I'm back.

And I'm real tired. Pictures and tales of ribaldry to come.

10-day Peace Out

Yes, I am posting at 7:20 on a Sunday morning. Those that know the Grizz well know that this cannot be a circumstance of choice. This morning, I embark upon a ten-day road trip to California with my two brothers, Dickless and Tedster. What this means for you, dear reader, is that I will most likely be removed from the blogosphere, but upon my return, posts of utter hilarity and madness will ensue. Await, friends, with baited breath. The Alvarez Family Jamboree shall not disappoint. Wish us luck, and peace out. PS I placed tenth in my competition yesterday. Not my best singing, but kind of lame nonetheless. Oh well.

My father's wisdom

Tonight, once again, my dad honored us with a startlingly astute assertion when Grey's Anatomy came on the television: "They should call this show Needy and Horny Doctors." Touche, dad, touche.

I just had to

Mucoused Out

I would love to solve the riddle of my sinuses. Why the hell do I get sinus infections so often? Any time I contract some semblance of illness, it settles into my face. Not. Cool. My little bro came down with a cold two weeks ago, and I worked like the dickens to avoid getting it. I seemed to evade it for awhile with distance, enormous quantities of grapefruit seed extract, and Emergen-C. Then I decided it would be a good idea to fly to Chicago and back in one day for an audition. Clearly, I am retarded. I had a few hours to kill in Chicago after the audition, so I walked around in freezing temps and went to a museum full of malady-carrying children. Again, retardation station. My flight back was (obviously) completely full and running late, so I spent hours with many strange coughing people, only to arrive back into Denver fatigued, chilled, and exposed to all sorts of delicious colds and illnesses. Mmm-mm-good. So of course, I woke up the next day with that familiar, friendly buzz at the back of my nose and pharynx. Hurray! The cold wasn't too bad; I've seemed to keep it entirely in my nose and face. No throat action, which is a huge blessing, since I've had this silly but very lucrative competition to sing in this week. However, the snot emanating from my face is unreal. It is hideous, sticky, green, incessant. No amount of Guafenesin, phenylephrin or pseudoephedrin has been able to kick it. Mild control, that is all. So here I sit, red nose and lips like I can't kick a dirty coke habit. My trash can is a fount of used tissues. Why does this happen? Every effing time? Oh, and did I mention I'm currently uninsured? AWESOME!

TLAT, you kill me

Real-life Update

Some of you may not have heard yet that I have procured a job. Not like a jobby-job, but someone does actually pay me to do something. I now babysit a 3-year-old a couple times of week for a few hours in the morning while her mom stays in her office working from home. Frankly, it's awesome. It's not all the time, which is nice for my current lifestyle of leisure (though I do hope to get more work soon). She pays me ten bucks an hour to play with the kid and assist her with bathroom and snacks. For two hours yesterday, we:

• played Jungle Book with action figures
• played Pet Shop, My Little Pony, and Dora the Explorer
  
• read pop-up books
• colored with Crayola Color Wonder Markers (look Ma, no mess!)
• glued pieces of paper to themselves
  
• watched the Backyardigans (one of the less-assaulting of kid's shows in which a group of kids that are animals make believe in their backyard and sing smooth, samba-inspired songs)

I can handle this gig. My charge is adorable, though sometimes a little contrary, but if anything really difficult happens, her mom is there to come out and help me solve it. It's a sweet gig. The Grizz, in nanny form. Whaddya think?

This is why I love a (former) crackhead

"I'm not here to promote fuckin' anything," Downey nods, speaking of miracles. "I don't really understand what happened, but I'm okay with it. I know things changed, but I don't fuckin'--I can't hit my ass with both hands tryin' to figure this mystery. I just know that it winds up comin' back to all that old-time religion stuff, except ya add science and physics and all of a sudden faith. Faith moves mountains, and I go, 'Fuck, yeah.'

"That's what I was talkin' about with Susan last night, and we just wound up having one of those talks where we talked about what we're scared of, about how we're really feeling, about every little fuckin' thing where we felt we weren't listening to each other--and we're just fuckin' weeping together outta left field because we hadn't had enough contact. Contact isn't 'I fuckin' see you in the morning and at night and we talk during the day.' That's just fucking proximity. What's the Cosa Nostra element? What do we share that you can't get from anyone else but me? And to be that vulnerable, for her to say, 'Nobody sees me like this,' and for me to admit, not 'I wouldn't be okay without you,' but 'I wouldn't be where I am if we hadn't met, and I'm okay now'--that's huge."

A great article in one of the best magazines around about one of my favorite actors. (Yes, I know it's a men's mag. Eat it.) I fucking love this guy. I don't care if he's got dependency issues. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang rocked my face, and frankly, Bobby Downey had me at age 12 in Heart and Souls. That's right. The one with all the dead people that need to get sent back to heaven. Kiss my ass. It was awesome. I cried. And the Grizz never cries.

HAPPY 2-0...

To this fool. To think that 20 years ago I was vomiting from the anxiety of your birth and my loss of baby status... sheesh. Glad you turned out to be a badass, OTF.

What have I done?!

My immediate reaction upon starting this blog. I have decided I should be a trifle more positive about it since then.

Thank you, Jeebus

After nearly three transitional months during which time I have been en route, stuck in snow, destitute, and bored, I finally have my beloved computer back. This is thanks to a new, extremely overpriced power cable from Apple, who apparently enjoy raping their loyal customers in the ass financially. Hurray! What this means for you, dear reader, is that I am now free to post at will. No more computer-time dictated by when my dad is asleep, in the bathroom, or at Home Depot terrorizing the employees. Now, I just need to find the USB cable to my camera....