Fair warning, this will not be the place for a laugh tonight. Just need to write some things down so I can try to put this day behind me, if that’s remotely possible.

Today I narrowly avoided becoming one of the thousands of Pharmaceutical Representatives that have been, and continue to be laid off. It has been going on for years, and one could argue, as I have, that we created this mess ourselves. And today, my company reduced the salesforce that I have been a part of by half, or better.

I’m sitting here tonight shellshocked, sad, with even other emotions I can’t seem to find titles for. After having worked here for five years, I developed a tighter bond with this family of co-workers than I had at any other company I have worked for past. And today, most of those friends were shown the door despite years of outstanding achievements, and I was kept along with few others for reasons that I may never be able to fully explain.

I remember the inner panic and financial devastation of being unemployed, I have been there myself. I also remember the feeling of boundless elation when I got this position, saving my young family from ruin. And tonight, I know I should be grateful for what amounts to a promotion, but the empathy I feel for these people I consider to be dear friends chokes away any feeling of happiness.

I know they will all be fine. They are fully capable and talented people with futures that remain bright. And tomorrow I will get up and embrace my own opportunities while they go in search of the window that just opened somewhere.

Tonight, I am grateful. And for them, I am hopeful. I hope they know how much I will miss them at work, but also how happy I am knowing that our friendship doesn’t need an employer to hold us together.

Welcome. Back.

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time. Leave Blogger, get a new look, do things kind of differently. I had some of the usual fears…losing readers by moving to WordPress, learning a whole new platform, etc. But in the end, I had some ideas about how I wanted to do all of this online thing that mattered more than that stuff.

My wife quickly pointed out to me that she could barely tell the difference from my old layout…sigh…clearly she spends a lot of time reading me.

I’ll be doing some other things differently. You may not even notice, I’m just glad you came along. But I am opening up my blog from now on to a group of people in my life that didn’t know I did this stuff, and I may be throwing myself in front of the bus in the process. But considering the turmoil that some other parts of my life are in right now, encouraging some family and friends into the recesses of my twisted mind seems fairly tame. So, in short, my time of dancing for the anonymous is coming to an end today. I’m gonna try not to get all guarded in the process, but if I look like I am pulling punches, don’t be afraid to call my pansy ass out.

One more thing for the bloggers out there… There’s something big coming.

I can’t get into any kind of specifics yet, but I hope that each of you who wish to be affected by it get from it what you want. I know I’m being cryptic, that’s all I’m allowed to do right now.

Just stay tuned.

To my new readers, be kind. I’m a vulnerable little bitch right now.

And those of you who have…thanks for sticking with me.

I was in love once.

A crazy, reckless love that proved to be a blissfully emotional time in my life. She was spicy, fulfilling, and she made me feel like I was the only one in the world for her.

And then one day, quite suddenly, she was gone. Her name was Burrito Zacatecas, and she disappeared. Her parents who owned a little Mexican restaurant in Bartonville moved away, you see, and she would never be mine again. The day I discovered that she was gone I sat and cried in the parking lot for far too long…until my wife and kids urged me to continue our search for dinner. And amidst my tears, I silently guided the car away from that place.

I feared I would never find another.

Days turned to months, and my silent desperation began to shake the foundation of every other relationship I had. I began to make mistakes with the wrong places, and plates. A combination dinner here, a drive-thru there. Every order was compared to her, and woefully discarded.

Then one evening, I took the family to Agave Tex Mex Grill in Flower Mound, TX, ordered a margarita, and dropped my head to the cold table in anticipation of another mealtime mistake. The menu was handed to me, and my eyes quickly made my way down the page searching, always searching. And then, on the Specials Menu, I saw her.

The Big Burrito.

I was tempted to avoid another disappointment and move on, and then I began to read more. Stuffed with beans, pico, my choice of meats, cheese…Panini Style? And…with…Avocado Cream Sauce?

I…I…I love Avocado.

When my new BFF returned to take our order, I quickly told him my needs, and then hurried him through the orders for my family. A Taco? Um, yes, whatever honey, just hurry please.

And I began to tap my foot in anticipation…but not for long, as the wonderful folks at Agave must have sensed my desperation. And then as in a dream,

there she was.

My dear friends and appreciateurs of Mexican cuisine, this is where my review of Agave’s Big Burrito will fall to pieces. You see, I am not a food critic. I am just a man. A man who thought I would never find love again. And yet, I have. And I now wonder if my beloved Burrito Zacatecas was ever that good, because My Big Burrito is the stuff of dreams, and won’t be compared to mortal food.

She is, quite simply…Glorious.

My only advice, order soon, and order often. My love is on the Specials Menu, and Agave’s wonderful manager informed me that she will be made a regular menu item if enough interest is shown. This is where you come in, my friends, and this is a meal I don’t mind sharing. I won’t turn this into a political rant, I promise you, but The Big Burrito is one dish I wouldn’t mind being turned into a National Entitlement Program. Please vote. Soon.

My apologies for the beauty shot. I had a hard time stopping eating to take the picture.

Kind of a big day for the Jaypo.

Tomorrow I take my first step towards the world of the gelded. I have an appointment with the physician assistant who reports to Dr. Franksandbeans (and who I assume I get to sleep with), to discuss my impending maiming.

The smirky cow who made my appointment at the Urological Correctional Facility was very non-specific about what this PA would want to do or discuss, so I am assuming that she simply wanted a copay, and to sleep with me. I haven’t discussed the matter with my wife, but I can only assume that she is cool with letting me party a bit before Dr. Smokedsausage uses my undercarriage as his personal amusement park.

I’ve had plenty of time to imagine this procedure, and that may have contributed to why it took me so long to make the appointment, but I am now on my way.

I think it is only appropriate to put my best foot forward, so after I finish my twelfth vodka tonight, it will be time to do some personal grooming. And as I finish writing that statement, I can’t help but wonder if you knew what you were getting yourself in for when you subscribed to my work.

Despite the flood of requests, I will not be publishing pictures after Dr. Isthatallugot finishes making my farverbean holder look like an Ikea cutting board. And considering I chose to confess my lack of faith to the universe just days ago, I am also assuming that any and all higher powers will be taking this opportunity to write the next Law of Murphy as Dr. WaitwhatwasIdoing has a brainfart.

No “I pushed a bowling ball out of my urethra” comments will be tolerated.

I went to church today.

Not any kind of milestone, or monumental achievement for most people, and not for me. See, my wife likes to go. And when she says she wants to go, I support her, and we go.

But I gotta tell you, with a 42nd birthday on the not-so-distant horizon, I sit here still with the same questions, doubts, and lack of faith.

After a year of blogging, I haven’t gone here at all. I’ve avoided it. Deliberately. Because I have yet to learn the “halftime lesson” in regards to religion.

Where did Cain’s wife come from?

7 days? Really?

Why should I put so much time, heart, and dare I say FAITH into something that I cannot prove, and that routinely throws so much doubt my way?

I sit in the pew, I really do enjoy hearing him speak. It feels good to support my wife, and to expose my children to something decent without jading their lessons.

But as I look around, I see the others. The people who close their eyes, say the words, hold up their hands, and allegedly feel what I do not. Some I respect, and others. Some I know who are there heart and soul, some who aren’t.

The only person who has ever made sense to me was my aunt, who said, “what’s the harm?” And she’s right…but still that realization doesn’t get me where I think I may have to be.

So I am throwing this out into the universe tonight. And I am turning off comments…not because I don’t care what you may want to say, but because I hope to find an answer for myself. And honestly, after looking for a very long time, I have no idea if that answer will come. Or when.

I know we just went past another September 11th, but I wanted this post to be a part of my blog record, so I’m inserting it today. This article was first published 2 weeks ago in DFW’s NeighborsGo, a Dallas Morning News publication.

We all live with this now. It’s always with us, the memory of that terrible day, where we were, who was lost.

But every year, on one day, it comes to the forefront in the news, in the schools, in our homes. And we each have to make decisions, based on the ages of our children, about how to talk about September 11.

I don’t want her to be scared. I don’t want her to look at airplanes with anything less than excitement, or be afraid to push the very top button in an elevator. And although I want her to understand that most people would do her no harm, you can’t always tell who the bad ones are. There are plenty of years for details, for newfound incredulity and fear. The loss of childhood innocence after that terrible day is needless and avoidable collateral damage if I can simply find the right words.

So this year as my oldest reaches a level of understanding about things that go wrong in the world, she and I will sit and talk about what happened that day. And there will be things I tell her, and things I don’t. She will ask pointed questions, and I will guide her to a safer place. And I will send her back to school understanding that September 11, like all days, is a time to be thankful.

Thankful for those people who put themselves in danger, to keep us safe.