Bro, I couldn't even bring myself to read that ramblin' mess. I lost interest about a third of the way, and skimmed the rest. Sorry you're a little sensitive about your past, sorry the music industry sucks (I do know a little bit about the music bizz, but that's another subject), sorry you didn't end up with the french model, sorry you didn't get the pop culture reference to begin with.
As far as hiding who I am,
you'll find me here.
Thank you, Steve. I suppose just a little acknowledgment and/or credibility was what I was looking for in the first place.
Your blog over on the link you were willing to post is very, very impressive. I left a comment saying as much with a link to my E Blog. Not that I was looking to do that or anything, but since the option was there, I said "Oh, what the heck. I'll reciprocate with mine for whatever that's worth." It's not as good as yours. Yours is really well-developed and established.
As far as the subject of personal pictures go - In my personal profile over here, there's a backside shot of me holding a guitar. Why a pic showing me from that angle? To show tha legendary butt. Hey, wasn't my idea.
Secondly, another link is back there in my personal profile to my You Tube page where there's a face pic.
Maybe my deal with said model might become just a little more believable after viewing what my particular physical appearance is.
And for the love of Pete.... NO MUSTACHE. lol.
I guess you could say I'm overly touchy about having my credibility called into question around here. Reasons being -
#1. I used to be more outwardly successful in my 20's up through my mid 30's than I am today. I'm now over 10 years removed from that 15 year glory period I experienced.
Thing is, whenever someone tries to take any of those past accomplishments away from me, I cling to them and defend them with a passion.
I wish there was something current I could enjoy as much about my present social makeup, but there just isn't. As a result, I live in the past a lot.
#2. I spend a lot of time on PatsFans. I read lots here. Know what? I don't know feetbawl... I mean... football anywhere near as well as many of the people who're the big posters around here do. I learn lots from people like Andy Johnson, Deus, Kontradiction, Joker, Wicked Pissah, Tunescribe, you, and even Off The Grid's childish schtick.
Conversely, when I, myself, get a rare chance to "lay down the law" about a subject which I'M the authority (Rock, naturally lol.) and people start ripping on me instead, well, I havta pull a Cartman and yell "Respect ma authoritahhh!" back at them.
Then the whole "what, you're a french model on top of all of that too?" thing happened. Lemme tell ya, that pushed one of my biggest buttons, albeit by accident. There's just no way you could've known I actually did have one for a girlfriend for a while, back some 11 years ago.
So what I'm saying, in a very longwinded manner, is -
I wish the whole lot of us over here on PatsFans did know one another better than we actually do. I've always felt an "information gap" about people whom I've seen countless posts from over a long period of time.
And I'm now aware that my long posts come across as overly indulgent to many people around here.
Well think about it this way - I'm a writer. I could type all day long about things I'm interested in. It's effortless from my side.
So... with that being said... and feeling this whole off-the-beaten-path, off-topic, self-indulgent riffing of mine is finally winding down...
I guess there's nothing more to do than leave you with... a song? lol. No. I'll leave you with one final Pewsterbaby' French Model Girlfriend story you can live vicariously through, if you so choose (lol) -
I'd initially silently ridden the freight elevator up with Cecile before making her acquaintance.
I was standing in back of her. I wondered who this beautiful girl was and why on Earth was she in a self-storage warehouse elevator (of all places) with me. I salivated just gazing upon the backs of her luscious thighs coming out of her light blue jogging shorts. My eyes moved up, catching the cute adorable look of her Shirley Temple coif. I hadn't seen hair on a girl like that in a long time.
Well, I mentally dismissed it as just another girl I'd never get to encounter again and when the elevator doors opened, I proceeded to walk to my ambiguous locker, located down long aisles of one after another.
As I was twirling the combination lock to open mine, I heard footsteps approaching to my left. They belonged to the sneakers from which those knockout thighs resided.
Oh, no freaking way. You're telling me that this girl has a locker close to mine? What are the odds of that? The place has that Indiana Jones warehouse look to it. There's gotta be at least a thousand lockers on four floors to this place.
And yet... here she comes.
She stops at the locker directly to my left. I look up from the lock to meet her eyes and we exchange a slightly embarrassed bashful salutation. (gawd, I'm blushing just typing this. It was so exhilarating back then, it still can move me, almost 11 full years later)
In her initial words, I could detect an accent. Being the haughtily insistent New Yorker that I am, I immediately ask if she's from France.
She replies,"Oui" and she corrects my pronunciation. Phonetically, she goes "Its 'Frahh-nce', spoken softly. Not 'Frayy-nce' all sharp, like you Americans say it."
I turn on the New York wisenheimer in me and say,"Oh, I stand corrected, madmoiselle." (and boy did I sit on that last word, slowly working my way through it as I had her complete undivided attention. I spoke it and it came out lewdy loose. There were connotations sprinkled all over it.)
Bingo. Right off the bat I was able to convey to her that indeed, I WAS knowledgeable about the sort of girl who was standing alone with me, at the very end of a long, impersonal storage aisle.
I'd not only passed the all-important first impression test, I'd totally nailed it.
It was if we immediately knew a lot about each other even before we'd spoken more than our first few sentences.
It was love at first sight and most of it was coming from HER side.
The conversation flowed as we went to work on our cutely ADJOINING lockers' contents. I told her all about my little record label and she told me of her cosmetics inventory. It was a freaking riot watching me point to various things of hers. I mean, a guy asking about lipstick, makeup, mascara, and the like.
I was having the time of my life.
I couldn't believe how much my life had immediately changed once I'd stepped out of that otherwise ordinary elevator with her in-tow.
I thought to myself,"Aww.. no way. Look at her. She's gotta be too young for me I'm 35. She's probably like 23 or thereabouts."
I quickly work it into the conversation. She's happy to proclaim,"I'm thirty one." (well, actually, phonetically it was "I'm sss-irty one". Her accent was outrageously hot) I go,"Oh, no way. You look about 10 years younger than that."
She hears that, pipes up, smiles, and enthusiastically fires back 'Well, that's because I don't have any wrinkles!"
Yeah man, but she said it like "WINK-els". No "r".
"Winkles"? You gotta be kidding me. That;s the most adorable word I'd ever heard.
I melted into a puddle right at that moment. I was SMITTEN.
Anyway, after we were finished getting our individual inventories ready to be transported to our different places of business throughout Manhattan, the question simultaneously entered our minds...
Were we ever going to see each other again.
It was MY move. I was the guy, after all.
She patiently waited for me to move it forward.
I was having so much trouble. I was shy and she was French. lol.
So, she instinctively knew what was going on with me. Women's intuition and stuff. I mean, she KNEW I wanted us to be together.
Anyway, she jumped right in for me. She asks,"So, you want my phone number?"
First of all, it sounded more like "Zo... yew want my phone numbaire?"
And man, the expression and body language. I'll never forget it as long as I live.
She was standing there with her legs crossed. One sneaker was flat on the floor and the other slightly in back, with only the toe playfully touching the ground, ticking back and fourth to mirror the time ticking as she awaited the enthusiastic reply she KNEW she was about to receive.
I go "Of course" and we went downstairs to check out together.
When we got to the front desk, she went first and finished up.
As she was leaving, she turned back and yelled "Call me!" as she went out of sight out the front door.
The guy behind the desk's jaw almost dropped to the floor. You could see the wheels in his brain spinning, trying to figure out what I must have done upstairs in order to illicit that type of enthusiasm from a girl as gorgeous as that.
It definitely ranked as one of the best moments of my life of which I can count on one hand.
I mean, things like this just don;t happen in real life. It's "surreal movie material".
So there ya go. FRENCH MODEL GIRLFRIEND.
The End... Fin.