Tonight’s chat with a dear friend of mine reminded me of a lesson I learned a few years ago, when I went ape nuts clicking every blue link I could find at iWon.com in a bid to become independently wealthy and attract me some hot gold digging babes. I was on a mission to win something, ANYTHING from iWon’s site, so I could pay my bills, quit my job, and at long last tell my boss to go blow it out his own arse.

I also signed up for these gaming sites too in the hopes that I would become some kind of gaming master and win hundreds of dollars in cash prizes. Instead, I would win $1.50… then lose $2.00, win $4.00, then lose $5.00, and on and on.

For three weeks I was at it, playing games, click click clicking, playing some more games, then click click clicking, then play iWon’s slot machine, then click click clickity click click clicking, until my fingers started to sprain. By the end of the third week I was a few dollars in the hole and my fingers looked liked they belonged to the Elephant Man. I wasn’t getting anywhere. As usual, luck was never a lady with me, and in the end I finally gave up.

The next day I went to work, and as I was signing in, somebody handed me an envelope.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“That’s your raffle prize.”

“My…. what??”

“Every year we raffle off the profits from the soda machines, and everyone is automatically entered. You were one of the winners, so that’s your share. 25 bucks.”

I just stood there, blown away by having finally won something, and especially at the timing of it all. I had spent the last three weeks trying to win every prize imaginable at iWon, and failing miserably at that, and now came this, a $25 prize for a raffle I never even knew existed. I still have that envelope by the way, with the money still inside.

There’s an old joke where a man prays to God to win the lottery and the Lord tells him to go buy a lottery ticket first. In my case even that part had already been taken care of. It was a sobering lesson straight from heaven, and one I had sadly forgotten over the years. As much as I’d like to believe God to rain His blessings on my life without requiring any effort on my part except to receive it, I still strive in my own strength to create my own success, and no matter how many times I fail, that lesson never seems to fully sink in for me. It’s been especially true these past few weeks, as I try to cram as much knowledge as I can find into my poor little brain so I can utilize it all to make money off the Internet, whether through my blog or elsewhere. There’s so much information to sift through, so little time to digest it all, and not enough brainpower on my part to take what I know and transform myself into the self sufficient man that I’ve always longed to be.

And yet I seem to leave no room for God in any of this. I’m trying to do it all on my own strength, relying on the world’s wisdom and philosophies, when instead I should be casting these burdens on Him, and trusting Him to once again provide that envelope of blessings when I truly need it. That’s something no professional blogger or Internet mogul will ever tell you either. But it’s the secret to real success, real peace and freedom from worry, learning that it really is all under His control. If I succeed in this new mission I’ve made for myself, it will not be because of my talents or skills or luck, but only, and ONLY, because God is gracious in His blessings towards me.

By the way, I do intend to use the prize money I won someday… specifically for when I finally meet the girl of my dreams.

Yeah yeah, there’s been some talk about butt faced men getting some serious cuddle time from hot women around the blogosphere, so naturally I had to chime in.

First of all, this is the Sun we’re talking about, you know, the UK tabloid Brits fondly refer to as a shag-rag, and which also sport fascinating headlines such as “Double Decker Bus Found on Moon!” As soon as I found out the source right away I knew this article was going to be a load of crap. I mean seriously, the dudes in the photos didn’t even appear all that ugly. They’re no Ben Afflecks, but they’re certainly don’t look like a bunch of butt balls either (though one of them could use a real haircut).

Was this really supposed to make Elephant men like me feel better? To me it just conveys the message, “Wow, lookie here, even the skanky ones are getting some loving, so there must REALLY be something wrong with you if you can’t match their success!” Thanks guys! Here, come a little bit closer so I can use an ice cream scoop to rip out that part of your throat box giving you that snooty British accent. Trust me, I’ll feel better if you do.

I sound bitter. Am I bitter?

Well it’s Friday, I’m by myself at work, and once again I have no plans for tonight other than twiddling my thumbs and watching WWE Smackdown. Guess it beats getting drunk at bars and waking up in stranges places the next morning, but maybe not if you like that kind of thing.

Back in the days when I had friends, on Fridays I would sometimes gather up my computer rig and stop by my best friend’s house, where me and a few other buds would set up a local network and game until 4 in the morning. Sometimes we went out to the movies or rented DVDs, but either way, someone (usually me) always made sure we stocked up on enough junk food to kill a healthy elephant. It was a nerdy way to spend a weekend, but still, we had us a time.

But then somewhere along the way, my best bud started juggling relationships with several different women, and because I was too much of a freak to manage getting a girl of my own, I found myself spending more and more Friday nights hanging out with my friend… and whatever stupid bitch he happened to be dating at the moment. Quite obviously, said stupid bitch would not be keen on some of the geeky things we liked to do, unless it involved renting a DVD from the romantic comedy section at Blockbuster.

Suddenly, Fridays were no longer as much fun as they used to be.

Nowadays, my idea of an ideal Friday night has become more romanticized since then, and ironically enough, it involves the very thing that started ruining my Fridays to begin with: women. Yet I liked the idea of renting a DVD from Blockbuster, and then cuddling up with a sweetheart on the couch as enjoyed whatever flick we decided to rent. Or maybe hanging out at my place or hers so we can spend a quiet evening discussing love and life over a homemade candlelit dinner. Companionship was what I really wanted.

But as one decade rolled into another, I realized the sad truth that it would never happen to me. Years of disappointment and unrequitted love had coagulated together to create a poisonous bitterness in me that I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try. Whenever I dwell on my loneliness and how I got to this point, I truly want nothing better than to just lay down and die. It’s as if my whole existence had been a mistake, but somehow fate had screwed up and I managed to be born, rather than become just another number in the miscarriage statistics.

Instead I’m stuck in the vicious cycle where my bitterness has deeply affected my personality, knowing full well no girl worth half her weight in salt would think to approach me in my current state, yet that very fact also perpetuates my bitterness. What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Hmm, maybe I WILL have that speedball after all.