Brian Deaton - The True Non-Hollywood Story

This week I decided to try to merge the two poll answers into one. Being as I had seven votes how could I afford to alienate 15% of my readers? I do at very least know that seven people read this so that's cool. If I had just six words to describe me the first three would be "I'm a mess". I have ADD. I do not have the bounce off the wall kind, I have the stare at the wall kind. This is the best way I can describe it. Image your brain moving at a pace so fast you can't focus on one task then throw in the Swedish Chef as your own personal filing specialist. The result? I have an extremely quick wit, but have no idea where any thing I own is. Such as keys, wallet, Ipod, coffee cup, my mind. You know - the basics. And I know right now Tiffany Watts is picturing when I lived with them and, on occasion, would just start flinging things and saying " Erdin Flurdin Jerdin Burdin". This just came to me. Isn't it kinda crazy no body ever got pissed about the Swedish Chef? If Sesame Street had a Chinese character called the Asian Chef who cooked on a table in front of you, threw knives around and said things like "Ching Chang Chong" people would flip. Which brings me to my last three words "but I'm fun". Anyone who has spent more than two hours with me probably has a story about me. Anyone who has lived with me (or known me for years) won't know which one to start with. I'm one of those people who you meet for the first time and feel like you've known them all your life. This got me to wondering what do people not know about me.

Where to start? I guess with the basics. I am the oldest of two. I was born in 1977, I weighed 7lbs and 7oz, and was the 7th grandchild on the Deaton side (also the 7th boy). Before I could even speak I would tell jokes. Seriously at like 6 months I would mutter random sounds pause then laugh. I spoke my first words at 9 months. I know you're thinking "Momma" or "Dadda", but you'd be wrong. My dad was eating a sandwich and I crawled up on him and said "Bite bite please please please" further proving me to be a Deaton (we love food). By a year old I spoke in close to sentence form, but being the laid back person I am I didn't care to walk. And not that I couldn't walk it was just easier and faster to crawl and I was lazy (funny when you consider I ended up as one of the top distance runners in the country). At the age of 4 my dad took me to Venture (for those of you not from the mid-west or younger than 25 it was a department store). I was always an easy to get along with kid and the rule was if you are absolutely wonderful while shopping you get a little something at the end. So he decided to get me a new record (yes vinyl I'm old). He's thinking Smurfs, I'm thinking Billy Joel-Glass Houses. It's the one with "Still Rock and Roll to Me", "You May Be Right", and "Don't Ask Me Why". Well long story short I begged until he broke. Now God Bless the man who for the sake of rock and roll takes one for the team because I know it wasn't fun to explain to my mother why he just bought their preschool child a rock album. On a stranger note imagine your 4 year old walking around your house singing " You may be right. I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic your lookin for". After that they couldn't keep me away from their records or the record player. 27 years later I have 3 of those 300 Cd cases full of Cd's and a few easy to carry cases full. Thank God for Ipods!

Growing up I basically had one friend. It wasn't because I didn't make friends easily, but because I only needed one. He lived right across the street. We were basically the same person. We had all the same interests and loved all the same things. We used to make movies that consisted of music videos and talk shows. In fact I still have them and no you can't see them. The nice thing about being a boy is if you get into a fight one just knocks the other out and it's over. It's part of the great divide. Girls will try to destroy each others lives and boys will make each other eat grass. The other part (of the great divide) being that a woman will look in the mirror and become distraught over one ear being an eighth of an inch higher than the other. A man, no matter what physical shape or size, will get out of the shower look in the mirror, flex, and say "HELLS YEA". On the opposite side of the spectrum women will freely speak of their feelings every chance they get and men are afraid of their feelings. Now I know this is a stereo-type but have I ever told you I LOVE STEREO-TYPES. The reason being no they are not always true, but most of the time they are right on. People don't just make this stuff up. Now I can't speak for the female perspective, but I would consider myself an expert on internalization. I think as boys we are taught to not show emotion because it is a sign of weakness. And that manifests as we get older turning us into time bombs. Now I know we are all damaged in our own precious ways and have walls and defenses. The difference is women can bring it to the surface. Women get visually upset or call a friend, with a man it just comes out. We keep shoving it in and in and in until it just comes out. That's why we have the blank face then with no warning flip out. We're just trying to stay numb. I am the king of internalizers. You'll almost never see me as any thing but happy. Now that is a slightly misleading comment because I am an extremely easy going happy person. It's just if there is something wrong no one would know. I take that back Jen would. She'd look at me and say "Why you being fake?" and be persistent enough to get an answer. I have found a medication for me (I just can't go with cure). It's actually pretty simple. It's music. If I am down and need to allow myself to feel I play Ryan Adams or some old school Pumpkins and sing the words as they were mine. If I am frustrated and need to blow off steam it's Dillinger Escape Plan, System of a Down, Parkway Drive etc. If I need to cheer up it's Marley, They might be Giants, The Beatles, Dylan etc. Now I love all music and it's not always therapy. I listen to a lot of metal, but trust me I'm not frustrated that often. How could I be? I have a wonderful wife who proofreads all I write. A dog, well I don't actually know what he does but I still love him and great friends. But we haven't gotten that far in the story yet. Part two coming soon. Feel free to post any stories you have in the comments or just say "Hey". Tiff I expect some good stories from you.

Be different! Just like us.

First things first. I have had this blog done for over a week, but it's just not up to my standards. After a week of thinking I just figured it is what it is . So here it is


So yeah . . . no I am not addressing StriperGate in this blog. I will however say it was 10 years ago and I did not do anything inappropriate with her or have any contact with her beyond that night other than to tell her not interested. And for my cousin I have no comment about cats named Pachina or Jim Beam and Hornsbys Draft Cider, but that was a camp fire I will never forget. If you have any confusion as to why I made these statements check the comments from my last blog. Now onto the story at hand. You may have to read this a few times to grasp what I'm about to say. I know I did. These days people who want to be "different" are all the same. In fact a person who would say "I want to be just like the herd" would be more unique than the people who actually are trying to be "different" by the fact they are admitting they seek acceptance. And the only way to truly be "different" is to be true to yourself. Please believe I live in no glass house. I don't even have a glass trailer. Maybe it's a glass hut, but every one of my rants is more to remind me of who I am or who I want to be. So believe, as I chuck rocks some are coming right back at me. Where to start????? Alright if you have a tattoo you are not different. Now if you actually know what it means or if it has some meaning you're a little less ordinary. Your favorite band doesn't count for males and for you women Juicy in Chinese doesn't count either. Now I have two tattoos and no they do not make me special. Both have a lot of meaning to me, but they are not for anyone but me. In fact I'd bet about a hand full of people actually know what they mean to me. That doesn't make me different just unable to share my feelings. Anything you buy at American Eagle, Hollister, Aeropostal, Abercrombie (though I'm not sure if that last one dates me), so on and so on will not make you different. Shaggy or spiked hair will not make you different. Etnies, Nike, Adidas will not make you different. Intentionally swimming against main stream isn't different. It's antagonistic. And now to make my first comment make sense...................................... DIFFERENT ISN'T AN OUTSIDE THING!!!!! If you depend on a look to make you different - give up. Because no matter what you come up with people will copy it. We are all sheep and that's why we have fads. What no one can copy is who you are! So the only real way to be different is to be true to YOU. The thing all of you should know and I know I've not told you this is (and please forgive my random thought process today) I love to be right! So much so that I will internally debate all my random thoughts to prove to me I'm right. I only tell you this because I felt this idea was sooo after school special that I tried to poke holes in it. Not only did that not work but it consummated the idea. Think about it. Why are we attracted to our wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, etc? Sure at first it's looks, but have you ever had someone open their mouth and ruin it for you? I actually had a girlfriend (who was driving with me in the passenger seat) ask me "Your left or mine?". We didn't make it through that night. You're not drawn to someone because of the way they look. You might lust after some one because of their looks, but that's another topic for another day. So here is my challenge find one thing you love about yourself and one thing you want to work on or you could be different just like everyone else. Anyone who wants to make a comment feel free. If you are not a member of blogspot if you look there is an option for anonymous or if you'd rather my myspace is fine to message me. I am posting a pole at the bottom of the page please vote. Oh and Brad you are no less PC than me. You just have no filter.

Evolve! Everyone's doing it.

So prolific isn't always my thing. I have to admit I go through periods of high inspiration and periods of blah. I guess being a person who rarely wants to leave his home isn't very conducive for consistent material. So where to begin.......Ok so Friday night I went out with my brother-in-law on his 21st birthday. Maybe I should side note this with I haven't been to a bar in????? Ok you got me. I don't know, but I'd guess closer to years than months. Bars have nothing to offer me other than an embarrassing look into what a douche I used to look like. If I'm gonna throw down give me a group of friends at a private location and music I want to listen to or a Wii. I'm old and have lost my sense of drunken adventure. Back to Friday night. So we get picked up by a limo and head to a bar (for you that are regional I'll give a bit more info Cruisin's on Farmington Rd Peoria,IL). Now the first thing you have to do when you walk into a bar is check out your surroundings. Guess what I see? Sausage fest 2008! Now I tell you this not because I wanted to check out the girls (I am married and happy), but because this is important to the story. And I'm not joking about Sausage fest. It's like a 10 to 1 ratio. Which is always interesting because that causes one of the most unique situations in male behavior. Like a pack of hyenas with no food they begin to attack each other every time it's prey comes near. I walk to the bathroom and I see a pack of idiots eyeing a waitress and fighting over which one is going to take her home. Now judging by the fake smile on the waitresses face and the fact no one at the table has thumbs (an evolution joke......monkeys if you need more help) they have no chance. First of all let me give that table of 11 a bit of advise any girl who has worked at a bar, hooters, strip club, etc has heard every one of your sad pick up lines and are not swept away by your vortex of charm. Second of all telling some one how beautiful their eyes are is third date material (you know after you've proven you have a personality) and only works when actually looking at their eyes. Which would be approximately 18" north of this Casanovas eye shot. The waitress smiles and walks off prompting him to tell the rest of the pack she wants him. They begin to tear him a part limb from limb and after a few seconds the whole table is verbally assaulting each other. And to be honest they all had valid points and should have listened to each other and left that second, gone home and yanked one out. If one of these girls humor you it's cause they want a good tip and they want to see how deep you'll bury yourself while confirming to them they will never meet an adequate mate at a bar. I say this not because I am in any way, shape or form a feminist, (In fact I probably am one of the least PC people I know) but because I am ashamed that that is my genders representation in the bar scene. And I'll be honest I can't say in my day I didn't think every girl wanted me. I can say I was a bit more creative than your typical bang on my chest cause I'm male type. The point is EVOLVE please. If this is our future women are going to dismiss us all together and life will die off. And if women are actually falling for this I pray life on this planet does die off for fear their idiot kids will live near me or my friends.