I have a cabin at a lake that I enjoy camping at. Although it's not really a cabin, it's a mobile home. And it's not really at a lake, it's a good quarter mile or more from the water. And it's not really camping, there are too many modern conveniences to call it that. But when somebody asks "What are you doing this weekend?" I will answer "I'm going to the lake to camp at my cabin." I don't consider it a lie. I consider it an exaggeration. If I were to be totally honest I would say "I'm going to Pymatuning to drink at the Welcome Inn then going to my mobile home to sleep it off."
I always have fun up there. Even the rare times I'm up there alone. Truth be told, I would much rather be up there alone. But usually my brother or sister or father or neices or nephews or wife and kids, will come up and stay there with me. I'm not complaining though. The more the merrier. I am not a fisherman or a hunter. So the huge lake and all the forests in that area are wasted on me. All I really do up there is eat, drink, sit by the fire staring at the sky, and sleep. To me, a born city boy, it is camping. That is what I will always call it. Even though the house I live in now is more secluded and surrounded by denser woods that my "cabin", I still call my drunken weekends at Pymatuning "camping". And I always will.

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It doesn't take much to get my motor going. All my wife has to do is exhale in my general direction, and I'm ready for action. Some guys need some effort. Stores like Fredrick's and Victoria's are proof of this. Now, I don't mind a little fashion show in the bedroom. But, I don't see the point of all those hooks, straps, and bows when its all coming off anyway. I don't need leather, lace, silk, satin, or feathers (feathers?). The sexiest piece a lingerie of woman can put on is plain white cotton panties. Some women will say that they need more than that to feel sexy. That's fine. But isn't it the man's job to make you feel sexy? It should be the woman that is desirable. Not the outfit. Of course, that is just one man's opinion.

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I live near a large park. There is a walking trail that circles the lake in the middle of this park. All of the main roads in this park run parallel to this walking trail. In order to get to most of the places I have to go to, I have to drive on these roads. In the summer these walking trails are very busy. There are all kinds of people walking there but the ones that stick out (for me, anyway) are the scantilly clad young women. Now, I don't stare at these women. I do take second and third glances in their general directions. This often seems to annoy them. Now don't tell me ou're dressed that way for comfort. Sports bras are not meant to be outerwear. Those short shorts crawling up into your, uh, area must really be in need of a good rinsing out. You want people to look. But it's not the 40 year old guys you want looking at you. You want the ripped 20 somethings who dress as provacatively as you to look. The problem with that is you're in a very public place showing everyone who wants to look all your goodies. You have to know this. We aren't invisible. I'm looking. Everyone is looking. Even the people pretending not to look are looking. So, if you don't want us to see it, don't show it to us.

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Two American soldiers were captured and killed in Iraq this week. That is all anybody should know about this story. Yet the news outlets in this country seem to think it is neccesary to describe how they died and what kind of condition the bodies were in. The family and friends of these young men could not pick up a paper or watch the TV without seeing the gruesome details of their loved ones death. Who in their right mind want to know these details?

I'm not naive. I know that war is a horrible thing. Both sides of this conflict seem to have done some pretty ugly things. The media seems to thrive on the ugliness of this war. News directors seem to live for a good beheading or torture story. Yet they hesitate to show pictures from 9/11 for fear that it might be too emotional for us to handle. Hypocrisy runs wild in the news business.

Yet there must be an audiance for these stories. Otherwise they wouldn't continue to run them. I live near Pittsburgh, Pa. Last week the Steelers' starting quarterback had a motorcycle accident. By the third day of this breaking story, it was determined that he was going to recover just fine. And yet for days, even now, more than a week later, it is still one of the top five stories on every newscast on every station. I have yet to meet anyone who admits to keping a close eye on this story. Yet somebody has to be. They are still running it.

I'm just glad I have 200 other channels of worthless crap to choose from.

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The past month has been pretty shitty for me. Usually, when real life gets to be too much for me to handle, I crawl inside a bottle and hide for a while. But the past 4 weeks or so have just been horrible. At least as far as getting drunk go. Tonight, however, I got the oppotunity to get a buzz on. The wife and kids are out of the house tomorrow. I don't have to work tomorrow. Game 7 is on tonight. So, I figured I'd get drunk tonight. Somehow I feel as though I deserve it. Like the world owes me one night of numbness. I've been through a ton of shit lately and I need a release.

My drink of choice tonight is red wine. Not exactly manly, I know, but then neither is my usual diet Squirt and Absolut Citron. But, hey, drunk is drunk, right? Does it really how you get there?

There were so many things I wanted to say when I started typing. But, then, surprisingly, my mind went blank. So...

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