So the story begins at the height of the Britpop craze. Blur's "Country House" and Oasis' "Roll With It" (both released on August 14th, 1995 back when physical CD singles were a thing) battled it out for much more than simply the UK's number one single. This was a proxy war for which band was Britain's best. 

This short video will do a brilliant job catching you up to speed if you're unfamiliar with the 90s Britpop scene and the rivalry between Blur and Oasis. If you don't wanna watch, basically Blur were artsy (some may say soft) upper-middle-class Londoners. Meanwhile, Oasis were working class, former construction workers from Manchester. Their rivalry was fueled by England's north-south class divide, the tabloid music press, and cocaine.

These bands did not like each other, but Oasis definitely, maybe started the fire.

This is actual news footage from 1995 covering the Battle of Britpop. It's kind of wild to think about in today's fucked up newscape...but it's almost refreshing that a battle of the bands could garner so much legitimate interest.

I have spent a lot of time listening to both of these bands on the bike during #everydaydoz, and I love them in their own ways. While they both were thrown into the Britpop label, their sounds and subject matter are vastly different. Oasis is an in-your-face rock band. Blur is more artistic and has evolved over time (or as Liam once called it, "Chas & Dave Chimney Sweeping Music"). 

Neither "Country House" nor "Roll With It" is their best work (I do love both). Noel Gallagher thinks both songs are shite, but they did sort of encapsulate each band's vibe. "Roll With It" is pure Oasis guitar rock. It's about rolling with the punches and fighting that good fight to keep going when you're in the shit that the upper class can never truly understand. Meanwhile, "Country House"  is a cheeky sing-along that shouts out Balzac and Prokac and is quite literally about retiring into the country in a big house to get away from it all...not exactly the most relatable topic. Sidenote: its usage in AppleTV's Your Friends and Neighbors is perfect. The music video is pure 90s awesomeness.

It's funny now looking back that these were the two songs behind the battle and how Oasis would ultimately blow Blur out of the water with the success of (What's the Story) Morning Glory? But for a week, they were the talk of music.
​
When Oasis played "Roll With It" on Top of the Pops, which infamously had acts mime over a backtrack, Noel and Liam Gallagher switched places for the "performance" lolol. This blog has been pretty Blur-centered to now, but don't get it twisted. It's not 1995 anymore. You can love both, and boy, do I. The Gallagher brothers are fucking legends, and I'm so glad they're performing together again. Let's hope they can reunite as brothers as well. I know Liam wants that. ​

I'm going to see Oasis Labor Day weekend at the Meadowlands and attempted to bring a little piece of the battle with me. 

I still want to get that shirt made, but with the show on the 31st, I may be too late! I commented on Alex James' IG post to make him aware of the situation. Perhaps that cheese-making ole chap can hook Ole Dozo up?!

​Even though Oasis' success did eclipse Blur's for a few years, the latter still had fun with it all.

Today, neither Gallagher has beef with Albarn or Blur (I'm pretttty sure). Noel has complimented Blur's Graham Coxon's guitar work many times and even performed with him and Albarn at a cancer benefit in 2013.

The story of this legendary part of Britpop and music history is even being brought to the stage. The Battle premieres next year, and I hope they put it on YouTube or something because I'd love to see it. Plus it's directed by Jamie Tartt!!!

Well, it's been a minute since I've blogged (we'll get to that someday). In my return, I'm doing something I don't think I've ever done in the history of DOL; I set a 30-minute timer to finish this blog to avoid overthinking and just GO! (obviously typos & poorly crafted sentences don't count under these rules)

Today marks the 500th day of #everydaydoz. What started inadvertently has morphed into the bit you see before you. I've said plenty on that matter, and instead, want to focus on the (500) days of errrrridaydozie. That is a solid chunk of time: a year and 135 days to be precise. A lot has happened during that time frame.

Some aspects were pretty sick... the Celtics championship run, all the time with my nephew, becoming more responsible (I finally bit the bullet and got a real full-time teaching gig), bought a Subi, increa3ed my number, and saw some awesome concerts. That's pretty much all I can remember right now against the clock, but not bad if I don't spend too much time thinking about all the friendships and democracies that have crumbled!

Unfortunately for humanity, too many things have not been super chill :'(

And those are just three semi-randomly selected stories I've shared in the past two months!

Alas, here I sit at my desk in this strange sense of bittersweetness. What does it even mean? 500 straight days of exercise. Cool! (sarcastic font). I'm still nowhere close to where I want to be, buuuuuut!!! I am undoubtedly in a better spot physically and with some doubt...mentally. I could beat myself up per usual, but the clock is literally ticking. It's a vicious cycle that I've battled most of my life and has only been exacerbated by what has happened over the last 500 days. But if you're reading this blog, you probably already know that!

I have no idea what I currently weigh, and I didn't weigh myself before this started. Whatever the number is, it needs to be lower...but at least it's not 426 (which was my highest documented weight). Clearly, there's been some progress. I can't even fit in the frame in the left picture.

There are days, though, where I'm like "yo, Doz, you are literally being the definition of insanity rn"----doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results! You have to start mixing in some green shit, my guy!

​As much as I wanna be happier, stronger, thinner, healthier, etc. I'm proud of myself for not giving up after 500 days and whatever progress has been made. Surely, that must mean something? I'm not trying to S my own D...this is a reflection. Yes, the results have not been what I want, but I know the reasons for that. I wish I had better self-control, and that's the main reason why this bit didn't stop after 30, 50, 100, 200, or 258 days. It could be because I re-watched the Brady Roast today (and finished it at the gym), but the job isn't finished. As long as I keep going, there's always a chance to improve. I can't have my end picture looking the same as day 165.

When this blog/website started nearly a decade ago (puke emoji), I lost 120 pounds in 6 months. While I diiiiid keep a lot of for over a year, it eventually all came back and then some thanks to my attempt at Nashville & the pan demi moore...but again, clock is ticking. I've done many a weight loss gimmick...it always ended the same. So this time, ya boi is taking his fucking time. Slow burning.

FTR, I don't think I would've blown up like I did (starting in 2020 after JUST losing 70 lbs in 2019) in a pandemicless world. In the same vein, I am 500% sure I would be doing a lot better if there weren't a Christo-fascist takeover currently destroying our institutions. But, yeah, suuuure, obviously I know I'm the one who ultimately puts the food into my gullet. No excuses! Who cares if food companies have manipulated food to get people addicted and make them more money!! Be sTrOnGeR, Dozo!!

Sure, most fat guys around my starting level that do something like this end up losing so much weight they need their new excess flaps removed...But I can't change the past and can only try to beat the cravings. Alsooooo, ICYMI, we're sprinting into an authoritarian state and and like the babes and one they of The Last Dinner Party sing "NOTHING MATTERS," (domestically!---stop the fucking genocide in Gaza) besides stopping American Fascism. I'm so so sorry that I don't have better coping mechanisms; I am OPEN to suggestions. Perhaps a more just society?

Something that definitely does matter is connection and community. That's something I miss dearly. All the interactions with people because of #everydaydoz have been great, but I feel more isolated by the day. I spend way too much fucking time alone...but even when I'm with others, I feel alone. My anxieties and fears (Doz, aren't those basically the same thing?) get in the way of fixing that. But yeah, things are not all right. I can't stop eating and drinking my feelings because of everything I've mentioned so far. But I still have this bit. At least there's that. One positive thing. No matter what has happened over the last 500 days....I've shown up. I put in the effort. I haven't let my weird brain and the outside factors win (although in terms of my relationship with food...different story). There have been countless days when going to the gym was the only thing of note I did during that day.
​
Wooow do I hate the truth of that last sentence on a multitude of levels, but fuuuck we've got less than 5 minutes left on this deadline that I set and will obviously break (maybe not though???). We're shooting like J.R. rn. I'm just chucking it. I hate how many of these 500 days of errrridaydozie when I look back feel wasted. All the days of this summer break that I've slept past 5 pm because I was up until three ubin and also am depressed about the state of humanity and feel helpless, which ik is the wrong attitude to have, but fuck, DOL reader, I am not doing alright. I feel like #everydaydoz, and this stupid fucking streak are the glue and duct tape holding me together.

I'm gonna spend these last two minutes thanking everybody who supported me so far. Special S/O to Scar!! She has by far engaged the most, and it means the world. It all has. Whether you've liked or messaged me once or 500 times...thank you! Thank you for pushing me when I wanted to give in. Thank you for having my back. Thank you for adding a little meaning to all of this. I still don't know what this whole thing (TIMER GOES OFF) is about, but I have no intentions of stopping outside of wanting to get some tattoos and feeling like I need to take a break for that...I don't wanna take a day off. Now, I have been thinking about retiring this leg of #everydaydoz after day 508 (which would be next Thursday) and am unsure of how I'll be able to work out with the logistics of driving to JOIIIISSSEY for THE Oasis comeback show.

I just know, however many days are left, I don't want to do them alone. I miss my people, and it kills me how things are. Is this just aging, or does everybody hate me? Probz somewhere in between. Oh fuck it's now 10:30 and I've gone well past my self-imposed deadline. Seriously, TYSM to everybody who's supported me throughout this bit. I wish I had better results for you, but I'm moving in the right direction every day. Believe in yourself. I know it's not easy, but if my slightly less fat (but still somehow flat) ass can work out 500 days in a row...you can do whatever you want (within reason).


Peace and love,
​Ryan My Last Name


P.S.


I took some photos that are different from what I usually do post-workout and wanted to share.  

Before I released my mane.

After.

Look at that bootie POP!​​

I did not mean for my hand placement to be like that. On JAH! I just don't know how to flex or be normal.

See, I wasn't kidding!

When you hear footsteps...

When you hear footsteps... (2.0)

And a couple where I feel handsome, but that were ultimately left on the cutting room floor for the OFFICIAL (500) days of #everydaydoz IG story.

For the longest time, I'd stress myself out to no end over how many people did (or didn't) read my blogs, and as I return for the first time in over 2.5 months, I'm happy to say I genuinely don't care how many views I get. I just gotta get some shit off my chest for the sake of my brain and, I suppose, DOL, so here we goooo!

It's a DBD (Dozie's Brain Dump), so I'm going to jump around (and please be. fucking. chill. about flow and structure).

I think the best place to start at is mentioning that my therapist, who I had been with for over five years, left her practice, so I haven't had that outlet. I also deleted my Twitter at the beginning of the year because fuck Elon Musk. So now I share about a dozen stories a day on my personal IG to fill my need to share and attempt to connect/inform void.

Blogging was such a significant part of my identity and what I was chasing in life for nearly a decade. I held off on becoming a full-time teacher (not just a long-term sub) for years, mainly to chase my writing dreams (though there is undoubtedly more to it than that). This year, I finally bit the bullet and am about to wrap up my first year as a Social Studies teacher at just 33 years old! I don't wanna jinx it (even though everybody knows I don't believe in them), but I survived. I'm at a behavioral school, so it has not been easy, Work takes a lot out of me mentally and emotionally. Combine that with the state of the country and going to the gym every day...I haven't had the necessary emotional bandwidth to create at a level I'm proud of.

It sucks, but as my potentially former therapist (I'm still waiting to find out her next move) taught me....you can't pour from an empty cup, and my cup has been empty for a looooooong fucking time, man. I can't comprehend how GOOD people are happy rn. Even this far into the blog, I'm like, okay, that was bull shit earlier, Doz. You soooo care about readers. You want to connect and engage. Yes, this is therapeutic, but you haven't written because you feel like the world has passed you by...that your friends have abandoned you when you need them most... everybody is moving on. That you don't matter. I'm no incel, I don't blame women for that, but I sure am one of the poster children of the "male loneliness epidemic." I spend a gross amount of time alone. Even when I'm with people. Like last Friday, I actually went out with a bunch of co-workers after graduation and it was awesome...but there were 9 people and way to often there would be four pairs chatting and me just there like a bump on a log with fantastic fucking hair.

My fears of rejection have paralyzed me when it comes to making a move in attempts to reconnect and as the country continues to aggressively flirt with fascism, I get so upset with myself for being such a coward, but I'm trying to survive. Not just survive, but better myself. Today was day 443 of #everydaydoz, and I beat myself up for not being strong enough to resist my food and drink cravings, but I compared my picture from today to the start of EDD, and there is fosho some progress. ​

I'm worried about how I'll react to (more) bad news and fuck up the little bit of progress I've made. Beliebe me, I hate that that's my mindset and I am actively trying to change it, but it's brain dump, baby. I'm feeling wicked vulnerable right now (and also always), and I miss many people; I hate how things are currently....so it's like fucking do something, RYAN. Yet here I am, just blabbering into the abyss...but remember, I haven't had therapy in almost three months, so there's gonna be some fucking blabbering, lol. 

I used to talk to Liberty about this shit like I get it. I'm getting older, and this is part of life, blah, blah, blah, but like, jeez, man, it fucking sucks. Do all these people no longer care about me?

This whole Rafael Devers trade has me thinking back about how badly the Sox fucked up with Mookie and how that has impacted this decade of my life. It's nut it's been five years since then, but I don't think it's fair to put these trades in the same category. Although I no longer follow baseball as closely as I used to, I can sort of understand why the Red Sox did it. Of course, they're trashing Raffy on his way out, as they do with all former players and coaches, but the whole unwillingness to play 1B when you're making over 300 million is a bad look. It's so sad nobody is left from 2018. It's just so fucking infuriating that they traded Mookie Betts, and as much as I wanna care about the Red Sox again. I miss a lot of it, especially having that to talk to people about and the feels of going to a game, but I can't love this team like I used to. It's like a partner cheating on you, and you want to forgive them, but you can't. Fuck John Henry forever. 

Okay.... so yeah, I don't really fw Barstool anymore. Between not being on Twitter, aging, and caring less about sports/more about humanity, my priorities have altered. I thought my life was worthless if I didn't achieve that dream. I needed to prove the "haters" wrong. Now that I don't have a clear goal to work towards, I've been way less motivated to write. Instead, I opt for three-hour depression naps after work instead of plugging away on the ole Mac. Now that summer is approaching and I'll hopefully have more downtime, I'd like to start writing again, but my course may change. I've mentioned it before, but I've always wanted to write comedy. I'm talking sketches, stand-up, shows, and movies. I wanna do it all. I also would love to write music. I just caught my guitar out of the corner of my left eye and know I've been neglecting that too for like 26 years, but fr, writing songs that people who are actually talented would be fucking sick.

Seventeen years ago tonight, the 2008 Celtics won it all :)

I guess that's it for this brain dump. I don't even know the point of why I did this other than to get it out of my system, but I have a real blog idea that's been brewing for a minute that I wanna get started.

Previous #everydaydoz blogs:
First 100 Days
300 Day Check-in

I'm starting this blog at 9:29 p.m. on April 1st, 2025, and feeling rather rusty since DOL is basically defunct at this point, so I apologize ahead of time if this blog is trash. I've covered a lot of this in my previous posts linked above and will try to keep it fresh (and relatively quick), so here we gooooooo.


One year ago today, I inadvertently started what would ultimately become 366 consecutive days (and counting) of exercise. I didn't set out to do this; it just happened—sort of like Forrest Gump's cross-country run. Since I've been very open and vulnerable throughout this ordeal, I figured I'd post the year update here instead of trying to fit it into an IG story.

The pandemi moore set ya boi back about a decade; my highest documented weight was 426.6 pounds in June of '22. I was eating myself to death...a passive suicide, if you will. Then, in November of 2022, I started working out again and began the fight to regain my life. I'd film a brief video update before each workout (which I kept up with until my car accident on my sister's b-day). I worked out 2-5 times a week until I moved in October 2023 and basically washed away all the progress I had made up to that point in my latest bout of depression and regret. I wasn't in the best spot. For New Year's 2024, I decided I wouldn't have fast food, which lasted until mid-March when I was in Vegas for a bachelor party. I knew I needed to do something to get my health back on track but didn't really have a plan (in many ways I still don't!). Fast forward a couple of weeks...On Thursday, April 4th, 2024, I realized I had worked out every day in April and decided to keep it going for the entire month. That grew to 58 days, then 100 days, and ultimately a year. Now we're here.

It feels a tad strange celebrating this accomplishment (even though it certainly is one...) because I am pretty upset with myself for not having better progress after all the work I've put in (a lot of it is self-inflicted, which we may get to), but mainly because of the state of the world rn. We're sprinting towards a full-fledged fascist regime. There's a genocide in the Middle East. Life is not super chill rn. Who gives a fuck about me and whether or not I biked while watching Blur music videos? I want to do things that actually matter and help people. Getting my health back is fantastic (however slowly), and it feels incredible to have people reach out and express their care. Still, I can't help but feel like I'm sitting around waiting to get shipped off to a camp, have my gorgeous locks painfully sheered off, and be a political prisoner in my own country because I know a little about history and have the balls to say fascism is wrong.

So much has happened over this past year, and that's where I gravitate when thinking about 366+ days of exercise. Regardless, if I didn't lose a pound, it's still a solid show of willpower and determination that I hope can inspire others to better themselves.  I'm numb to the number at this point. Sometimes, it feels like hitting 50 days was a bigger deal than 365. I haven't weighed myself. Partly because of fear, but mainly because I don't care. I just want to be healthy and look good. That said, I can't help but feel shitty. I want to be happier, but I'm miserable. In many ways, #everydaydoz is the glue holding my life together. Regardless of how rough a day is, what I've got going on event-wise, or how tired/depressed/broken I feel, I drag myself to PF (or occasionally the fitness center at my grandma's 55+ community) and put the work in. I know I'm gonna have to eventually take a day off, and like Forrest Gump, maybe one day I'll be like, okay, it's time to go home or whatever tf he said. Idk what the end game is. I think after 500 days, I may retire this bit, but who knows? I could be in a South American prison with other teachers well before then.

Despite my anger about my decisions regarding fueling myself, I am proud of this accomplishment and will take a moment to smell the roses. You have to enjoy the ride, not just the destination. This bit has shown me that my willpower is still in place and that I am capable of more than I give myself credit for. I did this bit to hold myself accountable. There was a stretch in the early 2020s where I didn't allow myself to be photographed. I hated who I had become and was full of shame. I'm still pretty full of shame, but I at least have a little bit healthier of a relationship with myself and no longer avoid having my picture taken like a vampire. There have been plenty of days I hated how I looked, but I still posted. At the time, this was the best way for me to hold myself accountable to, at the very least, exercise if I'm still gonna eat like I'm on death row.

I don't even know why I'm writing this other than to signify the one-year mark. DOL isn't dead, and I do wanna write more; I just don't have the emotional energy. If I'm not at work or the gym, there's a great chance I'm napping or trying to fall asleep. When I am conscious, I've used my free time to relax and try to escape the constant pain and fear that comes with living through a democratic backslide. But I wanna stop being afraid. I've let fear dictate my life, and I'm miserable. Like, am I fucking insane? What's wrong with me? I haven't even told the truth about a significant part of this bit being to show one person in particular how serious I am about bettering myself and that I'm worth investing in longterm. She said my size had nothing to do with it, and I believe her, but I want to feel good about myself. I had to change. Fuuuuck, there's so much I wanna say, but I'll stop. I guess we'll leave that in here and hope people speed-read past it.

I just need to use my voice while I still can. Sure, it's wicked fucking frustrating as a writer, teacher, and human to try to help others and constantly be ignored or shit on, but I have to keep going. We all have to keep going. I don't know how many more days #everydaydoz will last, but it has taught me considerably about myself. I just hope I'm able to find healthier ways to deal with life's frustrations. I don't want to binge. Physically, I feel better than I have in years. I often find myself in a position that was impossible to achieve years ago.

​I'll end with what matters most, and that's other people. Connection. Community. Togetherness. I feel so disconnected from people and fucking hate it. There's a million reasons why and my fucked up self-esteem plays a part, but it just really feels nice to have people care. I'm awkward and afraid. I'm trying every day to better myself, even if there are plenty of days where simply surviving is a win. I just want to have more energy and the ability to impact the world positively. Thank you soooo much for your support and kind words. I won't say her name for privacy, but a friend Venmo'd me $36.50 for making it to a year. Her message and the thought made me tear up. It was so fucking kind of her. There are so many other people I would've never expected to have reached out. It truly means so much more than this blog could ever say. Thank you all for the support. I want to be there for you (and am), even if I've been too nervous to reach out. I know I've alienated some with my beliefs, but I will never stop fighting for what is right. I want a just world for all where the ruling class isn't ruining our lives for their financial gain. Thank you for reading this. I love you all. ​Stop fascism.

When #everydaydoz organically began on April 4th, upon realizing I had gone to the gym every day in April, I never thought I'd be here now (Oasis, 1997) over 300 days later with the streak still intact.

I've debated whether I should write something for the past few days. I did low-key say I would on the Day 300 post, but it's no secret I'm not as active on the keys as I once was.

Previous Dozie's Brain Dumps:
April 24th, 2023
July 10th, 2023
August 9th, 2023
October 10th, 2023
February 29th, 2024
March 11th, 2024 
April 10th, 2024
May 1st, 2024
Halloween 2024

As my much-needed five-day reprieve from work approaches it end, I lay on my bed with SNF on mute in the background, freshly showered, feeling like I owe it to myself and the people to write after claiming there was a 51% chance I would in my latest #everydaydoz post.

The time away from school/work was solidly enjoyable despite my anguish with myself lolol. I caught up on sleep, ate wayyyy too much cornbread, bro'd out a lil bit, and watched MY Rhody Rams win their first D-1AA playoff game in nearly 40 years, but I still feel awful.

Of course, there's the obvious. I was dumb enough to believe that the majority of Americans would do the right thing and not elect a convicted felon (34 times over) who's been not-so-subtly soft-launching fascism. Like, fuck me for actually getting my hopes up and wanting what's best for everybody, not just the ruling class. Apparently, attempted coups are not a deal breaker in every swing state, but that's not why I'm here. I didn't want to write this blog to bitch about how fucking stupid our country is (by design) and how terrified I am for the future. Yes, the after-effects of a surely on the up and up election with NO oligarchical (both home and abroad) interference certainly impacts my daily state of mind, but that's not why Dozie's here.

Things seem to be going well in my personal life. I got a promotion and am no longer a long-term sub. Your boi is just a straight-up history teacher. It's far from an ideal situation, but I am doing all I can to make the best of it and try to positively impact my students' lives. I also got into a car accident (that was not my fault) going back to work as a straight-up history teacher after lunch a couple of weeks ago, and I should be getting a nice little settlement. Hashtag blessing in disguise...still, I'm the furthest thing from at peace.

I've got about an hour before I start my wind-down process, and I have written about 8 blogs since May...why the fuck am I here? It's because I miss writing (especially "real" blogs..hopefully, I'll drop a non-brain dump soon). I have to get this shit out of my system, or I'm gonna explode. Idc who sees it (that's not true); I just have to let my brain dump without structured thoughts. Even if I no longer view my life as a failure if I never write for Barstool (which is a great and healthy thing), writing is still essential to who I am. I love writing. I should've been writing more this year, but I've been emotionally and physically exhausted and couldn't "work" during my free time. That was reserved for sleeping and playing 45+ seasons of Madden franchises to avoid facing reality. I keep thinking that maaaybe if I finally wrote something that broke through and convinced people to follow the path I have of realizing how fucked up (by design) everything is and that people actually have power if we come together (I know I'm really getting my run-on sentence swag going on rn, but bear with me...I've written like 8 blogs since May) then maybe things would be different.

Then I think about how fucking egotistical it is (which is funny to me because most of the time I have absolutely no confidence in anything I do) that I could've made a difference, but Jeez, that's all I fucking want to do with my life, and it feels like I'm not. I can hear my therapist's voice telling me that's not true, but it doesn't change that I'm losing hope and man, do I fucking hate myself more than usual for being such a fucking scared little boy. I ate my feelings way too much this weekend because I'm afraid to go after it and truly live the life I want. I'm so fucking scared of getting hurt. Idk how much more hurt I can take in this life. I'm not even 33 for two more weeks, but I am worn down with life and I've had a privileged-ass life. IDK how others do it. How am I supposed to do this for another 40 years? I've done what I can to adapt. I've accepted that I'm not a priority in people's lives anymore. Fuck, maybe I never was, and it just took me this long to see it, but when the hell am I gonna be enough? I just want to be enough for people, and I have done soooo much to improve myself, but it's not enough. I really feel like I shouldn't post this now, but I've spent so much time writing I feel like I have to...idk. Man, I need to reassess the future of DOL and what I want to do creatively while navigating alone in a dying empire in late-stage capitalism. There's one person I wanted to reach out to all five-day weekend but never worked up the courage. I'm so torn on what to do and really don't wanna even bring her up on DOL out of respect for her, so I'm gonna stop but fuckkkkkk, has this been weighing on me, which is ironic because it's also what high key motivates me to keep going with #everydaydoz. I know I'm enough, but my brain loves to tell me otherwise. Fortunately, we don't have the time to go into that tonight.

Oh, and Barmore just held soooo fucking hard on the Colts' two-point conversion attempt; that was some bull shit.

I guess it's fiiiine because of draft position, but it was still ass to lose like that. I'm sorry if this blog was ass. I've only written like 8 since May.

Previous Dozie's Brain Dumps:
April 24th, 2023
July 10th, 2023
August 9th, 2023
October 10th, 2023
February 29th, 2024
March 11th, 2024 
April 10th, 2024
May 1st, 2024

Long time, no write. Full disclosure, your dude had five Jack & diets tn and am on my sad boi swag after getting quasi-dumped by the latest fly in my web.

TBH, I'm not stressing too much. It just sucks to hear that when every chick I meet is like, "You're so great, but I don't wanna ever see you ever again!" Would've been nice to make out a little tonight, but my heart's been focused elsewhere since late February. Nothing else matters until that is resolved, and I've been terrified to make a move. My indecision is eating me alive, but I don't know what to do. There have been plenty of signals that make me think there could still be something there, but I'm also trying to move on. I've tried to move on, like I didn't give another chick the time of day until July. Still, I would give anything for another chance to hang out with this incredible woman, and I genuinely believe we have what it takes to make it (even after only hanging out twice). She's taken up the bulk of my brain's real estate this year. I'm so torn on how to handle this situation and probably shouldn't be writing about it rn, especially while safely buzzed at home, but fuck it. I miss her so fucking much and hate myself for being too scared to truly go for it (in fear of how it'll affect me going forward).

I can't hold it anymore like my pee on a road trip. I'm not ashamed to say I love and miss her more than I've ever missed anything. If I had 10 minutes to live, I'd want to spend them with her. Who knows if she'll see this...nobody reads DOL, and I've abandoned my Barstool dreams, so what is the point...at this point? IDK. I still love writing and always will, but it feels like a waste, even though I know it's not. I'm just so worn down by how fucked up humanity is and am fucking TERRIFIED of what's gonna happen next week. I have a terrible feeling that Kamala is gonna win the popular vote but lose the antiquated AF electoral college, and then we're all stuck living in the Gilead. Should that happen, I want OUT. By any means necessary.

Am I even gonna post this? Like who actually cares? I could write the most profound blog in the history of humanity and at max, like 28 people would see it. Fuck...I don't wanna be on my Debbie Downer swag, but I'm just being honest and ya boi is hurt-TING. That's one of the biggest reasons I've barely written the last few months...that, and I'm so focused on my #everydaydoz swag. Today was 214 straight *fire emoji*.

At least I'm looking good-to-better.

I'm doing countless things I desperately wanted to over the last few years, yet it's still not enough. Your dude is unhappy AF. I feel so alone and like life has passed me by. My self-worth is so jaded, and I'm so over living in a country where like 49% of the population is too stupid (by design) to understand who's truly at fault for all of the ills of society.

Also...fuck the Yankees. Sucks2suck and FUCK John Henry FOREVER.

I am soooo over the MAGA pearl-clutching. They're literally supporting a fascist regime, but cry when the left fights back.

The balls on these fascists to cry about "rhetoric" when they say shit like this....

This race really is good vs. evil. Kamala isn't perfect, but the new right is full-fledged fascist. Oohhh how far America's Mayor has fallen!

Bret, you are 100,000% garbage.

On the bright side, I'm a full-ass real teacher now...no more long-term subbing, which is another reason I haven't blogged much lately. All my free time is dedicated to the gym, sleep, and going OFF against the computer in Madden to feel good for a few minutes a night. Don't get it twisted; I'd still happily write for Barstool, but that is no longer the end-all, be-all dream of my life like it was for the last 8ish years. 

I just want a just country (and planet) for all. I refuse to accept the horrors of humanity and know there is a possibility of something better. I guess this is it for my drunken brain dump. I'll talk to you in December.

Surprise! The boi is back...just in time to get an official October 2024 blog out. Sorry for the lack of writing this year...it'll come up in the next post.

Alan Shawn Feinstein was more than a man. Like Del's Lemonade and Autocrat Coffee Syrup, he was a Rhode Island institution. If you attended public school in the Ocean State, you've likely crossed his path in your middle school auditorium as a Feinstein Juniahh Scholah (Junior Scholar for non-Rhode Islanders). He encouraged generations of Rhode Islanders to do good deeds. Countless benefitted from his philanthropic investments and dedication to education. 

When I initially saw the news on IG that he passed on the 7th, I was like, how did I miss this? I thought it was just Insta's typical trash algi. I even busted my friends' balls for not being on their A-game in breaking celebrity deaths, but it appears the news was made public today by his daughter and CEO of the Feinstein Foundation,  Leila.

In a world where evil is everywhere, and public education is under attack by extremists, we need more people like Alan Shawn Feinstein. The man's heart was in the right place. He wanted a better world for ALL and believed there was no such thing as "too small" of a good deed. Did he want his name on anything he was involved with? You bet your ass he did, but there are far worse offenses than wanting credit for feeding the hungry and funding public education. There's nothing wrong with wanting a little credit. That's what being a hashtag good guy is all about, and Alan Shawn Feinstein was an OG hashtag good guy. He made the most of his 93 years. I'm sure his family (seen and introduced in an iconic Rhody commercial) is grieving, but I hope they can find peace in knowing how much positivity their dad/grandpa/uncle/etc., Mr. Alan Shawn Feinstein was responsible for. Thank YOU, sir, for all YOUR good deeds. See ya later, Alligator.​