our dog), is laying beside my pregnant wife on the couch as she watches a random reality TV show and works on a Sudoku puzzle. I'm situated at the kitchen table with the remains of monthly bill statements and a bottle of 'Smart Water'.

We have our second appointment at the baby doctor this week. Amanda's tummy is getting pretty large. The fact that I'm going to be a father hasn't quite set-in. We do, however, have names for both sexes picked-out. There's nothing like the feeling of hearing the heartbeat of your baby. It's one of the few moments that I've ever really felt alive.

Last week was a good if not typical week aside for a small vehicular hiccup. I was really productive last week in regards to writing. Every night I worked for hours, and I'm two-thirds through with the second re-write of my novel. My wife is working through my final version of 'The Plunge,' basically to make sure there's nothing written that she doesn't know about. After all, it's a 313 page bashing of weddings, women and everything concerning tying the knot. She's really nauseated, so it's difficult for her to focus for two long on reading (oddly enough, Sudoku isn't an issue). Therefore, her progress has been delayed. She is through 50 pages, however, so I can take what she's gone through and re-write it for the final time. I've researched what agents are looking for, and unfortunately not many are looking for first-time fiction. Now, young adult literature is en vogue, which is good. But my plan has always been to get 'The Plunge' published and then use that as a segway to move into my novels. Humorous non-fiction is in high demand at the moment, so the sooner I can 'The Plunge' out the door, the better.

I'm ready for the rejection that comes with looking for an agent. I believe in my abilities and talents as a writer, but like anyone I have my doubts. Randomly I'll pick up one of my manuscripts and open it to just begin reading. More than often than not I like what I'm reading, but there are times when I'll get to something that just doesn't sound right. That's when I get depressed or upset. That's when I have to reassure myself and not get down on my writing, because I've read other people's stuff. Mine isn't that far off.

Aside from writing, Amanda and me have been knee-deep in football this year. Yesterday while I was out, she watched 10 hours of pre-season football and kept tabs on fantasy football possibilities. In a few short weeks we'll continue our annual tradition (it's only a year old, but we aren't stopping) of watching 12 hours of Sunday football and pigging out on fast food of our choice. It's our favorite time of year, especially when it gets cold out. This coming Saturday kicks off the college football season! We're heading to Tyler to see my parents for the weekend, and I'm looking forward to getting away. There are days when I absolutely hate Houston and it's commuter lifestyle. Getting some fresh air will do me good.

I suppose that's all. I'm more determined than ever to get these books out the door and start on my next project(s).

And where in the hell is our hurricane, El Nino?

Until next time...

Do you have time?

2009-08-20T20:56:00.000-07:00

It's 11 p.m. on a Thursday night. My wife is in bed, and I am awake, sitting and the computer and wondering what to do. It was one of those days at work again; the days the just keep going with incessant interruption and general ignorance. Surely my time is better than that. Then again, maybe it's not.

My quandary arises from the never ending and nagging feeling that I should always be writing. I mean, should I be writing? Everyone always asks me, "Wow, how is that easy for you?" I don't really know. I started writing creative short stories (for fun, mind you) when I was in second grade. I think the first one I ever wrote was about a softball game played between a team led by Santa (from the claymation series of 'cartoons', no less) and a team led by the Grinch (yeah, the one that stole Christmas). Yes, that story is lame. But it illuminates the intrinsic desire to want to create.

For years I suppressed that desire beneath a shroud of alcohol and videogames before it made an unexpected appearance again in 2007. Now it almost consumes me. So should I write? Yes, yes I should. Should I re-write? Ughhh....that's not a process that's high on my wishlist right now. Re-writing is laborious, tedious and yet necessary all at the same time. On a night like this one, wehre I'm sitting at the computer at 11 p.m., and I'm debating on where a word goes within a line of dialogue, it's tedium. That's where I am right now. If you were to give me a pen and some paper, I could sit down and give you a story that's well-written and aesthetically appealing. You give me a manuscript, that I wrote, and ask me to pick it apart for continuity and grammar? You might as well jam a pencil through my temple.

So that's where I'll leave it. No, I won't be writing tonight. Instead I'll kill my mind with useless drivel.

Until next time....

My Wife=Pregnant

2009-08-16T17:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes it's true. Actually, now that every one of you that reads this blog already knows that Amanda's pregnant it's not a surprise. It is, however, tremendously exciting. No, we weren't trying, but we weren't preventing, either. Amanda is nine weeks in and starting to develop a little bit of a baby bump. Cravings have started (DONUTS at 6 a.m. this morning), but we've yet to have our first irrational outbreak of emotional hogwash. Our due date is March 24th, and we'll go back it September to have another ultrasound done. The first week in August we heard the Baby's heartbeat. It was quite emotional. So it's actually happening; I'm going to be a father. Any guesses as to the baby's name? We're selling the rights, matter of fact.

It's 7:30 p.m. and my mind is already starting to think about work. It's like when I was in school and at the same time before the week of classes started I'd switch to school mode. Except this sucks even more. As we speak I'm suppressing the urge to continue thinking about work. Oh, a freecreditreport.com commercial.....okay I'm back. Work is out of the equation for a minute.

Yesterday was my fantasy football draft. I think I did well, and if things break right I have a chance to win it for the second time. yesterday also provided an opportunity for me to catch-up with my high school friends. We're all pretty much the same, except fatter and balder. It was a lot of fun.

Now that the fantasy football draft is gone and Madden 10 is out (which I've played for all of an hour), I'm eyeing the next piece of excitement on the horizon. This week it's a Saturday Night Boxing event on HBO. I know, not much, right?

The books are, well, they're coming along. My wife has yet to begin reading through my final rewrite of the 'The Plunge.' If she doesn't watch it, I'm going to submit it without her editorial eye. I'm ready to put that thing in the ground. I've been working on it for nearly two years, and every time I see it I want to throw up. It's gone through six rewrites, and I'm going to rewrite it again before I submit it to agents. (Mind you, I'm re-reading and re-writing 324 double-spaced, 12 font pages) Then when (if) it gets picked up by a publisher, I'll have to rewrite it six more times. So, my thoughts on 'The Plunge' for this week are that it's love/hate. There are parts of it that still make me laugh. Then there are others that are just plain tedious. Problem is that I don't know how to fix it. In the hands of a professional I'm hoping to find what I'm missing. There's a lot to work with there, though. The feedback from those who've read parts has been overwhelmingly positive, so the support is pushing me on.

And as stated in the last post, my novel is undergoing its third rewrite. I'd put it down for four months, and now that I've jumped back into it, I'm liking it more and more. I'm through about this go, and part of me is afraid that the writing is too simplistic. And by simplistic I mean not overly descriptive to the point of nausea. My wife, who began editing it, hated the writing because it was 'too wordy.' My friend, Dan, who began an edit really like the writing. So who to write to? Well, always write to your audience. My audience is the teenage bracket. That's simplistic. So, I've removed some of the description and made it a little easier on the eyes. I don't want to expose too much of the plot, but just remember that it's about zombies...and it's an awesome story arc!

By the way, we could get our tropical storm next week!

http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/refresh/graphics_at2+shtml/204112.shtml?5-daynl?large#contents

Also, on the media horizon for me:

http://www.batmanarkhamasylum.com/start

Until next time...

Can You Feel This?

2009-08-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

It only comes once per year, and no, I'm not talking about Christmas. I'm talking about the annual release of Madden NFL Football on your favorite videogame system. It's not the greatest football videogame franchise of all-time (reserved for 2K Sports' efforts), but it's all we get. As I sit here now, I'm watching the 4th quarter of a preseason NFL game. Yeah, that's right, the preseason. Who cares about preseason? I guess I do. So, Madden is releasing this coming Friday, and this years NCL fantasy football draft with my friends is this coming Saturday. So it's a pretty good weak, yet again. Two in a row!

Last night was Green Day. My goodness did they rock! They're such a phenomenal band, and the front man, Billie Joe Armstrong, kept the crowd engaged for the two-hour set. It'd been five years since I'd last seen them, and they might be even better than I remember. The stage and set was amazing, as was the music. So, next on the concert agenda will be Blink 182, Fallout Boy and the All-American Rejects in September.

I stopped by the book section this morning just to see what's selling. And do you know what's selling? Yep, you guessed it: Freaking Vampires! I might work a vampire into 'The Plunge' as an additional angle. I'm not saying that I need it, just saying that it might help.

So, I'm done with my most recent rewrite of 'The Plunge.' This week I'll be getting the newest version of the manuscript bound for my wife's perusal, and after she finishes I'll run through it one more time. This past weekend I identified five agents that would be ideal to represent 'The Plunge.' As I finish-up, I'll begin to write query letters and hopefully something will stick. The other day I was telling someone that they were just like messages in bottles. Maybe someone will ready them, maybe they won't. Nevertheless, I'll be trying.

My next writing project will be the rewrite of the novel I wrote over the holidays, 'Waterglade.' Anyone remember, 'Waterglade'? It's a neat little story that's got some legs and room for plenty of sequels. More details on 'Waterglade' as I'm working through it.

Until next time...

A Totally Sweet Week!

2009-08-02T19:27:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you all have noticed the new layout, which isn't anything special, but at least it's change. In case it wasn't obvious, this week is the Green Day concert at the Toyota Center on August 8th! It'll be the first concert I've attended in quite awhile, and I'll be going with my friends Martin and Bobby (and our ladies, of course). I've seen Green Day once before, and I remember them putting on one hell of a show. It should be a blast.

Not only is Green Day this Saturday, but Sunday (right now as a matter of fact) through Saturday is Shark Week on Discovery. I've been watching Shark Week since I was a kid, and I still can't get enough of it. Programming tonight has been pretty good. I can't wait to see what's in store for the rest of the week.

Great progress has been made on my rewrite of 'The Plunge'. I'm likely only 50 or so pages away from being done. My goal is to have it finished by weekend, which would allow me to have it printed and bound for my wife to read through. Then it's back to me and off to publishers. By the end of the month I'll start sending letters out to prospective agents. We're getting pretty close now, and it's exciting. to get started on all of the possibility.

Look for a pretty big announcement soon on the Tom Cathey 2 blog. I'll likely be back with a mid-week update. I apologize for the short entry, but it's back to Shark Week!

Until next time...

As Promised

2009-07-25T08:36:00.000-07:00

Hey Gang!

I know I've been teasing another sliver of the, "The Plunge" for awhile now, but haven't gotten around to doing it. This morning as I've been editing before the standard 6-hour weekend trip to buy things for our house, I thought I'd follow through. So without further adieu, please enjoy a small piece of two-years of hard work.

American Engagements

There hasn’t been a bigger scam perpetrated on modern society than the prevailing thought that engagement rings are a time-honored tradition, and that all men MUST buy their woman a diamond that stretches the boundary of reason and reality. Blame really belongs to every person who has raised their little girl to be a princess that would one day be carried off on a white stallion by an Armani-clad, Mercedez prince. Combine that with ‘gotta have it society,’ and you’ve got a woman expecting a diamond engagement ring that costs months of salary.
Every man who has to save every scrap of pocket change for months to buy his bride-to-be something that meets her approval can thank De Beers and their masterful job of duping the civilized world into obligatory engagement ring purchases. In the late 1910s, diamond sales were down thanks to the discovery of African mines that caused diamond prices to freefall. De Beers created a marketing campaign, and the now vomit-inducing slogan, “A Diamond is Forever,” and changed engagements into materialistic, cookie cutter occasions no longer reserved for the exclusively wealthy. Every holiday season our senses are bombarded with jewelry advertising, creating the formulaic equation that love equals gold and jewels.
“If you love her, you’ll buy her diamonds,” suggest commercials and magazine ads.
Marketing wizards at DeBeers enlisted movie stars as spokespeople who brandished diamond rings, and when coupled with that catchy slogan, men were bamboozled into buying diamonds for women for all sorts of occasions. Men all got hit in the wallets, because mass media and social pressure told their women that their man wasn’t a real man unless he bought big, nice diamonds. So much for being there through thick and thin, providing a shoulder to cry on and be a shelter from the storm; because if you really loved her you’d go into mountainous debt to buy her a diamond ring. And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned, is that conventional wisdom says love doesn’t mean anything without the bling.
Women get ridiculous rings and men get a pat on the back or the envy of other women who want their men to buy them similar or better jewelry than their friend has. And if you’re a dude that gets outdone by a friend on a diamond, then I feel sorry for you. You’re perpetually behind the 8-ball, because ‘his was bigger.’ As if we didn’t have to live THAT one down often enough.
The whole process just sucks, and I mean sucks. So let me get this straight, I’m a good guy because I bought out a huge diamond ring, which required me to sell a kidney and half of my liver for the down payment? Really? Perhaps it would be easier for me to swallow if women received engagement rings and men in return got engagement big-screen televisions, or engagement beer mini-refrigerators. Then we’re talking about a win-win for everyone, with equality to be had for all! Well, as long as women have to blow two months’ salary, too. Otherwise it wouldn’t be equal, right?

Amazing Happens

2009-07-19T18:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life throws you small snippets of what's possible. And it's when you don't expect it, too. After week upon week of crap, there are rays of sunshine that peak through the clouds.

Tom Watson, a 59-year-old golfer, almost did the unthinkable. He almost won the British Open. Age is just a number, and it's never too late. It's never, never too late. Of course he fell short in playoff holes, perhaps a victim of old age and tired legs. He'd won the tournament before, but that was twenty years before. It was almost a miracle. It was a ray of sunshine, at least for me.

This weekend my wife and I went to see the Terra Cotta Warrior exhibit at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Though it was short, it was truly amazing. The long, tenuous work on a megalomaniac's desire to live forever uncovered for a world to see. I don't recommend you pay full-price, though. It was really that short.

Last week was really, really long, and I don't feel like I got to rest-up for the week to come. Thank God for caffeine and its mystical charm of raised blood pressure and alertness.

So get this, I've started on the third rewrite of 'The Plunge', and I got through 40 pages today and didn't focus on it too much. That's really good news, because I think I'm going to be done with it fairly quickly. From there it goes to edit, then back to me for the final revision. We are really, really close to having a finished product. God only knows if it'll ever get published. That's my dream, though. And if not, I have a certain zombie novel and two other ideas I'm pretty high on!

This Tuesday marks the release of "The Watchmen" and "Coraline" on Blu-Ray. I'll be picking both up to watch this coming weekend. This Friday my wife and I are going to see "The Phantom of the Opera." I've never seen any iteration of the show, so I'm looking forward to it. Oh, and I bought a Michael Jackson CD. Please make fun of me. I deserve it, especially after my last blog entry.

You know what we need? A hurricane!

2009-07-12T19:10:00.001-07:00

I'm not talking about Hurricane Ike-level destruction, more of a really strong tropical storm and maybe, just maybe a category one hurricane. Why you ask? Well, when there's a storm brewing in the Gulf of Mexico, the city of Houston shuts down for a few days. Plus it's straight drought-land around here. If we could get three days of no work and ten inches of rain, it'd be dreamy. I think we all can agree that work sucks. It sucks hard. A paid, rain-drenched vacation is better than no vacation at all.

I'm approximately 20 minutes away from watching the premiere of the new season of HBO's 'Entourage.' I remember in 2004 when my buddy and I got hooked on the series. It came on after Ali G. (Borat and Bruno) I became enamored with the show, and a daydreamed about living the sort of high-flying Hollywood lifestyle that a movie star and his posse lives. The closest I got was owning a Corvette that I couldn't afford. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to the new season, which begins in just a few minutes!

Today I couldn't help but become ensnared by one of the dozens of Michael Jackson specials that have riddled the television landscape for the past week. You know, I actually sat down and thought about the King of Pop and his legacy on our culture. Beyond the shadow of the doubt, he's one of the greatest performers of all time. His musical trail leaves a path of genius, but let's not get crazy. His death is not the low point of anyone's existence. Let's keep it in perspective. It's sad he's gone, but he's been irrelevant in America for a decade unless he's on CNN for a molestation trial. Rest in Peace, Michael. Now let's move on.

In my race to finish writing books and attempts keep up with my seemingly endless string of hobbies, it's come to my attention that I don't sleep anymore. On a good night, I get six hours. On a typical night, I get five or less. After dozing off at the keyboard at work and finally getting physically ill, I've decided to go to bed in a timely fashion, eat well and get back to a regular exercise routine. By doing these things I hope to be ultimately more productive. I'm bringing the old me back. Except that, you know, I'm not giving up beer. No way, not ever.

And there's good news. The second rewrite of 'The Plunge' is now complete! Tomorrow begins work on my third rewrite before I turn it over to my editor and complete the final draft. So, I'm shooting for a September completion date to have the final copy. Then it's on to 'Waterglade.' Speaking of my zombie-thriller, I read over a few chapters the other night. I'm getting a good feeling about it. But then again, we all know how that goes.

Have a great week. Until next time....

The Curious Case of Lemony Snickets

2009-07-05T19:08:00.000-07:00

The July 4th holiday came, and the July 4th holiday went. Now it's time to put on my finely-creased twill dress pants and make the two hour round trip to walk amongst the rest of the living dead.

I finally caught-up on sleep for the first time in three weeks. I've been going hard at work, and it's left me sick with some sort of head congestion or something. My wife and I had a fine time with her family over the weekend. Now we're back home and hunkering down for yet another week in the fray.

I swear to God there's a show called, "Say Yes to the Dress," which chronicles the adventures of brides-to-be as they try to pick out a wedding dress. That saga hits a bit too close to home for me.

Did anyone know that we're about two months away from the kickoff of the NFL season? It's not long until it's beer and chicken wings every Sunday for 12 hours while my wife helps me keep track of my fantasy team.

Anyone notice that unemployment is at 9.5 percent?

My writing is well...it's on going. It hasn't stopped, really, but it's become harder than Tom Sizemore (might have used that joke in the blog, can't remember) to find the energy at the end of the day. Someone has mentioned using Vista's voice recognition software, which eases the process somewhat. Now it's all about finding the time to make that happen. I'm feeling okay about getting the first rough draft cranked out pretty quick. As I predicted, I've now begun to think that the whole book sucks and needs to be dumped in the trash. I know I've always said that no matter what I'd publish it, but if I'm not going to get published for airing out all of my dirty wedding laundry, then I don't know if I'll ever let anyone read it...ever. I'm just in one of those moods where I hate everything. It's sure to change any minute.

I finally saw the David Fincher (Fight Club, Seven) directed 'Curious Case of Benjamin Button.' I bought it three weeks ago and my wife and I sat down to watch it this afternoon. I must it was a stirring and artistic portrait of a 'curious' situation. One thing I took away from it was, that it is truly never too late to do something; it's never too late to start. I'm happy I saw that movie today. Thoughts like that help me get up every day. Well there's that thought and the Floyd Mayweather fight coming up.

Until next time...

The Song of the Century

2009-06-28T06:35:00.000-07:00

Alas, it's only 8:35 a.m., but the mounting sadness that comes with the inevitability of Monday is wrapped around my back like a 200 pound gorilla. I usually don't start to feel this way until later on the evening, but today it has hit earlier. The one saving grace concerning the coming week is that it's a holiday week. I will be off on Friday in observance of July 4th. There's a break.

So, my life is relatively quiet these days. It's scorching outside, with temperatures regularly parking themselves at the 100 degree mark. It is so ridiculously hot that it's miserable. Just the walk to the car in the morning causes me to sweat through my button-up, resulting in salty, white stains. It's disgusting, and boy I can't wait for winter.

Sorry to sound be so depressing. It's just that these truly are the dog days of summer, and it's difficult to get excited about them anymore. There is hope, however. We are just months away from the kickoff of both college and professional football. That is the preoccupation that spawns dozens of daydreams throughout the week. They're games on at least four days a week, and the sports landscape is teeming with news of injuries, feuds and trades. And there's always fantasy football. I picked-up my fantasy football guide for the 2009 season last week, and I'm already studying for my 2009 campaign that hopefully results in a league championship.

This past week I finished 11 pages of the re-write. While that's not as much as I'd like to get done, it's still something. As long as I'm making progress everyday, as long as I continue the fight to get published, I'm doing something constructive. After my wife's Sunday Morning errands (I was told there would be none today), the rest of the day will be left to do whatever. Aside from typical house chores (clothes washing, possible lawn-mowing), I do plan to catch-up on a movie or two and get a couple of hours of writing done. Depending on what's finished today, there's a slight, and I do mean slight chance that this week I could complete the first re-write (It's really the second re-write, but I'm calling it the first).

And there is an excerpt coming. I don't know what it'll be, but I will be posting one soon. Keep a look out for it. Plus I'm trying to find someone to create a custom layout for my blog. Eventually I'll segway to Facebook and possibly Twitter, but for now the blog will be the main way I 'socially network.'

Until next time...

Red is the Color of Panic

2009-06-22T19:28:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those 'Office Space' days. I can't count the number of times today that I stopped mid-sentence and wondered what in the hell transpired that led me to where I am today. Seriously, I stopped in the middle of conversation and pondered.

Today was also a sad, sad day. My wife learned that Jon and Kate of the ever-popular, "Jon and Kate Plus 8," (which exploits the fertility medication-bred of offspring of this dysfunctional couple), are getting a divorce. Wow. There you have it. Somehow, I think the world will keep turning tomorrow. Well....maybe.

By the way, did you know that there's a reality show about choosing wedding dresses? There's also a series (not a show, but a series) on MTV called "Pregnant and 16," which exploits 16-year-old high school gals that have unfortunately become knocked-up at a way too young age. Not only is it shameful that this show exists, but it's shocking to know that it's a series! Do you know what that means? It means that there's more than one 16-year-old 'misguided' young lady to create a whole slate of shows on the topic. Awesome.

Moving on...

I'm on the homestretch of the first re-write of "The Plunge." God it's taking a long time. It's almost taking too much time, and at times, it almost makes me want to take a long-term hiatus. When I first tried to make a schedule for submitting my work for representation, I anticipated being finished with BOTH manuscripts by the end of June. Obviously, that's not going to happen. I'll be lucky to get "The Plunge" done by the end of the month. But so far I'm hanging in there, not being deterred by the delays (because of life events). As of now, I'm on page 280 of the re-write, with about another 30 to go. You'd think it wouldn't take long, but as I'm trudging toward the end, I'm noticing that the writing got pretty bland on my first go round. I think it's because I was tired and just wanted to finish. I was to give a 'moving target' guess of when this draft will be done, it's by the 4th of July. From there I'll start the second re-write before moving to the third.

Okay gang, it's off to bed. I'm falling asleep at the keyboard.

Until next time...

Wake me up When September Ends

2009-06-15T20:38:00.000-07:00

Funerals are typically the last place on Earth I'd rather be. There's something about them, perhaps the atmosphere, the tears and glum faces--the general ambiance isn't warm and cuddly.

Today was the funeral of my wife's grandmother, who'd been battling pancreatic cancer ever since I'd had to the pleasure to get to know her. Over a hundred people came to pay their last respects to a woman who by all accounts was one of this world's true gems. And it's not often one can say that these days, with all of the adversity and the evolution surrounding the modern American family.

Death causes me to ponder my own fate, my own life. When I was a little kid, I don't quite recall ever wanting to grow-up to be a Director of Finance at a business school. Admittedly, I gave-up wanting to play professional basketball in junior high when I realized 6-foot white guys who can't jump rarely make it to the NBA. Then I began to summize where I wanted to be forever. The depressing part is, is that I'm no closer to discovering that reality than I was 15 years ago.

Lots of people define their lives by how much money they make. Where are they on the good 'ole corporate ladder before they reach their ceiling. Days of slumming two hours a day in the car, followed by 9 hours of party-planning, reports and conference calls for thirty years isn't exactly what I call living. Unfortunately, that's the track I'm on now. I always swore that would never be me, but now, that's road I'm on right now. It's not too late for me to change course, but I'm now to the point where it might be all that's there for me. You know, that might just be okay.

I can be a husband and one day a father, and I can work twelve hour days, commute, sleep five hours a day and be a good person. I can raise my children to be good people, and provide for them everything in the world. Money is nice, but in the end, it's just you and your Maker. Maybe one day I'll have a family that loves me, and at my funeral everyone who's ever known me can attest that I was a good man. I suppose that's not a bad ending, either.

On a lighter note...The Ghostbusters Videogame came out this week, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to pass it up along with the Blu Ray release of the original film on its 25th anniversary. The game sports the prime cast members reprising their roles with a script written by Harold Ramis and Dan Akroyd. Wait, I think I just talked myself into it.

Oh and by the way, I'm watching some show about a husband and wife that have sextuplets. Of course, my wife has this on as I sit writing on the floor. Now, tell me what's to fascinating about two people feeding kids, cleaning the house and going to the grocery store? Oh, that's right; there's SIX kids! That makes it so much better. And we just learned that the father is obese, and he's complaining about drinking protein shakes. Wow, I take protein shakes everyday, too! Why is this crap on television, and more importantly, why is my wife watching it?

Until Next Time...

My Friends Say I should Act my Age

2009-06-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

The days are peeling back fast, and it doesn't even really feel like summer. Of course I know it's summer. There are no damned, long, ridiculous yellow buses preventing me from getting everywhere, and when I step into my car after work it's so hot I feel like I can peel my face off. But that's the only reason it feels like summer. When I get home, the sun is barely up. When I leave the house in the morning, the sun is barely up. Hell, I'm having a hard time convincing myself that I don't live in an Alaskan town where the sun never goes down for four months a pop.

So I'm taking the time to scan through my email a week or so back (that's about 75% of my free time for the day), and I come across an interesting email: 'BLINK 182 Pre-Sale.'

Upon doing some digging, I found out that one of my favorite bands of all-time, Blink 182 is reuniting for a summer tour and they're going to make a stop in Houston with both Fall Out Boy and the All American Rejects. Now for those of you who know me, that's just Bon Jovi away from being my personal greatest line-up of all-time. Let me clarify that Bon Jovi comment; non-country music Bon Jovi. I'm talking about, 'Livin' on a Prayer', Bon Jovi.

Blink 182 was the band that spontaneously pulled me from the depths of rap music fandom and into the 'Pop Punk' Alternative Emo movement. I still remember the day in the summer of 1998 when I road in a car with three of my best buddies (only one of which I'm still in contact with today) as the cranked, "What's My Age Again" from the album, "Enema of the State." The G-C-D chord pattern and the sophomoric humor had me at hello. I became a fan. That album, and the band for that matter, became synonymous with my high school and early college life. Songs from their first four albums still elicit vivid memories from that time and make me smile. And now they're back again.

Blink 182 isn't comprised of musical geniuses, and their music isn't going to write any political wrongs or save the children in Darfur. They used to be damned fun to watch, and within the span of a few months I'll get to catch both Green Day and Blink 182. For me, it can't get much better musically unless there's a New Kids on the Block reunion...wait a minute...

My wife is recovering, but it has been very slow and at times difficult. Luckily, my mother-in-law has been staying with us and caring for my wife during the day. It's still difficult for my wife to do things on her own, but hopefully by this time next week she'll be back at about 75%.

Unfortunately my writing has come to a screeching halt. Just when I could see the light at the end of the first-rewrite tunnel, work became hell on Earth and my wife had her surgery. I'm down to the last 50 pages to rewrite, plus I'll need to add a chapter that I conjured up while my wife was editing the rough draft. It will get there, though. I'm behind so many schedules that I've decided to stop making them. The damned final copy will be ready whenever it's ready.

Sorry for the delay in getting some content posted. It should flow more regularly now.

Until next time...

Do you Know What you're Fighting for?

2009-06-03T10:57:00.001-07:00

I'm laid-up in the hospital with my wife this afternoon, off of work and watching her sleep silently. Oh...wait, she just woke-up.

With the day off from work, and a short day tomorrow to assist with Amanda's healing effort. I've got to be honest; I'm not not very sad about it. Work's been a grind lately, to the point where I want to cash it in. Now that you've heard me complain enough, I suppose we can get on to some meaningful stuff.

Amanda's surgery went well, and she should be released by Friday. She'll be off her feet for a few days to allow for healing, and it'll be week after next before she's eligible to return to work. This weekend it'll be 'Nurse Tom,' and 'Beer Friday' is going to be quite a bit different from typical iterations. I happy Amanda's had her issue permanently addressed (GERD), and that she can live her life without daily medication.

Due to work, the coat of polish I'm putting on 'The Plunge' has been delayed somewhat. I got to work for about an hour here in the hospital, and will likely get another done before I go. A friend of mine's daughter has a book going with Simon and Schuster, and her rewrite is taking at least six months. Of course that's a professional job with real editors and whatnot. I'm just a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe (Star Wars reference). We should see the first rewrite completed shortly, and then it's the biggest editing job ever!

Until Next time...

Do You Know Your Enemy?

2009-06-02T04:53:00.001-07:00

Damn, yesterday was tough. Work went long for a Monday, so by the time I got home I had time to grab dinner, watch thirty minutes of television and go to sleep. It wasn't a 'red letter' day by any stretch. Matter of fact; yesterday sucked....hard.

However, it is Tuesday and another new beginning. Tomorrow my wife goes in for surgery for her acid reflux and a recently discovered hiatal hernia. She's out of work for a week and a half, at least, depending on well the surgery goes. So tomorrow I'll be taking the day off from work and sitting at the hospital with her. The bad news is, that my wife's having very painful surgery. The good news is, that I get to spend most of the day writing! At least there's something good to come out it.

So this weekend I was at Kroger, picking up some food wares for my wife and her very particular appetite. On the way out, I made it a point to stop by the surprisingly robust book/magazine section, which sported a wide variety of stuff. I like to stop by and pick up a random book here and there. I flip open the cover, read a few lines and nine times out of ten think, "Man, this stuff isn't any better than mine." It makes me feel good and reassures me that most authors aren't that great, anyway. I mean, don't get me wrong; they're good, but they're not 'from another planet' good.

After I stroked my ego a bit, I perused the book selection to see what stocked the shelves in the way of young adult fiction. And son of a gun, half the books were about vampires. I mean, haven't we just about had it with the vampires? I guess back in the early to mid 90s we had the Anne Rice craze and a slew of new vampire flicks to accompany the media onslaught of the undead. Now of course it's 'Twilight,' and about five other new series with werewolves and the like. And I picked-up, "New Moon," one of Stephanie Meyer's books, and I'll tell you what; Stephen King had it right. Stephanie Meyer does suck.

"Oh, he touched me, and the electricity shot through my body as my hands quivered against the unearthly cool embrace of his silken touch..."

See! Anybody can do it!

Until next time...

Videogames 'til the Towers Fall

2009-06-01T05:23:00.000-07:00

Good Morning!

As usual, I'm running late for work and trying desparately to jot down a few lines before I head out of the door. Things are hectic in the Cathey household, with my wife scheduled for surgery this Wednesday. From the sound of things, she's going to be off her feet for over a week, which means we'll be sticking close to home for the forseeable future.

I had an epiphany this weekend, and that is that, "The Plunge," is really, really good. I think I may do a 'side-by-side' to show you the work before rewrite and after rewrite. The transformation is pretty sweet.

I'm thinking of starting a bi-weekly serial, which would focus on an unnamed superhero (that I create, of course!). Shoot, I guess I better run...I'll be back with more tonight.

Until next time...

Mass Hysteria!

2009-05-28T04:57:00.000-07:00

It's already Thursday, yet, I've only been working for two days this week. Isn't that great? Today's my late day, which means I don't have to be in until 10 a.m. or so. I love my late days. It's the only time I get to get any work done without some random nincompoop rolling on in and distracting me. Plus in the morning, I actually get to do stuff.

Yesterday was one of those rough, 10 hour work days, the kind that never seem to end. I probably could've stayed another four hours at the office, but after calmly talking myself down off of that ledge, I called it a day and drove home. The only good thing about having a 45-minute drive at 7:15 p.m. is that there's no traffic, and you don't have to use the tollways to get home. Upon walking in the house, our little puppy, Simon, crashed into my leg and jumped up and down like he'd just seen the Beatles final concert. My wife was sitting on the living room floor (on the legendary rug, no less!), playing the PSP and watching, "This Christmas," for at least the tenth time.

Now, I'm not much to plop down and watch just any old movie. Time is short, and I've got lots of other things to do, like write or catch-up on my backlog of DVDs and Blu Rays. Amanda, however, can always find something on HBO or Showtime (hell, we've got 10 channels of each). So as I'm eating some leftover Mexican food that Amanda brought home from earlier in the day, I really analyzed Amanda's viewing of, "This Christmas." For those who don't know, this film is about an African-American family with a hodge podge of actors that you've seen in other stuff. They have a big family Christmas in California, and it's got all the fixin's of a feel good story. There's the gambling son with a good heart deep down who simply, "lost his way," to the tune of a $25,000 debt. There's a daughter who's married to a philandering business man who gets caught in the act. There's the essential 'white girl' girlfriend, and the boy who could really shine as a singer if only his mother would let go of her puritanical ways and let him spread his wings. Take all of these ingredients, sprinkle in the parents trying to hold it together; and you've got a 'been there, done that' feel good drama meant for a specific demographic (Hint: It's not my wife, the 27-year-old, middle-class anglo woman).

All I know is, that Chris Brown made Rihanna's face look like a puppy's first bowel movement, and Delroy Lind0 (the father), was a lone bright spot in, "Gone in 60 Seconds." Needless to say, if you ever find yourself in the Cathey household, you better bet your ass that 'This Christmas' will be on a television somewhere.

Transition...

I've been toying with the idea of posting another excerpt from the unfinished, "Plunge", since everyone enjoyed the first so much. Hell, most writers would never do that, but see, I'm not a, 'real writer.' I just pretend. But what I do enjoy is sharing my writing with friends and family (and hopefully millions of people). It's no fun to write something if nobody reads it.

So, it's almost time for me to head into the office. Boy, I can't wait, either!

Until next time...

I Don't Want to Live in the Modern World

2009-05-25T20:52:00.000-07:00

So...

I'm winding down the evening and holiday weekend (bummer it's over already, I know), and I get a text message. This text message intrigued me, as I don't correspond with too many people outside of my family. Who in the world would be texting me late on a holiday Monday? Why, it's my boss, of course! Apparently, we're having visitors tomorrow, which means we need to, "Dress nice and be on time." Swell. I sure can't wait to suit-up and meet the special visitors (sarcasm)!

As quick as it started, the holiday weekend concluded. I don't even know when the next holiday is. Maybe it's the 4th of July...who knows? Everything runs together like broken egg yolks these days.

The weekend was relatively uneventful. We purchase five new Blu-Rays for the ever-expanding media collection, and worked our way through most of the films. There're two more on the docket, including the 'Hulk Vs.' film, which features an animated version of the Hulk fighting both Wolverine and Thor two different features. For some odd reason, Amanda declined to check that one out. I don't know why, either.

I wrote a bunch this weekend, which was just what the doctor ordered. I'm over three-quarters done with the rewrite, and I'm checking in so far at over 90,000 words. That's a lot. That's just about as many words as the first Harry Potter book. I think that by the time I'm done with this go-through, I'll be tipping the scales at 100,000 words. Yikes...that's going to be an editing nightmare.

While I continue to try and finish, 'The Plunge', my novel, "Waterglade," is sitting on the shelf, begging to be written. That's going to be exciting to work on. Everyday I think of something that would make that story even more dynamic. I can't wait to get started on it!

Here's hoping for a great week for all!

Until next time...

My Generation is Zero

2009-05-20T20:07:00.000-07:00

Good Evening, Gang!

So, yet again we speed toward the exciting conclusion of yet another week in the not-so-fast lane. I may have already written this before, but I can't remember so I'm going to write it again; each work week seems to be one really long day. I cannot keep days straight anymore. However, tomorrow is Thursday, and that means we're one day away from 'Getaway Friday', which is when my wife and I go out to eat, drink and generally unwind. I'm extremely happy that this weekend is a holiday. It's coming at exactly the right time.

The big news in the Cathey household this week is that we've finally obtained an area rug for the downstairs living room. Let's just say that it was a bit of a 'hassle,' and leave it at that. I can't tell the story, or else it would spoil its inclusion in a possible 'Plunge' sequel.

On the way to work this morning, I convinced myself that it really is okay that I'm taking so long on my rewrites. When I was without a job (yet getting paid double my salary), I had all day to write, and I often did. That's how I cranked out the rough draft of a novel in three months. Now, I'm lucky if I score an hour or so per day to work on my book. So, that's not a lot of time. If I come across a page that is poorly written or plainly doesn't strike my fancy that day, I could take the entire hour to fix one page. Therefore, it's okay that I'm taking so long (or at least that's what I'm telling myself.) Now I'm targeting the end of July to have a final, submittable manuscript available for prospective agents. With any luck, I could have a book on shelves by this time next year! (Though a tremendous long shot.)

For those who don't know, I like to collect autographs. I especially like to collect Star Wars autographs. Recently in the mail I received two 8x10 signed photos of James Earl Jones as Darth Vader, and two 8x10 signed photos of Julian Glover; one as General Veers in Star Wars, and the other as Walter Donovan in Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade. He's the guy who, 'chose poorly,' and had his face melted off. AWESOME!

I wanted to say hello to my dear friend, Dawn, who is enduring personal trials at this time. Heyas, Ita! You're in my thoughts and prayers.

Until next time...

I'm So Sorry, It's Over

2009-05-17T21:17:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Gang!

It's 11:18 p.m. and I've just finished watching the monthly WWE pay-per-view. Overall, it was a solid show with a good deal of actual wrestling. There were no title changes, but a surprise appearance by the Nature Boy (WOOOOOOOOO!), Ric Flair, made things more interesting than they would have been otherwise.

Once again it's time to begin the grind and take the plunge into stalled vehicles and Amber Alert signs illuminating the path to the promised land of American commerce. The weekend ended faster than it began, and although I was busy the whole time, I felt like I didn't get anything done.

My wife and I purchased a little home theater in-a-box for our downstairs set-up, and getting it set-up was harder than Tom Sizemore. We didn't shoot the moon on this little set; we were looking for something with an IPOD docking station and wireless surround speakers for entertainment purposes. I settled on a nice little Samsung system, complete with the five speaker set-up, DVD receiver and a sleek look. I"l l be damned if the first system's wireless speaker receiver didn't work, and upon taking the THAT one back and getting a new one, the second's receiver was broken. And as fate would have it, I've got to try again at another Best Buy tomorrow to get a new receiver.

We also purchased a very nice area rug, coffee table and end table for our living room. Except for a painting, we're marking the living room complete and from there it's on to the last remaining rooms. And then, it's the gameroom (mammoth surround sound, pinball machines, arcade cabinets). I can't wait.

Transitioning....

The newest Green Day album, "21st Century Breakdown," was released last Friday to rave reviews. I haven't had the pleasure to listen to the whole thing through, yet, but so far I really like what I hear. We picked-up tickets to their concert here in Houston for later on in August, so I'm anxious to see what the aging punk rockers have up their sleeves for this new release. Admittedly, I wasn't a large Green Day fan until "American Idiot." I always knew of their music and liked their older stuff, but by the time I got into Alternative music, Green Day was largely irrelevant, giving way to bands like Blink 182, Lit, Sum 41 and the like. Now they're back with a fury, and I'm happy to be on the Green Day bandwagon.

With the release of Green Day's album, I'm reminded of how the summer doesn't officially begin until there are Blockbuster music and album releases. I believe Eminem has a new album hitting this week, too. We've got Star Trek in theaters, as well as Wolverine with Transformers on the way. It reminds me of being a kid, when Batman Forever came out and Will Smith was the most popular rapper in the world. Things change, but in reality, they're really much the same. And although it is hot as hell, the summer is fun. Summer is swimming, BBQ, baseball, movies, games, and for kids, it's about being through with school. Those were fun times, when every night in high school during the summer you'd be at someone's house hanging out or working a lame job to have some extra spending cash. Those were the days; the possibilities were endless. Now? Now the summer means that my car is going to be freaking hot after sitting in the sun all day at the office. Suddenly, summer isn't quite as fun for an adult.

Speaking of old school, a brand spanking new 'Punch Out!' games is heading to the Nintendo Wii this week. Anyone who knows me knows that I love 'Punch Out!' To this day it's one of my party tricks, beating Mike Tyson and memorizing the code to get to him. Supposedly, this newest entry to the franchise is chocked full of nostalgia and classic fast-twitch gameplay. I'll definitely be picking that one up this week, and enjoying it Friday with my newest top-shelf six pack.

On a closing note...here's to the Rockets! Good job almost punking out the Lakers, who are Charmin soft. I like the Nuggets to take that series in six, and look damned good doing it.

Until next time...

"You're telling me that this baby is nuclear!"

2009-05-13T20:29:00.000-07:00

Good Evening, all!

We've surpassed Wednesday for the week, which means that I'm only 48 hours away from the top shelf six-pack I have on ice in the refrigerator. There are few things I love more than my end-of-week beers. They're the little pot 'o gold at the end of the rainbow, rewarding me for my aimless pursuit of the rainbow all week.

A very good friend of mine recently mentioned how they check my blog multiple times daily to see if I've posted anything. The resounding answer is typically, 'No', but tonight I figured I'd write, mainly for my buddy.

It got me really thinking about friends, and on a larger scale the people that come and go from our lives. I don't' have any idea how many people I've interacted with in my life. There's no way to know how many handshakes, smiles, held-open doors and flipped middle fingers I've encountered in day-to-day living. Some roles in my life have been so small, while others have been quite a bit larger.

As I've become married and now a commuting business man, time for friends and people is virtually non-existent. Just two weeks ago I saw my best man for the first time in six months, and my other best man just had a second kid, so I'm nearly certain that I'll never hear from him again. There was a time when these people occupied most of my spare time. Now they occupy almost none of it.

That's a part of growing up, though. It's the metamorphosis into manhood, where instead of wasting time with buddies you're required to engage in more rewarding activities like shopping for floor rugs or mowing the yard. I mean, who wouldn't want to do that?

I do, however, appreciate life for what it has become. Ever since I've accepted this new job I have, the hours and minutes have collided into weeks and months, causing time to move at uncomfortable speeds. It's easy to see how life gets away from us all sometimes. We never take the time to appreciate life, because there's just not enough time to do so.

It's not all doom and gloom, though. Each day brings a new door of opportunity, and it's up to each of us to decide whether or not we want to step through. Sometimes that's the hardest part; making the sacrifices to achieve something more meaningful down the line.

Until next time...

Bummer

2009-05-12T19:58:00.000-07:00

Hey Gang!

Once again, I'm writing to you on the eve of a Rockets vs. Lakers playoff game. So are the Rockets are off to a fast start, but I don't expect it to last. As long as the game is entertaining, then I'm happy.

This morning as I took the walk of pain to the office, past all of the students freestyle rapping in the parking lot (with bandanas tied like Tupac), my stomach twinged. Then my head became cloudy and boom...I'm running a fever and can't eat. An ordianary man would have gone home. An ordinary man would've packed it in. But I didn't. I stuck through it, and managed to make it home where my fever exploded.

As of now I can eat again, and I've drank a gallon of Sprite. Crap...Lakers up by 11 at the end of the 1st quarter. It's likely going to be a blowout. Oh well, there's always game 6 in Houston. Anything can happen in a home game.

On to the progress of writing....

God Almighty does re-writing suck. It's horrible. The re-guessing and rechecking; I'm 2/3 done with the first rewrite on the first book. The Rockets are down by 19 now. Back to writing...it's just tedious, but I'm still working everyday. I'd love to be done by early June with the first go. then the next in July. By then it should be ready to shop, then it's on to the next one.

I'm disappointed with my progress, but I don't have many regrets over how much I've worked. I could have spent more time writing, but I'm pleased with the balance. Yes, I'd like to be finished, but it's going to be a grind to the end. But I will get there, and the finished product will be awesome.

Until next time....

Pooner

2009-05-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Gang!

I hope things are going well for you all as I'm here pounding away on the keyboard while I watch my hometown Rockets try to make it a series against the vaunted Lakers. I've got a hot cup of coffee and the house is super-quiet. It's heaven on Earth.

I want to apologize for that last post. I don't know what got into me last week, but my goodness did I have a hard time writing. I was in Atlanta for 'leadership training', (whatever the hell that means), and holed-up inside of a hotel. For some reason, a the plush comfort of a nice hotel is my kryptonite: I can't muster the energy to take a dump. I remember sitting there and thinking on Wednesday night as I watched my third consecutive 'Bigfoot' documentary on the History Channel that, "Wow, you can't do anything better with your life?" While I pondered that question I fell asleep, the answer a resounding, 'no.'

So now I'm back and writing away. Well...I'm re-writing, that is. I'm well over halfway finished with my first rewrite on the first book (this stuff is taking forever). I've got to say that I do like it, but there are ways I can make it better...make it stronger...I can rebuild it...wait a minute.

On a separate note....

The Wolverine movie was released last week, and of course I haven't seen it. Going to the theater is something that I'll now reserve for only the most revered of franchises (Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Veggie Tales). Although I couldn't manage to see the Wolverine movie, I did manage to pick-up the Wolverine game. It's the next best thing.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder what Jack Bauer thinks about our country's new outlook on interrogation. I can't imagine he'd be happy, but then again, it's not like he'd listen anyway.

Until next time...

The Wall

2009-04-29T19:31:00.000-07:00

I've finally hit it. I knew I would. I pushed myself so hard, forgoing sleep in the effort to finish writing my books.

By no means am I giving up, but I am tired of spending every spare second I have working. At other times in my life, I've been able to physically push through it and continue to make meaningful progress. I could get up earlier, run harder, lift harder...you name it. Writing involves concentration and focus, and when those are missing, the writing becomes rough.

I haven't done much this week, and in retrospect know I need a lot more work. I guess I'll consider this a brief mental break. Hopefully I'll be back in the fold heading into this weekend. I need to go back to progress.

Until next time...

Left 4 Dead

2009-04-19T15:41:00.000-07:00

As I glance at the bottom right corner of my computer screen, I can see that the clock reads, "5:42." That's p.m., of course. Friday as I worked on my second of hour of sitting in rush hour, weekend traffic watching line after line of severe thunderstorms roll through, I couldn't wait for the weekend to get here. Now it's already over.

This weekend in particular was the first in a while where I really got to recharge my batteries. It was the first in almost a month that I wasn't going somewhere or attending to some sort of family obligation. My wife and I spent some quality time with each other, and I finished quite a bit of work on my re-write.

I'm nearly halfway finished with it, and I have mixed feelings about the whole project. It's a good idea in theory, but my execution (as of today) is lacking in parts. Plus I'm already sick of it this go round. That's not a good thing, either, because when I get bored I tend to get sloppy. It would be ideal to take a break from "The Plunge" and go to work on something else, even if it is just a short story or a rough few pages of one of my future endeavors. I can't though. Every time I try to break away from writing (during my limited free time), I feel like I'm wasting hours of the day. There's a sense of urgency pressing against me, forcing me to go on even when I don't have the desire to do it anymore. I'm proud of my self for pushing through this valley, but it's not easy.

One thing I know for certain is that I'm prone to excess. Anything I do, I go after it too hard then subsequently flame out and crash. Weightlifting, videogames...you name it. I go for it then I want to throw up my hands in disgust. I plan on striving for a more balanced life, filled with all the things I enjoy instead of just a select few. Maybe that will buoy my spirits during the tough times.

I hope that you all have a great week. Until next time...

A Day Late, a Buck Short

2009-04-14T05:35:00.000-07:00

Good Morning, All.

I understand that I promised a blog liberating the legion of adult (primarily male) gamers, and trust me, it's coming. As it's been a week since I last posted, I figured I ought to throw something up here for my five religious readers.

Two weeks proper into the rewrite my first book, I've already added 12 pages to the total. That's the reason it's taking so darned long. It's not clocking in at nearly 83,000 words, which is way longer than I want it to be. The additional content should do me good since I already know some parts upcoming that I plan to alter significantly or take out altogether. Right now I'm between a quarter and one-third through, and it's taking forever. I'm working hard, though, and all of the extra work has paid off. I've gone through and re-read some parts I've rewritten, and they are a lot better. Some parts need to be rewritten yet again. That's okay, though, because at the time I submit the manuscript for representation I want it to be a sleek and sexy piece of bad-assery as I've said earlier.

On a side note-Who in the hell cares about the presidential and vice-presidential dogs? As I started my morning workout (5:00 a.m.), CNN talked for fifteen minutes about Obama and Biden's dogs. Really, CNN? I understand you all are Obama lackeys, (much the same as Fox are Limbaugh lackeys, to be fair), but aren't there more pressing issues to talk about, such as Korea's continuous move toward nuclear proliferation? Or perhaps the markets that have tumbled substantially since Obama has taken office? CNN, go beat it with the Obama dog garbage, and shame on you, America, for actually giving a damn about it.

Until next time...

To Be The Man

2009-04-07T18:57:00.000-07:00

Some day soon I'm going to create a nice, new layout for my blog and find a picture that wasn't taken for use in a videogame. Every other head shot I have for myself was posted on Myspace some three years ago when I was trolling for women after a desperate night of 20 McNuggets and a six pack.

I've been working for the last week on the first rewrite of, "The Plunge," and I've already added 3,000 words to the manuscript. That's right, it's actually getting longer! (that's what she said) Due to time constraints and the fact that I can't stop trying to make things better, I've had to push back my initial goals of getting both books done by the end of May. If I get one of them done by the end of May, it will be a miracle.

It's a heck of a lot more fun to write than it is to rewrite. Rewriting is laborious and not much fun, kind of like a hangover after a raucous night of boozing it up. I'm still progressing, albeit slowly, through the copy and making it much, much better.

Look soon for a post on videogames. For all of you out there that catch hell for videogames being 'childish' or 'immature', then this post will be for you...basically hitting your detractors with a blast of cold truth! I got two words for you: American Idol.

Until next time...

If we don't get rid of these clowns, we'll be up to our balls in jugglers.

2009-03-29T19:13:00.000-07:00

Tonight I come to you live (well, kind of) from my brand new laptop. I'm very excited about it, as it's completely loaded with all of the unnecessary things I need for writing (4GB Ram, 1 GB Nvidia Graphics Card, 320 GB HD, etc.) And of course, Microsoft Word, which I do actually need for writing is included with the Microsoft (sigh) Vista package. It's a very flashy system, and I'd like to personally thank the generous donor who contributed to the cause.

Against my own best advice, I've begun a basic outline for my next project (sequels notwithstanding). I'm keeping this one tightly under wraps, though I've talked about it for years. It's a themed story that requires a ton of research as it would be historical fiction piece, set in my favorite historical period.

Now that I'm armed with my newest piece of weaponry, I'll need to practice what I preach and stay focused on the writing and not so much on the new PC gaming and movie viewing. I'm expecting things to move fairly quickly now, and I'll adhere to my "hour a day" work schedule. Often I'll write longer than that, but as a goal I look to get in an hour. It is rewriting, though, which is quite different than crafting a story. Every line is scrutinized to nausea, then scrutinized again the next day. The bad news is, I kill myself over every sentence. The good news is that by the time it reaches your hands it should be a finely tuned piece of badassery.

On a separate note...

The picture posted on the blog is in regards to the subject of my next book, which is going from bachelorhood to married man. In no way is it referring to the relationship I share with my beautiful wife.

She is my best friend and confidant, and I can't imagine spending a second of my life without her.

Remember, there ain't a horse that can't be rode, and ain't a cowboy that can't be throwed.

Until next time...

Detox just to Retox

2009-03-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

Suddenly the meaning of 'TGIF' means a hell of a lot more than crappy sitcoms on Friday night.

Thanks once again for checking out my meager pittance of a blog. It's quite depressing to look at how my blog is formatted. There's nothing unique about it. It's about as standard as standard goes for the 'blogspot' realm except for the outstanding job I do by occasionally inserting a new photo on the title where the blog's name is nearly unreadable. Well, at least I"m doing that.

Weeks are flying by at a Doc Brown pace, and I swear I don't remember the last four days. I nearly finished reading "The Plunge" in its first iteration, and predictably I'm underwhelmed. I typically dislike everything I do as a point of self-criticism, but upon reading my first pass at "The Plunge" I can definitively say that there's much, much more to do.

I compare writing to building a house. The first step is to construct the frame, which is the foundation upon which the rest of the aesthetics of the home is shaped. Upon that you add the sheet rock, insulation, paint, texturing, fixtures, etc. to complete a home. As for the "The Plunge," I've only got the frame built.

As I'm going back through and reading the sentences I laid down awhile ago, I'm shocked at how bare they are. There's lots more to add and lots more to do before this 'house' is ready to hit the market. I'm excited to one day slap the 'For Sale' sign in the front yard.

I've FINALLY begun work on the computer document itself, which is a liberating feeling. Without a laptop I feel naked, and without one I'm rendered unproductive. Hopefully that will change soon, but until it does, I'll be struggling to do serious work on the title. How did Dickens do it without 4 gigs of ram and a wireless mouse?

Thanks to everyone for their kind words concerning the small blurb I posted on the site awhile back. It's good to know that there are some folks out there looking to read my work. I hope to have final copies of both books completed by June. I've already got four ideas in the hopper for the next one, assuming that neither of these are published/deserving of a sequel. Trust me, everyday I encounter something in my life that is sequel-worthy to "The Plunge."

Until next time...

Lando System?

2009-03-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

When your mind is exhausted and your body has had all it can stand, occasionally you can reach a heightened sense of concentration and revelation.

By now I've begun to wrap my head around what my daily schedule will be going forward, which isn't really optimistic for book-writing. The end of each day provides me with an hour or so most of the time to utilize it in the best possible way I can. There are so many things that I want to do and accomplish that for some reason work doesn't fit into the equation. Often enough I use every free second to write or edit in some form or fashion, while blending in family time and the odd television program that previously ensnared me in its web. Frustration sets in at times, and it's in those moments that I have to keep my eye on what's most important.

Everyone has responsibilities, which inevitably interfere with all of the fun stuff in life. Time is so short that it's easy to lament that you can't go to the movies or shopping even on the weekends. With time so precious, it's important to focus on what makes you the happiest and most complete. Sure, one could become enraptured by ten different television shows, which would consume an entire week's worth of time. Or one could focus on physical fitness and exercise, while ignoring other interests altogether. If watching twelve hours of television per week, or working out non-stop makes you feel productive then by all means enjoy. Productivity is a relative term.

Sorry for jaunting off the beaten path there for a second. I hear many people all too often complain about not having time to learn to play instruments, or write or read a classic novel. Time is wasted constantly throughout the day. Next time you sit down to play XBOX or watch the latest episode of "Dancing With the Stars," think about all of the things you think you'll never have time to do. Then ask yourself where your priorities lie.

So, back to the first sentence of this blog...

Around the middle of last week I was laying in bed, editing "The Plunge," in the moments before sleep overcame me. My wife was sleeping, and the puppy was already in his kennel for the night. The grind of the week's commute had already stripped any last vestige of energy from my system, and I worked on the book for the sake of moving forward with the project. My eyes skimmed the lines of words, and like fine wine revelations of improvement flowed into a streaming conscious. Suddenly I became a better writer, and I quickly scribbled the improved sentences and anecdotes next to the original text. The new output was simply amazing.

There's a quasi-famous philosopher/author named Colin Wilson who has written many books on a variety of topics. He is perhaps best know for his work, "The Occult," which is a broad research on various topics of the unknown. Throughout "The Occult," Wilson speaks frequently of, "Faculty X," which he claims is man's latent and lost missing sense, like sight or sound. Over time, so he claims, we have lost the ability to connect with this faculty as technology has evolved and made life so easy. According to Wilson, "Faculty X" sleeps deep within us and is an untapped resource that is dulled by modern conveniences, but at times it shows itself when our mind is at its most quiet. "Faculty X" is most likely to show itself when we're on the brink of exhaustion, and as I rested on the bed, almost asleep, I couldn't help but wonder if my new insight into my work was spurned on by the missing ability.

Work still continues on both books at this time. Early feedback on "Waterglade" has been extremely positive, and I continue to tweak "The Plunge" daily. I've set a tentative summer deadline to have both works prepared to send to prospective agents. We'll see if I can hit the mark.

Until next time...

There and Back Again

2009-03-08T11:37:00.000-07:00

With my first week of 9-to-5, commuting work in the books, it's time to gear up for week number two.

Work continues still on the rewrite of, "The Plunge," and now I'm currently a bit more than one-third through it. My laptop crapped out a month ago, which in turn has prevented me from working on the computer document as much as I would like to. In turn I've improvised as best I can, and am editing and note-taking on the physical edited copy.

I put "The Plunge" down in December after finishing, and haven't picked it up since. By the time I was finished with the rough draft, I was so sick of the story I wasn't sure if I'd ever want to look at it again. Luckily re-reading it has enabled me to catch a lot of transition and other issues that were missing in the first run, and I'm reliving a lot of the moments I was experiencing approximately a year ago.

"The Plunge" is a fun story of pseudo-redemption that everyone can relate to on at least one level. Many will relate on all levels. Getting married is a life-altering step, and as I've learned it alters a few things you didn't expect to be altered. The act of planning a wedding is a different case altogether. It's hilarious to look back and see how serious such small things were, like buying a cake and picking out flowers.

On a different note...

This coming Friday the fabled Resident Evil series will make it's long awaited return to console gaming systems with its newest installment. I am looking forward to getting my hands on the new game and seeing what the survival horror franchise has in store for the new console generation.

I've been into the Resident Evil franchise for over a decade, and the 'zombie' genre has evolved quite a lot since then. There's no question that this venerable gaming franchise was a major influence on me while writing my first novel.

Until next time...

Patience

2009-03-04T05:16:00.000-08:00

To the three of you that check this blog somewhat regularly, I sincerely apologize for the lack of new content. I began a new job this past Monday, and my work schedule remains a moving target. It's a stark departure from previous days when I had time to write at relative convenience. Now, however, time has become scarce.

That said, I remain upbeat and optimistic. "Waterglade" is in my editor's hands, and the first draft is currently being worked through. We have a disagreement on the voice of the opening pages, but that's another fight for another day.

Every unencumbered second I have belongs to the rewriting "The Plunge," which optimistically I targeted a March 21st completion date for. Unless something miraculous occurs, that is not going to happen. I'm not sure what the new date will be, but I am working on it as much as possible. All other interests have fallen aside (television, movies, news, sports, videogames, etc.), and writing now more than ever remains at the forefront of my priorities.

Looking at the clock, I'm running a bit late for work, so I'd best get on the road. Here's to wishing you all the very best out of your days...

The First Step Into a Larger World

2009-02-26T05:38:00.000-08:00

Something overcame me yesterday as I sat down to continue work on the first/rough draft of my novel.

On an average day I'm good for likely four hours of writing, split-up with breaks to give my eyes a break from the the searing burn of the LCD computer monitor. Plus, when I sit to write for long periods, my writing tends to suffer as my caffeine buzz wanes.

Tentatively I planned on completing the rough draft of, "Waterglade," by the end of the week, which when sandwiched with personal errands and honey-dos would possibly be quite a task. Shortly after setting to work the words flowed like fine wine, and my mind kept throwing-up line after line. It was surreal, and I've only really been in 'the zone' in that sense a minimal number of times.

My eyes begin to burn as I tore through my self-imposed 'eye breaks', but I pressed on, determined to finish ahead of schedule. After six straight hours of grinding, I relaxed in my chair with a splitting headache and sore fingers. The first draft of "Waterglade" was complete.

My initial impressions of "Waterglade" aren't great, which is similar to everything I've ever written. After I press the last knob on the keyboard I immediately think that the entire thing sucks. Logically I overcome that hurdle, but the lingering doubt teases me every time I think about it. Matter of fact, this morning at 3:00 a.m. when I was taking our new puppy, Simon, to use the restroom, I stood on the back porch half asleep and scratching my butt and thinking, "Why in the hell did he kiss her there?" It's a tortuous labor of love, this writing thing.

Next on the agenda is getting back to "The Plunge." I will begin the process of rewriting the first draft next week, which will take an undetermined amount of time as I will be returning to the land of the cubicle after a long hiatus. Today I'm having "Waterglade" printed and will get it to my editor shortly. There are so many ideas kicking around in my head that I want to get to, but I'm going to force myself to be focused until these two are finished. Both of them need a ton of work before I submit them to publishing houses.

On a different note, I engaged in a conversation with someone recently about whether or not I consider myself an author, because you know, I kind of claim to be one by the very title emblazoned on this blog. I've never really thought about it, but upon being asked that question in an almost condescending manner I took to the dictionary. An author is defined as the following:

AUTHOR
a. The writer of a book, article, or other text.
b. One who practices writing as a profession.
2. One who writes or constructs an electronic document or system, such as a website.
3. An originator or creator, as of a theory or plan.
4. Author God.

By definition it seems to me that I can consider myself an author based on letter 'a'. No, I do not consider myself an 'author' per se, as I haven't been paid for my writing since college. I also have no illusions concerning my odds of being published. I realize that it's a long and hard road filled with miles of rejection. I am also prepared to deal with that, and I don't ever see myself giving up on my dream. So to answer the question, no, I do not consider myself an author. Though if I wanted to, it appears that by definition it's very much within reason.

Look for updates soon concerning "Waterglade" and its theme. Here's a hint: Check the new picture on the title of the blog...

The End is Nigh

2009-02-24T17:28:00.000-08:00

I guess all good things must come to an end.

My time with the FDIC is coming to a close as they are in the process of moving their existing loan portfolio to auction. What that means is that yours truly is soon to be without his cushy time-and-a-half salary job that entailed me doing very little if not nothing. Soon it will be back to the grind...more details to come on that...

Now I am a man possessed to finish the rough draft of my first novel, which is so close to happening I can taste it. And boy, does it taste good, kind of like the first sip off of a freshly opened bottle of beer. I began writing it right before I finished "The Plunge," as I wanted to get a few ideas down before they were replaced by the all-important knowledge of who managed the construction of the second Death Star (Moff Jerjerrod).

I'm working as fast as I can while preserving a consistent quality of writing. When I get rushed, the writing turns to a Stephanie Meyer level of trite-garbage, which is a level just a tad too low for me. I hope to have an update on my first novel within the next few days.

A Taste of "The Plunge"

2009-02-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

Good Sabbath, everyone. As promised, below is a brief excerpt from "The Plunge." It will likely be rearranged and changed from its current state, but this will give you a glimpse into the work.

"The day I decided I was ready to fall in love started out like any other mundane, typical day. My teeth were brushed, my shirt stiffened with starchy-goodness and my morning coffee oozed out of the top of the cheap lid of the cup that my employer had given me as marketing material. For me, marketing materials meant, “Keep four for yourself for every one you give to the customer.” I already had a dozen of these “traveler’s mugs”, two-thousand pens, four sunglass clips and three paper clip holders. Not to mention an alarm clock reserved for our premiere clients. Let me tell you, nothing says premiere like a three-dollar clock that keeps time about as well as Jack Bauer after his second fifth of Johnny Walker Black.
Humid air drowned my lungs with a mix of pesticide, car emission and depleted ozone. Sweat poured out of my skin after one minute of walking downstairs and getting into my company-provided 2006 green Toyota Camry. Yes, it truly was a day like any other.
Women for me provided a variety of obstacles. The first and most obvious being a substantial drain of resources, namely the financial kind. I had never been the type to think about the future. It always seemed so far off and it loomed as a place that deep down I never thought I would go save for Doc Brown’s Delorean and a hoverboard. That’s not to say that I thought the Grim Reaper would want to do an early lunch, it’s just that I had way too much fun spending all of my own money on me. Not to mention, the copious amount of free time that wraps a single person in a cocoon of happiness is absurdly satisfying.
For some reason on a fine July morning I reckoned that enough was enough, and I felt ready to take the final, ultimate step into love/matrimony/alleged unhappiness for the rest of my natural life. It’s kind of really hard to explain the sensation that overcame me, like a vision from the heavens. Just the Christmas before, my mother told me how she remarked to a friend that I would never get married because I was so in love with myself. Mom knew me best, and was totally correct in her observation. Being alone provided non-stop respite and a kind of freedom impossible to achieve confined in a relationship. I never thought I needed a woman or anyone else to make complete me or that I contributed to society. I felt right as rain with my XBOX, high-definition television, and Star Wars toys.
Though deep down I still felt like the core of and the most important thing in the known universe, I looked around and saw the other men who had undoubtedly felt like me at one time who had taken the plunge into eternal love. See, that’s what I wanted for a small blip on my life’s radar. I wanted the generic wedding band, the Japanese mid-class gas-efficient car, the nagging wife, whiny kids and car seat. Nothing sounded sweeter than gaining twenty pounds, losing my hair, commuting three hours a day and coming home to a house in disarray where free personal time suffered complete extinction.
I had a meeting on the morning of that fateful day with some persons in my industry at an IHOP in College Station, Texas. Nothing says intense business negotiations like the Fresh ‘n Fruity and coffee. Their words hovered above the room, not making it close to my ears. I found myself in a euphoric mood to find love, which had previously been oxymoronic coming from my brain.
I agreed that I would actively pursue a life of love, though finding wasn’t like picking a penny off a scorching sidewalk; you had to do some work. Rolling up my sleeves and tossing my fragile ego into the dating arena wasn’t the only concern, I would need a venue to hunt my cunning prey. Bars are an exercise in futility, with the variables too mixed for consistent success and often smoke-ridden sleaze factories. College would have served as the prime venue, as it is the height of female cavorting. By missing the college boat, I risked being thrown into the dating life of a young professional. I was forced to move into another arena. I knew what had to be done. When I returned to my bleak little apartment I was going to do the one thing that I had always poked fun at. Yep, I was a loser. I was going to join an online dating site."

The Craft

2009-02-21T09:20:00.001-08:00

Sometimes it's just too damned hard to put down the XBOX controller to do anything productive.

I was tentatively 'laid off' from my job as a Educational Finance Marketing Representative (Read: Loan Peddler) on November 7th of 2008. The news hit me like a ton of ACMEs. The thought that I would switch careers always lingered on the tip of my brain, but it remained caged in its place to keep me from confronting what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Somehow and really without me noticing, the first 27 years sped past and left whirling around like a dust devil on top of myself. Instead of looking at myself I buried my head in a pile of videogames and movies.

So there I stood, freshly married (October 11) and soon to be out of a job. The writing had been smeared across the walls for months, as the bank I worked for failed to meet federal reporting guidelines while the economy took a collective crap all over itself. I didn't know what to do. For the first week, I did nothing but park my ass in smelly gym shorts and play nine hours of XBOX per day until my wife came home. It was my therapy, and it kept me from recognizing that shit could very well hit the fan.

Luckily and by the grace of God the FDIC decided to keep paying me (at nearly double my salary), while I ran through Fallout 3. That shallow solace left me feeling empty after a few weeks, and before I knew I felt more worthless than the dollar after the Obama Stimulus Package. Then I remembered my book.

I began writing my first book in the winter of 2007 right after my wife and I became engaged. As I trolloped through the predetermined status quo exercises of courtship and wedding planning, I realized how ridiculous the entire process was, not to mention frustrating, too. So I began to put my frustrations down on paper, and before I knew it, I had enough of a start to make a book out of it.

Writing started slow at first, and I would go through spurts of creative flow before putting the book down for weeks at a time. Time became shorter as my wife and I spent more time together, and soon I chose to play videogames, drink beer and watch television instead of working on my book.

With my book stalled and my career dead as well, I took a long look in the mirror after catching Rocky on AMC one afternoon. Sylvester Stallone's tale of an everyman doing something great lit a fire inside of my belly, and I decided then and there I would do everything in my power to finish my book.

From there on out I set to work everyday, and instead of playing XBOX or Playstation I took to writing instead. It became my passion and drive to do something great. As fun as videogames were, they in the end were a path to nowhere that yielded nothing other than an escape from the reality that I was wasting my life. In three short weeks I finished the rough draft of my first book, "The Plunge." Elation ripped through my insides, and the sense of accomplishment was intoxicating. Sure the damned thing had grammar errors, organizational and flow issues, but by God I had finally done something that I dreamed of that didn't constitute a group of elves, dwarves and hobbits.

Armed with my flashdrive containing hours of my blood and sweat, I journeyed to Kinko's and watched like a kid waiting for Santa as the portly employee printed my 80,000 word manuscript, bound it, and laid two copies of it in my hands. Like Rocky Balboa I had gone the distance with a personal beast and tamed it. All those hours of pounding the meat (that's what she said) and chasing chickens paid off.

As of today I'm still unemployed, but getting paid (still double my salary), and I've taken the last three paid months as a divine gift to get something done that would have been difficult to do otherwise. "The Plunge," is currently in edit and my first rewrite is to begin shortly. Look for an excerpt from "The Plunge" shortly on the blog.

Until next time...

Introduction

2009-02-21T08:58:00.000-08:00

Welcome, Friends.

My name is Tom Cathey II. I am an aspiring author and formerly an aspiring musician. I suppose it's typically standard to state a mission purpose or some sort of goal for this online self-aggrandizing project. There is no purpose, per se, but this blog will hopefully serve as an outlet to keep those that may care afoot of my travails, trials and joys.

Writing has provided a persistent asylum for me throughout the years, and I've always dabbled creatively in the craft. Life continues to come at unique and interesting angles, and through experience I've created my own unique view of the way things are. I hope to share that with everyone willing to give me the time, which I know is extremely valuable. However, I do promise that it will be worth the read.

I hope to entertain and inspire in some way as I share my journey in fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a published author, while sharing stories and tribulations of accomplishing my goals. I enter into the fray knowing full-well that my chances are likely slim, and although I think I'm spectacular chances are that I'm overwhelmingly average at best. That said, I do know that I am capable of doing anything I truly want to, which at times staying motivated is the hardest part.

I plan to update the blog regularly with details regarding my latest projects and their status', but I can't imagine that I'll remain confined to what's going on in my life. Look for the kitchen sink, including videogame and movie reviews, social and occasional political commentary, and general goings-on.

So to all who were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to to happen upon the blog, I welcome you to my life.