Conspiracy of One: Saving the World and WrestleMania XXIV

Am I a hero? If I am, I don’t want to be. I’d rather be the cocky jerk that I’ve perfected over the years. It’s supposed to be my legacy, my claim to fame. Yep, I’m supposed to be last resort kind of guy, the person that can lead an onslaught, but wouldn’t really trust unless absolutely necessary. Well, over the last week, I’ve been exactly that guy while dealing with my own set of personal demons.

I don’t sleep much. I barely eat. I’m not even kicking ass in my classes anymore. I’m unemployed. I don’t know where my income is coming from, nor do I understand how I’ll pay for school next year. I may just skip Comic-Con because I lost my contacts when I lost my job. Hell, the job said they didn’t fire me; I quit for personal reasons. Most importantly, I haven’t lost a step in my train of thought. Success at a frenetic pace. It starts from the basics, like watching a pay-per-view with friends and having a genuinely good time.

Really? I quit? For personal reasons? How the fuck is that possible?

Brandon, Jordan, Kristen, and I headed to watch WrestleMania XXIV. It was a great show. Shawn Michaels vs. Ric Flair in a career-ending match. We all knew how it was going to end. However, we didn’t know how beautifully crafted the match would be. Shawn Michaels mouthing “I’m sorry, I love you” to his crying, defeated mentor just before the Heartbreak Kid delivered the third and final Sweet Chin Music to the legendary Ric Flair. Standing ovation and tears flowed freely afterwards. A well-crafted match that was only demurred by questionable card placement. Then again, Brandon noted that if it had been later, it would’ve overshadowed everything by a long shot. The rest of the card wasn’t too shabby, but not enough to be considered the creme de la creme in comparison to the Michaels/Flair classic. May God bless the Nature Boy. Moving on…

The real fun came in later that night, as we’re trying to figure out how to continue our night. However, there were a few kinks that Brandon and Kristen had to work out, as all couples do. To my delight, it was over taking a road trip to Union Station to pick up Kristen’s friend. Now, thinking quickly (and blindly, for that matter), I offered to pack up the gang for a quick excursion to Downtown L.A. Not exactly the best idea I’ve had, but it seemed pretty good. Spontaneity isn’t something I’ve lost.

When it was all said and done, it was time for Jordan and I to head back to our neck of the woods. He mentioned something about me being an asshole, yet doing anything for my friends if needed. Not the first time the thought came to my head…where’s the Wayback Machine?

Just recently this week, I opted to help Jared end something of a relationship…I can’t describe it because it’d give me a splitting headache. Being a friend is a thankless title that deserves compensation. So, I’m dealing with something resembling a love triangle, while wanting to pretty much shoot everyone in sight. I predicted that anything attempted would not succeed, and I’ll be damned if I start being wrong now. Sure enough, I’m right, he’s wrong, they’re wrong, I’m right…you get the picture. Jared says I should get off my high horse of thought considering I’ve never been in a relationship. I retort that while I have deficiencies in that area, I seem to have full brain capacity and common sense. In a further stroke to my ego, both of his…liaisons alert me that he’s shared *my* insights with both of them, and they both feel I’m right.

This is pretty heady considering that they both think that I hate them. Far from it: I hate when they’re with Jared, because somehow, “love” can make people extremely silly. I think now, I have something resembling a friendship with both of them, and if they consider my thought to be correct and stay away from Jared, my bliss will be unparalleled.

And I act in the name of friendship, yet people consider me the Antichrist.

For starters, my future son Percival Benoit will bear the title of “Percy the Antichrist”, so hold the praise. Now, I have to fully rest up, because I also have nagging pains and all of the aforementioned problems to confront. Next on the list…find Liz and sue Starbucks!

See? I still have my sense of humor…and vengeful justice. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Theory of a Deadman “No Chance in Hell”

Conspiracy of One: Easter and Love

So, it’s Easter. It’s different having the holiday in March, considering I’m used to seeing celebration in April. I forgot about the holiday multiple times, and am pleased that I remember it today. Still, tradition is one thing…I haven’t felt this odd since they had WrestleMania X8 on St. Patrick’s Day. Speaking of the Showcase of the Immortals…

Jordan and I trekked to Fullerton this week to visit Brandon. His attitude towards the show was depressing, yet in hindsight, made me question my anticipation of a very predictable (see: fake) event. I figure that even though the authenticity of the show is a farce, it still entertains me. More than I can say for Total Nonstop Action, though…watching that show is akin to punishment.

Punishment: the goal of Tekken. I had no idea that we played for a few hours. It was beating after beating after beating, yet, it was still enjoyable. The ante was upped when Jordan stole my signature four-kick combo with Lee, then proceeded to flick me off afterwards. When that happened, I knew for a fact I had to destroy him in the next round, which I proceeded to do by being extraordinarily cheap and dickish. I thought I had the asshole gimmick golden beforehand, but after that round, my actions screamed “go fuck yourself.” I lost the match, and didn’t win many other matches, but I was satisfied. I devastated him for one good round, and everything else became meaningless. He went on a massive win streak after, and it was much more pleasing to watch him and Lane duke it out, because I laughed myself out of competition.

We played a bit of Marvel vs. Capcom 2, and as always, Brandon killed us. However, I pulled off three Venom Webs, and two Raging Demons. It was fitting, considering both of them said I was going to raise the Antichrist. Percival Benoit Guy doesn’t sound like the kind of guy that’d make Hitler look like Mother Theresa…who am I kidding? I’d stay away from the prick myself. He prefers to be called Perry, but for some reason, they liked to call him Percy. And Percy doesn’t take shit like that from anyone. In some sadistic dimension, he’d end up taking advantage of both of my friends’ daughters, then smoking a cigarette lined with gasoline afterwards. That’s my son.

In dance, I’m becoming more of a threat. I’ve been working my mouth along with my feet, and I could be All-World in a few short years. I guess because since I’m truly back on the market without any restrictions, I have to get better.

Why am I back on the market fully? I took a risk with my friend with benefits, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t blow up in my face. I’m good, though…I was way too happy, and if I’m happy, I can’t necessarily be the dominator I’m destined to be. Besides, the whole experience was nice, but I’d like an attached significant other at this point; coincidentally, I’ve located a few prospects in dance class.

I think I may be getting back to mid-season form, with a few added upgrades, such as being able to excuse myself from all thought in a few short moments. Sure, my metabolism is killing me and it appears with lost weight, I’m considerably weaker than I should be. What better way to ignore this? Shoot the breeze with my best friends and kick it old school. Although there’s one thing: there’s no wrestling shows that I’d care to watch twice in one week, and damn Lane did it to us twice. Maybe there’s something to this relaxing thing, because everyone who knows me well enough says that when I get another job, it’ll be another few years before I take a break again. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Britney Spears feat. T.I. “Gimme More (remix)”

Conspiracy of One: Our Legacy

Legacy: anything handed down from the past.

What is my legacy? I would like to think that it describes a thriving warrior-king who is now intending to add “philosopher” to that title. I want to bestow my history, what I hold near and true, on the world for public knowledge. But how do I go about this mission?

By emphasizing the warrior in me.

I’ve been beaten senseless by a system that likes to beat people senseless. I once was lost, but now, I just refuse to use a roadmap. This is how I intend my legacy to be, because this is the only way I can assure myself of immortality. The legacies of our forefathers are deliciously rich in history, cliche, and triumph. I want to be better than my forefathers, and their forefathers before them. In order to do that, I have to construct the performance of a lifetime. The blood, sweat, and tears…all of that will be captured in a glorious hurrah, eclipsing the beauty of aurora borealis, and the dedication of Chief Justice Earl Warren. This is how I intend to stake my claim to Cal, Duke, Harvard, or anywhere I damn well please.

I am knocking on immortality’s door; my legacy will remain in my place.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Santino Marella “La Vittoria e Mia”

Conspiracy of One: Fired

At three o’clock yesterday, Starbucks terminated my employment yesterday. Tough times, but most likely, it was for the best. It was one of those things that I saw coming, like being led like a cow to the slaughter. Needless to say, I persisted until the final bell tolled. Coworkers will definitely be missed; I wonder if they’ll remember what I brought to the table. I’ll know that my memory was honored if I hear someone died from a faulty drink.

The situation presented to me was remotely disturbing, as of course, I was in the wrong, he was in the wrong, etc. Although we are still friends, knowing the outcome, I probably should’ve just given him the Code Breaker and made it worth my while. Try explaining that one to Human Resources…”well, he ran at me, jumped and clutched my head to his knee, and fell backwards. No, I’m not exactly sure how it hurt me, but I just know it was wrong…”

Management was gracious, although I still felt led on. I’d rather have known this previously, but what the hell? At least when the verdict was read, I was calm and resolved to my fate. My severance package was sufficient for me to rest on my laurels for a month, but I won’t. I want another occupation as fast as possible, because I’m getting bored. Not to mention the fact that I have a stiff car note.

Last note: it’s ironic that I’ve patched up things with everyone before I was released. I thought people only did that before they died. Unless, that means soon that I’m going to…nah, impossible. I didn’t even get fired for the right reasons, so I doubt I’m going quietly into that good night. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – The Fray “How to Save a Life”

Conspiracy of One: Storyboard

Well, it’s been a couple of trying days. Civil wars have been fought and won, while other battles for stability have just begun. In the process, I’ve figured out the titles for the two cynical crime stories I’ll be writing whenever I get a chance: “Civil War” and the smash sequel, “Civil War: Legitimacy”. They sound pretty bad ass…considering I’m borrowing names from comic heroes, it had better be bad ass.

Well, let’s start with the bad, because of course, bad news should always precede good news. Work, as duly noted, has stressed me out beyond considerable belief. I want hours, because without hours, I’m bored and near penniless. I pretty much hit my breaking point Wednesday night after seeing the scant amount of hours bestowed. Luckily for El Segundo, that was averted due to one of my favorite customers bringing me a three cases of Martinelli’s Sparkling Cider. My mood improved considerably, and I even toasted my friends with the cheer “let the good times roll.” I have two cases left; I know not how long I’ll allow them to last. For the most part, I’m growing accustomed to work again, but I’m still pondering how much longer I’ll be needed in El Segundo.

However, the big news starts near the end of Thursday and segues nicely into Friday morning.

Taking into my extreme bachelor hood, the necessary hideout afforded by Parkside Commons hasn’t been truly utilized. However, I happened to draw the attention of Lauren, a former dance partner from class. She was bored, and I was as well, so she suggested we hang out after she finished the tasks at hand. I said sure, and so, I wait patiently by the phone for a bit. Time ticks late, and I figure she forgot, so I’m preparing to head to sleep; I showered, so hey, I’ll be fresh for class tomorrow. Before I could turn in, she sends me a text message saying she’ll be over in fifteen minutes. Needless to say, I was out of bed and dressed in ten. She came by, parked her car, and I drove us to Denny’s. It was rather unremarkable except for the fact that I ran into Lionel and Joy, and refused to acknowledge the guy. With this in mind, he sat at my table during breakfast and we made amends of sorts. Still don’t trust the guy, though. Thus, back to Lauren and the climax/denouement of my tale.

She states that she’d never seen the dorms before, so I invite her to #Q215 for a bit of talking. I popped a couple bottles of cider, to which we drank and laughed. In anticipation of divine intervention, I made my bed nice and neat and cleared off anything and everything extra in a not so discreet manner. So, we’re sitting on my bed, talking, simultaneously moving closer and closer until…

Hell, I can’t make moves. I suck at it. I’ve watched countless hours of game tape from Dawson’s Creek and Boy Meets World. She laughs at my incredulity…or is the correct word ineptitude? I digress. Either way, I found out by no means would this be easy. I kept making attempts which turned out to be faux pas after faux pas. Luckily for me, Lauren was pulling for me to succeed. I threw on some soft music, dimmed the lights, and we just talked. I may can’t be Don Juan outside of a notebook, but I can definitely talk. So we talked. I brought out some funny issues, saying I beat the world champion of chess Garry Kasparov and rode on a ride with a guy masquerading as a CIA operative. Sure enough, I search for Kasparov Alta Vista and Omega Boost on Youtube, and voila, the commercials are still there. So we continued to talk…and drew near each other whilst maintaining eye contact. At first, there was hesitance on her part because she can usually make guys flinch. I’m not like those guys. Once realized, she still thought it was fun, so we kept playing our game of chicken…

And we made out in my dorm room under dimmed lights to music from my iPod at three o’clock in the morning.

My roommate came home at four, so I proceeded to walk her to her car, enjoying the moment. I can honestly say kissing is the best form of intimacy. First time completely, holistically making out with a girl…was awesome. Freaking awesome. My gamble paid off; I was starting to have doubts about moving on campus. Now, it has paid dividends…and I will definitely re-up next year. Friday was a damn good day; waking up for class in six hours, though, was a bitch.

My day ended with judging debates and convincing my mother that it happened. May the sun shine on the Godhand. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Cam’ron “Hey Ma”