The Legend Of The Great White Buffalo

Have you ever wanted something so bad that it sort of... consumes you? I don't mean like it actually digests you, I'm talking about you consume yourself in it. Think about it, dream about it, talk about it, all of that. I have had a lot of that; especially recently. Some days I think about it non-stop, even when I am busy and doing things. I'm not talking about a person, if that's what you're thinking. I'm talking mainly about sleep. Also food.
I understand the concept of getting consumed in things; more-especially people. Sometimes things don't work out the way you wanted them to. Sometimes you push for things that probably won't work out, and the other person allows it out of either selfishness or lack of confidence to tell you so. So, you work and work and work, continually dumping coins into a wishing well; always hoping, vain hope. Then, when things disintegrate, you do too. And that person, or action, or lack of either swallows you whole. I totally get that.
In perhaps maybe a less intelligent world of males, we call this the Great White Buffalo. As it was explained to me, a GWB is the one thing that got away from you. Maybe something you never got closure on. Maybe someone gave you an opening and you missed the mark. Maybe something ended in a flash and you we're prepared for it. In any case, your GWB was the one that got away. The huge buffalo that is taunting you on the horizon of tomorrow, always out of reach.
I have a few GWB stories, in fact, I think everyone does. I have a few examples of GWB's, from real life people, which will remain anonymous. All the names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved; you know who you are. Consider this an unofficial shout out from the King. (If your story is inaccurate, I'm sorry. It's been a while since we have talked about it.)
The first is perhaps my favorite story in existence.
So, Louis was always good at math. When signing up for classes, he noticed a beautiful young girl also signing up for a more advanced math. He walked over and signed up for the same math class. He never really had the courage to address her in class, and they never talked. All year.
Fast forward two years. His senior year he walks in to his assigned math class and who is there? The Great White Buffalo herself. He decided that he would actually make an effort to talk to her and get to know her. So, he did that. They became fairly familiar with one another. Eventually graduation day rolls around. Louis is having a party at his grandparents cabin that night in celebration. He decides to invite the girl he has been dreaming of for so long now. She agrees. We will fast forward slightly through everyone at the party getting intoxicated outside of Louis and this girl. The night wages on, and the sun is about to come up. They decide they want to watch the sunrise together, outside. So, there under a blanket, wrapped in each others arms is the best love story to ever unfold. However, Louis is having a complex the entire time of when to kiss this girl. He was well aware that timing needs to be better than perfect. So, he decides he wants to kiss her out there on the deck, watching the sunrise. Conditions were perfect. But when? So, after a few hours of being out on the deck, the GWB decides she wants to go inside. So, as they approach the door, he gives her a peck on the cheek. She slows her walk to a stop, but continues inside. He kicks himself in the ass all night wondering what went wrong. A feeling we are all familiar with.
Fast forward through a few dates. They decide to get breakfast one morning after several failed attempts to kiss her further. She was leaving on a trip, or something and this would be their last encounter for a time. Louis decides that conditions are perfect. So, after some pancakes he walks her to her car. They hug. As he leans in to kiss her, she stone walls him.
So, he goes home empty handed. After some thought he decides to text her and ask why she won't kiss him. Her response was: "I wanted you to kiss me that night at the cabin."
"I tried; I kissed you on the cheek when we were walking inside." Says he.
"Oh, I thought you ran into me." Was her final response.
I wish I could, but I can't make that shit up. True story, top to bottom.
The other one, is a little less comedic, and a bit more sad/stupid.
So, Gerald's grandma hooks him up with a cute nurse. She gives her his number, and they begin the early/worst stages of dating. They talked a lot. It seemed like every waking hour they were texting. Texting eventually lead to phone calls. Phone calls lead to face times. Face Times then lead to a couple of dates. Even though things weren't taking a turn for the serious, they were getting along peachy. Plus, Gerald couldn't quite commit, he was still hung up on his last mistake of a girlfriend.
This girl decides she wants to go on an LDS mission. So, she goes through all the stages of that, and they continue to talk.
She leaves on her mission, and he continues to write her. Fairly religiously if I am not mistaken. So, she is about ready to return from her mission and he gets an email that says the following:
"I have been hesitant to write you this. But I have to ask you to stop writing me. I have a serious boyfriend and I don't feel right still receiving emails from you. Thank you for all your support."
And that was it. That was everything. Even after toeing the line between friendship and being in a horribly serious relationship for almost 2 years. I guess she picked up a Chilean escort of some type on her mission. Who gives a shit about the rules anyway, Eh?
Stupidity is not gender specific; but damn girls can be dumb.
I was going to tell my friend Sam Bishop's GWB story, but it's rendered useless since he married his GWB. You dog. Still much love for you, my man.
Oh, you want to know my GWB story? Shit. That's the story of my life. Always chasing my tail, and running around in circles. Always wanting what I can't have, and what I know I will regret. I have a plenty of stories to tell about those things I wish I didn't do. Things I wish I would've gotten. Things that blew up in my face, and plenty of missed opportunities. I could talk all day about that. But hell, I wouldn't want to spoil the ending.

Life Is Getting Stranger.

It's been a weird day. I remember when I was a kid my mom would yell at me for wiping my dirty Cheetos fingers on my clothes. I was like "Well! Where else am I supposed to wipe them?" She suggested a paper towel or washing my hands, but that was ludicrous. So, I guess in some form of subconscious I started a habit of wiping my hands on my shirt/shorts. I still do it all the time. I actually have fiscal evidence of such a thing. I was doing my laundry just now, and noticed that a pair of shorts have horrible Cheetos stains. Right above my right pocket, where I always wipe my hands. Consequently, these are my favorite shorts and they wont be disposed of because of a stain. I just thought it was ironic that of all the grease, pizza, and other food-like substances I wipe on my shorts, the one thing I got in trouble for was the one that bit me in the ass. Thanks for nothing Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos.
When I was a kid my mom used to hide all the good treats on a shelf that I was unable to reach (Theoretically speaking. I could get to them with the assistance of Josh or a chair.) It was always frustrating to me. I mean, I can understand now that I would dive into a box of Costco muffins and have them cleaned out before anybody knew they were there. But at the time, I just didn't get it. Today I did some grocery shopping, which is a laughable experience in itself. But I decided that I wanted Gushers, and since I am 23 now and can do whatever I want, I am buying some Gushers. I made my purchase and wasn't even to my car before I had the box open and was eating the first package. And in the 20 minute drive to my house, I consumed two more packages. I think my issue with inhaling Gushers is that they all stick together. You can't eat Gushers one at a time. You just have to eat it whole. There is no other choice. So, I do. When I got home, I thought about putting it on a top shelf where I can't reach it. Unfortunately, I am 6 foot 2 and I can reach anywhere in this house. So, I ate another pack and put them in the pantry. They'll be gone before midnight.
I used to make up excuses to not go to bed when I was a kid. I remember saying things like "Mom! we forgot to comb my hair! I can't go to bed yet!" or "I forgot to brush ALL of my teeth." I think I was fascinated with whatever happened after I was asleep. Maybe my parents turned into Terminator and went and fought crime. Maybe they went to Morpheus' lair and went into the Matrix. I don't know. I wish I knew. Now that I am older, I look for excuses to go to bed. "Sorry man, I gotta go. My grandma's bunions don't rub themselves." or "Oh! I would love to, unfortunately I can't. I have this group that goes and kicks all the hobos out of the park, I can't miss it." When in reality, I am just going home to go to bed. I don't function well when I am tired. Sorry about it. I think my mom drilled into my brain that nothing good happens after midnight, so be home at midnight for curfew. Which is entirely true. All of the stupidest decisions I've ever made have been made after midnight. So, once that time rolls around I know its just time to be in bed. Prison one time was enough for me.
In retrospect to all these things, maybe my mom was right about most things. Now that I am older, I guess I can see more of that. If you'll excuse me, I know where I hid the Gushers. I am gonna go eat a few.

Bucket List, Smhucket List.

I was doing my regular shift today, and was working in units around the painters. My prior interactions with said painters has been far from pleasant. On one occasion I heard one young guy tell his comrade that he drank too much and wet the bed, in his girlfriends bed. The other is with this guy i fondly refer to as the "Garbage pail kid", we were outside and he started conversing with me, and at one point he offered me one of his very cheap cigarettes. I have been working around the garbage pail kid for several weeks now. I know that his name is Travis, he has told me on several occasions. But, to let him know that wee aren't friends, I constantly call him by the wrong name. Today we were working and he relayed a message from the head painter and I replied; "Thanks Stuart." I also almost made myself laugh. This has absolutely nothing to do with this blog, I just thought it was funny.
A few things have brought my thoughts of composing a "Bucket list" Although I consider myself a simple living man and don't have many ambitions outside of a full nights sleep and full meal, I too have things that I would like to do before I die.
I have always thought that bucket lists were grim. I am making a list of things I must do before I die. What if you don't finish the list? You obviously don't get a second shot at it. Do you not get to heaven cause heaven is only for winners? Maybe you'll get reincarnated as a seagull and can travel by your own power to all the places you would like to go. If I got reincarnated as something, I would probably pick a couch throw pillow. Mostly cause you can still watch TV, and be uncomfortable when people try to sit on you.
Well, seeing that heaven is a long shot anyway, I am making my list and holding absolutely nothing back. Because I believe in myself, even though nobody else does. So, I am sharing my list with you to hopefully get you to start thinking about death and stuff and get real with yourself.

-Buy something I don't need that's more than $500
-Write a song that's so awesome Ke$ha, Katy Perry and Kanye West get run out of America and forgotten.
-Beat the shit out of Luke Bryan.
-Get the shit beat out of me by John Travolta
-Star in a film that outdoes Box Office sales for Avatar and Titanic combined.
-Win and Oscar before Leonardo DiCaprio.
-Play a concert at Mile High stadium and sell it out.
-Costar a film with Patrick Swayze.
-Have my life made into a movie with Kevin Bacon from Footloose cast as me.
-Win a boxing match and pull an American flag out and wear it around.
-Chokeslam The Big Show and Kane at the same time.
-Be the Main Event at Wrestlemania and beat Vader.
-Jump through a table from the top ropes.
-Buy a motorcycle.
-Beat Jean Claude Van Dam at a martial arts fight.
-Be on tour with Coheed And Cambria, Between The Buried And Me, Circa Survive, A Lot Like Birds and Kenny Rogers all at the same time. But I am the main event. Tickets will be $250 for nosebleeds.
-Sleep for 24 hours straight.
-Play on the Chicago Bulls with Michael Jordan, Dennis Rodman, and Scotty Pippen and have them all talk about how much better at basketball I am than they are. Then trade to the Jazz and win our trophy's back.
-Hit a walk off win home run at AT&T park and have Buster Posey hug me at home plate then we go get a steak together after the game is over and everyone carries me on their shoulders.
-Buy a house.
-Find a baby bear in the woods and take it home and raise it. He also will maul anyone I don't like.
-Catch a game winning touchdown from Peyton Manning at the Super Bowl or Pro Bowl.
-Do a back flip.
-Be on Cops whether as the predator or the prey, doesn't matter.
-Drive a Maserati and make it go 200 MPH in a 65 MPH zone. Then outrun the cops.
-Bowl a perfect game.
-Be the best guitar player in the world.
-Have someone ask me for my autograph.
-Do a stand up comedy set, and have everyone love it.
-Eat all 6 Costco muffins in one sitting.
-Drive an ambulance for a day.
-Fight someone on top of a train.
-Shoot a bazooka.
-Make a TV show that goes on for 15 seasons.
-Make a clothing line that is awesome.
-Walk the red carpet.
-Be on the cover of GQ for best dressed, but not changing my current dressing habits.
-Solve a case that England has been trying to solve for years, then paint the American flag on Big Ben to announce that America is the best, and I am better than Sherlock Holmes.
-Go to a fancy dinner party in a Broncos/Giants/Mavericks jersey.
-Have a watch that shoots lasers.
-Be an international spy.
-Organize then destroy a drug ring.
-Set a building on fire.
-Have a limb replaced with a robot arm with gun capabilities.
-Fight the dinosaurs at Jurassic Park
-Get married.
-Beat the Man Vs. Food guy in an eating contest.
-Get really buff and have all the girls that turned me down get really jealous.
-Be a war hero.
-Have kids.
-Win the lottery.
-Build my own house.
-Win an award that the whole town is in attendance for my receiving of.
-Cook the best meal in the world.
-Live in the mountains, completely self sustaining for two years.
-Play in the NHL and get into tons of fights.
-Be a voice in a cartoon.
-Be a guest star on Even Stevens.

This list isn't in any particular order. And I know I am missing a few things, but this is the bulk of it. Whether or not I complete this list before I die, I couldn't care less. I would die happy if I died tonight. That's how everyone should live.



P.S. This is the final call for any Valentines that you would like to receive from me. For those wondering, no I have not sent them. Get after it.

storytimewithjake@yahoo.com

P.P.S.S. Jon P told me to give him a shout out, so if you read this text me and let me know you got my shout out. If I don't hear from you, I will throw a brick through your window.

I'll Be Your Valentine.

I think a majority of social media posts at this time of the year are very clever and lonely people bitching about being lonely. I have seen far too many posts about people having dates with themselves and being alone on V-day. While, I am absolutely no stranger to being alone on Valentines, I also think it's horribly obnoxious that people deem it necessary to post stuff like this. THERE ARE TONS OF PEOPLE ALONE ON VALENTINES DAY. 

Look, Valentines day sucks for everyone. Well, I should just say men. See, if men are in a relationship (or just dating someone) It's implied that you have to pull out all the stops on Valentines. Dinner, movie, flowers, chocolates, and probably other weird stuff I'm not filled in on yet. I also hear a bunch of stuff on the radio (While I am at work, obviously) about buying jewelry and stuff. Like, damn. Sucks to suck.

Plus, if you're a man and alone on Valentines, you're alone on Valentines. While most men wont admit it, most feel some sense of regret/loneliness.

I'm not saying it's different for a woman being alone on Valentines, that's obviously also awful. Because you're alone on Valentines. However, being in a relationship on Valentines and being a woman is obviously awesome. You get treated like royalty. Apparently some guys buy girls jewelry on Valentines. Which would be nice.

So, in my infinite wisdom I have devised a plan to make those who are alone on Valentines feel better. I have created an email address to which you can send me your home address and I will send you a Valentine. Personally written, designed and autographed by me. Which means its entirely meaningless and worthless. But, I felt like it would be a good thing to do for you dweebs. Also, this isn't limited to those who are single. I will send you a valentine whether you are married or widowed or single or bitter and lonely.

I also want to say that these Valentines will be worth receiving. And I am putting a lot of thought into them. Also, I wont divulge any information you submit, and wont send you any chain mail. 

So, I hope to get a lot of replies, and you can send your address and name here (Fake names suggested)

storytimewithjake@yahoo.com

Any Submissions after Valentines will probably still be honored, but more vulgar. So send me stuff before Valentines.

Also, I am going to open up this email to any questions you may have. If you need advice on anything, or whatever. Don't expect quality answers, but I will reply to your questions in a dedicated blog post. So post the name you want me to address you as, or I will make one up for you. I think an advice column by me would be really funny.

Again, sorry for my absence. It's been a wild year, I hope that you'll let me make it up to you by sending you Valentines. You'll be seeing more of me. Unfortunately for you.

I Like The WWE, And That's Okay.

I realize this is a weird way to start a thought. I guess it stems from the fact that I have watched a lot of WWE recently. Not even that I have watched more than normal, I just noticed that I look forward to it weekly, and tend to not miss a week. I know that it's sort of weird that a 22 year old man likes "fake" wrestling. I am in the minority of fans, that's for sure. Me and most 8 year old kids get along because we can sit and talk about CM Punk, Dolph Ziggler, Fandango, and maybe even toss some Booker T in there. (Please reserve your pedophile jokes, you original sonsabitches.) I guess at the end of the day, I don't even give a shit what people think. Maybe it's weird that I like wrestling, but at least I have found something productive to do with a portion of my time and energy. Sorry that I'm not into Jersey Shore, Duck Dynasty, or any other brigade of incredibly mind numbing TV series.

I think that more people should seek after this mindset. I have always had a hard time understanding why people tend to like whatever their friends, or other public figures they idolize like. I guess from one standpoint I can understand that everyone wants to feel accepted somewhere. Whether that's in their school, their home, or on their sports team. Perhaps that requires you to like a certain type of music, or watch a certain TV show that you normally would not. Which, I guess is okay. But if they're really going to accept you, you won't have to change a damn thing. 

I guess I never really had an issue with all of this. When I was in high school, I was always listening to music that was never socially acceptable. I had Chiodos, Underoath, Silverstein, Coheed and Cambria, Circa Survive, and even a little Between The Buried and Me turned up really loud at a young age. Back in the early 2000's that wasn't the coolest thing. Listening to "screamo" music made you look depressed and sort of weird. I remember my mom worried about me, even though I functioned like any normal kid. It was just odd I guess. But, I never really cared. When we ran out for our last home wrestling match my senior year, we ran out to Mothership by Enter Shikari, and I thought people were going to fall out of their chairs. But I thought it was cool, and that was all that mattered. Sort of riding that same wave of wrestling in high school, I always wore a Stone Cold Steve Austin or Batista shirt to warm up in. The rest of Manti's wrestling team was wearing Manti Wrestling attire, then there was me. I don't really know why I felt like this was so awesome back then, but I'm glad I did it now. Cause that's really funny of young Jake. 

Sorry, got a little nostalgic there. I guess what I'm getting at is, it doesn't matter what other people think or what other people are doing. You shouldn't be that concerned with it. Too often I feel like people mold who they are or what they like in order for someone else (It happens all too often with men impressing women) to like or notice them. I guess I've just never had that mindset. If people think it's strange and irrational that I wear shorts all winter, I don't give 2 shits. If people don't like or can't accept me for what I am, they can kiss my giant white ass.

So, I know I have knocked Duck Dynasty and Jersey Shore, but that's because I hate them. And if you like them, okay. I don't care. And neither should you. If you like country music, like country music. If you like Prog metal like me, like prog metal. If you're into some weird anime shit, like weird anime shit. The people who will truly be your lasting friends/relationships will gravitate towards that. They won't care about all the weird shit that you're into, cause chances are, they're into it too. Don't hide who you are. You may never be able to come out from behind the mask. The lasting quote my brother and I use, is this; Don't talk about it, BE about it. ll. So when you're talking with potential friends about how much you love this or that, I hope that you actually are. I'm gonna leave you with one last quote from Frank Reynolds:

"But I love eggs Charlie! And I love crabs. And boiling denim and banging whores! And I don't care if anyone doesn't like that about me, they don't have to stick around."