I can’t help but smile when I catch Dolores roll belly-up.

At one point in my life, I believed I was like a jester in my pursuit of making other people happy. I didn’t really care how I was doing, the knowledge that my friends were well was enough to get me through the day. Nowadays, I think I’ve become more selfish. There seems to be a diffuse feeling of non-satisfaction.

Have I become more cynical?

I expect nothing from others. I still believe that my happiness can only be a result of my own actions. Yet it still fills me with a feeling of elation to know that I have been able to help someone else. Perhaps I’m hoping that the favour may be returned to me someday. Realistic would be a better word.

However, the thought that the people I care about are happy is still enough to satiate. I’ll take that as a good thing.

Forget about me.

I’m still struggling in my use of “one” instead of “you”.

I spent the weekend at Trolley’s place and had a great time. We just hung out, played Gamecube, and watched some movies. I’m not sure if I overstayed my welcome, but I’m sure that any good host is able to blur that fine line. It’s good to have another friend that I can connect with. Wheaties and Ian went skiing at Tremblant, and although I was invited, I felt like I wasn’t prepared to spend over $100 on a lift ticket with rentals.

Trolley also introduced me to Crank Yankers, a hilarious show on Comedy Central. The concept of the show is that people make crank calls, and both the roles of caller and reciever are played out using puppets. The crank calls are usually very original though, sometimes involving a third party (such as a mother picking up the phone while her son is calling about a penis enlarger). Everything is very well done, and the actors are able to improvise their lines with perfect precision depending on what an unwitting participant says. My favourite
series of crank calls are by Spoonie Love, the resident playa (played by SNL’s Tracey Morgan). Sometimes he’ll call a newspaper to place a classified ad, and his message will involve busting a double horizontal on someone’s ass.

Thom lent me his Pantera DVD, 3 Vulgar Videos from Hell. The music hasn’t been that great, but the behind-the-scenes and concert footage is good. It’s also mesmerizing to see the confidence that Phil Anselmo exudes at the concerts, the way Danko Jones or Kid Rock seem to in their music videos.

I was awakened by Dolly scratching at my sheets this morning. As soon as I lifted them up, she went underneath and tried to sleep on my stomach. Unfortunately, my thin frame didn’t provide much of a foundation, and she slid to one side, but eventually fell asleep there anyway. It’s the first time she has been comfortable enough to sleep under the sheets, instead of beside my head as usual.

I stumbled across the site of an intelligent girl who writes about things in relationships not commonly discussed, and who happens to inhabit the same city as I do. I enjoy the polish and depth that her editorials have, but I think it’s her openness that I can appreciate most. It’s always fascinating to find out a female opinion on some of the more taboo sex related subjects, instead of the opinion which other guys believe they know.

The entire Columbia Space Shuttle incident has made me feel like we’re still very primitive in our exploration methods, and that we should simply leave well enough alone until we’re ready. It’s like we’re trying to break the sound barrier again, and people are sacrificing their lives in the pursuit of knowledge. I suppose that if they’re willing to make that sacrifice, then their decision must be respected. Otto Lilienthal would be proud.

What is it about a speech impediment that is so fucking sexy? I think part of the appeal is that it has the same attractiveness as an accent, except an impediment extends beyond the exoticness that an accent can offer. Maybe there’s the (sub)conscious detection of a weakness involved that draws me, the way high heels are suppose to make girls look like they’re fleeing when the calves are contracted.

I can’t imagine anyone being embarrassed about such a beautiful thing. Lisps, stutters, stammers, slurs, tics; anything can make me melt. If a girl would speak, I could listen all day without uttering a word. Even the strength of the impediment is of no consequence. I’m in awe, from the subtleness of a lazy tongue, to the harshness of an overactive genioglossus.

How can I even speak about something as gorgeous as a unique, flawed, extraordinary articulation?

I can’t.