Saturday, September 30th, 2006, 8:00 am

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today 2 get through this thing called life. Electric word life. It means forever and that's a mighty long time, but I'm here 2 tell u, there's something else. The afterworld. A world of neverending happiness. U can always see the sun, day or night. So when u call up that shrink in Beverly Hills, you know the one - Dr. Everything'll Be All Right. Instead of asking him how much of your time is left, ask him how much of your mind, baby. 'Cuz in this life, things are much harder than in the afterworld. In this life... you're on your own.

And if de-elevator tries to bring you down... go crazy - punch a higher floor."


These words were chosen by Roger, who we are here today to pay respect to and celebrate the life of, for me to read aloud in the event of his passing. Most likely to see if I'd actually do it. If you can hear me Rog, you owe me big, and I'm taking your home theater as a down payment. But he also chose those words to make a point: That no matter how happy or wonderful or ideal a life he might have, he believed he would be going somewhere even more wonderful after death. Roger had faith in that belief, and that faith helped carry him through a number of rough times in his too short life.

I'm sure most of you are well aware of the trials and troubles that were a constant in his younger days. Orphaned at the age of 16, suffered several illnesses, and he had a temper that often flared up at the wrong time to the wrong people. He was pretty much "that grumpy old man" on the block, except that he was in his 20s. But through it all, he had a genuinely bright spark of kindness and fellowship. You forgave him for his outbursts because he'd always realize what he'd done and he always made up for it in spades. He was also a great prankster with a killer wit, and I credit him for helping to mold me into the fantastic bastard I am today.

And then Paige came along.

I don't think there's a single person here who can deny the profound effect Paige has had on Roger, right from the night they met. I remember how downright giddy Rog was after meeting her at that Christmas party, and what a pain in the ass he was while he tried to get everyone to get her number for him. Thank god he found the courage to call & ask her out, because I remember we had some pretty persistent friends there & I think they all got her number, most of which were for him. Paige later told me she thought everyone there was in telemarketing & she was expecting timeshare brochures by the truckfull.

The difference in Roger's attitude was unmistakable. Almost overnight, the cloud that seemed to always hover around him was lifted, and he quickly became one of the most loveable and jovial guys I've ever known. He never complained about work anymore, "I've got a reason now" he'd say. And sure, we all laughed at first because it was so funny to see him in this new light, and partly because we all figured he'd mess it up in a week & be back to his grumpy self again. But he didn't. He never did.

Take any group of guys and invariably, the conversation turns to women. Most times it gets pretty raw, and everyone tries to one-up the others with stories of their wild exploits & adventures, most of which are probably made up anyway. Before Paige, Roger was no different. According to him, he'd been involved with at least 3 cheerleaders from every team in the NFL and probably half those in the NBA. But after he met Paige, I honestly don't think I've ever heard a single word from him in that vein. In fact, many times he'd end up leaving early out of boredom. He didn't need to try and impress the guys with made-up stories anymore, because he already had the only person he ever wanted to impress. And I'm sure she was quite impressed when he reprogrammed her computer to fake a Y2K virus, then displaying "Will you marry me?" on her screen, totally locking up her system unless she'd type "yes." He told me he figured she'd say yes, since it'd be too much of a hassle for her to buy a new computer.

On June 10, 2000 they married and began what were unquestionably the best 6 years of Roger's life. Their marriage was one that everyone admired & wished they could have as their own. Paige has never been one to impose or make a fuss, but on those rare occasions where she had to call him when he was out with the guys, I always saw his face light up when he saw who the call was from. He never made excuses for leaving the party early, he loved her profoundly and, perhaps most importantly, was PROUD of it. In what I think is one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard, Roger expressed his love for her with the words "It's not that she's the love of my life, she's the life in my love." And when you remember what Roger was like before Paige, that she could so change that man's heart, that's a stunningly beautiful thought.

I know we've all had a fair share of tears this past week, and I know there'll be more to come. But I also look forward to reminiscing and sharing stories about our beloved friend with all of you. I met Rog shortly after his parents' deaths, at the lowest point of his life. I can't tell you how gratifying it's been for me to watch him go from being this miserable kid with a chip on both shoulders, to a man whose life I often found myself admiring and even at times envying. And while it's truly tragic how that life was cut short, I think it's even more important to always remember how richly fulfilled that life was, especially in recent years. Rog was one of my greatest friends, and the love that he had with Paige is something I will always be thankful that I was witness to.

DHL stands for DAMN HELL FART (if the L were an F)

So the past two days I've been kinda hired out by DHL to do delivery routes left empty by guys who quit (always a good indication that the job's gonna blow.) Sounds simple enough, just deliver shit to 40 or 50 stops in a city or two, mostly residential areas, how hard could it be? Yeah.

The majority of stops are in gated communities which either have a guard who calls the recepient, or an electronic directory/callbox that you use to call the person yourself. Easy enough, right? WROOOOONG!!! Most everyone who lives there thinks they're so damned important that they can't be bothered by the common folk, god forbid anyone should mail them something & somebody wants to deliver it to them. It's funny too, cos I don't actually work for DHL, but when I pull up to a guard & he's not sure if he's gonna let me in, all I have to say is "DHL" & the gates open!

Would-be robbers: Your password is DHL. Shhhhhhh...

Once you get inside, then it's most likely the recepient isn't home, so you have to try & get a neighbor to accept the package and sign for it. Trouble is, most neighbors hate each other & are jealous of each other, so they'll either refuse it or probably open it themselves once you leave. I had a box of live crickets to deliver, I couldn't GIVE them away. Who the fuck orders crickets by mail anyway? Think about that: Someone in a million-dollar home actually paid money to have live crickets shipped to them. From Australia. Fucked. Up. Priorities.

So that's what you do if you get inside. The OTHER half of the residences are behind callbox gates. Half of these people are not listed in the directory, and the other half don't answer when you call. Can't get in, no delivery, back it goes to the warehouse. I actually got hold of one woman who opened the gates for me, but when I got to her house, never answered the door. I rang the bell & knocked for a full 10 minutes, then I thought about breaking her window & left. CRAZY PEOPLE. Maybe she was being raped. Let's hope so.

So after 6 or 7 hours of this, the call comes to return to base with whatever you have left on board. Keep in mind that the regular DHL drivers (yeah, the ones who quit) apparently get all this done in about 3 hours. So when you show up at base with 30 or so undelivered packages, it's like you've just brought back some kind of deadly virus that's mutated & solidified into box-like shapes. The look of disgust on the manager's face is quite dissuading, until you remember that he's probably a child molester & is just pissed that now he has to check all these back in & he probably won't get home in time to whack off to Sesame Street.

So I did that twice this week. Did better the 2nd day, made all the stops & brought back fewer packages, but fuck if I ever wanna do that again. I am FAR from being someone to ever say "I don't get paid enough to do this shit" but DAMN, I don't get paid enough to do this shit.

I'm bored, so here's another entry. YOU FELCHER!

Remember my Sony MiniDisc player/recorder that died? I don't think I ever mentioned that my dearest friend gave me a Hi-MD unit for Christmas (love ya, B!) It's easily my most prized possession, I use it CONSTANTLY to listen to music and record vocals. Best Xmas gift ever.

Recently, the player's developed a few small hiccups: The Cancel/Stop button sometimes makes the player skip to the next track instead of stopping, and there's something in the external battery connection that occasionally causes loss of power if it's vibrated (like on a car seat.) Nothing MAJOR, I rarely even use the external battery, but I thought I'd contact Sony again to see what could be done to fix these small problems. I suppose I should've checked my own blog before doing so, cos their service line hasn't improved one bit since I last called it.

Through sonystlye.com I got a number specifically for CD/MD Walkman issues, so it was with a slight dismay that I found myself speaking to Gamblor the automated service rep once again. YES. NO. YES. MZ-RH910. YES. YES. SUCK MY BALLS YOU OVERLY-PERSONABLE ROBOT. Then I'm put on hold for the next available representative, who isn't availble for a good 20 minutes. I forget the girl's name, so I will refer to her as SPECIAL EDWINA. Special Edwina breathes. A lot. In between every sentence. At least. Sony is truly doing their part in the effort to employ the mentally handicapable.

I explain the probelms I'm having with my player & ask about the repair options. Obviously, I have contracted some of Sepc Ed's mental deficiencies via phone osmosis, because I'd forgotten that Sony doesn't DO repair work on MD units, they only exchange for factory refurbished ones, and if you don't have a receipt it costs $130 (guess the fee went down.) The thing here is, it took SE at least 5 minutes to find this information in her script (I know she was on a script cos she repeated the info to me verbatim when I replied "what?") and another 5 to actually SAY it. I honestly expected to hear a respirator in the background, but maybe she's just 700 pounds & long sentences wear her out.

So it was basically a lost half hour (or more, I honestly lost track of time during this call) with no solution. I didn't want to exchange my player, it means too much to me from the giver & I'd never exchange it, even if it stopped working altogether. Like I said, neither issue is really a problem, but it's still annoying to find that Sony still doesn't have a lot of their shit together.

Oakley saved my face.

I work as a courier, delivering all kinds of crap around So. Cal, and a couple days ago I was loading a bunch of these resin containers from a storage room. It had one of those big metal doors like a walk-in freezer, about 4 or 5 inches thick and heavy as hell. I experienced this firsthand as a gust of wind closed the door, slamming it in my face, knocking me almost on my ass. I saw GOD as this happened, and he really DOES look like how the South Park guys depicted him. Rat bastard. Him & his rattier, bastardier son. YOU DAMN YOU!!!

Anyway, this slab of metal got me directly on the nose & actually did white-out my vision for a second. I was wearing my Oakley Juliets (polished frame, ruby lenses - custom, SUCKAAAAA!) which are a titanium alloy. These things kept my nose from being broken & consequently forced into a life of crime (cos you just can't be a successful criminal with a pretty nose.) Sure, the frame got a bit of a gash on the bridge & the right lens took a few scratches (fuck) but they took the hit defending their beloved owner, and I salute them for it. YOOOOOOO, JOE!

So what's cool now is I have this partly/fully torn bit of cartilage on the right tip of my nose (the doctor couldn't determine exactly which, and said it may or may not be a concern in the future, YAY MEDICAL DEGREE! Wonder if he also does weather?) I can press it in & feel it shift, then feel it reset when I let go! It's like one of those freshness buttons on jars of baby food that pop up when you break the seal, and I can't stop pressing it, huzzah! I got a small prescription of vicodin cos it actually does still hurt, and I'm most likely prolonging that by playing with it, BUT IT'S JUST SO DAMN ADDICTING!

So that's my story. Hope it was worth waiting 4 months for.