chris thinks hes a ninja when he drinks's blog: "first blog ever"

As I write this my chest, shoulders, and back are freaking burning. I was off today and have yet to put on a shirt. This past weekend was a lot of fun but must learn to use sun screen. I went to a friends B-day party in WV. They live in a really beautiful area, river in there front yard, mountains in the back ground. We partied, and fished, and swam and I saw a friends tits and we feasted. I picked up a small strawberry bush and hope to get an orange tree soon. I'm growing it all inside but love the idea of eating something I grow. Ok I'm just rambling. peace to anyone who reads this.

Why I deserve to keep my hair. Christopher Parrish Audience: My DNA It seems my genetics’ are smiting me. At 28 years old I am losing my hair. Not that it’s appropriate at any age for ones own body to defy them, but when it happens to some one as naturally immature as I am it set’s the stage for strange conflict’s with ones self. I deserve to keep what’s left of my hair as I do not yet represent an older man or even a mature one. Yes I’m aware that youth is fleeting. I’m closer to 30 than I like and many have said I should go back to working in an office. I made very good money working in Telecom where balding is still very fashionable. A mature man or a wise man might do just that. Let the ends justify the means, work hard at something unpleasant to save for the inevitable goal of home ownership, spouse and kids. Not this aging post teen. Since my return to this semi urban area I’ve taken a delivery job with no future, fun co workers and intend to study English and Flash (making cartoons). Neither has the promise a mature man would seek in economic security. Further proof my body is running amok and falsely representing me. It’s not just how I choose to make money; I’m immature in plenty of other ways. Take my hair (what’s left of it). I keep it long to be rebellious. Is it rebellious thou any more? No, but it makes me feel good for not looking like everyone else. For letting everyone know that I do not value all the boring adult things many of my peers cling to. I still blast punk rock and heavy metal music when I drive. I still watch way too many cartoons. I can’t leave a grocery store with out getting at least one toy from the vending machines. These are not mature, bald worthy things to do. No, once I restart a 401k then you can take my hair. I’m willing to make a deal, my spiteful DNA. In the long run your goal must be to successful merge with anther. To create something new, built from you two, or 12; however DNA does it, that you can then create a hundred trillion new cells, forming a newbie to exsitance, but it’s still part of you. Procreation is DNA’s immortality. I’m not even going to demand a return of the hair you let fall victim to gravity’s ways. We can call a truce right now and you have my word I will make procreation my top priority. Many feminine DNA’s do not look kindly on balding. See DNA if we work together we can both fulfill our destiny. I deserve to keep my hair till we can both get what we want out of this body. Now I’ve read somewhere that hair loss is the result of to much testosterone in the body. And I’m willing to believe that. But look at me. I’m only marginally a “heterosexual”; I have long hair and girlie arms. Doesn’t testosterone make one an alpha male and enjoy sports? I think you’ve got the wrong guy DNA. I read to much, have repeatedly danced in drag to entertain a woman, rarely eat meat and cry far too often while watching T.V. These are not the traits most people think of when testosterone is brought up. I believe that buy not displaying my testosterone I’ve earned the right to be immune to its ugly hairless side effects. So DNA, what will it be? Will you cease making claims about my physical maturity? You know I don’t deserve that. I can’t be trusted with a simple car stereo how can I be made to resemble a male of the middle years? I do want us to continue to coexist for as long as we can. Hair loss isn’t a deal breaker for me, but I know the ladies seem to prefer a full head of hair. And when it comes to fashion always trust what your lady say’s.

I wrote this for a start up paper when I moved back to Northern VA from Shephardstown WV With the Washington Monument in view, beer in hand and cops flashing outside I will begin to tell you about life in the burbs of D.C. It’s Friday after new years and I’m without companion at DR Dremo’s tap house in Arlington. I drink dead guy because for the first time in more than a year I have money again. But we can come back to my immediate surroundings when I can stir up some action. When I first moved back, Falls Church seemed like the big city. Shepherdstown is a bipolar cocoon that protects you from the oddities of many worlds. The greater metro area is like commerce on meth with a moment of sitcom like clarity. Many people here feed from and perpetuate the idea of an almost royal corporate pecking order. You are your address, you are your car, you are your connections and absolutely you are how you make money. It should be expected from those with Acura’s and million dollar homes but the poor buy into too. We’re sore about it but many still aspire to middle management and office jobs with a 401k. They all believe the lie, “You are what you do!” It’s one of the reasons I’m not actively socializing now. Inevitably it’s the first thing someone here will ask is “What do you do?” If I tell the truth about working at Trader Joes most will say they love that place but still some how still mange to tell me about there crappie office job. Employment rank is a first strike blood sport that takes to many conversations. A gleam will appear in there eyes once they rightfully assume they make more money than I do. Random citizen is a few gold stars ahead in the corporate pecking order. It’s creepy because I was very much apart of the lie. When I first moved to Shepherdstown it was inevitably one of the first things I asked you wonderful lunatics. On the other gland it’s absolutely liberating and wonderful to be anonymous when you want to be. Fortunately I have a Smitty here so I can pick and chose times to be an independent explorer of metro life. Tonight at this bar there are hundreds of people and I only know the bartender. Infinite amounts of hotties run wild here. Most you should just assume are insane. It saves wasted energy and frustration. Also because of population density people can perpetually wait for one better. Woman can get it if they are skeptical; have a target and a sense of humor. Today I saw something that gave me hope. Gorilla Retail! I went to buy a few CD’s and was warped into a full out shopping orgy. The over worked young cashier didn’t charge me for “Mr. Show” first/second season DVD or the second season of Futurama. Now I have been giving people stuff from Trader Joes since I started. A few unscaned mango’s here, a bottle of wine there. This kid collectively gave me 90 dollars in DVDs. I want to take this time to thank him properly and make a call to all corporate cashiers worldwide! “Hit the fuckwaste where it hurts!” give to anyone you think might be cool and won’t call attention to it. You’ll make there day and be part of a redistribution of goods that needs to happen. Along with the never-ending hotties and cornucopia of bad jobs you can hop from like a crab hoping from one warm patch of public mass to anther, there is a wealth of diverse cultures here. Not just 8 black people and a Portah Rican but serous culture from every culture. It’s so random and beautiful to get in deep conversations with someone from a completely different world that knows nothing of the corporate gray hell warrior stomping US now. Until they arrive here. It’s so refreshing to hear the way new arrivals bitch about our lack of individual freedoms. Ok, one of the hottie bartenders came over to see if I was ok. I’m just scribbling away in the notebook and she complemented my shirt. Bless you Chenita, bless you and your keen instinct on yard sale fashion. The shirt takes to long to describe but is wonderful. The hottie and the unexpected complement took me buy surprise. My tongue deserves to be punished but I don’t want to give it “the fear” as the night is still young and I’m not leaving yet. Fuck, had to Change floors, some anal residue snuck a football game on the 12 buy five mini movie screen. The energy changed and I can’t write with team cheers and that much useless testosterone around me. So in conclusion it’s not that bad of a place to live, assuming you don’t have to pay rent. It defies my capacity of reason that organized rebellions have not already started here. The Latino population here is a generation or two from taking over and I can’t wait. There a hard working people with an instinct of celebration that rivals a good many of you slackers. So I say stay put till the Mexicans take over. It’s predicted there will be a major housing market crash when the babe boomers retire. One of the highest populations of people will quite there jobs, sell there homes and move towards warmer climates. It’s predicted this will cause a major drop in property value and a spike in skilled worker wedges. Shit, I just looked up and realized I was the only person here alone scribbling all over a notebook. I lack motivation to try get to know any of these tools so I’m homebound for Peruvian mid grade, and all and some free DVD”S.

So I use to write alot for myself and found it a great way to sort things out. Ive been out of the habbit so I'm trying to get back into it. Things in my life are OK, not great, not bad. I have a good job but no lady. I need to move soon but can't seem to save enough. I have alot of really good friends but many of them live an hour and a half away. I spend way to much time online. hmmm ok I'm not feeling very creative and can't think of anything intreasting to type about. Sorry this is a lame first blog.