Talk2MeBaby

COBWEBS on MY website?

2008-02-14T01:27:00.003-05:00

Clearing out the cobwebs.....from my brain, my life, my (ahem) website. WHO AM I? I'm SIRTALKSALOT and I'm at least popping in for a visist! Perhaps I may even come back for a while. But I do know I won't be flying anymore......boy do I have a bunch of fun stories to write though.....I can't wait to tell you all!

The Ants

2006-09-09T21:43:00.000-04:00

I like....
Pineapple Upside Down Cake
I like
No-bake Cookies
I also like
Tacooooos
mmmm
I like
Bruschetta
My mom likes....
to chew up candy bars and spit 'em in cup and leave on the table for the ants
The ants go marching one by one hurrah hurrah
The ants go marching one by one into the cup of chewed up candy bars left on the table by my mom HURRAH HURRAH.

Silent Pictures

2006-04-26T13:24:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I went to Parkersburg, West Virginia - my hometown. It's the first time I'd been there in ages. The town has been changing with a new freeway cutting through many of the once picturesque hills. The same space that hid a cave my best friends and I spray-painted graffiti all over now has traffic passing through at 55 mph. An even bigger change, Grandma had moved from her 3 bedroom house on the hill, with the cedar, beech, and spruce trees - the house she shared with Grandpa for many years before his death - the house my uncle, aunts, and mom spent their teenage years, the house I had many of my first life experiences. The yellow house. It was no longer yellow as storm damage required it to have new siding, but in my mind it's still yellow. In my mind, there are still 3 giant white pine trees in the backyard calling to us to climb them. In my mind, the yard is still covered in clover, the aspen tree still quakes in the breeze. The utility building still sits in the yard locked by MY lock that Grandpa bought from me when I was six for a few dollars. The backyard still has a single iris near the porch and many ferns line up in the shade by the house.

And Grandpa.

Grandpa...still sits in his chair....in front of the TV.....smoking his pipe.....vanilla and tobacco fill the room leaving swirls of smoke as he exhales. The sunlight casts its beam on the green sculpted shag carpet. The back room is a playroom that my cousins and I clean and rearrange each weekend. It becomes our office, our mansion, our shack, our store, our school. Through the door I hear Grandpa's pipe clanging against the ashtray. Grandma's slippers scuff on the floor as she walks to and fro in the kitchen making, as she contracts it, "spag-et" (spaghetti). Things remain the same. In My Mind......

The aspen tree out front died a year after Grandpa. It was his favorite tree. Grandma moved to the 7th floor of a modern apartment building downtown. She has a view of the Ohio River and the riverboat/barge traffic lulling by with their cargoes of chemicals and coal. She counts them passing, observing the flocks of birds gathering on the Belpre Bridge as sun sets through a partly cloudy sky. 15 barges passed. Grandma and I go to get snacks from the vending machine before the pizza comes. Her slippers scuff on the floor as we walk down the hall to the elevator. We laugh as one falls off and is almost left on the other side of the closing elevator door. On the way down to the first floor, Grandma recalls that Grandpa worked on the riverboats. I imagine each passing boat reminds her of him - Silent pictures in her mind as the boats pass in silence also.

Did either of them know...?

2006-03-25T16:56:00.000-05:00

After dropping an empty cup on some lady's plumber crack as she slept slumped over her tray table and retrieving it undetected........I ask the old lady in the next row what she'd like to drink. She pulls her glasses out of her purse, places them on her face, failing to notice the giant yellow gummy bear stuck to the inside, now squishing on her cheek and proceeds to order a tomato juice. I can't hold it together. I blew snot out my nose laughing........WHAT A GLORIOUSLY FUN DAY!

HAPPY BELATED SPRING!

Winter Break

2006-01-20T15:46:00.000-05:00

I'm going on a winter blog break. I need to regroup, recoup, or re-something to recapture the creativity that I've lost somewhere along the way....... I'll still try to visit. :)

Happy New Year - The DON'T list

2006-01-01T21:49:00.000-05:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears! ....But what a wonderful song to ring in the New Year!

I don't have a lot to say regarding the New Year aka 2006, but if I did, I'd have the following advice for myself and everyone else regarding the "DON'T" list:

-Don't eat pork. There's a reason why it's "the OTHER" white meat. I mean, why isn't it THE WHITE MEAT. Obviously it was looked over a time or two. Plus, there's got to be a reason God told the Jews not to eat it. Basically, it's like eating a slobby human. Compare a fat person and a hog, and the only difference is a curly tail. I snort when I laugh... (ha ha oink oink) and I'm not going to eat myself. Would you eat me? That's cannibalism!

-Don't take online tests. If you have OCD you'll end up wondering why you ended up being an Orc instead of Frodo just because you like mud pies better than elf cakes. I'm sorry, but mud pies are SO much better and really I don't mind being an Orc if they get to play in the mud. Besides, if you hang with elves you have to climb trees. I wasn't so great at climbing trees....(begin childhood memory "oh God")....when I was a kid, my cousin, and my sister scaled the branches and forced me into the super tall pine tree behind my grandparent's house. We must have been 40 feet off the ground when my aunt screamed at us to "GET DOWN FROM THERE NOW, boy are you 3 in trouble!" Which was an excellent incentive for us to climb down into her arms, right? Well, I was 3 1/2 years old. I also think I was slow because I just couldn't figure out how to climb down the damn tree. Poor Grandpa had to come out and climb up and get me. Yes, he was disabled at the time. How awful! I feel I may have contributed to his back problem. And, how painful the feeling of my aunts whooopin'! So....that's why you shouldn't take online tests because it will cause you to go off on tangents remembering relatives forcing you to get into trouble.

-Don't leave home without a change of clothes. I'm sitting in a hotel wearing my uniform 8 hours after my flight ended for the day because....I THOUGHT I was going on a 4 hour trip. That trip turned into a 2 day trip. I was already enroute when the change occurred. The other flight attendants give you that "Been there. Done that. Glad it's you and not me" look. Well, now I'm off to wash my skivvs in the bathtub. Sure do hope they dry by noon! You see, since I only have the clothes on my back, and the hotel doesn't offer bathrobes, I'm forced to become NUDE. NUDE, I said (do I make you horny baby?) and remain in my room until my vital garments are once more crisp and clean (crisp?) Hopefully I'll have washed them enough to get the "crisp" out. Oooooo ooooo gross!

and with that ciao for now!
------

Seriously, wishing everyone a Happy New Year with an optimistic outlook! God Bless you all!

Brain Farts

2005-12-22T14:44:00.000-05:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

As I sit here gazing at the monitor, and hearing the sounds of REM blasting from a teenager's iPod....."that's me in the corner, that's me in the spot-light"...I really can't think of what should be written. I've lost my rhythm...."losing my religion". No brain, I haven't lost my religion! My brain is confused singing along with lyrics from an iPod. "iPod" - it doesn't look correct to type that. I mean when I make a mistake it's not something I'm going to spend billions on to market and brand my product with. But there goes aPple screwing me up, screwing up my languange, and not only MY language, but YOURS too. Ok, I'm one to talk, I end my sentences with prepositional phrases. Obviously, I'm typing whatever pops into my head....... so how about a look inside Sir's mind?

mind. kind. behind. ha ha. behind. like butt. butt. SLUT. reminds me of myself in the past.
I shouldn't write that. Oh yes I should, I'm exposing all my thoughts here. Hmmm. Hmmm. Hum. Bum. like a hobo? Bobo like that chripractor's assistant's last name from which I bought Carrie the Caravan. Damn, I wish that thing hadn't been stolen, wrecked, and impounded. $72 dollars out of MY pocket to the City for MY van being stolen. I should write a letter to the mayor about that. Yeah right. I don't ever do things like that. I'm not sure why. People do things like that all the time. *sniff* my cologne smells good on me. I wonder what other people think of it. My head itches. *scratch* Think! What to write? Bite. Bite me. See. Pee. Whoopty-dee. Free. Hmmm, I wonder what Happy Hour has free food today? Double-Damn, I'm not drinking today. I really don't feel like it. I had a weird dream that this guy I know that works at Delta was in the Crew Room and I was wondering why he was in there because I don't work directly for Delta. I was afraid he was going to bust me for a non-reg tie. Was that when the phone rang and woke me up? Ok this is all shitty. Time to hit publish and go.

Sorry for the ramblings of thought (or thoughtlessness).

Nurse Booby

2005-12-20T16:32:00.000-05:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

These are the kinds of jokes my truck drivin' uncles tell, which I saw at Tickling the Bone:

http://www.yaps4u.net/humour/2005/12/nursing.html

If it makes you smile in the least. (hee hee).....:)

Coffee Jug: Half Empty or Completely Full?

2005-12-11T15:05:00.000-05:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

*there may be spelling and grammatical errors and for that I apologize*

It's time to divulge a few stories of my job as a flight attendant. Today, Crew Scheduling called me to inform me I have a scheduled trip tomorrow at 6:30 AM. I already knew about it, so that's fine. 2 minutes later the same guy called me back, when I saw the number I thought 'Oh, no, they want me to go out right now and I really want to sleep some more'. As it turns out he wanted to inform me me I have a scheduled trip tomorrow at 6:30 AM. I said, "uh, didn't you just call me and tell me that 2 minutes ago?" I had to ask him because I have a major problem with deja vous and I didn't want to be the idiot. He apologized and said he was sleep deprived. I felt like saying "Hey that's no excuse! When I'm sleep deprived you don't see me handing out peanuts instead of pretzels DO YOU?" I know, isn't that hilarious how easy life is now? My big worry is not having enough pretzels to go around.

Yesterday I was going from LaGuardia to Greensboro and some lady had a bag in her lap, this after the CD listing "federal regulations require all carry on luggage be stowed completely underneath the seat in front of you or in an over head bin." I kindly reminded her that her bag needed to be stowed and I'd be glad to assist her on my way back down the aisle. She said no problem, she'd do it, and put it under the seat. YAY! Well, a few minutes later as we're taxiing, her giant bag falls into the aisle and she leaves it there. My first thought was "dumb bitch". My second thought was "dumb bitch with a giant bag that fell in the aisle!" I had to hide myself because I burst out laughing. Don't ask why. I may be going crazy. But I'd personally like to thank that lady on my blog for making me laugh. Thank you Dumb Bitch with a giant bag that fell in the aisle! Naturally I smiled and helped her put it away saying the old standby "Oh no problem, you're welcome!"

A few weeks ago some catering lady came to the galley service door and said "Hand me your coffee jug, it's empty". Our flight was already on a tight schedule because of delays so, upon blind faith, I trusted her. She, with her coal black pouty bloodshot eyes, faint black mustache, and halitosis. Who wouldn't trust her? So I yank on the jug to pull it out of its recepticle and a tidal wave of burning hot coffee cascades upon my WHITE shirt, and skin. This happens, right as passengers are boarding. A clorox pen isn't going to clean up this mess! In a deadpan voice she says,"I guess it's not empty". Oh really? Cuz I normally get scalded by an EMPTY coffee jug! I ran and put my blazer on to cover the coffee stains, resisting the feeling that I should tell the catering lady my roommate has some bikini wax she can borrow for her upper lip, and started smiling. Obviously I can't let a passenger see my frustration! "Hello, Welcome aboard!" The moral of this story is, though you may think your a pessimist and the coffee jug is empty, you are in fact, and optimist and the coffee pot is COMPLETELY full! I have the not-so-white shirt to prove it!

On an overnight in Houston.....Thanksgiving night. I was hungry. I was sad that I wasn't eating turkey and my grandma's house, but I'd talked on the phone with them for quite a while, so now all I needed was a full belly to feel "right" about the day. The only thing open was a Jack In the Box next door to the hotel. Except. Only the drive thru was open. The captain and first officer had already gone to bed, so I knew they weren't going wake up, go to the airport, and drive the airplane through the drive thru....so I walked through. They informed me that they can't serve a walk up in the drive thru, that I must be in a vehicle. WHAT? It's Thanksgiving! You should be thankful that I'm even coming to this trash hole on a holiday. So back to the hotel I go. The lady at the front desk said she could have the hotel shuttle drive me through. I said OK. But really I didn't want him to drive me because I was paying with dimes and quarters. You see it was right before payday and I was really broke. How embarrassing is it to not ONLY pay for your food with dimes and quarters, but to have to HAND them to a van driver that you DIDN'T tip earlier for picking you up at the airport? The animalistic drive of hunger won against my pride's wittle bitty ego. Damn skippy I'm gonna pay for food with dimes and quarters! I's a ho-ngry. Ironically, the grease from those tacos dripped all over the pants I'm currently wearing and I can still see the stains. Ah, sweet delicious memories.....

And how's everyone?

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I'm still alive!

2005-11-22T20:45:00.000-05:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

I'm still alive! Ok, guess what, I'm SOOOOoooOOOooo updating in December....like a lot even. I'm writing things on paper that I want to tell y'all.....so I swear I'll update. Anyway the skinny is, I was awarded a base back in Columbus...which was my request...so YAY! I won't have to pay rent in 2 cities....and really I'm wanting to get back to my friends and family for the holidays.

But who's up for Ibiza in summer?

Need a Tissue?

2005-10-19T16:56:00.000-04:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

Over the loudspeaker someone just paged a "Ms. Booger" to the front desk.
Me and some little girl burst out laughing.

What a very advanced sense of humor she has....(don't EVEN say it...)

I PASSED!

2005-10-18T14:55:00.000-04:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

Uhm, I think the title says it all. Ok, now the meat of the story. I'm a certified flight attendant.....for some reason the idea has been with me since I was 18, but most airlines don't hire unless you're 19 or 20. Well, I kinda forgot about it when I moved to NYC at 20 cuz I was making a shitload of money which afforded me the leisure travel. Ok, really I was just charging it and still spending the rest of my money on food, drinks, and of course, cocktails of other sorts - think letters in the alphabet and I'm sure I could associate it with something I ingested. That is neither here nor there. Those days are over, and I sat my ass behind the screen of a computer for basically 8 years. 8 years. That seems like almost a decade....BECAUSE IT IS! Traveling and seeing the world is what I've always wanted to do.....so about 4 months ago.........

I was racking my brains as to what a fella like myself could do to see the world. I could pay 3,000 bucks, that I don't have to become a truck driver like my dad. However, I've ridden with him on trips before and hauling a 53 foot trailer around doesn't allow much exploration unless you like the warehouse districts of cities. I thought about being a riverboat worker like my uncle and late grandfather did......but rolling on the river, though, cool in the 70's just doesn't seem to say "yipppeeeee" to me in the 2000's. There's always an ocean going vessel the Cruise Ship to work on too, but since I've not been on one, I wasn't sure if I'd be seasick for 8 months. The only option, the only choice was... the air! And not the air filling the void between my ears...NOPE! The air filling the space at 37,000 feet, yes, 7 miles and 60 feet. I'm a flight attendant.

Training for this job was insane. It was 6 days on, with one day off for 3 weeks. There was a test almost daily requiring a 90% or better to pass. The class started with 44, at graduation there were 26. The first week saw a few coke, pot, and smack smokers weeded out. (huh huh, I said weed). Then a few background checks based upon criminal fingerprints saw a few more gone. And there were sleepers.....they didn't like sleeping in class OH NO.....(though it was slightly hard not to do at times). But the saddest were my friends....gone because they couldn't grasp a concept or memorize 4 pages of emergency procedures. I'm still sad that some of these people are gone from the commraderie. Sure they can go elsewhere, but you really want to see your friends succeed and be there with you. Especially after such a battering.

Ok, so that's it. I'm a flight attendant and I have my wings attached to my blazer. I know how to do CPR, I know how to use an automated external defibrillator. I know that a "seat cushion can be used for floation in the unlikely event of a water landing" and I can decipher most Eastern US airport codes. And.....I know for the next few weeks my mind is going to process all that's happened over the past 2 months......change. Change is good. Change is sometimes stressful, but change is change and it is what it is. I have to reassure myself daily that I'm going positively going forward because my tendancy to shy away in the middle of a great event for fear of the "what if" sometimes creeps in causing regression. That can't happen. It won't happen. Nothing at this point is regression. It's change. (for some reason the song Chain Chain Chain Chain of fools comes to mind...cuz you can say "Change change, change, change ya fool")

Alrighty....what else? Oh, maybe I'll be coming to a city near you! More updates to come.....eventually they'll be more regular too. Upheaval of life still in process....so.....until then....come fly with me...

Meet Me in St. Loooeeey

2005-10-12T12:10:00.000-04:00

....well THAT'S not Tears For Fears!

I may be moving to St. Louis provided I pass my final battery of tests. My brain is Swiss Cheese from all the tests, the stress, and being away from home since 9/25. Though even complaining is disgraceful when I think of how long our men in arms have been overseas. I'll take my blessings and be thankful (but I do miss my daddy, mommy, sister, nephew, grandma, aunts, uncles, cousins) I suppose I've taken for granted our family's close vicinity to one another when I was in Ohio as most relatives were within a 2 hour drive. It won't pain me much to be leaving Indianapolis on Saturday. However, the destination will be even further from home along the Mighty Mississippi River....I'm excited, nervous, and free. Free from wondering what would have been had I still been rotting behind a desk 8 hours a day. The only reason I'm not giving too much detail about the career path I've taken is......I'm still not completely there yet.....I have a few major tests to pass, and my stomach is in knots! Again, your support and prayers please!!!!! And when I step from the fire, pure and golden, removed of all doubt, I'll update again! Until then.....keep bloggin my peeps!!!! I miss y'all!!!

I'm Back, but I'm Breakin Free

2005-09-21T07:37:00.000-04:00

Howdy everyone! Whew what a whirlwind of activities.....

Last Monday I sent my resume and cover letter to job application I saw online. That Tuesday they called me to set up an interview! The interview was set up for yesterday in Indianapolis (yuck) and so I took the day off and went. They want me to start this coming Monday! I'm just like WHOA!...it's amazing what prayer will do! Though I can't give a 2 weeks notice to my current employer, I really think it's time to move on and get out from behind this computer. Without being specific, it's a job that travels, so I get to do what I love - travel - while earning money.

Meanwhile, last Wednesday one of my friends had a bar bash, so I was trashed. Thursday, N. had tickets to a new show that opened, which was fun, but not the best show 2CO's (theatre company) has done. Afterwards we had a bunch of drinks, she told me about her love life, I told her about my lack thereof. Friday I finally thought I'd be able to sleep for a while after work, but NO. Some chic at work called me and said she had an extra (free) ticket to the Funny Bone Comedy Club, so....I went. It was free afterall. Got drunk. Saturday I ran some errands for my parents which took up a couple hours. Then I was off to the airport to pick up my best bud from NYC and get free chocolate from my cousin at the chocolate store. We met D. for dinner at a mexican place where A(nyc) met Mo. But she was working so couldn't hang long. After that we went for coffee at Starbuck's and planned the night's debaucheries. So A went to his hotel, then came to my house where D was meeting us while I purtied up and got my buzz going with vodka screwdrivers. A, D, and I went to the bars, where I ran into a couple friends that just relocated from New Orleans (they're doing great with an apartment, jobs, and making friends) so the 5 of us made a gang and went to rob people on the street. I'M KIDDING! We just kept drinking. Meanwhile JJ (blonde beauty) and DP call R and say they're near, not to leave the club until they get there to meet us all. Then someone mentions it's someone's birthday and I say let's all go to 123, and somehow I must have said the wrong place cuz half of them go to the place I said but didn't mean because we were at 456, luckily its half a block away but DP get's pissed and causes a scene because he had to pay $2 for a cover charge for a club we weren't going to. Everyone else was like "boo hoo" and I even apologized. But that broke up the party and we all went our ways.

The next day A wanted to get cheap food from Wal Mart and pack his bags full since NYC food is so expensive, so we spent lots of time there. The rest of the time was site seeing (not much to see in Columbus ha ha). And then I dropped him off at the airport on Monday evening. Then it was back to the office to get my interview shit together and printed, and the application package filled out for Tuesday (yesterday). I woke up at 4 AM after not sleeping very well because I was nervous. I wore a black suit w/ a bright blue (weird darker than aqua-ish) shirt w/ a black tie. I thought it might have been too much black for the interview, but it's the only suit that fits, and a white shirt was too funeral like.......but I must admit I was the best dressed of all the interviewees. Well, I'm thanking God today for such a great blessing because for the longest time I've been going through the motions of living with no real conviction, but this reinvigorates me. Now I'm off to give me 3 day notice to my boss. He's new and pretty cool, but I still feel like a heel.

Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers over the next few weeks as I finish up my job in Columbus, move all my stuff except clothes to my parents, and go through 3 weeks of intense testing and training. I don't think I'll have much time for blogging (Friday's my last day sitting in front of a computer) until I find out what city I'm going to actually live in (NYC hopefully) after the 3 weeks, but I will miss you all, and if possible, I'll post an update as soon as I can!

Spread the love like cream cheese on a bagel (thick) and see ya soon!

Lazy From the Get-Go

2005-09-12T11:22:00.000-04:00

Recollections of childhood bring me to one, and only one, conclusion. I am super lazy. Well, I know I'm a dork and a geek too, but in conjunction, I'm also a lazy ass....

At the age of 7 my uncle gifted me with a set of children's encyclopedias. Most kids probably would have just thrown them in the corner and used them for researching school projects, not me. I read each one from cover to cover. At night, after I came in from playing with the neighborhood brats, I would hurry up and get ready for bed so I could lay there and read until I fell asleep. I learned the natural resources, populations, and cultural heritages of countries around the world. China fascinated me, one in particular item about their history was awe inspiring - Chinese Water Clocks. I must have been like Ralphie from A Christmas Story and his Red Rider Bee-Bee Gun. I was obsessed with the encyclopedia page about Chinese Water Clocks. The color animation drawing showed a Chinese man with his China Man Hat, in a kimono type robe and a thin very long beard and moustache. Stereo typically his fingers were intertwined in front of him as he bowed ceremoniously to check the time. Neeeeaaaatttt-o......

Science Fair time was rolling around and when the teacher asked us our science project theme mine was naturally Chinese Water Clocks. My enthusiasm in describing them must have excited a few of my friends too, because they couldn't wait to see my project. Looking at the drawing it appeared to be a pretty easy and simple project. All I needed was.......hmmm. What did I need? As I tried to research and find more information on the ancient gadgets in the school library I couldn't find a darn thing. Of course, as with most things in my life, I procrastinated and thought, "oh, I'll just make one the week before the Science Fair."

Well, that week came quick, and I realized the folly of my ways. Building a Chinese Water Clock was going to be impossible! I went to my teacher and told her my problem. She told me I could definitely change the theme of my project, but worried that time was running out. (Is that real time or Chinese Water Clock time?) I assured her I would work hard the next week and come in with an A+ project, which was due as a class presentation 1 day prior to the actual Science Fair. Remember my old disease Procrastination? Well, it resurfaced. I spent the next week riding my bike, hiking the trails behind my house, digging dirt tunnels for my matchbox cars, I even helped my buddy dig for fossils for his science project. But my own poster-board remained blank as did the pages of the associated report.

The night before the presentation I said OH GOLLY! (I would have said OH SHIT, but I was freakin 7 years old people) and started flipping through my encyclopedias for a theme. My room started to resemble Chernobyl with books strewn across the floor and on the bed. A HA! I finally found the theme, something I could whip up in hours. I spent the next five hours collecting what I needed for my exhibit, neatly drew up the poster-board, used the animated drawings in my encyclopedia to match up the exhibits to their corresponding scientific description (yes, from a cartoon drawing I did that).

The morning of the class presentation, I was a zombie from staying up all night. I folded the poster-board and threw it in a trash bag along with my report and the exhibits, running to catch my bus.

To be "fair" the teacher took us in alphabetical order by our last name, mine happens to start with a "W", so I was next to last. The other kids got up and did their presentations some of which included:

-FOSSILS (ooo I helped with that! Look how nice, and how much work was put into it).
-WHAT DO PLANTS LIKE BEST? (this was a variation of light and water types over a 6 week period and the measurement of the plants' growth. VERY NICE, awesome work).
-TIDES OF EARTH (wowzers! they made a fake earth, and have bottle of water with sand in it to represent the tide......SWEEET!)

Eventually it was my sorry turn. I walked my trash bag up to the presentation table and unfolded it backwards. Some of my samples had fallen off the board and stuck to the inside of the trash bag. After fumbling for a couple minutes getting the presentation together. I turned my poster board around to reveal the epiphany that was my Science Project.... "ROCKS"

I cleared my throat and began my speech in a very quiet and embarrassingly inferior voice.

"Rocks are a big deal to scientists. Rocks help scientists know what happened millions of years ago. Rocks vary depending on the Geee-Lol-logeee...I mean geology. I collected and identified some rocks as an example for you. In West Virginia we have the following rocks that I have here: coal, sandstone, limestone, and limestone. Any questions?" All I heard was crickets. Then my neighbor that I helped with his fossil project asked "I thought you were going to do Chinese Water Clocks, what happened to that?" I monotonously answered "uh, I couldn't find much information on that so I switched the subject."

The teacher thanked me for my presentation, gave me my grade on a paper (a "C"), and told me to take my seat. I couldn't believe nobody else asked questions. WHY? I ask you!

The next day wasn't so bad, I faked sickness so I wouldn't have to embarrass myself further at the school fair. But thus began a theme......sucky projects.

Other night-before-they're-due projects include:

6th Grade:DO PLANTS LIKE COFFEE? Inspired by "What Do Plants Like Best?" (see above) The night before the project was due, I dug up my mom's red cabbage plant, put some dirt around it, put some coffee grounds around it, then poured some coffee on the dirt. I drew some lame pictures on how plants drink through their roots and plastered them to a homemade poster-board that wasn't really poster-board but some old white Formica I found in the basement and cut to the specific dimensions. I wrote a 4 page report in 30 minutes using information from the science book, and you guessed it, my childhood encyclopedia! The next day, I had to drill holes in the Formica to add a handle so I could carry the dumb thing to school, it was mega heavy to lug that from 13th St. to 19th St, but with the plant in tow in a TRASH BAG, it wasn't impossible. Naturally, I bent the truth to my teacher and said I'd been working on the project for 6 weeks and that the noticeable difference in the cabbage was that it went from white cabbage to a dark purple cabbage. That's right folks it changes species by drinking coffee! That teacher may have been a dumbass or just felt I'd done such a good job at lying, that I got an "A". In keeping with tradition I faked sickness the next day so I wouldn't have to present to the PTA Judges. Go me! My dad was pissed that I'd wasted half a can of Maxwell House on the project, but glad that I got an "A".

8th Grade:LIZZIE BORDEN, DID SHE DO IT? This was more of a history project, but equally unresearched, unplanned, and executed in the last wanning hours prior to the deadline. I found a library book that my mom had failed to return to the public library about Lizzie Borden. I cut out the old gruesome photos showing the cut up bodies and the blood, stuck them on the poster board and whipped up a report. Again, using a very stylish trash bag, I transported the project on the school bus. Setting it up and giving my horror history report on the murders of Lizzie Borden's parents. The oral report even included a neat little ditty "Lizzie Borden took an ax, gave her mother 40 whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father 41" I'm not sure if the song lyrics are in the correct order, but I can tell you the class and my teacher didn't have any questions for me. In fact, it probably wasn't the best project for the "new kid" to do. It's no wonder I had problems making friends that year. Can we say psycho killer? That project earned me a "B". Heck with my new reputation as a psycho I should have protested and threatened with wild eyes requesting an "A".

And THESE memories are the proof of my research that I'm a lazy ass!

NEW site and TAG (Thank ya The Muse)

2005-09-08T14:12:00.000-04:00

Gorgeous hottie, The Muse, tagged me on Tuesday with 3 Wants, 3 Tags, but don't tell her I didn't check her website that day (me so so sorry, lady, forgive?) 1st round of mojito's is on me!

"And", "So", "Anyway" and "Anyhoo"....check out the NEW site called DinnerRoll by Rockerscience! It's COOL, it's IRONICAL, it's...at the link shown above! Debauchery is only 1 click away.

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Fun! Let's play!!!

3 Wants, 3 Tags

WANTS:

1. I want to have a more positive outlook on everything. Even though a lot of times I feel positive and am in a good mood, I'm still cross examining life with a negative magnifying glass wondering where the fault of a situation lies. Some call it descernment, but I take it a little too far.

2. I want to see my plans of joining a gym and getting a personal trainer carried out. Everybody's doing it, and yes, I would jump off a bridge as long as the water's deep underneath! I'm not gonna break my neck goofs!

3. I want to write for a TV Show. I'm also open to starring in the said TV Show. Marcy Engleman would you like to be my publicist? Jim Connoly would you like to be my agent? Let's do a conference call with the networks aight? Seriously, I would like to perfect my writing style and apply that to a career in showbiz. It's what I like to do, so I might as well get paid for it, ya know?

TAGS if ya wanna: Video X, Drink More Jack, and Allison

TOP 10 Reasons I'll smell like Hell's smoke when I arrive at Heaven's Gate - #10

2005-09-07T14:24:00.000-04:00

TOP 10 Reasons I'll smell like Hell's smoke when I arrive at Heaven's Gate.
(A series by Sirtalksalot, see them all!)

Reason # 10 - Lies, sweet little 5 year old, Lies!

When I was 5 years old, Gma made me a bologna sandwich, smeared mayo and mustard all over it, and cut it diagonally in half. I was grossed out by the squishy nature of the processed hog lips'n' sphincters, mixed with the sweetish-creamy white eggy-oil whip slathered with tangy yellow goop. When she turned around to "worsh" the dishes, I took matters into my own hands. Or should I say, I took a handful of my own hair and ripped it out by the roots strategically placing it smack dab in the middle of the sandwich with a few strands sticking out for gag effects. Surely she would be sickened by the follicly infected sammy. When I said "Ooo Grandma, there's a hair on this sandwich!" She turned around, looked at it, and threw it in the trash saying "well, eat the other half then." Oh dear God, please no! I hadn't thought to plant any strands on the other side. Stupid Supid ME! I'll show her, I thought. Due to the secretive nature of this mission and not wanting to chance being caught, I told her I wanted to go get my Tonka Truck from the living room. Well, while I was on the way, I naturally plucked a few more hairs and held them tightly in my hand. The truck in one hand, hair in the other, I ran back to the kitchen. Again, she turned around to dry a dish, again, I quickly lifted the bread and arranged the hair therein. In a whiny voice, "Grandmaaaaaa this half has hair on it tooOOOoo!" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Ya know what I think, I think you put your own hair on that sandwich." I shook my head in deceitful disagreement. But obviously it was true. Grandma and I were the only ones in the house, and she had a course curly gray hair. At that age, my hair was a fine blonde.

And that is Reason number 10, Hell tries to claim me. I lied, and plotted against Grammy and her mayo bologna sammie.

Answers to life's REAL questions.....

2005-09-06T10:18:00.000-04:00

Okay, Okay, I'm slightly less creative these days...so here's another no brainer post.
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Answers to life's REAL questions........

Q: Do you really want to hurt me?
A: Hurt you? I don't even know you, FREAK! Why are you asking my computer this question (and me)?

Q: Do you really want to make me cry?
A: No. No I don't. But if you keep asking me questions like that I may have to do things you don't want me to do.

Q: Do you know the way to San Jose?
A: Yes! They used to call me map boy in school because I practically know how to get anywhere. Where ya coming from and I'll tell you how to get to San Jose!

Q: What's love got to do, got to do with it?
A: I dunno, who said anything about love? I'm just here for a good time, should I leave the money on the night stand? And...by "it" are you referring to the hairy Addams Family cousin? I'm sure "IT" was an elementary school nurses nightmare during lice checks. IT isn't going to be here will IT? That's WAY to kinky for me.

Q: Is this love that I'm feeling?
A: No, I think that's gas from Taco Bell. Let me direct you to the nearest bathroom quick!

Q: Will you marry me Bi-ill?
A: My name's, not Bill, it's Sirtalksalot. And no, as I stated before I'm just here for a good time. Do you accept Diners Club? Where should I, uh huh huh, swipe this thing?

Q: Can you feel the love tonight?
A: Uhm, it's still day time. I'm not a psychic lover. How would I know what I feel tonight?

Q: Didn't we almost have it all?
A: Define "it all" and I'll explore this question some more.

Q: Where do broken hearts go?
A: To rehab? Therapy? Why you asking me... I'm a heartless bastard. Heartless, I SAY!

Q: When can I see you again?
A: I guess when you get out of your K-hole and open your eyes! You're still breathing right?

Q: How do I get through one night without you?
A: The answer is simple...here's my picture, now I'm always there, even at night.

Q: How do I get you alone?
A: Well, you could try sabotaging all my other relationships. How does that sound?

Q: How deep is your love?
A: Shallow, REALLY, shallow, we're talking baby pool deep here. Watch out for that yellow part of my love, I think someone pissed on it.

Q: What becomes of the brokenhearted?
A: There are many answers to this.........
1. They whine to their friends.
2. They drink way too much, then drunk dial the person that broke their heart.
3. If they're female they may eat an entire container of ice cream, fret about being fat, then cry cuz "nobody will ever love them again..."
4. If they're male, they may stand outside the chics apartment and scream STELLLLLAAAAA.
5. They could become bitter, bitter people trying to spoil love for all those who try to find it.
**6. They could forget about love and get a blow up doll. But if they do that they should also buy a rubber repair kit.

**this statement is pure speculation, and not from the author knowing from personal experience.....
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And with that, have a wonderful day! Okie-dokie?

A Pauper Peeking

2005-08-31T14:43:00.000-04:00

In keeping with the Renaissance theme....a poem. (Really I'm too hyped on Starbuck's to put a whole post together.

A Pauper Peeking...(by me last year)

My place in society, of which I bide,
Is not enough, so, I sneak and hide.
Behind the flowers, behind the lattice
To attain a position nearer the palace.
Yet in my heart, I know it is not earned,
But for this close hiding spot, I've greedily yearned.
I spy the queen, in her frills contained,
She glides along, her haughtiness ingrained.
I utter a peep that she may know I am there,
She moves not her head, she does not dare.
For ahead awaits her duty, her love, her dear.
While her apparition, in my dreams, I must revere.
And so it is, I'm resigned to this one and only gander,
Of the lady I love, of her life, and her grandeur.

Once upon a time......

2005-08-29T09:37:00.000-04:00

On a rainy Saturday morning I woke myself at 8:00 AM. There is something absolutely horribly wrong with me. Who does that on Saturday, no alarm, not having to pee, no tornado or end of the world. So I tried going to back to sleep. Just as it seemed I could hear myself snore, the phone rang. "Good morning! Do you want to go to the Renaissance Festival with me and B?" Weighing between sleeping in or making fun of people dressed in costumes in August, the choice is obvious, so I said "sure". G told me to be at their place by 10:30. And, duh, I was. So we left Westerville in the year 2005 for the Renaissance, year 1300-ish, but not before stopping at Kroger's for $3 off coupons. Hey we were time traveling on a budget, what can I say? And....who doesn't need snack food on a road trip? Really road trips are my favorite thing in the world and I do them right. Lots of junk food and sodie-pop. Kroger was selling travel size chocolate Teddy Grahams, Cheese Nips, and Oreo Cookies 3 for $1 with the Kroger Plus Card. BULLETIN, BULLETIN, Sir was on that junk like flies on roadkill. To compliment my swell deal, Burger King was only a stone's throw away, and yes I did partake in such delicacies. I mean, what better place to eat than a restaurant with the word "King" in it when you're off to the Renaissance, right?

Wilmington, the nearest town to Ren Fest is about an hour's drive Southwest from Columbus on I-71. The entire way the sky poured like so many Damsel's tears, yes. Her clouds of gray did not dismay the journey, though, No! Because I found G's car window sun shade! Weeee, what fun. It made the perfect jester's cap, hmm, actually it looked more like a bike helmet, but in any case, entertainment more than the passing corn fields could provide. 10 miles before our exit, the sky stopped falling and the sun came out! YAY!

This was my virgin excursion to the famous festival, so I didn't know what to expect. Surprisingly it was bigger than anticipated. The pictures we took aren't available yet, so I found this site that's pretty good at capturing the essence of the experience. Basically, a bunch of actors talking olde English, being rude, and trying to get you to buy their creations. There were sword shops, fragrant oil shops, candle shops. The best shop was the glass shop, not because of the creations, but because of the process of creation. The artist would super heat a glass stick carefully crafting breakable objects only a grandmother could love. The process was awesome, the product, eh, call Hallmark or my grandma if you want a buyer for that crap.

Next door to GL Asses sat a copper rose and dragon maker. The pharmaceutically laid back artist of this hut bid me to "stop and smell the roses." Which I did. They smelled like rose bathroom deodorizer! She really got a kick out of her copper flowers being scented. I did exercise restraint from telling her I'd done the same thing with rose oil in our bathroom when I was twelve, making each and every rose on the wallpaper smell like a real rose. "Mom next time you're in the downstairs bathroom, sniff the roses!" Mom was none too thrilled by that childhood experiment I'll tell ya. Due to possible affixation from rose oil scent, the bathroom was closed for a week. Back to the Ren Fest, I'm glad the lady didn't ask me to smell the dragon's mouth. Speculating what scent was used for that has me queasy. Besides I already had dragon breath, no need to smell the fake thing.

We watched a parrot show, put on by a real live fake pirate in front of his ship. We watched a different pirate and his crew kidnap one of the village girls and swing around on ropes on the same ship. We watched a joust, prior to which one of the knights chopped an apple off a surf's head. Most skilled was he wielding his sword, indeed! And the ultimate entertainment.....A MUD SHOW! It was a comedy in which people throw mud at each other and tell jokes. I'd say that was my favorite part of the trip. That and the fact that I had baggy pants on and when I bent down to strategically crack my back the entire thing ripped from my mid thigh upwards towards my hiney. Each and every bend caused an increase in rippage. Quit laughing! Do you know how long it will take to sew that hole? Neither do cuz I'm NOT gonna do it!

Hmmm, what else was there. Oh I drank mead which is some very sweet wine stuff that did nothing towards providing a buzz. Lastly was the old winch selling TROLL House chocolate chip cookies. Me pass on a cookie? You're outta your mind. That cookie made my day, and that was the end of the trip. Well almost........

On our way back to Westerville, G's car pitched a fit and we had to pull into a KFC in Grove City, aka Grovetucky, so named by the migration of Kentuckians to the area to find employment. Oh and don't let that link fool you, I think that picture was the band in London. Picture a cow field with a house, and a traffic signal, and you have Grove City! The transmission was squirting fluid everywhere! I nearly shouted WE STRUCK OIL, but realized my folly before opening this cursed mouth of mine. Anyway, I'm not sure what happened, but it was a mess. It sucks big time for them because the car just got back from the shop after a deer popped in front of it smooshing the front end. Just a thought, the repair shop forgot to tighten somethin', I dunno. B's parents came and picked us all up and let him borrow their car so we all made it home. Yay! Man I was sleepy though.

...........And so tis the end of my tale o'er fields o' corn to the Ohio Renaissance Village and back again.

Breathe & Lick 'N' Stutter, Breathe & Lick 'N' Stutter, REPEAT!

2005-08-25T08:07:00.000-04:00

INQUISITION
You know that song by Faith Hill "I Can Feel You Breathe" I never got that. Like does that mean someone is sitting there breathing so hard on her that her hair's blowing back in the breath-breeze? Or does it mean she's laying her head on someone's stomach? It would occur to me that if this is "the morning after" and she's lounging there and someone's breathing on her, the song should really be "I can feel you breathe......and it stinks." But, if she's resting her head on a stomach area and her head is rising and falling with the breathing, the song title should be "I can feel you breathe.....and I think I just heard your stomach gurgle." Y'all know what I mean! You've heard your honey's tummy rumble before. Can I get a witness? I laid my head on my ex-girlfriend's stomach exactly once and heard in a deep demonic voice "THERE IS NO DANA ONLY ZUEL". So I said "Babes, did you eat the Ghostbusters video again?" I'm not EVEN going to tell you what happens when I'd hit her eject button. Anyway, Faith Hill didn't release part two of her song, the title was "I CAN'T feel you breathe and there's no fog on the mirror I just stuck under your nose? CALL 911!"

PET PEEVE
I hate when people lick their fingers while sorting my papers at work. How many of you remember your teacher passing out papers and at the front of each row they'd lick their finger to start counting off the tests or what have you. I swear I hate it worse than a wet willy. Leave your skank spittle in ya mouth and off my papers, ESPECIALLY if you had chili dogs with tons of onions. Really now, my papers shouldn't be smelling like your lunch!

DISABILITY
I stutter when I type. Especially passwords. I'll start really fast..then right before I finish the last letter I think to myself...did I type that right? So then I backspace and start again. But by then I've lost my typing rhythm and I mess up again. It takes about 3 type-throughs before I actually feel comfortable hitting the ENTER key. Cuz we all know how annoying it is to be locked out of a system for entering the wrong password. Then you have to call the "HELP"(less) desk. I'm surprised companies haven't started charging those password mistakes back to the user. I'd be working for free if that were to be implemented. Oh wait, I practically work for free ANYWAY. Maybe I should be making more password mistakes then.....(evil laughter).

Puss In Boots

2005-08-23T11:14:00.000-04:00

"Life's a bitch, now so am I." That was the funniest line in Batman Returns. You know - the movie in which Michelle Pfieffer wears a cat suit? The more I write about it, the more I'm apt to believe I may go to a dominatrix based on my obsession with hot women in tight leather. Ok, now that's killing me thinking about it. Here's how it would probably play out....

Me: Hi, wow, you look like you work out.
Catwoman: (as she handcuffs my hands) I do the Power of 10 workout.
Catwoman: Lick my boot you weasel.
ME: Ok, but before I do that, did you sanitize these boots after the last person licked them? Cuz I don't want my herpes getting syphilis.
ME (again): Oh you polished them before our meeting?
Catwoman: Now lick my boot you weasel!
Me: What flavor shoe polish did you use, because you can't expect me to actually lick old fashioned shoe polish. That isn't made for human consumption. You want me to die from shoe poisoning or something?
Catwoman: It's flavored!
ME: So what flavor....hmmm, these are black boots, I bet you used licorice. I hate licorice, bitch! You'd know that if you read my blog!
Catwoman: I SAID lick my boot you weasel!
ME: Don't you have any other lines? Cuz you're boring me with that "weasel" crap?
ME: Actually, I don't think weasels are such bad creatures. I mean God did make them, which means, there is a purpose for them and all. I wonder who gave them such a bad rap. Sure they're known to steal food and they look snake-like, with legs and hair. But I think we just need to see them from a new perspective. Back in West Virginia we used to......"
Catwoman: HUH? I'm not getting paid enough to put up with this shit.You bitch! (starts to leave).
ME: Hey aren't you going to uncuff my hands?
Catwoman: Nope, see ya!
ME: I'll show YOU the power of 10!.....
Catwoman: Wha-?! [thud] (I kick her in the butt with one foot, and trip her with the other, obtaining the cuff keys)
ME: ....the power of 10 toes and 2 feet. Now who's the bitch? Ya Puss in Boots?

Really now, that would never happen. Number one, I would much rather make out with a Ho-Ho rather than a real ho and most likely the women I date wouldn't be all domi and shit. Number two, I would probably miss the dominatrix and kick the wall breaking my foot. I'm good and clumsy like that. Number three, though this is my second post about foot related fetish type things, I obviously wouldn't be NEAR a foot regardless of who the owner might be. I'm just slightly neurotic, obsessive, compulsive, and have way too much free time on my hands. Hobby, what should my hobby be. Oh gosh, there I go on a stream of consciousness rambling.

Uh, how about I leave you with this ponderance:

Are members of PETA against eating animal crackers? Things that make ya go Hmmm.

Weekend O' Fun.

2005-08-22T08:16:00.000-04:00

A nutshell weekend of fun recap. Mmm hmm Yes.

Friday night was my sister and nephew's last night at my parents. So I stayed the night. Obviously, that meant playing video games for hours with my nephew. He's 7. He's not as bratty as he used to be, but still, quite a booger. He had some boxy cube game thing, which I know nothing about, so instead we played Nintendo - The Original cool game system. The weird thing was none of the games worked right, we kept taking them out and blowing on them. Isn't it hilarious how each little sect of society has their own "good luck" wishes for their activities? For instance, before putting the game in, we'd blow on it three times. Three is the magic number to make the game work properly. You see we tried twice, and once, and four times, none worked as well as three. For dinner we ate Minute Man Pizza, it's the only pizza in the world that tastes remotely as good as Original Pizza in Brooklyn. I'm telling you, so don't even question it! A'ight?
Well that was it for me I went to bed at like 11.

The next day I hear the garage door open at 9:00 AM. What the f*ck? Why is anyone even up at that hour on a Saturday morning? I know it wasn't my mom, she sleeps until 11. My nephew sleeps until 11. And I WOULD HAVE slept until 11, but my sister was getting some of her boxes out of the garage and loading them into mom's van. I'm not certain what the importance of holiday decorations in the summer time is, but she REALLY wanted those boxes to take home with her.

By noon the whole house was up, showered'n'ready, and in the van going to Parkersburg, WV. Dad hadn't made it in yet from LA or Chicago or where ever he went, so we left without him. It was 95 degrees with high humidity, all the hills and rolling fields of green along the way were cloaked in a soft-focus haze. Admittedly, very nice, yes indeed....until you stepped out of the AC. Then it was immediate drippings o'sweat. Can you tell I'm into my "O"'s today? O'yes.

Visiting the family in WV was great. Surprisingly, my 14 year old "little" cousin that I used to baby sit is now 6'2'' and drawfs the rest of us. How strange are growth spurts? Weird, I say. It's a given that every trip involves a quick jaunt to the local doughnut store. YUM. I mean, folks these things are the best doughnuts in the world. With a name like McHappy's, what do you expect? The sugary treats have made me McHappy since I was born. Ma used to crush up the delectible morsels when out of formula and put them in my bottle. I'M KIDDING! Geez. Oh and how could I forgot? My brother-in-law picked up a bucket of pork BBQ from Charlotte. PIG OUT! That's the theme of this weekend. When you talk for 3 hours about food and new restaurants food quality, etc, with your aunt, you know there's something we're good at, and that's EATING!

Anywho, we left before the Parkersburg Homecoming fireworks display, mainly because they would probably suck in a thunderstorm and other than that, they would just suck because it's Parkersburg. They really can't do anything right. I mean I could devote a whole post to the mishaps of my hometown. After filling the van with $42.00 (GASP) worth of precious petrol we zoomed home, and back to society. Pops was asleep when we got to their house, and so I stayed so I could visit him since I never know when he'll be home.

Sunday dad and I tinkered in the garage on cars for a little bit, ate dinner, then I went home. Ah, home sweet home. Nice quiet reading time. zzzzzzzz

Word up to Allison - tis my 11th day walking to work. Art thou set forth upon thine own diurnal stroll?

Chow-Chow Dog Tongue Disease

2005-08-17T09:23:00.000-04:00

Did anyone know that when you take certain antacids your tongue can turn black? It's happened to me a few times, but I thought it was changing color for other reasons. For instance it happened to my grandpa when he was switching from Tylox to Morphine (or something). So the first time it happened to me was the morning after I ended up at the Hare Krishna Temple. I figured it was a combo of red wine, ciggs, and Tylenol, because I hadn't had Tylox or Morphine (yet, or something). And even when I had them, my tongue didn't go bonkers. NOW I know it was the freaky Mylanta. Evidently my aunt called Mylanta's hotline after she woke up with a black tongue and they told her it was a normal reaction in some people. Do you realize how disconcerting it is to wake to a black tongue? Good thing I went home alone that night (as if going home alone was a choice). Standing in the bathroom mirror groggily brushing the skank out of my mouth I stuck out my tongue to brush the motha out of it, and slam-bam-thank-ya-ma'am I had a Chow Chow Tongue. It made me wonder if I'd lost my mind and did the worst thing in the world - NO not murder - eating black licorice! SICK! Who made that stuff? Good'N'Plenty candy is nearly the worst thing on the planet. I disected one, and it looked like the inside of sack worms that used to invade our bushes out front. Grody. It should be renamed Gross'N'Nasty Anyhow, I brushed that shit off quicker than rabbit pops out babies and went on with life. I had a black tongue 2 other times, all of which involved red wine, Tylenol, and antacid. Well, what are you waiting for? Inform all your friends of this travisty! Or better yet, mix them a coctail that contains red wine, Tylenol and Mylanta and call it the Chow-Chow, watch as their tongue turns black, then point and laugh!!

While the Mother Sleeps

2005-08-16T14:36:00.000-04:00

a mother wakes and views
On the hill,behind the house
The empty swing hung from the Scotch pine
Swaying in the wind,waiting to be used again.
the red clay mud grown over with weeds
children's feet no longer stunt the seeds
a mother cries, tries denying they are gone.

The children went away long ago
The toys still in their chest
they remain unused,
but their memory is all that's left

A lone man stands by the river
As the Ohio flows itself away
the years flood back in muddy waters
things once mysterious become known
fishing out his father's mistakes
fishing out his own.
a message in a bottle floats
on years to his son

the hallow.
foggy, covered with leaves
once harboured here a child
hiding in the autumn morn
and from his parents scorn
his soul drank from these streams
knowing life can fall apart at the seams.

a child goes to the door alone
while the mother sleeps
things learned at a tender age
are things learned for keeps
and so the child looks out on an empty lonely world
while the mother sleeps

A Quickie

2005-08-15T08:51:00.000-04:00

Well, Saturday night's complete debauchery left me brain dead. Luckily, I had deflibulators at the house and stuck them on each temple shocking the brain waves back into existence. Yes, they're back to their abnormal self, but very weak, so I'm giving them a lighter workload today. Here are some random thoughts or comments:

-One of my fantasies is to "spend an evening" with a 20/30-something Swiss Miss, foreplay would be her bringing me a nice cup of hot cocoa....I'd look sexily into her eyes as I take the first sip. Then I'd GRAB her by one of her blonde braids and say, "Where are my marshmallows bitch?"

-For men, does thinking outside "the box" mean: Stop thinking about sex?

-The company I work for provides tuition reimbursment for school.......I wonder if that includes The School of Hard Knocks. Cuz the tuition for that school is killing me!

-Rudeness comes in many forms and I'm the amoeba of inconsideration today. Watch out world!

Da-ba-da-ba-da-That's all folks! Happy Monday!

No Minor Feet....

2005-08-12T11:17:00.000-04:00

Last night I drunk blogged. To those of you I visited, my apologies. Is there no limit to my insanity? Well, yes. Yes there is. I, do solemnly swear, that I will not hit your sites drunk and crazy. Only drunk.The booze flowing freely allows my fingers to type smoothly and DUMBLY! After the blogging incidents, I was trying to watch TV and spilled red wine on my love handle which dribbled onto the hip area of my shorts rendering them ruined. Speaking of love handles, mine are shrinking. Less than a full week of walking to work finds me shouting praises to the glory of exercise. I mean it really does work. (How's your walking Allison? ;) ) However, exercise does something that anorexia, bulimia, drugs and alcohol NEVER did....make me hate my feet! Yes, it's true. The blisters brought attention to those plunders down under us. Thus reminding me, that I hate my feet. In addition to my own feet, I hate everyone else's too. Feet in general are sick-o, stink-o and yuck-o, so don't feel bad if you hate your feet too. Another thing, the word itself "FEET" sounds too much like "EAT". What's the big association with all things feet sounding like or rhyming with food items? It ALMOST ruins one's appetite. The following is a list of things that we feet.....oops I mean EAT (that sounds like an Alice original from the Brady Bunch) and was made possible by bloggers like you. Here's the list, Yo!

Boil - Olive Oil
Bunions - Onions
Corns - this one is self evident folks
Toes - HoHo's
Nails - Lobster Tails
Toe Jam - duh

Gosh it's enough to cause a foot fetish for food! Next pedicure all you ladies will be thinking of food and you know it! (evil laughter).

No really, a foot fetish, won't be happening here, though they do run in my family (Oh God here we go) ...."this was this one time".....when my aunt showed up to Gma's house in sandals, with a pedicure, and a new toe ring. It's a well known fact in the family that my uncle has a foot fetish, because as teenagers, my mom's best friend made out with my uncle and the best friend passed the tidbit'o'gossip along to the Information Super Highway (aka my mom's mouth), and now I can share with the rest of the world. Anyway, YUCK. I really was grossed out by the initial "enlightenment", but worse was seeing the idolized peds at a family gathering. It's hard to keep a straight face when people ask "do ya like my new toe ring, my beloved bought it for me for our anniversary?" Then you of course have to say "how nice, it looks great on you" but inside you're really thinking "OOOOOOOOO I HATE FEET, MAKE THEM GO AWAY MOMMY THEY'RE SCARING ME, PLEEEASSSEE!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PUT THEM AWAY"

*LIGHT BULB* Now I know why my uncle was always lingering in the grocery store by the pickled pigs feet! That sly perv! Oh well, I guess it's a cheap thrill for him. HA!

***I love my aunt and uncle, and I hope they don't see this, but I just hate feet. No offense to them.

You Wanna Piece of Me....HOLE?

2005-08-10T10:15:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, 10 plus miles, 2 honks, 3 hoots/hollers, 5 CD dropping incidents, 4 blisters, a rubbed raw IUTA (i-oo-t-uh) [Inner Upper Thigh Area}, and soaking wet clothes ended my evening walk. After walking the 2.29 miles to and fro work (total 4.58 miles), I decided I hadn't exercised enough so off I go again. Of course, I over do EVERYTHING I take a hankering to. One of my friends started a new retail job down the road, so I thought I'd go visit her and benefit from the 90 degree sunny weather in terms of UV rays adding to my ever darkening skin and multiplying moles, which most likely will be skin cancer in a couple years. Anyhow, Columbus has a lack of sidewalks, so for a few legs of the journey(s) I'm forced to share the under-construction 2-lane roadway with motor vehicles, RUDE and obnoxious motor vehicles mind you.

I'm not sure if the honks were people being friendly to pedestrians, or if they were just trying to make me feel dumb for walking, but I know the hoots/hollers were for the shirt I was wearing. Sauza Tequila. On the back is a stop sign that reads "If it feels good, don't stop, Sauza Tequila". My deductions lead me to believe those hooters and hollerers were drunk drivers. Thanks for NOT running me over in a drink induced coma, Your Unlawfulness!

I walk the 3 miles to this place my friend works, and she's not even there. Which is fine, because the walk was for health. But it was slightly disappointing not to be able to say "hi". Oh well. The phone works. 3 miles back to my house. I pass a total of 6 people walking. 6. That's it. No wonder Columbus ranks amongst the fattest cities in America. It's pretty discouraging to discover the car oriented mentality of this region. It bodes badly for EVER getting a convenient public transit system in place.

Ok that was a lot of complaining. The many good things I've found other than the physical benefits:

1) Walking lets you take in the scenery and it actually puts things on a comprehensive human level. When you see the trees, flowers, landmarks, etc. for more than just a blur, as they are in a car. It gives a grounded belonging feeling. I think the isolation of always being in a car "bubble" is bad for my psyche. I like to feel a part of things, I love being in the now, not worrying about getting someplace. Walking removes the stress of always being in control of the 20k piece of machinery that a false move, or someone else's mistake can cost you tons of money. Just in the past couple of days my shoulders and neck are noticeable looser.

2) I find myself remembering and thinking about things I probably would never recall due to visual memory queues. For instance. It rained on Monday morning, causing tiny toadstools to grow. Naturally, my first thought was to pick them, eat them, and hope they were shrooms - what a fun day of work that would be - but I didn't. Instead, it reminded me of these enormous toadstools that used to grow in a pine grove behind my grandparent's house and how the neighbor kid and I would use them as GI Joe shelters/battlements. What a joy it was to smash that fungus when my army anhilated his, or vice-versa. Yup, there was a fungus amoung us.

3) It gives me wind down time from work (again, de-stressing).

4) There are a couple of sporty ladies that run past me every morning! I've smiled at them and said 'hi', but they're so focused they keep going. Actually, I think that's the impression they want to give me. But what they're really thinking is "oooo he's the hottest thing since sliced bread became toast and I want him, but he wouldn't go for a jogging girl. No, not with those love handles and man boobs. I guess I better eat some more to be in his league so he'll notice me".

Uh, perhaps too much oxygen is causing delusions .........or was it that toadstool that practically tore itself from the ground and jumped in my mouth when that hole in the ground grabbed my foot and threw me down. You wanna piece of me, ....Hole! Don't make me get some top soil and FYI (fill you in)!

Song of the day: "When My Ship Comes In" Clint Black (though instead of the Rockies and Colorado, insert Appalachians and Ohio).

Famous Quotes (in my world)

2005-08-08T07:25:00.000-04:00

Last night I went walking and timed how long it takes to get to work from my house. Only 40 minutes! So I decided that today, I would walk to work. Which means I woke up at 5:45 AM to ensure I made it by 7 AM. It's part of my "get healthier", "take charge of my life" kick. I feel so energized and 100% better than when I wake up 20 minutes prior to 7 and rush to get here. There's something theraputic about walking. In fact, it didn't even bother me that a lawn sprinkler system popped on as I walked by and that I got rained on for the last 5 minutes of the walk. (Thank you Les Wexner for the sprinkler, Thank you Mother Nature for the rain). This morning's theme song is:

Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
Nobody gonna slow me down, oh noI got to keep on moving
Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
I'm running in a one touch ground, oh no
I got to keep on moving

Since you all read my week long epic of vacation, I'll keep today short. Just some quotes that stick out in my memory from moi, family, and friends:

"Can you believe the doctor dropped and spilled my urine sample? It took me 2 hours to make another!" Mom after a visit to the hospital.

"I love beachy barnicle barf birthdays!" Me, after having too many on my birthday and saying I was going to jump in the water a chew barnicles off ships for money.

"I hate when my fallopian tubes get infected!" My cousin, pointing to her eustationary tubes and ears.

"I used to think there was so much water in American toilets so you could wash your ass after you flush" My best bud from Italy. My mouth dropped open in disbelief and disgust after he said that....

TRIP: FriSatSun - July 29-31 - Drinks, Rain, and Drive

2005-08-05T08:29:00.000-04:00

Friday was a day to explore the islands of the Outer Banks. CH, AM, KC, RB, and I went on an excursion that started with us sitting in a traffic jam. We went about 20 miles in 1 hour. Evidently Friday is checkout time for a ton of rentals. By that time it was around noon and our stomach's were screaming for food. A local North Carolina BBQ restaurant called to us from its shanty like existence and we answered. I'm not quite a BBQ expert, but I'd have to say I'm close, and this place served up excellent pulled pork BBQ sandwiches! Though I don't recall the name, I'll always remember the location for furture vacation hunger stops.

More driving South led us to this lighthouse, I was impressed. Those photos aren't available yet. Back in the car, we try to find the Lost Colony of Roanoke, end up on a 3 mile long bridge, and get lost our selves, so that site remains true to its name. Time to head back to the house for a nap! I must give props here, KC cracked me up the entire time, and I don't think I've laughed that much in about 10 years.

After the nap the whole house goes up the road for a seafood dinner. At least 1/2 hour passes before our orders are taken. Most people are grumbling abou the service. Oh well, the beer is GOOD! I decided to delight my taste buds with crabcakes, my favorite seafood dish. Most other people are breaking shells on crab legs and peeling shrimp. Personally I think all that looks nasty. Shell fish needs to be battered and deep fried before I eat it.

With our stomach's applause it's time for the bar. Nobody can agree on a place and only 6 of us wanted to listen to the jazz band playing at Pub (I'll just call it that, because again, I don't know the name of the place). So PUB has many hot ladies walking around, most of them with boys already leading them or following them. However, I was able to talk to a couple of recent college graduates that had moved to OBX 2 weeks prior. Nice. Other than that, the guys tried to rescue CH from a Toyota salesman that just wouldn't stop talking to her. A couple hours later KC came to gather our drunk asses up and go to the house.

At the homestead I changed into swim trunks, jumped in the pool, then the hot tub, then went to the beach.....and I think it was 5 AM before I got to sleep. (Groan for the next day).
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Saturday was cloudy and gross and I was sad to have to leave. I went to the beach for like 20 minutes, went to the pool for an hour, then changed. A few of us still needed to buy souvenirs and went to Wings to satisfy that need. Some people went golfing in the rain, I rented Napoleon Dynamite, and others walked on the beach. After packing and cleaning......I was ready to go home by 10 PM. I went to bed for a few hours of tossing and turning, waiting departure at 7 AM.
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Sunday, 6 AM wake up call. Shower, pack the vehicle for depature, and off we go. I'm sitting back in Columbus around 6:30 PM trying to stretch the kinks out of my neck and back from the many head nods in the car. Home sweet home. My roommate didn't make it home until 11 PM. Evidently one of the people traveling in their car got sick and had to stop at Urgent Care. What a long day for them.
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And so it is the end of my vacation recollection. I want to thank everyone that stopped by my blog this week and now I can get back to my normal comments on all of YOUR sites hee haa ahaahaa haahee (evil laughter).

TRIP: Thurs, July 28 - Clouds, Concerts, Crazies

2005-08-04T08:30:00.000-04:00

Thursday was my absolute favorite day of the trip. We woke up earlier than we wanted because there were some people that woke up really early for some reason. I TRIED to stay in bed until 11 but that was difficult with all the stomping feet above me. When I ate a little breakfast of oatmeal with half a stick of butter (YUM) it was off to the beach. The clouds had rolled in, but this some sun was still poking through. This picture definitely shows the clouds:

We swam at the ocean, and then the pool, hit the hot tub - the regular routine. Around 5 PM, we ate an early dinner. Grilled chicken fajitas (refried beans included, UH OH!) and then it was off to an out door concert by one of the lighthouses:

When they said outdoor concert, I was expecting a bunch of bands with people our age rockin' out to some jams. It turned out to be a saxaphone quartet playing classical type music. While I can appreciate that sort of thing, none of us were wanting a "relaxing" time. So we got really bored (as you can see in the photo) CH in the pinkish shirt, stepped in dog poop on the way to this spot and wiped it on MY blanket! I'm the blue, baby blue, and white horizontal stripe/khaki shorts guy. No, I didn't flip my collar up like a preppy! I just woke up from a nap...zzzzzzz. 8 of us tell the 4 in the upper left that we're going to go do something else.

One of the guys brought a 4x4 SUV and it just so happened to seat 8. About 2 miles from this lighthouse the road stops, and becomes a beach you're allowed to drive on. Off we go for some off-roading adventure!

Along the way we stopped for beer, frisbee, and crazy foolishness. Here from left to right is me, RB, KC, and CH doing the "Sand Dance" naturally made up on the fly:

Then I lose my balance and need to be held up:

And a group photo of course, a driver stopped to take one with all of us. They were some Kool Kats, yo! And.... that's sea water on my pants, not pee. (From left to right: Jm, DB, AM, DD, RB, CH, and me).

After this we hopped back in the vehicle to go to the house. On the way, we laughed and laughed and laughed. KC (girl in front middle, black shirt, khaki skirt) was doing her Pee-Wee Herman impersonation. Classic memories! At the house, we took a clean blanket - one which CH hadn't smeared poopie shoes on, and went to the beach. The stars were out in full glory to lay there and admire. A cloud would straggle in every few minutes and each and every one looked like something. One was an alien head, another, a baby in a car seat, another was a skull. Some people went for pizza, DeGiorno not delivery, and the rest of us continued to lay on the beach laughing, and discussing conspiracy theories regarding governments and economies of the world (surprisingly the laughs didn't cease throughout that conversation). All the joviality gave my abs a nice workout and around 2 AM sleep was all I could think of....zzzzzzzzzzz

PS: Please forgive any grammer on this series....I haven't had a chance to proofread (I know that sucks).

TRIP: Tues - Wed., July 26-27 - Lasagna, Crabcake, and Norfolk

2005-08-03T07:24:00.000-04:00

Considering my memory was/is cloudy from this point on, I can't give an hour by hour run down so here goes:

Tuesday morning I woke up at 10, but didn't get out of bed, I had a killer headache from those damn Nor'Easter drinks. So I managed to fall back to sleep after dreaming that I took a Lortab. Luckily some dreams are SO real they may have been true, but one can never be sure. Anyway, I woke up AGAIN at noon, slathered on sun block, and hopped in the pool. After many attempts at getting comfortable on a floating taco, I just laid back on my noodle instead. Oh, before you think I'm a big perv. The floating taco is what we call those mess rafts with a tube/wire around the outside. When you lay in them they kinda wrap around you like a taco. The one I was using was being difficult and just didn't want to work with me.

Around 6:30 PM, after a nap, swimming, a nap, and reading in between the lasagna was ready. YUM! It was delicious. Post dinner activities included a big blue birthday cake shaped like a crab. Being that we weren't home the night before the cake portion of my birthday was held on Tuesday evening. The blue cake made all of our mouths look like Gargamel at a Smurf buffet. More swimming, walking on the beach, and relaxing.
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Wednesday was 100 degrees the water was 67 the only thing to do was sit at the beach, go swimming, and drink lots of water from 10 AM - 6 PM, with some napping in between. C.H. and I gobbled down some steaks from the grill and hit the road to pick up our other friend R.B. He was flying into Norfolk. On the way, other than both of us getting a bad case of the shits, we ran into one of the worst storms I've experienced in a while. Lightening was striking all around and the torrential rainfall slowed travel to about 20 MPH. R.B. called when we were about 40 minutes from Norfolk informing us his flight had been delayed due to the weather. We went ahead and went to the airport to confirm how long the delay would be. It was going to be 12:15 before his plane came in. It was only 9:45, so C.H. and I figured we'd kill the time at the airport lounge. NOT happening. As we walked in, a not-so-friendly worker said "Closed!".

Did I mention that Norfolk airport looks like an 80's shopping mall? Anyhow, we went to a nut hut and the guy there told us about a few bars down the road. Off we went! The bar was beside an egg shop and we nearly drove past it because it was such a hole in the wall. I wish I remembered the name of the place, but I don't. I failed to find out if the bartender was pregnant and glowing, or just fat and oily, either way she was nice. We ordered our drinks and looked around at the place. The walls were covered in the fake wood paneling (again, from the 80's - it's like this section of Norfolk was stuck in a time warp). It reeked of old fryer grease and the lights had plastic orange lantern panels over them. 2 drinks later the bartender informed us that they were closing early to have the exterminator come in. Nice bug infested bar! Just a bit of advice Bar, you'll continue to have a bug problem until they get rid of the fake wood paneling. Bye!

A 24 Hour Super K-mart was near and the house was running low on booze, so we stopped to kill some more time. Asking a worker to point the way to the alcohol resulted in our standing in the health care aisle. Evidently she thought I meant rubbing alcohol! Geez! Finally we find the drinks!

At the airport after C.H. and I ride the people mover back and forth 3 times, I was getting sleepy, so I popped a diet pill, 20 minutes later I can't shut up! Every body coming down the escalator is my new friend and I'm the welcoming committe for Norfolk. "Hi welcome to Norfolk, America's shipyard" "How was the flight?" "Did you happen to be on the flight from Baltimore?" I ended up talking to a limo driver about being a nightowl until R.B. got off the plane.

In the car ride back to Corolla, we coin the phrase: "I eat my dinner with a spork!" and decide it would look great on a T-shirt. (inside joke). Warning, every single gas station with a bathroom from Norfolk to Corolla is closed after midnight! Another exercise in bladder stretching!

TRIP - Monday, July 25 - SirTalksALot's 26th B-day

2005-08-02T07:50:00.000-04:00

10:00 AM, I wake up. I eat breakfast. I get lathered in sun block and go to the beach. We all sit there in the sun, jump in the ocean, sit in the sun, lay in the sun, jump in the ocean. I'm of course, scoping out babes for miles with my eagle vision. "Hello Ladies.." I look down to reveal that I'm no longer just a white boy.....I've gone pink! BURN baby BURN! Yeah, dumb ass that I am, I forgot to reapply the 3rd coat of sunblock, and totally missed an entire side of my leg. Oh well, what fun is a beach trip if I can't get burnt?

Noon - I make the observation out loud that every year at the beach I realize why I told myself to work out, and every year I forget about it, and come back the next year fatter than before. I also realize why when you turn 50 your swim trunks are pulled up to your arm pits. It's because each year that you show up to the beach fatter, you pull the waist band up just a tiny bit to cover the extra bit of tire....so by 50 it's all they way up to your man boobs. Anyhow, my trunks aren't above my belly button yet....so I'm still halfway decent.

1:00 PM - We all go back to the pool, I apply 2 layers of sunblock and just lounge while drinking Corona's. Though I normally don't drink before I eat lunch, it's my birthday! C.H. decides to cut limes, though, I'd already cut some. Her's are so large they don't fit into the bottle without using a battering ram.

6:00 - 9:00PM - We go to dinner at some pier restaurant on the water. It's ok, not great, but D.D and D.B. say they're getting my tab for my birthday. Good guys, they are! Who am I to object? The menu consists of fishy things. I get a blackened tuna Caesar Salad. Yum. But prior to that, the drink menu touts the Nor'easter as a drink that will help you forget about an impending storm. Hmm, well, it's not going to rain anytime soon, but it was windy. I partake in the drinks. Me likes it! Me has 4 more, 2 blue long islands.

9ish-10ishPM - Stand around the bar drinking waiting for karaoke to start.

10:00 PM - A lady resembling a young Sharon Stone comes in with her younger twin sisters. D.D. talks to Sharon Stone.....I talk to the twins. After I sing my song "Pure Country" and say "OOOOPS" and slur the words, the twins don't talk to me anymore. I have a drunken way with women, I'll tell ya! I must have sucked! ha ha ha. By midnight I was wasted and everyone else was pooped too. We head back to the house to pass out (at least that's what I did).

TRIP - Sunday, July 24 - Departure and arrival

2005-08-01T07:44:00.000-04:00

Thank you all for the birthday wishes! I appreciate it very much.

Here's some of what happened, work's going to be killer for the next few days, though, so I'm not sure how much detail I can pull out of my brain.

7/24/05.......
3:45 AM - Oh the pain of waking up before the sun. Oh the joy of pushing the snooze button. I really get out of bed at 4 AM, showered, and put on the clothes I laid out from the night before. Yes, it's true, I actually did lay the clothes out for the first time in my life!

4:45 AM - 2 friends arrive. my roommate and I pile our stuff in and go to meet the others further along the route.

5:15 - 7:00 AM - arrive at C.H.'s house. Everyone else is ready, except K.C., she's fallen asleep on the chair (again). After some rearranging we hop in the cars. C.H. drives her Sante Fe, V.S. is the co-pilot, me and D.D. fill up the back. After running a red light that WON'T change after 3 cycles, we run the mo'fo! No cops, no worries! C.H. and V.S. talk non-stop. Observation, C.H. talks, and drives, and the more she talks, the faster she drives. At one point we're going 85mph past a cop. Good Times! (but not condusive for sleep).

7:00 AM - stop in Wheeling, WV for a healthy McDonald's breakfast. Mmm Go cinnamon rolls and coffee. K.C. thinks her yogurt is really butter. I don't taste despite the whole "you gotta try this, it's so gross" temptation.

7:30 AM - back on the road again. We've switched up cars, and I'm in the Allerro w/ M.I., the most gracious and beautiful trip planner. A.M., whom I'd just met at church the Sunday before. We all have a good mix of conversation, music, book reading, and silence to pass the time.

NOON - we're getting hungry, have to pee, and we're on I-270 in Maryland heading towards DC. Uhm, traffic galore. No major food stops, and wow, what fun going 85 mph with the flow of traffic. I gotta take a weekend trip just to drive in DC to work on my race car skills. After merging on to I-495, and then hitting a traffic jam at the exit ramp to I-95, we see an exit ahead worth taking, only because our collective bladders are going to burst! Gas station in sight!!!! We park and run in only to find 30 other people have the same idea as us.....oh well. My bladder is REALLY strong now from that test of endurance.

3:30 - We switch cars again. I'm in the Pilot as the co-pilot. D.D. is driving. M.I. and Cg are playing the "Road Sign Game" in the back. A quick cell phone call to C.H. reveals them 40 minutes ahead of us! "Ok, keep talking and you'll be there in 1/2 an hour, motor mouth!"

The coolest part about this leg of the trip was passing under the ocean in a tunnel! Weeee!

6:30 - Traffic to Corolla wasn't too thick, just slow. It's a two lane road the whole 25 miles, but well worth it. The Outer Banks rock!

6:45 - sleep. Some people go to the store and get tons of food to stock up the house. Speaking of house.... It's a 3 story on a corner lot with ocean views. 1st Floor: 2 bedrooms 7 beds, 1 bath, patio to a pool, and outdoor shower and bathroom (guy's floor) 2nd Floor 3 beds, 2 baths (the girl's floor) the hot tub is on the balcony. 3rd floor: giant living room surrounded by windows, kitchen, dinning room, a few steps up to a reading nook/outlook. More deck/balcony all the way around with a huge gas grille. When the food arrives, we make burgers and everyone goes to the beach defying the "wait 1 hour after eating before swimming rule". We take a volley ball and football and walk a little. Brrr the water is chilly, but refreshing! The sky is about the most awesome thing I've seen, wispy white, pink, and orange clouds lit up against a nearly aqua blue sky, sunset arrived in style to welcome us! The stars pop out, we all jump in the pool, then the hot tub in shifts, and then back to the pool. I gotta crash, YO! zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

See Cup? (Vacation conversational snipets)

2005-07-30T23:43:00.000-04:00

We all went to a bar Friday night and had WAY WAY WAY too many. During which the following conversation occurred between me and my friend CH (female). I've known her for 10 years, so she's more like an older sister than anything else - just for background.

CH: Yeah, DD said he can tell a girl's bra size just by looking at her.
Me: Oh yeah? Well I can tell a girl's bra size JUST by looking at her nipple!
CH: Well your NOT going to be seeing MY nipple!
Me: Then I don't CARE about YOUR bra size!

For some reason we laughed a lot that night (could it be the drinks?)

Sandcastle O' SirTalksALot

2005-07-22T10:05:00.000-04:00

At 3:30 PM today (Friday) this blog is on vacation, and the author as well. I will be leaving Sunday morning at 5 AM for Corolla, NC, in the Outer Banks. As planned, we'll get there around 6 or 7 PM. There are 11 of us taking 3 vehicles and 1 more joining us in the beach house later in the week, so it's going to be a noisy party the whole time, I'm sure. Jelly fish, sharks, and hurricanes be warned....DO NOT spoil my time off!

And....while I'm there...I'll be turning 26 years old. Yup, Monday July 25 is my birthday. So finally, I'm passing the quarter century mark heading for the big 30. More mature? I think not.

Everyone have a wonderful week, and I'll give a run down of the sand in my ass on Monday, August 1. See ya soon!

Go Fly A Kite!

2005-07-19T09:55:00.000-04:00

Let's go fly a kite! Up to the highest height!

Y'all remember that song from Mary Poppin's? Remember how happy the kids were to go flying a kite? Well, now I know why.....

My cousins, Gourda*, Bongo*, and I met for dinner last night at a Mediterranean restaurant. After being served our drinks by an 8 year old girl (hello child labor laws!) We order food. Mmmm hummus - 500,000,000 people in the Middle East eat hummus according to the menu. Not as many in the Midwest I'd venture to say, but regardless, Iz good? Yea? Hell yeah! On a freshly made pita! I'm thinking of going back tonight! Don't even get me started on the baklava! "Greek to me" now means I LOVE IT!

Exiting the restaurant we all experienced major gusts of wind (not in the bodily function type way, but in the prevailing westerlies kind of way). Prompting Gourda to suggest we "go fly a kite".... in the literal sense, not in the "go take a long walk off a short pier" kind of way. We stopped, got the kites out of Bongo's trunk, which evidently had been there for 5 years, and headed to a church nearby with 8 consecutive soccer fields behind it - plenty of room for kite flying!

Gourda had a bird shaped kite with a long curly tail. Bongo had one of those kites with two strings that you're supposed to be able to steer in circles or whatever. I had a simple triangular kite. Gourda asked me if I wanted "the bird" to which I retorted, "no thanks, I've already got two right here." (My middle fingers).

So I take off from soccer field number one and run and run, and run, and run, all the while letting my string unspool, and finally at field number 5, my kite caught some wind! Which took all of MY wind! I was huffing and puffing like a freight train! Anyhow, the kite kept pulling asking me to go "higher and higher" and I gave in and let it go all the way to the end of the spool! You could barely see the sucker! Why is holding a piece of string attached to freaking flying piece of fabric with sticks through it so enjoyable? Who knew? I'm not sure if the clouds saw an unidentified flying object and wanted to investigate, or what, but these big thunderheads started rolling in.

Well, finally, after several attempts, Gourda got the bird up (snicker). However, poor Bongo's kite must have been in a no fly zone, because other than when he threw it across the field in the package, it didn't leave the ground for more than a nanosecond.

None of us wanted to make the news as human lightening rods, so we reeled our toys in. Of course that takes forever! But in the end it was worth it all......such simple pleasures last forever.

And speaking of flying........ back at the apartment, Gourda handed me her "whittle-itty-bitty-baby Elfina" - a tiny Chihuahua to watch for a minute. Well I was sitting slouched in a dinning room chair and the creature was walking all over my stomach like a baby on a waterbed, being cute and whatever. So I made bird noises, like I do to all dogs, and this one decides to flip out! She's jumping up and down, flopping like a fish, and I"m going here and there and everywhere trying to catch her so she doesn't fall on the floor. Unexpectedly she runs up my shoulder before I could catch her, jumps, landing nose first on the carpet. Poor thing was ok after some sneezing fits. But now I'm sure it hates me. Whenever she came near me the rest of the evening her tail was tucked between her legs. I did give a peace offering of a doggie treat in attempts to smooth things over, but time will tell.

Observation: I'm good at flying a kite, I'm not good at flying a Chihuahua.

*Names have been changed to protect identities of those involved. Poor things would hate to have their real names on this site.

Chronicles of Bodily Functions - Chapter 3 - "Kiss Me NOT"

2005-07-12T08:31:00.000-04:00

Our first date was to a coffee shop, she drank hot chocolate. "I don't like coffee" she said. But she did like to drink booze. Our second date we met some co-workers for drinks at the Shark Bar (since closed). She got trashed, but we won at pool. I thought it best I buy her dinner to soak up some of the drinkage. Our third date, we drank, she puked. Our fourth date, we drank, she puked. Our fifth date, we went dancing at Dick Clark's American Bandstand Grille, as we were kissing on the dance floor, she ran over to the juke box and puked behind it. Was it me? Nah couldn't be. Ironically, Dick Clark's is now closed. The next date, after dinner, we went to Scruffy's Bar, a dive if ever there was one, to meet her best friend. She went behind the building and puked. Her and her friend are no longer friends. One romantic evening, after hanging out with friends and eating pizza, drinking wine, and watching goofy movies, she puked. In the mulch. She covered it up like a cat does in a litter box. MEOW. That night she was upset that I hardly ever kissed her on our dates. HELLO? If you mean kiss you on the lips, or near your mouth, from which you just yakked....you're right, I'm not going to kiss you! GROSS lady! 6 months I dated her, 6 months. Oh, don't get me wrong, we had good times too. Like the time we went to Gatlinburg, TN and while I was in the shower, she came and knocked on the bathroom door. I thought I was about to get lucky again in the shower, but instead she was frantic and told me a tragic story. She'd accidently dropped her car keys down the elevator shaft of the hotel, thus locking her medication in the car. Due to Dolly Parton being in town a parade was blocking the way for the police and hotel maintenance to come rescue us. Finally the police came and jimmied the lock, the hotel staff repelled down the elevator shaft and got the car keys. I got trashed that night, but didn't puke. We went hiking the next day. I wanted to go to the end of the trail. She complained of having weak ankles. HUH? She planned a trip to the mountains and had weak ankles....WHAT? I decided the only way to deal with the trip was with massive amounts of wine at dinner. I almost puked, but didn't. AND I got to eat chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP the morning of departure. YUM!

Chronicles of Bodily Functions - Chapter 2 - "My First Brownie"

2005-07-01T09:23:00.000-04:00

My first record industry party was quite the ordeal. Mind you I'm not in the record industry, but I had a friend that was into promotions or something of that nature. I agreed to go because nobody else wanted to go, and I soon found out why. You just stand around and/or sit around these tables in the VIP room, and some people over there are passing illicit materials under the table, and that table over there people are about to procreate. Now, now, use protection! I saw that same hoochie-mamma down at Iggy Pop's bumping and grinding on every other guy in town. Then after you've heard the most horrendous band in the world they come up to the VIP room and everyone gives them false compliments like "I can't wait until your CD's released" or "That was awesome!" or "If your CD is anything like the live act you're going to be rich!" Yeah right, they sucked hairy ass. And the whole time I'm at the open bar "Gimme 'nother, an' don be shin, I mean....chin-cheee Huh?...chincyyyy? S'what I said."

Well after the band goes into their VIP room off the VIP room, everyone in the VIP room high tails it for the door before the band comes out whacked on whatever pharmaceutical they're into this particular week. My friend was like "Man let's scram before those jerks come out on their Scooby Snacks." Seriously it was like a fire drill because all the people were rushing for the stairs and the door. I'm kinda wishing I'd stuck around to see what happens when a no name band almost has a name. They probably just break things, which is what every boring band does when they're trying to assert themselves.

Anyway, back to my bodily functions. Uhm, Ok. Where was I? Oh yeah, we left that drag of a party and went to this party in SoHo in an enormous loft. Folks, this was the most amazing loft I've ever seen, it took up the entire floor of this building, and it had a "studio" of equal size attached! In the studio were many, many Corona's. I drank half of them. The smell of delicious chocolate decadence was wafting through the party and someone shouts, "YAY! The Brownies are done!". Mmmm, brownies? I'm starving! The reason I was starving was because I hadn't eaten the entire day, and people at this place had homemade cigs *if you know what I mean* just laying around all over and MAYBE I second-handedly had inhaled the by-products. So I'm so stupid and fu*ked up that I didn't realize why everyone at the party wanted to eat these brownies. DUH....(I was very sheltered growing up).

Blah, blah, blah...I meet a bunch of people, and I barely remember them, but I do remember this chic that had long hair, long nose, long fingers, and long legs and thought, "is she Shelly Long, cuz everything is LONG on her" but evidently I didn't just think it, I'd said it out loud and this fat Buddy Holly look alike said "That may be the dumbest thing I've ever heard" and we laughed about it for 10 minutes (yeah, go figure). So after being insulted by Fatty Holly, but forgiving him because it turned out to be his apartment, I left. Suddenly I didn't remember where I was. I was in SoHo, which I'd been in a million times before, and now I was standing on Broadway lost. That's right, the "brownie" kicked in. Damn Duncan Hi(gh)nes.

I had to take a step, look around, take another step, look around so I could make some progress. I was too embarrassed and scared to ask anyone where the subway was, because well, not to dis myself but I was a mess. And so it was, that I had to pee! Great! It was like 4 AM Sunday night/Monday morning, nothing was open. I found a car lot and unburdened my self on the wall (civilized right?) Ooo look there's my subway! So I finally get the train back to Brooklyn. (I'd just moved there so I was still a little skeptical about any stops other than my own).

The train is crossing the Manhattan Bridge and the strongest Gotta-Shit-NOW-and-it's-gonna-be-liquid sensation comes over me. I'm doubling over in pain and doing LAMAS breathing exercises to keep the stopper on what I know is going to be the grossest experience of my life. I hold it for a couple stops, but I'm so frightened that my intestines are going to bust internally that I hop off the Subway at some unknown stop which looks very abandoned and the kind of place a mugging could occur. The train pulls away and I just think "well, here goes crap down my legs and in my pants, so I lean against the wall beside a trash can and let loose the loudest fart in the world. I'm not lying, it echoed! Good thing I'm alone and what a relief it wasn't drizzly doo-doo! But wait....there's laughter. I look on the other side of the trash can and there are Harry and Henrietta Homeless making out and laughing at me! Well, I'm way sick now and don't even bother telling them to get a job.

I catch the next train home and barely make it before the REAL shit comes. I called in sick and laid in bed for two days except to go potty. My boss was concerned by my sudden and violent "flu", but what was I going to say "Oh I can't come in cuz Corona's coming out my ass?" Whatever was in that brownie really confused my internal signalling systems! For Real!

Chronicles of Bodily Functions - Chapter 1 - "Give me a 'P'"

2005-06-30T13:13:00.000-04:00

Weeeeeee!'s mom's pee story and e$'s Chinatown express has inspired me to write my very own Chronicles of Bodily Functions. As you guessed the first Chapter will be about PEE!

One time in the very Yankee oriented society of New York (Mets? huh). My friend's D and M obtained tickets to a Yankee's game. We decided to meet after work on the uptown platform at West 4th on the B/D line. Well, in August, that platform becomes a triple layered oven on broil, and we were garlic bread being baked to a crisp. Anyhow, M's sister J was meeting us to, and she was late. We were all pissed. But J arrived and we were all unpissed and excited to be going to the Yankee's game. We got there, got our seats, got two beers each and guzzled them. The game? I don't recall who the opposing team was, because by the time they started I was buzzin'. So after the 4th beer, we're all hungry and D and M were all into the game but me and J aren't so much because it wasn't that great of a game, so they volunteer us to go get hot dogs. D orders mustard and ketchup on his, and M orders mustard and relish on hers. So those two are idots thinking me and J can remember that after starting on our 5th beer. J goes to get the dogs while I get us more beer. While my back's turned J squirts tons of ketchup and mustard on all of the weiners screaming "more's ALWAYS better!" I turn around and I'm like "uh, I'm pretty sure M wanted relish and not ketchup" and J's like "oh shit!" so she proceeds to get a bunch of napkins and wipe the over abundance of condiments off the buns. She lays a couple of the hot dogs on another napkin and pours relish on them. I'm laughing so hard I can't see, when I realize she's putting relish on all of the freaking hot dogs! "NO!" Well we manage to finally get the orders right and take them to D and M. But neither of us could keep a straight face so we got busted. Not long after that someone threw a match or something because it landed in J's bag, which started smoking like it's on fire, so J starts screaming and jumping up and down on her purse busting everything inside. That must have been viewed by God as a rain dance, because then it started raining. Well, the game is called off, and we board the express back to Brooklyn where J lives. The beers are totally stretching out my bladder and I KNOW I won't make it from The Bronx to Bay Ridge Brooklyn (literally the other side of town). We get to Atlantic Avenue and I can't hold it anymore. I say, "Oooo, I can't hold it, I'm gonna go out there. I'll meet you back at the house", and jump off the train. They're screaming at me to come back and not to get arrested, as the doors close. I run to the other side of the somewhat crowded platform and just pee off the side onto the tracks with New York City Transit passengers going about their business like it didn't happen. Ah, now THAT's how you spell relief.

NEW! City Slogans

2005-06-28T12:52:00.000-04:00

The following is a list of cities I've visited and the first thing that popped in my head for each. Feel free to add your own in comments, it's fun!

Atlanta - Peaches'n'Humidity, well isn't that nice.
Baltimore - More than just DC's ghetto, we're our OWN ghetto!
Birmingham - For a good time, please follow signs to Atlanta.
Boston - Home of America's oldest subway system (which smells like the Boston Pee Party)
Charlotte - Our downtown is called Uptown. What? You don't think that's really neat-o?
Chicago - OMG! I can't feel my nose and my nipples are hard, SWEET.
Cincinnati - Sin! SIN? Nasty! We're too conservative for that.
Cleveland - LAKE? I thought that was the sewage treatment plant.
Columbus - Yep, we're in the middle of Ohio. MoooOOOOO!-ve some place cooler!
Indianapolis - Closed on Sunday.
Jacksonville - See St. Petersburg/Tampa.
Minneapolis - We all wear Docker's and Our pleats are poppin'!
New Orleans - Hurricane's DO NOT cause Cirrhosis (unless you drink 'em!) *sniff, sniff* is that puke?
New York - Smile? Fu*k you.
Philadelphia - You can ring my Be-e-e-ell My Bell.
Pittsburgh - We're very inclined (ba-dum-dum, cymbal crash)
San Francisco - So many homeless, so little deodorant.
Seattle - You've gotta see the Umbrella Museum!
St. Petersburg/Tampa - We're bored too.
Washington, DC - Yes, that dinky thing IS The White House. It looks so much bigger on TV.

I like

2005-06-24T14:22:00.000-04:00

I like this song....whatcha think?

No Hash do the Barney Shuffle

2005-06-21T08:40:00.000-04:00

Per Boozie's request, here's an update. Though it shan't be the expected Hash Update, as I'd wished it to be. No, SirTalksALot was quite the no show, due in part to a faulty muffler, that Friday night after spending time celebrating his nephew's 7th birthday, dislocated itself from the car in a manner that causes the car to go 30 MPH up hills, backfire, and sputter while taking off from red lights. Yes, I was packed and ready to go to the Hash, but my car wasn't. My dad was going to loan me his Jeep, but he was called in to work, so that was a no-go. To all Hashers, I would enjoy to join the ranks soon, and soon as this happens, I'll definitely update the blogosphere. Though I don't know what it means yet On-On! (I hope I don't get killed for saying that without actually going to a Hash).

Thus starts my post and reveals my hatred of cars. Ever since I discovered cities with good public transit (NYC, Chicago, Boston, DC) I can't see sinking income into a vehicle. It's not that I'm such an environmentalist, or care much about the Ozone, though I'd hate for my favorite coastal cities to experience a tidal flood that never ceases once the polar ice caps melt. But I just keep expecting myself to get the balls to move to one of these locations (again) and don't want the bogged down feeling of debt looming over my head when I do it. When I moved to NYC on Halloween 1999, I'd signed papers on a 6 year $15,000 car loan 4 months prior. The car was a wonderful way to move because I only took clothes, books, and pictures with me. However, parking in the Big Apple turned out to be hell on earth. Every other day the street sweeper just HAS to clean up the trash that 2 million people living on a 28 square mile island produce when they fail to toss their refuse in an approved container. So if you get drunk the night before you're supposed to move the damned car, then you might not FEEL like getting up to do the block dance. The block dance, for those of you who don't have to do it, is when everyone gets up and tries to move their car to another spot. It's kind of like musical chairs but with cars and parking spots.......and I was always the odd man out, driving around for hours. So after a month of tickets, getting my brand new car scratched, and waking up 2 hours before work to ensure I wasn't late to work due to no parking, I decided having a car in NY was el-suck-o. Yeah, I could have purchased a parking space for upwards of $300 per month, but hello, I'm too cheap for that. So back to Ohio that car went to be a family sublease. God Bless my family for being sweet enough to lease my car. Anyway.....I don't want to have that situation again, so when that loan was paid off and the said car died, I just bought a used car from a friend for $300 dollars. The current car, a Barney purple, 1994 Saturn SL2, 4 door sedan, w/ sunroof (that doesn't open) was fine when I bought it, all it needed was new brakes and new tires, and a muffler. Done. I figured that work was cheaper than getting a new car with a montly payment.

Well....Now my Barney Mobile has close to 200k on it, one of the back triangle windows was crushed in with a rock to steal my CD player, so that's covered with black duct tape, my radio is now a gaping hole with wires sticking out, the muffler is falling off due to that cob job shop I went to, and the AC broke. AND...I still can't give in and get another vehicle. I guess I'm a sucker for lost causes, because, who wants to be like everyone else and get a new car. I already did that 3 times at the ages of 18, 19, and 20. I was never satisfied with the car, and I always wanted a newer model the next year.

Having a clunker is a blessing in disguise. Since my car's been backfiring, I actually end up laughing the whole way home....people look at me like I'm nuts (which isn't a new thing). Yes, I'm the jerk in front of you that smokes you to death on the freeway, and when going up a hill the traffic backs up for miles. Seeing people stick their middle finger up as they pass doesn't make me upset, it makes me snicker that everyone gets so upset by going slow. It's even funnier when people are in the car with me and we're all like bouncing around while the car sputters. Yes, a ride in the Barney Mobile is an adventure, but I'm sad at the prospect of my car dying....then it will be back to the ho-hum-drum of regular driving. (Sigh).

Mista Grant watcha doin' on da floor?

2005-06-13T10:28:00.000-04:00

How was my weekend you ask? Oh I know you didn't REALLY ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway!

Friday evening - for the first time in a very long time I stayed home and read. I'm reading the last book in Stephen King's The Dark Tower series (finally), but I'm going slow because I hate having to find a new vein of books that I like.

Saturday evening - Took my sister and nephew out to eat and spent $50, then I found $50 bucks on the floor at the movie theater and no claim had been made for it at the counter, so I lickety-split and called me friends to meet me at the bar where I proceeded to share the wealth and get us all buzzed!

Sunday - mom called at 7:30 to lecture me about my muffler breaking. I went to a cob-job-chop-shop where the guy cut this, put this in, took this out, etc. so that I only paid $90 instead of $200. Well, it recently jiggled loose, so now my car sounds ghetto. Anyway, mom's concerned that I'm going to get carbon monoxide poisoning, so while she was talking to me I fell asleep and must have snorted/snored because then she's asking me "ARE YOU SLEEPING WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU?" and I'm like "huh, no, I'm silently mulling this enlightening information?" She hated it, but come on, it was 7:30 on a Sunday morning! Went to church for the first time in about 4 months, then came home and napped before getting ready for my weekend job. After work some of us took HotChic out because she's moving to Florida tomorrow. 3 shots, 4 drinks later are my eyes deceiving me? The girl with breast implants and HotChic are feeling each other's boobs! Good Times!

Gwen Stefani, ENUNCIATE!

2005-06-07T14:50:00.000-04:00

Who loves when you think you know the words to a song and have been singing the wrong ones all along? EMBARRASSING! For about 3 weeks after Gwen Stefani's new release came out I was trying to figure out the name of it. A bunch of us were having drinks and the song came on at the bar. I'd had 4 double's so I was getting to "THAT point". I blurt out, "oh yeah, does anyone like this song "Harlem Bat Girl?" Of course they lost it, and were pointing and laughing at me like I'm B-A-N-A-N-A-S, at which point someone fills me in the real title "Holla Back Girl". Stupid HOT Gwen, enunciate better. (Or maybe I should just listen better. Always shift the blame to someone else, though.)

The sad thing is, the images I'd associated with Gwen Stefani in a leathery Bat Girl suit, traipsing around Harlem with her bad-self attitude, were no longer valid. Good-bye to ANOTHER fantasy.

Song number 2, whose lyrics were also confused in my head, was recorded by the same lady. No Doubt's "Sunday Morning." The part where Gwen sings, "You came in with the breeze...On Sunday Morning....sure have changed since yesterday..."

I thought she said:

"You came in with the breeze...on Sunday morning....showered'n'changed since yesterday"

Do you see how altering just a couple words can change the world? (My world). In this instance, I was thinking 'man, doesn't everyone shower 'n' change since yesterday?' Especially on Sunday morning, and in sunny California, where I assume they wrote this song.

So if anyone would like to contribute your own mishearings/misunderstandings of lyrics please comment! (so I can point and laugh at someone too!)

Dental Anatomy

2005-06-03T13:13:00.000-04:00

Thursday marked my 5th visit to a dentist in my life. The only reason I went is because my wisdom teeth started bothering me. I'm not very good at that maintaining proper health with "regular dental visits" thing. But this dentist said the same thing the others have said "great teeth, be glad you don't have the body chemistry that produces plaque". Well, I wish I had the body chemistry that didn't produce wisdom teeth either! Anyhow, now it's some big production because I have see an oral surgeon to get the smart teeth yanked.

As I was leaned back at her mercy, while she stuck big metal hooks and things in my mouth, I realized I have a thing for my dentist. She's this hot blonde with clear blue eyes, and her assistant is exactly the same only younger. They were on either side of me and the dentist's boob was smashing against my forehead as she cleaned my teeth. After I rinsed and spit, she said, "I want to introduce you to floss" and turned around to reveal a thong. I'm kidding!

Finally, a dentist that's changed my mind about oral hygene visits. Hmmm, I guess I'm gonna have great teeth!

After Hours "at the Brain Wash" (sing to "Car Wash" tune)

2005-05-26T10:05:00.000-04:00

One time, when I was 21, and living in NYC, I got so trashed in the A.C.E Bar that I smoked a pack of ciggs I swiped for fun off the pool table (I don't even smoke), tongue kissed my friend's sister, put her in a cab back to Brooklyn at 4 AM. She passed out and had to pay $40 from the cab circling her block a few times. After sending her off, I stood by the "walk up" pizza window and ate 4 pieces of pizza with hot pepper flakes, which caused the worst burning tummy ever, so, to cool it down, I got a vanilla ice cream cone. The ice cream melted in my hand and dripped down the entire front of my three quarters black wool coat. It looked like pin-stripes, at least from my drunken point of view, so I left it on there to dry, as in, I totally thought it was cool looking.

Well, I really wasn't drunk enough yet, so I figured I'd find an awesome after hours. So I walk over to Ave B and stroll (stagger diagonally back and forth) down the sidewalk listening for music indicative of a rockin' after hours. I hear cymbals and bells and thought, 'huh must be a live band'. I enter an establishment that reeks of incense. People are dressed in brown robes and have shaved heads, one of which comes and asks me if I've entered to worship and to please remove my shoes. I remember thinking 'this is code talk for come in and we'll check you out to make sure you're not a cop, then we'll lead you to the real party in the back.' I sit in front of this Indian-looking shrine but I'm so drunk I can't even sit up straight so I lay back. The guy keeps coming over with a brass incense burner and letting puffs of pungency waft around my already light head. There's one black guy in the front playing finger cymbals, he hasn't shaved his head and still has an Afro. At this point another robed worshipper comes over and tells me I can't lay down in the temple. Temple? This dump is a temple? I tell him, "Dude I'm cool, can I go in the back now?" He shakes his head no and smiles. The incense guy comes over again to surround me in stinky smoke clouds, and the whole place breaks into a repetitive round of "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna...(again again again)."

"I'm gonna pray," I say to nobody in particular. I thought it best to clarify that I was leaning forward to "worship" rather than leaning forward to take a brief nap. As I get my head near the floor, I lose my balance and skid my forehead on the rough woven mat. "OUCH!" blurts out in a decibel higher than the current chant. Can't this place afford Berber, it would be less abrasive?

As I drift into a peaceful sleep... 'That tune is kind of catchy....I like the finger cymbals....I wonder where I can get one of those robes....Maybe I should shave my head, my hair just annoys me anyway.....WHAT! I'm being brain washed!' I jerk awake and sit upright.

I look around dazed and shockingly realize this is NOT a front for some cool after hours and these guys don't want to drink illegally. They only want my soul, and maybe my shoes, but I'm not selling either, especially not to bald and stinky men dressed in potato sacks. If it were the Women's Swedish Ski Team, perhaps, but alas, they are not. (Though I really want to ask where they bought those cool finger cymbals) I grab my newly ice cream pin-stripped coat and fancy work shoes and dash out of there lickety-split before they take me in the back, shave my head and this guy makes me drink blood like when Indiana Jones is in the Temple of Doom and that guy transforms him into a zombie. Still walking zig-zag up the sidewalk towards Tompkins Park in my sock-feet I see a cab. I wave for my rescuer to come and save me and they whisk me back to the Upper West Side away from the Bohemian Ghetto!

**Please note that for the next 2 years I'd hang out practically every weekend in this neighborhood. But at that particular moment I was still learning the ropes, still being pretentious, and still very moody from having an incense headache. Ah, memories (that I still remember).

Imagine....

2005-05-20T08:38:00.000-04:00

.....being a particle on a ringlet of a spring. The top rung of that spring is your goal, and the bottom is where you've started from. Most springs are made from one contiguous wire wound one level above another. Imagine making your way to the top looping round and round (like the Guggenheim Museum!), but the entire time the spring you're on is bouncing (life's ups and downs), though you're still moving towards the top (the goal). The points where the spring is compressing - when the world is no longer flying by - the other ringlets (past and present) seem to be closer, more in perspective, more viewable. You can see where you're going, and where you've been. If there is any detail you missed along the way, you can "catch up" on it at these points of compression. You can clearly plan the future trek.

Now imagine that particle is tied to the spring so inherently that when the spring travels up, you feel on the rise, when the spring travels down, so goes your mood. When the spring stops moving and is being squished down and smashed by inertia against an immovable object....you too, feel the pressure.

That is how I feel. Life's current routine is pressuring me to change, I'm at a "bottom", ready for a move up, and during this time I'm able to see the past, and see the future all the while maintaining the present. Though, by "bottom" I don't necessarily mean emotional depression, just that the energy level or momentum of the current "path" has hit a stand still and is being collected to spring forth on a new trajectory.

I see mistakes I've made, though I wouldn't change them for the importance of the lessons involved, I do want to improve upon my process of operation. I see life as very cyclical so I want to trend the lulls and plan ahead, though, nothing too rigid, too routine as to fall into a complete and utter stall. It's time to bounce this spring to a new environment. So if you see me bouncing by, say "hi!"

***It might be added that I do NOT possess a degree in philosophy, physics, nor psychology, so any references, ideas, or visual connotations used in this blog are completely pulled out of my a$$.

###Deeper discussions and comments are welcome, but subject to time constraints in researching your points of view. In other words, I'm at work bi*ch.

mixer of blatherings

2005-05-19T14:30:00.000-04:00

Mine serendipitous fabric of self being -
unravelled.
and whence thou cometh Tailor of Life's Lessons?
shorn from bolts mightier than I?
None exists possessing such claim as that.
Cradled in my heart a dream as in my arms a babe:
my future, my past, my present
my hope and my demise.
My very own eyes gaze back at me,
Will watch me and learn -
Things that I wish, more that I abhor.
Unless so large a rift open fostering freedom from remembrance -
an independence -
A loneliness known by none for there are none at these far reaches.
Then changing direction - I towards the past; he towards his future
All the while, Father Time never ceases his ravaging march on both parties
I reach where my future was and is my present, and he reaches what was his past
a vapor, a memory, a dead unchanging land.
A land of familiarity every aspect scourered for meaning,
The past bequeaths all knowledge obtained presently upon review to the future hopes of this varacious soul.

Wishing Well

2005-05-12T07:20:00.000-04:00

Tuesday was absolutely wonderful in terms of weather. I get out of work at 3:30, so I figured I better enjoy the sun while it's out as it may rain for the next 40 days. Ohio skies are like that - unpredictable but more likely rainy or gray. Anyway, I called my cousin and we went to Highbanks Metro Park, which evidently was created by all the debris razed in front of the glaciers during the last ice age. Well that's all interesting, but the coolest part of the park is this bridge crossing a tiny flat rock bed stream. From the bridge people toss coins and make wishes, the coins land in the shallow water and shine like little diamonds in the sun. I'm here to tell everyone that wishes do come true. We started craving a hot fudge cake and French fries from Frish's Big Boy. I already knew I'd forgotten my moola, as did my cousin, so what do any self respecting people enjoying nature, but wanting to enjoy greasy and sweet food, do? They take off their shoes and wade into the creek for those coins representing many people's wishes. A whole $4.50 was collected, quite enough for French fries and hot fudge cake. My gratitude to all the people that made MY WISH come true! Thank you!

Cotton Ball Consumption

2005-05-11T08:39:00.000-04:00

If you've ever wondered how royal or Holy people take a dump, check out this site, hilarious!
http://www.ubersite.com/m/64705

Questions and Comments concerning Cotton Ball Consumption by Anorexics to stop hunger:
1. Are they getting the daily intake of fiber by doing that?
2. If they eat enough cotton, can they shit out a table cloth?
3. Do anorexics have and exchange cotton ball recipes?
4. Do they bring Cotton Ball Casserole to potlucks?
5. Does the cotton industry condone this consumption, because the slogan should then be changed to "The touch, The TASTE of cotton. The fabric of our diets."
6. I wonder if cotton farts smell like White Linen perfume?
7. Do they chew on the end of Q-Tips at parties like finger food/appetizers?

Could you imagine walking into a party attended by only anorexic cotton ball eaters? There'd be trays of cotton balls with toothpicks sticking out of them. Puff pastries would take on a new meaning. Wearing synthetic fibers would be required so nobody chomps down on someone's clothes! I made up the following song about this subject, enjoy!

I eat cotton balls and
I'm really really skinny
When I take a shit
It's like a spinning ginny
I cram in the white fiber
It makes me feel so full
The taste is so delicious
It could replace lima beans at school.
If I get real hungry
And there's no CVS in town
Better watch your gym socks
Cuz you know I'll munch 'em down.
Whoop! My song is ending
And it's been real dandy
Ooo it's time for dessert
Look! my favorite...cotton candy!

Speaking of Wineboxes...

2005-05-03T11:11:00.000-04:00

Liz's readers mentioned wineboxes in her comments, which got me to thinking... What a perfect cure for the American homeless situation. Donate a winebox to charity. The homeless wine-o will no longer need to beg for change, they can use the winebox's stacked one upon the other to form a rather sturdy home, and then, they can just lay there opening the spout as wine pours from the walls into their stank mouths. They could even have running water, because once the wine is emptied, they can refill with fresh water. No more stinky people on the streets, they can shower in their home! I may even visit someone in a winebox house if it was the House of Merlot. Just a thought...(surprisingly not a drunken one)

An Uncooked Brownie..

2005-04-28T14:01:00.000-04:00

...is what I just ate. The old lady from the next row made two big pans of brownies for her team. It struck me as odd that there should be any left, but I just figured 'more for me'. They looked delicious with tons of fluffy chocolate icing. I cut myself a huge piece after running over like a child to be the first in line for an after lunch treat. I bit into the MOST moist chocolaty piece of....uncooked, undone glob of goo I've ever eaten. Perhaps I should carry some toothpicks with me next time and "insert in center" to ensure doneness.

I'm not sure if it was a brownie batter brownie, as in, it was supposed to be that way, or if maybe she forgot to turn the oven setting to BAKE, when she put them in, but whatever the case moist deluxe doesn't apply to that Betty Crocker Flopper.

She's now going around the office saying, "wow, you ate that fast! come and get another piece!" I'm thinking maybe she went home, took her prescription of who knows what, forgot what an oven looked like, and placed the brownies in a broken dishwasher to bake....

My co-worker said "psst, come here" pulling out a trash can and moving some papers out of the way to reveal a plop of brownie at the bottom. I saw several people walk over and walk away empty handed muttering things like "wow those look really good, but I'm just trying to stay away from sweets." What they're really trying to say is "I'm trying to stay away from sweets containing uncooked batter including eggs, to avoid a bad case of salmonella poisoning", which I think I have, because my stomach is starting to ache.

Oh well, no more belly aching. It's not like I don't mix up raw cake batter and eat it when nobody's around to make a cake for me. However, I at least leave out the eggs (GROAN).

Grandpa - TV Remote Hijacker

2005-04-22T12:45:00.000-04:00

Yesterday my parents called me to meet them down at Grandpa and Grandma's house. When I arrived a quarter til 7, mom was picking at the fattiest looking Shake'N'Bake pork chop I've ever seen. She was obviously disgusted by it because she was making the get-that-mayo-away-from-me face, but of course, she said, "whew I'm so full I can't eat another bite". This after cutting the chop into tiny bits so that it appeared she'd had eaten some.

Grandma scurried to get the dishes done and ran into the living room cuz "Jeopardy's a comin' on and if I don't hurry, Charlie changes the station!" Just as she settled down in her recliner, Grandpa switched to Lifetime Television for Women. The best movie ever made was on. Get ready here's the description...

(http://www.lifetimetv.com/movies/info/move2795.html)
SUDDEN TERROR: THE HIJACKING OF SCHOOL #17
Director: Paul Schneider
Stars: Maria Conchita Alonso and Marcy Walker
Based on a real-life incident in Miami, a quick-thinking bus driver helps to steer a group of children to safety after their bus is hijacked.

If you go to the link you'll see a still frame of Marcy Walker in her SWAT team outfit, which in and of itself is very sexy stretched over her slightly misshapen hulk. For some reason the director allowed her to have a overly processed nappy pony tail sticking out the back of the hat which took me ten minutes to figure out it wasn't one of those mullet caps you get a Spencer's Gifts. I'm not sure if her character is supposed to be albino or if Marcy was really into the role acting frightened for the retarded kids on the hijacked bus, but during the entire film her skin is the color of pale boiled chicken flesh. I dunno, maybe she could have stopped by the spray tanning booth before accepting this role. I mean come on! It's Miami, not Alaska. She would have been suffering from a 3rd degree sunburn if she REALLY lived in Miami with her curdled milky complexion.

Because we didn't catch the beginning, I wasn't sure why a Chinese-Mexican waiter would want to kidnap a bunch of kids because he's been audited by the IRS. I can only assume he was going to take them on a field trip to Washington, D.C. to see the head of the IRS about his tax issues.

The bus driver, played by Maria Conchita Alonso (it's fun saying that name 10 times really fast) is touted in the description as "quick-thinking" because she helps to steer a group of children to safety. Where I'm from a bus driver doesn't HELP to steer a bus, they DO steer the bus, and when they don't the bus steers itself into a tree. It's doesn't take quick thinking to steer a bus people! No disrespect here to the professionals that allowed many people to get pummeled by spit wads while other passengers were getting high, but I think even the cool stop sign and blinking lights are automatic.

So the wheels on the bus are going round and round on the freeway and the SWAT Team pulls up in this super cool boxy 4-door family car from the 80's (the movie is from 1996). The bus driver opens the door, while STILL in motion, (she really should have been fired at this point) and the SWAT Team throws a cell phone into the bus. I'm not sure if the stop sign is extended during this scene, but I really need to watch my new favorite movie again to pick up that detail. Anyway, the phone starts ringing and the hijacker appears to be contemplating whether he should answer it. Everyone gets really annoyed, including the kids, and they start yelling at him to answer the phone! I'm not kidding. The kids are telling the hijacker what to do, and, get this, HE DOES IT! So if these brats are SO bossy and in control WHY the heck didn't they just tell the guy to jump out?

When the SWAT Team (including Marcy) zoom in front of the bus in the really trashy ugly car, in an attempt to slow the bus down, the hijacker tells the bus driver to ram them. This is almost the best part of the movie because when the SWAT Team is rammed, everyone in the car lurches forward grabbing their necks saying they're going to sue the bus driver. No not really, but I would have.

I forget the rest because I drifted off, but when I woke up, the hijacker is dead on the bus. One kid got hit in the eye by flying glass as the bullet came through the window, and the little girl in a pretty white dress now has blood on it. I'm not sure if the girl is mentally challenged or just a really bad actress because she starts spazzing out. Maybe her mother threatened her not to get the dress dirty with bus hijacker blood. I dunno.

Ok kids it's time to exit the back of the bus. In my version of this film I would have inserted OutKast's "Rosa Parks" on the soundtrack....'Aye-a wuz that fuss, everybody get to the back of the bus'........ This is the absolute funniest part of whole film because you don't really hear anyone yelling or crying but when each kid comes to the door of the bus they start their extremely bad fake crying. Wa-wa-wa blah blah blah, and then everyone jumps out the back of the bus and the bus driver breaks her ankle doing so. So all the little kids can jump from 3 feet, but the big bad bus driver breaks her ankle when she does it! HILARIOUS.

*Mom and me were cracking up and grandpa was frowning at us. I think he had developed a sort of crush on the bus driver and was genuinely concerned by her broken ankle.

All the parents of these bratty kids were waiting back at the school. A new bus arrives and now the bus driver has to convince the kids to get back on another bus. None of the kids want to. HELLO! If I was just hijacked on a SCHOOL BUS, a place of stinky rubber smelling misery, I certainly wouldn't get back on the bus. Why didn't the parents drive to where the traumatized kids were and pick them up? I would definitely have filed for divorce from those parents. Here's the kicker though, the SWAT Team goes on the new bus to assure the kids that there isn't a another hijacker. They're checking under the seats and stuff, and they say "all clear" and then THEY GET OFF THE BUS leaving the kids. What sort of assurance is that? If they really trust the bus isn't going to be hijacked again they should have rode with the kids. Talk about low life scum SWAT Team! Then again, maybe the kids and the bus driver had really bad B.O. from being in an non-air-conditioned bus driving around Miami for hours and the SWAT Team couldn't handle the smell.

Well, my stomach started hurting from all the laughter and grandpa was frowning so much his eyes had disappeared, so I went home.

There are too many morales to this story:
1. Don't ride the school bus in Miami, everyone probably has BO, because they were sweating like pigs going to slaughter.
2. If you're the bus driver and a new student older than you gets on, he's probably not in the Continuing Adult Education Program. HE's A FREAKIN' HIJACKER!
3. If you're a school bus hijacker, don't answer the cell phone the SWAT Team throws into the bus while you're flying down the highway, even if the kids tease you into it.
4. If you're an Albino like Marcy Walker, stick to movies set in more alpine regions so you don't blind people with your reflective skin.
5. If you're a bus driver and you have to jump out the back of the bus, have the kids call the fire department ahead of time to set up one of those air bag thingies that people jump into from 40 story burning buildings so you don't break your ankle. Stupid beeeoch.
6. If you have 10 dollars in your pocket, you have more budget than this film did!
7. If you're my grandma, skip doing the dinner dishes so you can snag the TV remote before grandpa hijacks the TV! It will spare bloggers from reading about the BEST movie on Lifetime.

Sportman...er...uh..Sportswomanship?

2005-04-15T11:43:00.000-04:00

Remember how I was disturbed about Peter Pan with a cameltoe? Well get a load of this snipet from a Zimbabwe article about a female athlete now found to be male.

(http://www.zimbabwedemocracytrust.org/outcomes/details?contentId=2041)

"...According to the newspaper, Mr. Sithole told the court that he had been born with both male and female genitals, and that his parents consulted a traditional healer for help. The healer, he said, prescribed a mix of herbs that caused his male organs to disappear entirely.

Unfortunately, he said, his parents paid only half the healer's fee. And when the healer recently tired of waiting for the balance, Mr. Sithole said, he caused the male genitals to spontaneously grow back as punishment. Mr. Sithole said that he had made arrangements to pay the debt, and that he had been scheduled to turn over the money - and revert to exclusively female status - on the day he appeared in court. "

Ok, when I caught my breath and ceased gut wrenching laughter brought on by a name like "Sithole" (which ironically reminds me of my Shi*hole Sweater story), I had to wonder what mix of herbs would make a male organ disappear ENTIRELY?

I REALLY hope terrorists don't get a hold of that stuff, because worse than any A-bomb, worse than any chemical warefare, would be this herb sprinkled in the city water system. Imagine waking up without your Ya-who'sya-daddy and his beanbag . There would be mass suicide to contend with.

Another question raised (snicker - RAISED) by this article: How can a "healer" cause male genitals to spontaneously grow? Does the maker of Viagra know this? Because if I were that healer, I'd be making my way to America to market my abilities!

And what's up with these parents only paying half the fee for a sex change/shrinking operation, I bet Mr. Sithole was really pissed. I mean come on!
---
MOM & DAD: Honey, for Christmas this year, we bought you a gift certificate for penis shrinking by Charles Penzone's Day Spa.

.....after the first appointment and in a higher voice

IT: Uh...mom, dad, Uh...where's the second gift certificate. They said I need a few more treatments to make this permanent or my penis will SPONTANEOUSLY grow back.

MOM & DAD look at each: Did you buy another gift certificate? No, did you buy another gift certificate? NO. Hmm, well honey, I guess you'll have to wait till next year.
---
Poor Mr. Sithole, he was in the girls locker room at an athletic event when his SPONTENAITY decided to present itself.

The morale of the story....Even a shrunken penis has a mind of its own in a girls locker room!

Whoa. This is going to completely change Ripley's Believe it or Not display of shrunken heads.

A Case of the TYD's

2005-04-14T11:16:00.000-04:00

-Do you ever play TYD with your drunk friends at the bar? You know, you point at the ugliest person in the room and say TYD (That's your date.) It was fun in elementary school (TYD - not being drunk), junior high, and has resurfaced as a favorite amongst post college age people. TYD, play it today!

-Prozac is the emotional Triple "A" for those having a nervous breakdown on the highway of life.

Speaking of nervous breakdowns....
-Brittany Spears is having a baby and I'm the one getting morning sickness from it! What gives? Thinking about her as a mom kills me. Hit me baby one more time....was a definite invitation for an abusive relationship, so I'm sure the next headline will be Brittany divorces and of course they'll play out the "Oops I did it again" song title YET another time. And, am I the only one that thinks "Not a Girl, not Yet a Woman" sounds like the theme song for a transvestite festival?

-If Muhammad Ali was all like "fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee" around me, I'd be all like:
SPLAT like a butterfly,
SPLAT like a bee
If you punch me in the face,
I'm gonna break-a your knee!

You know he'd be scared of me!...hello? Ok, maybe not. But y'all got my back right??

Why do I hear crickets and no rallying to my aid? I say that like I'm actually going to fight Muhammad Ali. BAM take that....and that! PUNCH! CRUNCH....R-iiiiii-P..... Uh, I was just playin', I was fighting with his poster and ripped it. He still won! He paper cut me! Big Butterfly-Bee-BEEOOOCH!

8 UnWise Why's Listed

2005-04-07T11:10:00.000-04:00

1. Why does the love of my life, Jennifer Garner, love someone else? She grew up in West Virginia, so did I. She's hot, so am I (ha ha ha ha). She smiles and so do I, mainly because she's smiling at me. We have many things in common. Why is she dating someone from Boston? That's a whole world away from Charleston. Other ladies are jealous of her, because I pay them no mind (snicker), knowing that someday, this sweetest lady will realize, via our ESP connection, that I'm waiting patiently for her. Ok, the truth is, I just want her as my body guard so I can act like a big stupid jerk and have her kick-ass! Her new Alias could be "My Pet"....

2. Why did I just say "My Pet"? I sound like Doctor Evil or some 30's gangster with a bimbo blonde.

3. Why are all my favorite singers dead? Elvis, Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison, Patsy Cline, the lead singer of Blind Melon. I know "why" they're dead, but I'm not sure why I think they're superior to everyone else. *Reminder to moi - try to figure out why (in whispery tone) "I hear dead people". Actually, I think Blind Melon is the band I'd have wanted to be in had I been a drugged-out rocker. In fact, I'm growing my hair out just so that I can start a band. I'm going to calling it Visionary Can't-Elope in honor of Blind Melon.

4. Speaking of which....Why do people elope? I mean I could see why a poor chic might push her man to drive through the chapel in Las Vegas - because she's embarrassed to admit her parents are so poor they're going to serve Spam-burgers at the reception with homemade rancid tasting wine that's really just balsamic vinegar mixed with grape juice. But as a man, I'm all for the wedding. Come on guys HER FAMILY PAYS! Now that's value! You get a free party for standing in front of a bunch of people reciting lines that in our culture mean nothing - "for better or for worse" when it gets worse, people get divorced - then you get all the lovin' your body can handle. Personally I think undressing her after that event will be the hottest thing ever.

5. Why not have the wedding at St. John the Divine Cathedral in New York? If my memory serves me correctly, it's the longest Cathedral in the world from front to back. I'll make that girl and her daddy work for snaggin' this man! Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it (imaginary) people like me!

6. Why did I spend an hour scrubbing the copper bottom of pans I use maybe once a month? Ok, I really just wanted to see it shine. I love new copper. When I see a shiny penny, I keep it over the dark, grimy ones. When they were rehabbing the Statue of Liberty, I thought it would have been awesome to see it done with shiny copper, and let it slowly age back to green, but they didn't do it! Man, I feel like I'm retarded because I'm so easily amused by shiny objects.

7. Why did I use hydrogen peroxide to bleach my hair when I was 14? My hair freakin' looked like a candy corn! The hair on top was yellow and kinda white, and the sides were orange. Grandma actually cried when she saw it. "What did you do to your beautiful head of hair?" Mom couldn't stand the barrage of inquiries into my "rebellion" so she went out and bought a box of Clairol Nice'N'Easy "blonde". I don't remember what number is was, but afterwards, my hair was still orange. Mom called my fake blonde aunt for advice. The next night she bought a box of "winsome wheat". We followed the directions exactly as the box specified. I washed my hair, and suddenly I had old lady blue/gray hair! The picture showed a blonde on the cover, NOT the Shoebox Greeting Lady. There was nothing NICE nor EASY about having old lady blue/gray hair! Mom and I laughed for hours, until I threatened to shave my head. I'd done it 2 years prior, so it wasn't an empty threat. Mom cried "NOOOOOOOooooo!" "I'll run out right now and buy you a new baseball cap!" I was a 80 year old lady for 3 weeks when I was a 14 year old boy. Finally, after washing my hair A LOT, it faded to blonde. By that time my roots started showing! And...for 10 years afterwards when my hair grew out it was curly. Ain't nothing easy 'bout hair care. Nice'N'Easy...one-oh-HATE!

8. "Into each life a little rain must fall," but into mine it's a fu*kin' monsoon! And, I'm talking literal rain. Columbus weather sucks hairy toes on a woman. Why....does it rain so much here? I'm not really a weather man, but I would never name a storm in the tropics a "depression"! How cold you be depressed in the tropics? Try going 6 months with clouds EVERY DAY. Fu*k depression! This weather pattern should be called a NON-tropical Suicide!

2005-03-31T10:50:00.000-05:00

Feeding Tube Frenzy....
Good Things About Feeding Tubes:

-Fear Factor would be a lot easier with a feeding tube. They should start a new series "Feeding Tube Fear Factor." The contestants would have a blind-fold on and they would stick various unknown liquids down the feeding tube.

-A keg party. It'd be like pulling a car in for gas. Kegs should have an adapter just for this purpose. "Fill me up!"

-Similarly, you could buy a bottle of vodka and a bottle of orange juice, get one of those baseball caps with two pop can holders, add a second feeding tube, and PRESTO! Screwdrivers all night!

-Stealing drinks at the bar would be a cinch!

-You could defend yourself against mugging by yakking and squirting them with stomach acid instead of mace.

-When you belch you could make cool noises like when you let air out of a baloon and squeeze the top.

-If you ever eat too much, you could just hook the end up to the garbage disposal and suck the food out.

Bad Things About Feeding Tubes:

-When I stuck it in a Rax chocolate chip milkshake it would probably get clogged.

-What if I'm in a hurry and the end flopped into the toilet!

-When you pass out (at the keg party) people would probably stick worms in the end.

-I don't think they're dishwasher safe.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The Walls Are Covered With...
...Dirt Cake. We're having a potluck today at work, so last night I went to the store to buy the ingredients. Being that I do not own a mixer, I used the blender to make the pudding. Creaming, the butter and cream cheese together with powdered sugar became tedious so I figured tossing it in the blender with the pudding to be a good idea. The darn thing didn't mix at all. Worried that I broke it I dumped the mixture into a huge bowl and finised making my desert. Back to the blender, I thought I better clean this sucker out....I filled the blender with water and soap, placed the lid on, and hit blend just to see if the piece of junk still worked. SPLASH, the lid popped off and watery chocolate pudding went everywhere - on the walls, on the floor, on ME. I ran and got a towel and wiped everything clean. Luckily the walls didn't get stained. I hope everyone likes this Damned Dirt Cake. It was more trouble than it was worth. (Due to my own stupidity of course).
-------------------------------
The recipe for anyone that may want it...

Dirt Cake

1 Large package of Oreo cookies
1/2 c butter, softened
8oz cream cheese, softened
1 c confectioner's sugar
1 ts vanilla
2 pk instant chocolate pudding
3 c milk
12 oz whipped topping,
1 tub

crush cookies... set aside.cream the butter, cream cheese, sugar and vanilla until smooth and fluffy..... set aside.combine pudding mix and milk until well blended. then fold in whipped topping.gently fold the cream cheese and pudding mixtures together.then layer crumbs and mixture.

Special Treatment

2005-03-25T15:16:00.000-05:00

A few years ago I saw Nicolas Cage in a sunglasses store on Madison Avenue in New York. I went up to the door and found it to be locked. Evidently it was a private sunglasses fitting. I find special treatment for people (other than me) horrid. It was only 3:00 in the afternoon and this store was locking ME out for Nicolas Cage. I hate Nicolas Cage! He's a big dopey-doofus, and there's only room enough in the world for me to act that way. Just then a tour bus full of old lady pulled up to let them off for their afternoon shopping spree. I screamed "Nicolas Cage is in that store!" pointing to the establishment. The old ladies were all excited and ran over to the window and actually waved at him and pulled out their little notebooks and pens. I hope Nicolas had fun getting out of that store...... I kept walking with a satisfied smile on my face. How's that for special treatment Nicolas?

TO BOLDLY GO....

2005-03-10T20:21:00.001-05:00

...where no fabric has gone before. Is that the goal of underwear when they become wedged in your posterior region? Well, I'm putting this out there for all fabrics - I'VE HAD A WEDGIE BEFORE - so you can stop the butt space exploration. That's right Cotton! I'm talking to you. Yeah, your friend Poly Ester violated me just a couple days ago when I was reaching and bending for a pan in the dishwasher. I know Cotton, that you'd prefer to come between me and Poly Ester. I agree, that with your touch, your feel, you ARE the fabric of my life (other than DNA). If I'd only been faithful to you, Poly never would have explored my grand canyon with the naughty fingers of her synthetic microfibers. But she was a fiber on the move baby, she bent me - shaped me, any way she wanted me, but the feeling of her in my personal space just wasn't the same, Cotton. You are the one I want touching me in my special places. When I'm hot you breathe, thus letting me breathe, when I'm cold, you hold in my heat, but when I fart...do you have to, do you have to let it linger? Oh, I'm such a fool for you. I've got you wrapped around my dinger and body. Even when I kick you to the floor (so that I can go potty), you're always so natural, so real with me. It's ok that you're not the same as you were when I bought you. You've stretched out to accommodate the, uh...CRACK, in our relationship as it grows ever wider from too many Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies. What's that? What about Wool? Cotton, honey, baby. I'll never see Wool again. Remember when I had that rash that I said was from changing soaps, well, she's the one that gave it to me. Synthetic whore! Plus, she's into scratching, and I'd prefer to keep things less abrai-u-sive. Oh yeah? What about the time I got you wet and you shrunk? What about that? You big fabric ball buster! I was singing soprano for a week! Ok I forgive you, and I'm glad you've done the same for me. OH GOOD LORD....you scared me. Quit "creeping" up on me like that!

BREAKER BLOG-9 for a RADIO CHECK

2005-03-08T17:06:00.000-05:00

GO AHEAD BREAK - BLOGGER BREAK!

Eat your wheaties,
Eat your fill,
I'll be back
To dish and spill
I'll miss you much, I will indeed
don't forget me, I beg and plead.

BE BACK SOON!

I'll miss y'all, but will be back.

Sit'N'Spin

2005-02-28T13:14:00.000-05:00

I broke my nephew's Sit'N'Spin a few months ago because evidently there's a weight limit. I sat down and when I tried to spin, all I heard was a cracking sound as the center wheel came off in my hands. Why? Why don't children's' toys support fat uncles? There are kids fatter than me that still would like to sit'n'spin. What better way to reduce overeating for kids or adults than being nauseated by spinning? I guess they figure if you're round you might as well just play that game the Fire Men taught you. "Stop! Drop! N'Roll" Except fat kids like to turn it into stop, drop-and-eat-all-skinny neighbor-kid's-cinnamon-rolls.

I remember at the age of 8, running with my friends, pretending to be on fire, and because SOMEONE in the group was so lazy he didn't want to run anymore he yelled "STOP. DROP and ROLL!" And everyone else was like, "that's dumb" and this boy that had spent all summer eating gravy, spice cake, french fries, and hamburgers was like "Uhm, no it's not. It saves lives and look" *drops, n'rolls* "I'm not on pretend fire anymore" and this other kid who was stinky because he pooped his pants all the time was like, "you're still dumb, and we're still on fire, see ya!" and with that they left the fat kid all alone to Stop, Drop, and Roll home. But on his way home the stinky kid's mom was like "HEY *fatty*, come get a cinnamon roll, I just made them" So fatty went over and as stink-o's mom answered the phone he ate them all cuz the mom didn't really say not to and she left them out and there only 3, but they were kind of like Grand's or something, so they were big and OH so good. Then fatty ran the rest of the way home cuz he felt like he maybe shouldn't have done that, but secretly was happy to have punished the other kids since they'd called him dumb, but was thinking "now who's the dumb one, stinky skinny kid?" Ok, do I have to spell it out for you, the fat kid was me!

The lesson of the story up to this point is that fat kids should NOT be left out because they'll eat all your snacks, they should be left out because they'll turn into fat uncles that break your toys.
But the story does not end there. I played Stop Drop and Roll in many forms even into my early 20's. Except at age 21 it turned into the STOP drinking vodka long enough to DROP that pill into my mouth so I can ROLL the rest of the night. That didn't last extremely long and since I turned 25 it's been more along the lines of STOP eating Chipotle burritos, DROP moola on bills, and ROLL over in bed so I can sleep 12 more hours, all while maintaining my perfect shape - ROUND.

The new, yet uncannily the same, morale of the story is: Parents don't let the Fire Department try to save lives with the whole STOP DROP and ROLL shpiel. All they're doing is creating another fat uncle that will break his nephew's toys, and your clogged-artery heart!

Poor Thing

2005-02-25T08:48:00.000-05:00

First I want to say, I don't hate pets, just mentally challenged pet owners. And though, I can't help myself but laugh, I'm slightly saddened by the stupidity of this lady at work. This lady was out for a couple days so I just asked if she was on vacation. Her teammmates were like "oh no, you didn't hear..her puppy died"

"Oh no, seriously?"

"Yeah, she was driving with her windows down, and went around the bend really fast, and the puppy flew out the window and died."

"Uhm, excuse me! How the hell did that happen?"

"Well she had it on her shoulder petting it, when she got the bend in the road she needed both hands to steer, so she let go of the puppy, and when she did, it FLEW out the window!"

The poor puppy, but can you visualize this happening, or being the person behind her seeing a puppy fly out the window?

Granny and Gramps

2005-02-23T21:12:00.000-05:00

Some quotes heard at my grandparents house, these are my dad's parents from Eastern Kentucky. They're the little endearing qualities that make them who they are and ain't nobody gonna change 'em. My sister and I, when we were kids, would balk at going there because they were so backwoods, country bumpkin. Now, how I long for the simple life. Keep in mind Grandpa is hard of hearing, so Grandma has to yell. He's 86, uses a walker, she's 78 and has arthritis.

#1: Gma W say, in her accent, to Gpa W: "CHARLIE WAKE UP! Ya fell asleep with tobacc-ie in ya mouth ageeen an' iz drippin' down your chin onto the pocket T-shirt I just worshed."

#2: Hearing Gma W say, in response to a commercial where a lady is trying to decide what to wear in a closet full of clothes: "Well, I don' have that prob'em. I know what I'm a wearin'. A sweatshirt and jeans, or a sweatshirt and peddle poooshers."

#3: Gma yells "CHARLIE, get in here! It's time to prick your finger!" under her breath "I'll prick mine too, see if can have me a piece of that there punkin pie"

#4: "CHARLIE, put your teeth in, supper's ready!"

#5: "CHARLIE, cover your mouth when ya choke so you don't spit on the Salmon Patties!"

#6: Gma: "I keeps me some flour 'round in casin' anyone wants me to make homemade bizkeets. But not many people are 'round for br'kf'st anymore"

#7: Gpa trying to talk with a wad of tobacco...

HIM: schowzwokgon?
ME: huh?
HIM: I said SCHOWZWOKGON?
ME: I'm sorry Gpa, I don't know what you're saying?
HIM: "Oh sh..." removes wad "how's work goin'?"
ME: Oh it's fine, same ol, same ol.
HIM: "yeah". bites off a new chew.

His wads of tobacco used to liter the yard. My cousins and I would be playing freeze tag, and it never failed, one of us would a) sprain our ankle on a huge dried hard tobacco ball, or b) step in an oozy sticky gross thing and have to go use terpentine to remove it from our shoe. Our parents never let us go barefoot in their yard. They said it was because of nails, but we all knew the real reason.

The best, though, would be mowing the lawn in the summer. When one of those hardened tobacco lumps gets wound up in the lawnmower, it launches 20 yards. We could only hope it would knock out the grumpy old woman's window next door. She was one of those people that had a snappy yappy little dog that looked just like her. One time she gave me a tootsie roll. It was chalky and dried up. I think she'd had it for years. I was afraid to eat it, I was 5 years old, and she looked like a witch. Gray fazzly hair, warts on her face. But it was candy so I ate it anyway.

The moments so uncomfortable, back then have become the memories I cherish today.

TAG! You're IT!

2005-02-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

I pulled this little tiny skin tag off my neck the other day. Don't worry, I'm ok. It didn't have a warning lable on it like pillows and mattresses do, but it did bleed like a mo'fo'. So now every time I'm bored or nervous instead of biting my nails or pulling my hangnails, I pick my skin tag scab. A few days ago I thought it best to let it heal to prevent it from turning into a giant neck tumor. I put a band aid over it, and tried to play it off like I was covering a hickey, but then everyone pointed and laughed and was like "you with a hickey, get real." When I pulled the band-aid off, the skin tag had turned into a button! For cryin' out loud! It looks like I have a dog nipple on my neck! The new look of the "button" made me so nervous I started picking it off again. I seriously would rather it turn into a tumor than have a dog nipple sticking out. I mean, I'd rather not be lying on the floor when suddenly the neighborhood puppies come barging in to suckle on my neck. Also, if it turns into a tumor it's covered by my insurance, otherwise having it removed would be cosmetic. Oh, I'm probably exaggerating, ya know, making a mountain out of a "mole" hill.

Scat-A-Gory's***

2005-02-18T14:33:00.000-05:00

I saw an ad in the paper that Pleasure Palace was having a big sale after Valentine's Day. What better time to stock up for the future? So I decided to drive by and see what the dealio was. When I arrived at the said location, though it stated "Pleasure Palace" on the sign, it was obviously a Wendy's because it was shaped just like all Wendy's are always designed - with that greenhouse looking thingy that's all windows. So needless to say, it was NOT a palace, which was UNpleasurable. I wonder why they didn't use the Wendy's sign and paint the red head with pigtails into a saucy sex kitten? How hard could it be to make Wendy look hot? I mean, come on, ADD A MOLE! She already brings to mind hamburgers and fries, and that's the closest thing to sexy you can get in my opinion. Hmm.

While balking at titles such as "When A Man Loves A HIRED Woman" and "Where the Red Fern and Bush Grows", I saw that boobie candy was buy one get one free. So I picked up two, because nobody wants a uniboob, only to realize WHY it was so cheap. They were past the expiration date. Who desires to eat curdled boobies? Well, the hobo at the entrance beggin for change - that's who. He's blind so I didn't think he'd notice the date being expired and the only bumps on bobbie candy aren't braille, so I thought it would be a nice way to feel like I gave to the needful in society. Man, he gobbled them down quick! I never saw anyone eat bobbies like THAT before. A few minutes later as I was browsing through the half off half eaten edible panties, I hear what sounds like water gushing and splatting on the floor. The curdled boobies had given the blind hobo diarrhea and he was taking a splat in the dungeon display! That pretty much ended my shopping spree.

Hobo's misfortunate bowel movement had me thinking about colon cleansings which brought to mind colonics. Websters's Online Dictionary lists a colonic as "irrigation of the colon." Who wants a canal coming out of their colon? Why are famous people so into that? Is it because they're so full of sh*t that they need a special treatment that a good old squat'n'plop won't solve? Do famous people with kids purchase Keri Colonic dolls instead of Betsy Wetsy dolls? Oh and by the way, if you punch "colonic" into Google, the first thing that comes up is "Colonics Made Easy" and "Colonics & Colon Cleanser". COLONICS MADE EASY? I'm sorry, but, what do the directions on something like that say:

Step 1. Eat.
Step 2. Sit.
Step 3. Open irrigation system.
Step 4. Sh*t.

I don't know about colonics, but I do have an idea about what might make regular bathroom time a little easier. A toilet with stirrups and arm rests! Cuz you know how hard it is to push when you ate too much cheese! All I'm sayin' is that a little better leverage wouldn't be so bad, would it? The arm rest would be so helpful when you eat jalapeno's for dinner and the afterburn becomes too much, and you're forced into a standing ovation. You know what I mean, squeeze the buns, clap the hands, thinking the burning barage is going to stop. OUCHIE.

So I wrote a little dity about when I take a shi*ty.

Yo! Yo! This ain't no song about smiles and kissin'
So stop gasin' and listen
To sounds reverbin' from '[da bafroom
Boom Boom Boom.
My tummy's as full as a hot air balloon.
So get out da way Beeoch, get out da way.
SirTalksALot need a colonic cleansin' today.
Word!

****My apologies for the scatologies contained within this post.****Some events have been sensationalized***

I'll Huff and I'll Puff...

2005-02-16T10:41:00.000-05:00

I'll huff and I'll puff...
..after trying to run for 2 minutes. At the urging of my roommate, who seems to think exercise is such a wonderful way to spend spare time, I donned my runnings shoes, sweat pants, and band-aided my man boobs, so the sweaty shirt wouldn't rub the sensitive parts raw, and put on a dock workers cap so my ears didn't get chilled. I'd have preferred to take a nap, actually I had already snoozed for a few hours before he got home, but another nap is NEVER out of the question. We open the garage door and there in front of the house are a bunch of construction workers changing a tire. It was exactly like they were working. There were 10 of them standing around watching 1 guy work on the tire. Anyway, we start stretching, and I can't help but crack up when I'm stretching because I think it looks so staged, though I know it's necessary. Pulling arms behind your back, pulling legs behind your back, trying to balance while standing on one foot, putting one leg out to the side while bending your other knee. So off we go, and I'm movin' groovin' and runnin' all stupid until I actually start to feel the burn in my emaciated lungs. The sweat starts pouring, I start huffin' and puffin' like an asthmatic in a dust storm, I look at my roommate and he's all like NOT sweating, NOT huffin', and NOT puffin'. Eventually I got my second wind and was able to keep up. Towards the end of the run, which was maybe 2 miles, my stomach starts squirting acid up my esophagus. All I can think of is Zantac, then we pass Eastern Piazza Court, and I'm getting dizzy, so I think it says Pizza Court....now I want a big greasy pepperoni pizza with Parmesan Zantac sprinkled on top...mmmmmmm. Nearly 1/2 an hour later, after my beet red face fades to a healthy pink sunburnt look, I feel good. Not just good like I drank 5 beers, or 3 vodkas, but really good. Like MAN-I'M-GLAD-THAT'S-OVER-WITH good. Tonight I may just take a long nap, eat pizza, drink beer, and appreciate having man boobs and a beer belly. Oh wait! What should I have for dessert?

Have You Ever...

2005-02-11T15:32:00.000-05:00

Have you ever written a poem about a girl, and the girl was like, nobody's ever written a poem about me before, and then they show it to everyone, and then everyone thinks you like her, and she probably thinks you like her, and you think you like her, but then you're like "whoa" she's kinda strange (even thought you're weird too, but not as weird as her, and your weird in a different way)? And then you meet her parents and her mom thinks you're hot.... AND she tells you that her mom thinks your hot? And you're like, "so did she tell me that her mom thinks I'm hot because her mom really WANTS me, or did she tell me that to see if I'd ask her that, or see if I'd be like "tell her she's hot too"? How does a guy respond to a girl whose mom thinks that? Then she brings her bald dad to name that tune at BW3's and he talks about the only reason he played sports was to "get laid" and you think...."what a weird-o." Why not play something like bingo and get laid by old laid-ees with golf visors on and pull the reverse Anna Nicole Smith, because all you can think of is how old bald guys saying the word "laid" feels creepy. It's not like I'm not going to punch him in the arm and say "way to go! is that how you ended up with kids, playing sports?" And when you go to her parents house the dad has killed and hung the heads of a zillion animals, and you feel like there may be a spot left on that wall for you, even though I'm not from. Then you meet the married step brother, who's wife is MIA, probably at her parents, because the step brother is the most psycho of all the family members, asking girls to punch him and bite him at a small gathering where drinks were served. Perhaps serving him a tranquilizing dart would have been a better plan. Then he bit the dog because the dog bit him. And you end up liking her friend more than her, then after you like her friend, you like her friend's roommate, but that would just be wrong to ask the friend's roommate out when she's the last girl standing after the others pass out from binge drinking. So home you go....mmm WHITE CASTLE is on the way. MUST STOP.

I'm frightened to just "write" poems about girls now. Maybe I should interview them first.....

What Is MORE Disturbing?.....

2005-02-04T11:59:00.000-05:00

...Peter Pan with cameltoe or Peter Pan sporting grapes and ding dong?

As I was spreading Jiffy Peanut Butter on my bread, it reminded me how my mom would only buy Peter Pan brand peanut butter and how I hated it because "choosy mom's were supposed to "choose Jiff" and mine didn't. Later I realized she wasn't choosy about peanut butter because she didn't eat it! Thinking about Peter Pan PB got me to thinking about Peter Pan the play, and how Mary Martin, a WOMAN played, "the boy who never grew up". How does a parent explain that to their children? And what would be so bad about a boy playing the part meant for a boy?

Here are a few of my ponderances/questions:

#1 I'm sure at some point along the way Mary Martin's tights must have been pulled "too tight" when she was hoisted above the stage to "fly", most likely causing cameltoe. How did a parent keep from cracking up? What if a little boy, whose hero is Peter Pan, asked, "Mommy why does Peter Pan have the same parts as Wendy instead of a peter, like me?" Talk about causing a gender identity crisis!

#2 Is the rumor true that Mary Martin just HAD to wear maxi's with wings, so she could fly right?

#3 If Peter Pan is really a woman, then we have a reverse case of the Crying Game. And when Peter finally grew up, that would either make our little Wendy a little lesbian, or a little disappointed when she reaches for the Ho-Ho and ends up with a camel toe-toe.

#4 Why couldn't the costume designer just have designed the pants a little more loosely? Did they have to be skin tight? This would have solved the whole problem, thus avoiding any of the sexus testimonium, and allowing the proper person to play the part.

#5 (Somewhat Unrelated to subject) Did Peter Pan ever remind anyone else of Kermit the Frog? And Kermit always sounds like he has peanut butter in his throat.......possible connection?????

FINAL THOUGHTS: Mom's, avoid having your son think about Peter Pan's gender bending issues by being a choosy mom that chooses Jiff!

Shi*hole Sweater

2005-02-03T16:22:00.000-05:00

Today I'm wearing my "shithole" sweater, so dubbed by some completely out of line curly blonde-headed chic at the sports bar. I was just minding my own business (and other peoples) when this 20-something gal comes in looking 40-something, already drunk, with an old geezer. She does a shot of Jaeggermeister and he lets her stumble around doing the tipsy talk and touch. She started heading my way and I started to feel studly, like I must look good so she wants me. Well, she comes up to me and says, "Your sweater's a Shithole! My brother had the same exact one and gave it to the Goodwill because my mom bought it for him, and he HATES anything mom gives him....so..he gave it away." Throwing her arm in the air in a gesture of tossing rubbish. Her last word trailed off into the high pitch whisper tone characteristic of drunks who are about to get emotional.

The whole scene started to remind me of Episode 14 of the Torkelson's when money troubles coincided with Prom. To compensate, and not deprive the poor child from experiencing her most cherished event, the mother bought the eldest girl (with the squeaky voice) a prom dress from the Salvation Army and sewed a giant fake flower over the hideous ink spot. When Torkleson arrived at prom, the bitchy rich girl, who'd weeks before donated the dress to charity, ripped the flower off revealing the ink spot below, exposing the wobble-voiced Torkleson for the Salvation Army shopper that she was. I think she screamed, cried, and ran out of the prom, but that is neither here nor there. It was hilarious!

I didn't scream and run out of the sports bar like a debunked debutante, I was like "Hell yeah my sister bought this for $1 buck at the Goodwill, what a steal!"

This required me to stop and admire my discount shopping sister and how it runs in my family. My aunts prom dress was a such a bargain, she found it on Blue Light Special for $10 at KMart! And Grandma with her strategically placed pins and scarves, never wears anything less than designer, but never pays more than $20 for clothes. Of course, when she wore a broach in the middle of her back we were forced to stop taking her to the Gabriel Brother's Hole-Sale.

Back at the bar, as I was minding someone else's business, and hitting on some other man's woman, the drunk girl was turned towards the wall, head bobbing up and down, with her arms out in front of her like a mummy trying to walk up a hill. She started falling back against some random guy that was sitting on a bar stool, it looked like one of those battery operated walking puppies that yaps and barks and when it bumps into something it reverses then tries again. She must have done it 4 times before the old guy came and took her away.

The morale of the story is: Never let a good deal be tarnished by a bad drunk!

Violinists/Fiddlers:

2005-02-03T09:48:00.000-05:00

Have you ever watched a violinist and wondered 'why is their head SO into the music, always moving along with their arm?' Seriously, every solo violinist I've seen gets into the groove, but only with their head and arm. "Flight of the Bumble Bee" is murder to play, I'm sure, but seeing it performed is like an epileptic seizure on stage. I was tempted to shout "for the Love of God, turn off the strobe light", but there wasn't one on.

Does their neck eventually become permanently sideways? The only reason I wonder this is because yesterday I fell asleep with my neck kind of sideways for about 10 minutes and when I woke up it really hurt. They have to practice for hours and hours, which is likened unto work. I was resting. If my neck hurt from resting, wouldn't theirs hurt worse from work?

Do they date each other? It would seem the ideal mate for a violinist would be another violinist. Being that their heads would always tilt in the same manner, and quite possible, at the same angle, therefore, when turned toward one another, their mouths are lined up for kissing to avoid bumping noses.

Does a fat violinist with a double chin need a bigger chin rest on the instrument? Speaking of fat violinists, they'd be good at eating tacos...in fact a seasoned violinist ONLY eats tacos - the food designed to be eaten with a tilted head per that commercial a few years ago. Ok, I made that up, I don't know what they eat.

Does a violinist ever rebel and become a fiddler? Are they shunned by society for "crossing over"? Why the rift?

Fiddler's are FUNNY. Especially in blue grass. They sit there in overalls and keep the beat by exaggeratedly stomping their foot up and down. Fiddler's are usually the skinniest person in the bluegrass band too. I wonder how many calories stomping one foot can burn and, does this create a muscle imbalance in their legs? Hmmm, considering most fiddlers in the US are probably in Appalachia, having a leg imbalance could be an asset. It helps walkin' on the hills folks. In light of this, I think Fiddler's have a "leg up" on violinists. (ba-dum dum crash) Besides that, the fiddler can always date the hot chic whiskey jug blower whose lung capacity is just amazing. And, once the band finishes their set, you can do laundry on the washboard or eat dinner with the spoons! Try getting any functionality out of a classical musician's instrument.....

Random Thoughts

2005-01-27T12:40:00.000-05:00

#1 kd Lang sounds great, but every time I see her I think of Vince Gill, who also sounds great. I'm led to believe they're related. In fact, they may very well be identical twins, but she got a vagina....and he got the chest? His is bigger than hers these days. If they're not related, and if she didn't like other women, they'd make a good couple. Actually, they could get together if they'd move to Utah and become Mormon. Vince could stay married to Amy Grant and marry kd Lang too. That way they'd all be "satisfied".

#2 Alanis Morrisette's song "Ironic". What exactly is so ironic about a black fly in your Chardonnay? I'd pick that sucker out and keep drinking. Ain't no little fly gonna ruin my buzz! If it were a coagulated blood ball in my Chardonnay, then we'll talk. Otherwise, you'll find me begging for change by the wine shop or passed out in a pile of trash behind the nearest wine tasting location. Yeah, I think Alanis is a big baby, remember when a bunch of Alanis's were in that car in the MTV Video...well one of them was acting like a baby, and that's probably the one that thinks a fly in wine is ironic.

#3 Wine Tasting - It tastes ok going down, but after "tasting" too much I get sick and the second round of wine tasting begins, which is to say, I yak. After "tasting" nearly a bottle of cheap Merlot I was on my way home and had to pull over and let lose what "IRONICALLY" looked like coagulated blood balls. (Good thing it wasn't near my Chardonnay). The balls were actually matzah balls I didn't chew well enough. (I was trying to stop the burning of the acid reflux caused by the cheapest wine ever). Suddenly.....

#4 I found myself sitting in front of a hospital. What better place to get sick from drinking? The police would think you're just on your way to the ER for the flu, not because you've just ingested grape juice that sat a long long long time in a barrel in France.

#5 Red wine on tan carpet stinks, and stains. Stinky Stain. This right before a yearly family reunion 2 hours away driving in a car without an air conditioner in August. Matzah balls, though they may stay together going down, and coming back up, tend to fall apart when you try wiping them up with your sock. Also, be careful not to step on them once you've taken your shoes off to get your sock. It's so nasty. Slimy. So it was a slimy stink stain STUCK on my sockless shoeless sweaty foot skin.

#6 Bulimia is a lot of work and money for someone that doesn't even like to exercise. I mean you have to eat all this food (chew, chew, chew) then find a place to puke. Then clean up the mess. Why not just chew the food and not swallow? Spit the chewed food in a cup and feed it to underprivileged babies. Hey! It works for mamma birds. If someone is going to spend all that money on food just to get rid of it 5 minutes later, why not kill two birds with one stone and help those less fortunate that don't have teeth yet? Besides there's got to be a tax write off here somewhere for the donation. (That's 3 reasons not to swallow).

#7 If you were thinking a dirty comment about "3 reasons not to swallow" then you're truly strange. Overlooking the fact I've just said I think kd Lang should marry Vince and Amy Gill, I'll drink wine containing bugs, I've stepped on a puke matzah ball, and bulimics shouldn't swallow, they should spit the food in babies mouths....I think I'm pretty normal. Besides isn't "normal" relative?

Just a few thoughts.....

Meanderings of Memory

2005-01-27T09:53:00.000-05:00

My mind is mulling over landscapes in my memory. Places I've been throughout my life. Remembrances of what I was feeling at those times. The most vivid of these remnants came during the quietness of being alone. When I was able to focus on the view, focus on the scene, focus on a process, grasping the concept of living without relying upon the opinions of an outside source.

Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge, feeling the wind, the sun, seeing the view of the hills and mountains, the ships passing below, convertibles zooming by on the highway, tiny dots in the water on surfboards. The camera flashes, the tourists talking, pointing, and posing. The smile never left my face. I was someplace I never thought I'd ever be. California was never a reality to me and here it was in all dimensions. I'd read about the construction of this massive bridge in Richard Halliburton's Complete Book of Marvels when I was 8 years old. There I was standing on a fantasy13 years later.

I thought I had it all then - money, a good job, an awesome apartment in NYC, nice clothes. But I had it all alone. I picked up my cell phone and called my mom, dad, and sister. My excitement meant a lot to me, but meant more if they were able to share it with me. I truely wished they were there to be a part of this discovery. It wasn't meant to be. They were very happy for me, I could tell that through the phone, by the sound of their voices, but this to be my experience alone. After wishes of love and goodbye, I hung up.

The wind picked up and I stood there with my eyes closed and took a deep breath of the ocean air. Far out at sea the clouds were gathering. The sun was still bright on land. I picked up a few rocks and threw them losing track as they disappeared from eyesight. My camera helped capture postcard worthy photos. But I don't need them to remember, because the scenes remain embossed on my soul.

I'm now 25, I'd like to take that journey again. I suspect my current unsure man would find my past's confident boy along the bridge and they'd merge to throw rocks into the sea. I would still call home, still take a deep breath, but this time I would know that I have nothing if I don't have God. For though I am weak, He is strong, and the boy that I once was is broken. Personally the only way to mend my life is through Christ.

I give up, I give in, I let Him be my all. I thank Him.

Bagel and Coffee

2005-01-26T10:37:00.000-05:00

My cousin gave me a ride yesterday, because I borrowed my roommate's car and had to take it back to him at work, so we hung out for a while......

"DON'T STEP ON THE..." "....BAGEL!" I screamed as my cousin's foot descended on a giant wet bagel lying on the sidewalk. We were walking around Grandview contemplating why the Lutheran church changed from multicolored stained glass to hues of blue. (because it's now a Catholic church). It was seriously the biggest bagel I've ever seen, perhaps due to water saturation, but it was as big as her foot. Then to the post office, which is right next door to a photo development shop. We know this because we went in the photo shop to mail a package.

US: "Yuck, this post office smells funny" "How much to mail a package?".
Photo Guy: "Try next door, this is the photo shop"
US: "Ooops Sorry."
Photo Guy: "happens all the time, don't worry about it."

Off to Panera Bread for a bowl of roasted corn soup. I plopped down in the booth, only to find the springy suspension out. Good food. After eating, need coffee, so sleepy, need coffee. I find myself addicted to coffee these days. It has to be very strong too, not the watery crap from the cafeteria at work. Starbucks, Stauf's, Cup'O'Joe, or Caribou - these are the only brands giving the caffeine buzz necessary to sustain life. Milky Way....mmm. Carmel syrup, whipped cream, chocolate. 1000 calories - (minus) caffeine induced jitters = (equals) me still fat. Exercise - HA! My fingers are in shape. Typing IS exercise.

While standing in line for coffee I crack up at the sight of a seedy grainy raisin cookie. "That things looks like (cat poop)" I spare the people behind me the description. Any particular reason coffee shops have health food while their calorie/caffeine rich drinks cause hypertension? It's like serving a salad with a Big Mac - retarded.

We walk to the fish store. I want to check out the bloodworms just to be grossed out. They don't carry them any more. It sucks.

It's time to go elsewhere, Grandview's venue of day time fun has worn out. In the car I realize I have a booger. We stop at Burger King so I can dig it out. She has to throw snow on her window, because she's out of window cleaner. Booger free, window clean - what other hilarity can ensue?......

Night Riders

2005-01-22T20:04:00.000-05:00

Last night my friends and I drove around...all night. We tried to go dancing, but that didn't pan out. We just drove and drove, and drove. Along the way we talked of memories. Spoke of people we used to know who've moved on. Laughter. There was tons of laughter and many jokes to be told. Road construction has changed the face of our old stomping grounds causing many wrong turns, u-turns, and pulling into people's drive ways to figure out our direction. We owned the road, claimed it's snowy surface as our own. Our tire tracks were the sole tarnish on a canvas of white. Our drive began at 1:30 AM and ended at 5 AM. That's about the same time the freezing rain began.

Finallly back to the apartment, we laid down to rest three snickering children. Dreaming of the Waffle House's delicious breakfast fare. One friend said, "I need to go to the gym." The other two of us, said we'd drop him off....."on the way to the WAFFLE HOUSE! We'll wave at you from the window with a waffle stuffed in our mouths as your run on the treadmill!" Fits of laughter again. Silence. A sigh. Thoughts of the frozen scenes passing in the car window. Pillows soft - blankets warm. Drifting to sleep as a train, clackety-clack, goes by.

Our drive was needed. Our caccoon from the world. Friends are needed. There's no better way to relieve stress than many aimless hours driving. Laughter, personal histories, shared memories. Nope, there's no better way to spend a night......

"My sister is having a baby!"

2005-01-20T15:09:00.000-05:00

Ok, that headline was misleading. She's actually already had the baby a boy, six and a half years ago. He's a bundle of...joy (most of the time). Sometimes he can be a bundle of barbed-wire - hard to handle! The reason I've been recollecting this event happens to be because I drove my grandma to Charlotte the moment we heard my sister went into labor. My sister had just moved from West Virginia to North Carolina in hopes to find freedom and herself. She found a husband, an embryo, and motherhood along the way.

I was 18 at the time and excited to be able to take road trips to visit my sister. We hadn't been too close growing up, as she is 5 years older than me, but as we grew older we found things in common, mainly eating out and the need to be on the go. It was wonderful news to hear her 9 months of strenuous pregnancy were soon to be over resulting in me being an uncle. I'd been living in Columbus then, and my grandmother lives in West Virginia, a couple hours away. After making the necessary arrangements to leave work early (it was Friday), borrowing a reliable vehicle from my mom (she isn't able to travel - agoraphobia), I was off!

I arrived in West Virginia to find my grandmother ready to go. We packed up her stuff, which includes a week's worth of clothes regardless of the length of the trip, because 'you never know
what could happen when you're away from home', a bag of her prescriptions to last months, many bottles which she hasn't taken for years, towels, and three rags in sandwich baggies (soapy, wet, dry) in case anyone spills something. I noticed Grandma was wearing house slippers with her slacks instead of her normal stylish shoes. I also noticed she was limping a bit. Inquiring what was wrong she said 'oh just a little sore on my toe'. I kind of shrugged it off in all of the excitement of the coming baby, not knowing, that to a diabetic foot problems wreck havoc.

Grandma corrected her posture for one last glance in the mirror before we set off on our trip. She was still a beautiful lady, as we always told her, she hadn't given in to the normal kinky perm that most grandma's get after a certain age. Her white hair was shoulder length, curled and scrunched at the ends, with hair spray and mousse to keep in place, of course!
She wore dark red lipstick, using the same lipstick as "rouge" to match her cheeks and lips.
I could see the joy on her face to be making this trip. It meant a lot to both of us. Grandma didn't drive and Grandpa no longer could as he was on heavy pain killers due to circulation problems
in his legs. She wasn't able to get out of the house much, because she was afraid to leave Grandpa alone in his condition, so this was a mini-vacation for her. For me, it was a chance to
prove my adulthood because it was the first long trip I was allowed to go on, and especially without another liscensed driver in the car. And ultimately it was her first great grand child, and my first nephew!

It's approximately 5 hours from Parkersburg, WV to Charlotte, NC, we passed the time talking about my new job at the long distance company. Grandma had also worked as a local phone operator in the 1940's, it was interesting to hear how much things had changed. She told me of her childhood, 'when people were poor and didn't know it', how meticulous her mother was in spite of her father's spontaneity, of growing up South Charleston during the war, while both parents worked at the plant, of walking with her father to see a movie while he went to night school, of her brothers and sister, of her previous marriage, of working at the state capitol, and of finally meeting my grandfather. How he asked her to marry him the first night they went on a date. Through all of this it made me realize how grandma thoroughly enjoyed living. How despite the hard times, there was always something to bring a smile to your face and that God is always
the center of true life then, now, and forever.

We arrived in Charlotte before my sister was too far into her labor, so we went ahead and found a hotel. I'd just started a new job, which paid well, so I checked us into the Marriott on Trade Street in Uptown. It was the first valet hotel grandma had been to so it was fun seeing her enthusiastic smiles. We rested for a minute then it was back to the hospital to sit for hours. Around 2 AM I was in dire need for sleep. Grandma said she'd stay and for me to go sleep since I'd have to drive us home the next evening.

In the wee hours of the morning, my nephew was born. Long, lanky little fellow. I snapped pictures with him and everyone and had someone take one with me and him. I was very nervous holding this baby, any baby for that matter, but such a little tiny newborn, I'd never held before. He was anxious to be born, my sister said he nearly fell on the floor while the doctor was turned around. I wondered if she named him Bryce out of homesickness because my parents had lived off of Brice Road in Columbus then. After a wonderful day of visiting and catching up with my sister it was the dreaded time to go. Departure before nightfall was a
necessity, because grandpa was calling on my cell phone worried about us. I think he really missed Grandma more than anything.

We said our good-bye's and started back home. We'd left with plenty of time to get home so we weren't in a hurry. When the exit for Mount Airy popped up, we decided to stop to see the town
where the Andy Griffith Show was based. Floyd's Barber Shop was still there! We had a stranger take our picture in front of the plate glass picture window bearing the famous location and went
back to the journey home. A few miles later was the exit for the Blue Ridge Parkway. I drove to the first scenic area south of the exit and pulled in. The view was astounding. You could see
the rolling hills and plains below unfolding for miles. I looked over at Grandma and she her bright eyes staring like a child full of wonder. I got out of the car to take pictures, but
grandma didn't. Her foot was hurting to bad to walk on from our previous trek through "Mayberry" so I helped her out onto the grass. We looked out in silence for a few minutes. Astonished at the beauty God created.

We again resumed our trip home. Making one last stop to eat at Tamarak in Beckley, West Virginia. For dessert I had pumpkin pie, grandma also had some sweet dessert, which she often did and wasn't supposed to.

Grandma made it back to Grandpa and I made it home. Six months later Grandma had a heart attack. Grandpa barely able to walk, and shaking from Parkinson's, managed to carry her to the couch and call 911. Grandpa was by her side in the local hospital sitting and holding her hand the whole time. But it was she needed to be life-flighted to the Charleston Area Medical Center for immediate heart surgery. Grandpa was beside himself and while we were all making our way to Charleston to be with Grandma, Grandpa's leg was turning cold and black. The next day
my uncle drove him to Columbus to see his vascular surgeon and pain doctor. Grandma came through her heart surgery alright, but went into an unsettling period of unconscious talking. She would ask with a smile on her face "Do you see Jesus?" then go back into her deep sleep.

During this period, grandpa's leg was amputated. Grandma asked where he was, and my aunt told her he was ok, but just needed to see the doctor for a few tests. Nobody thought it was a good time to tell her the complete story in that critical condition.

Eventually she learned what happened to Grandpa and they both recovered enough to be released. Not long afterwards I was promoted to a job in New York and moved away. I guiltily admit the physical separation from them was some sort of relief, not watching the weekly deterioration of their bodies, but each holiday visit made it that much harder to deal with until I'd removed my self emotionally, then covered it up with stress and bad habits of my own creation.

Grandpa was placed in a rest home because nobody could deal with him any longer. He'd been on morphine, delodid, and tylox for 10 years to help him through the pain the circulation problem caused and now he was without it. He became belligerent, angry, and down right cruel to Grandma. He'd bring up his past before he met Grandma, telling her of his affair with a Austrian ballerina, whom he could have a child with. Everyone thought this was a tall tale, but he ended up producing pictures and letters to back up his claim. Grandma's hurt came, not from his current state, but the fact that all these years he'd hidden these tokens of his past from her. He would also stiffen his body so that nobody could touch him and would lash out with his fists sometimes hitting people.

Grandpa wasn't the same after going the rest home. But there a couple of good times. On one visit during the holidays he had us all gather around the piano. Me and grandma played chop sticks and he laughed and laughed. I'm not sure if he was laughing because he was happy or because we were really bad at coordinating with each other. Either way we all laughed until our sides hurt. Grandpa decided to sing "Good Night Irene" for us at the top of his lungs while the other elderly people were eating. Some clapped, but most just looked in our direction dazed and confused. Grandpa especially got a kick out of his great grand child Bryce's mischief. When we'd have to chase the little 2 year old around the serving areas and into the kitchen Grandpa could hardly sit up from his belly laughter. The week after 9/11 my boss in New York allowed me to come home to see my family and work from our Ohio office. We thought it would be neat to surprise grandpa with my visit, but when he saw me he burst into tears. "I thought you were dead, I saw New York collapse, nobody told me...." He cried the whole time and I really didn't know what to do other than hold his hand. My aunt had called the rest home and told them to let him know I was ok during 9/11, either they failed to do so, or he forgot. And I'd felt so bad about moving away.

After I moved back from New York to Columbus in June 2002, the family took a vacation to Myrtle Beach. Grandpa and my mother weren't able to go, but mom kept Grandpa company. I was coming out of my addictions that I'd built up while in New York, so I'm not sure how pleasant I was to be around. The vacation was a sort of awakening for me. I remember bobbing around in waves up to my shoulders with my aunt and cousin telling hilarious "sinful" jokes, which was a "no-no" in front of everyone else. My aunt turned to the more serious conversation of Grandpa and his nearing death. He'd developed stomach cancer and the nurse had told her it may be a few months or a few weeks, but that he was in the last stages. Grandma knew before the vacation, but it seemed to hit her really hard the last 2 days that she'd "left him" for the vacation.

I drove her and my aunt back to Parkersburg and we went to visit grandpa. That was the last time I saw him.

On my 23rd birthday, July 25, I was celebrating with a couple friends at a live band venue downtown. I'd had a few too many drinks when my cell phone rang. I saw it was my mom, in the back of my mind I knew why she was calling. I found a quite alcove inside and she told me the news. Even though I knew it was coming, I didn't know how I'd take it until she actually said it. I burst into tears in the middle of the bar. My pain was real and it didn't matter who saw it. I was glad to be amongst friends at that moment, we sat at the table and they consoled me until I stopped crying, asking me questions about Grandpa. Using corny jokes or funny stories to plug up the tears. We stayed until the band was done and the rest of the wine was gone (mostly by me). I had to be driven back to Kate's apartment where my car was parked and we talked some more about life and death.

My sister called me on my cell phone and we spoke of fun times with grandpa. Like one New Year he let us cover him completely with streamers and left over Christmas ribbons or the time the Dr. Pepper exploded in the car and we all had to wash off in the creek. That night was the first and only time I've been drunk in front of my mother. She didn't say anything about that. She just hugged each other and she apologized that this had to happen on my birthday. I later would think it was more of a blessing and sometimes wonder if Grandpa chose that day to pass away, knowing it was significant to me.

The funeral was hard, but we made it through. I broke down again during the 21 gun salute. My dad was beside me and we hugged one another because I knew that sound always gave him flashbacks of Vietnam. For some reason those sounds just cemented the idea that there would be no more walks in the park, throwing ball, watching deer on the hillside, building canals in the stream, no more projects in the woodshed, no more war stories, no more CB chatter from his room. This was the last time I'd see his mortal body. But once those instant memories were through, a peace and joy came over me that Grandpa was in the presence of God. He was pain free. He was able to smile again. He was free to live forever.

Grandma grieved for a year, nearly two, through which time her health slowly faded. She's had 2 toes amputated and numerous other operations. She currently sits in a hospital, the circulation has stopped to one of her foot. We suspect she snuck into the kitchen or ate cakes on the down low, but other than what we see, nobody can be sure. The doctors haven't decided if they're going to need to amputate her foot. They think the antibiotic will stop the gangrene and they'll be able to cut out the dead parts leaving the foot intact. I'm about to call and find out the news.
I'm afraid to do so.

I keep reaching for the phone to call her, but find myself starring out the window looking at the snow silently falling. Thinking of Grandma and our trip to North Carolina. Thinking of her on the hill. Thinking that was somehow a first and last of many things. Thinking back to when this trouble with her foot manifested then. I'm blessed to still be able to talk to her.

I'm calling now...

Sunlight!

2005-01-14T14:13:00.000-05:00

O dearest glowing bright orb in the sky! Your light is most appreciated! Yes! That's right the sun is out today and man has my mood changed. I'm not sure if anyone else is feeling the mid-winter blues from lack of sunlight, but I was. Until today.

Well, half my team went to lunch today to a place called Bellaccino's. Seriously, the food is excellent. I've been eating there for about a month and the Ruben makes my tummy clap, then flop. Or is that just my done-flop flapping against itself? Either way the food is GOOOOOD. Gimme more!

Uh oh, I just saw the manager I despise walk by. He's this prissy guy from another area. Anyhow, me and my buddy went down to get coffee one day and were walking back to our desks and Mr. Prissy Manager was behind us. I had worn my shirt untucked that day. My supervisor comes out about 10 minutes later and says, "I got a call from Mr. Prissy (not his real name) and he said you were violating the dress code. Please go tuck in your shirt". Well, why does he care? I don't even work for him or have interaction with any of his people. And....my manager doesn't care as long as our clothes aren't trashed out or stinky or whatever, which mine never are, because (earth to mars hello) I wash them! I heard that he's always busting guys for untucking their shirts. Now, who would really care unless he's really some sort of secret fashion/dress code police. Or he wants to see my buns of steel....make that cinnamon - I haven't worked out in a while. But tucking my shirt in sucks because when I was in 7th grade I made a pact that I wouldn't tuck in my shirt and be one of those preppy people that stunk up school with their arrogant stuck up ways. Here I am breaking my pact just for a job. So I made up a rhyme about the Mr. Prissy manager:

He looks like humpty dumpty
Cuz he's quite plumpty
In fact he's a blob.
What a job snob.
And when I work at this place
I want to smash my banana nut muffin in his face.
Cuz I walk down the hall with my shirt tails untucked
Mr. Prissy manager went boo-hoo-waaa-waay cluckety-clucke(d).

(Ouch, the nuts would grind like sandpaper)

I know that was very juvenille and immature. But I had fun! Have a wonderful 3 day weekend! Later!!!

Thoughts on Mediocrity

2005-01-11T07:43:00.000-05:00

The quirkiness of being mediocre in a society plagued with the obsession of perfection is unknowingly the disease keeping the mediocre from taking over. The mediocre person believes they are not special and therefore have no need to strive for greatness thus trapping themselves in a world of sameness. Samenecity – a new word created for the overall feeling one gets when one is mediocre. I am a Samenecean, or one believing they are the same as all others. What makes me different? Nothing. What makes me the same? Everything. Can you see my eyes? Can you hear my voice. Do I have to hands, two legs, two ears? Yes. Well, you do too! You and I are the same though I am you born of a different bloodline. It’s not so complicated to contemplate that we are the same is it? Perhaps I am weird and in realizing this try to compare myself to others in hopes of becoming one with them. A blending of persons making one giant tapestry woven from our sameness. Uniformity, conformity, insanity. WHAT am I doing? Why would I want to be the same as a lunatic, a murderer, a suicidal maniac? Or how am I any different. I’ve thought crazy thoughts, I just didn’t act upon them. Is my normality resting on one decision, and theirs condemned by the opposite decision? Yes, yes it is. I can see that now. They have condemned themselves for breaking a mold of what society deems acceptable. Speaking of mold – this is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever written! HA

Involuntary Narcissistic Narcoleptic Selectio.

2005-01-04T12:17:00.000-05:00

I'm sometimes vain. Ok, perhaps very vain.....aaand maybe not just sometimes. When I walk by a dark store front window I glance sideways to see how I look. When I'm in the elevator I look at my reflection in the metal doors. If there are no metal doors and nobody else is in there, the black plastic covering the floor indicator will suffice. When I'm in the bathroom and there's no mirror, I try to see me in the chrome piping on the flusher. I'm vain - insane vain. The sad thing happens to be that despite how good or how bad I look, I still require the same amount of looksies. If me like-y the way me lookie I make studly and seductive faces. If I look bad I make goofball faces and roll my lips up like a monkey.

I think I'm narcoleptic too. I sleep at work. I sleep when I visit my family. Funny thing - I don't sleep when I'm having fun. Is this disease I have called Selective Narcolepsy? I only sleep when I'm stressed or bored, or too full of food.

Vanity isn't deterred by narcolepsy. I wake up in the night and if there is just enough light and the TV is not on, my face appears on TV. Sure I can't make out details, but my imagination fills them in. I'm one sexy fella when I wake up.

On second thought, I'm delusional when I wake up!

I've created a name for my affliction: Involuntary Narcissistic Narcoleptic Selectio.

Dream a Little Dream for.....Dolly?

2005-01-03T15:19:00.000-05:00

5:30 AM found me waking from the most bizarre dream of my life. How should I begin to relay this? First I'll give some background.........

I recently started a new job working trouble and customer service calls for a paging company. I know what you're thinking 'who has a pager these days?' Well, a bunch of weirdos, that's who. I mean these are major freaks calling that don't EVEN know how to put a battery in a pager! Anyway, back to the background of my dream....where was I? Oh yeah....so to work for a paging
company you have to go through training to know what system does who-ha, and what system sniffs a**-holes, and whatever else I never wanted to know in my LIFE. The training consists of 2 weeks sitting there with nerds, geeks, and a couple cool people for 8 hours from 4:30 PM to 12:30 AM. Meanwhile, at my day job, I was working 7:00 AM to 3:30 PM throughout the week. With the little spare time I had on Saturday and Sunday, I thought about taking voice lessons from this gal that I previously attended church with. I'm also in the process of moving to a new apartment. And....along the way somewhere, I think a Dolly Parton concert was in town.

Ok, so now you know the background essentials: training class, voice lesson lady, Dolly Parton, new apartment, wacky-wigged-out work hours.

The dream starts out in what appears to be a brand- spanking new office building. I'm walking down the hall exploring the modern, bland environment when out of a door marked SLEEPING ROOM comes my trainer from the night job. I'm like "Hi D, how are you?"..He says,"Tired, but I can't wait to relax in the company provided heated pool." My face contorts into a look of puzzlement, which cracks D up. Ironically, I can see myself making this face in the dream, but I think that's because I've spent way too much time making faces in the bathroom mirror. I follow D into a large room that resembles a school gymnasium. Except that, in the center of the room is a gigantic hot tub. The bubbles are small like a carbonated beverage, which was bizarre-o to say the least.

Fully clothed, we walk down a slope into the water and just float on our backs for a while. When I stop staring at the ceiling and look around the gymnasium, it is now full as if an assembly is about to begin. The carbonated, heated pool has disappeared along with D and now a 10 x 20 stage appears behind me. I turn back around and peer to the left. Through floor to ceiling windows taking up the whole wall, a black tour bus is visible pulling to the door. Out of the bus and into the gym-like room walks Dolly Parton, but instead of her normal mega-blonde wig, she's wearing a black wig styled in the same poofy 'do. "I needed a change" she says in her Southern drawl.

She hops on stage but nobody seems to recognize her so she pulls off her wig, throws it on the floor, as everyone watches it bounce like a rubber ball. Underneath the wig her hair looks like a dirty poodle all nappy and curly, squashed to her head. It reminds me of a trailer trash woman that doesn't feel like fussing with her hair so she buzzes it really short, then thinking she no longer needs to wash it allowing much grease to accumulate therein. In short, it was nasty looking!

Dolly decides the performance isn't going to work without her normal "good luck" blonde wig. She struts over to her assistant whose brought in giant hat box. Contained is her wig. She slowly lifts the golden locks as a mother would lift a newborn baby and places it on her skanky head.

At this point I'm sitting on a couch (I don't know how that got there) and Dolly comes over saying, "NOW, I can perform!" I hand her a microphone headset and she walks to the stage. The crowd is applauding and Dolly starts to sing. She looks at me in fright because the sound board hasn't been set properly and her voice sounds very small. I shrug and mouth "I know nothing about sound systems." Simultaneously, from the audience I see the voice lesson lady with a microphone start singing a song that somehow we knew was Dolly's newest hit. The audience shrieks again, and Dolly takes the lead, while the voice lesson lady does backup.

That's when I woke and sat straight up. Now.... can anyone interpret this dream for me?

Blossom's Nose

2004-12-16T08:57:00.000-05:00

A while ago a friend and I sat down for dinner at TGIFriday's in the "Food Court" on 42nd Street - Manhattan. Prior to receiving our food, we downed at least 4 cocktails. As anyone knows, this makes for great conversation topics. We found ourselves discussing Blossom, that show from the 90's starring a Big Nose Girl and contemplating what happened to Mayim Bialik. Out of that came the following scenarios, but since we were slightly tipsy, we intertwined Mayim and her character Blossom so use your imaginations:

SCENARIO 1: Perhaps she was at one of those glamorous Hollywood parties and someone says 'look at the size of nostrils on that chic!' This attracts the attention of Hugh Hefner who approaches her about a new fetish magazine called NOSE and asks her to be the premier cover model. They exchange information and the next day Blossom goes to do her rhinolayout. NOSE becomes a huge success (in Italy) and Blossom is whisked away to an estate with a view of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Which her nose ironically starts to resemble after being broken by a haughty cab driver. She's reduced to playing bit parts in Italian soap operas as an angst ridden teenage daughter.

SCENARIO 2: "In this episode of Blossom".....Her hippy musical dad inspires Blossom to become a musician. She strikes it rich by recording a rap song called Blossom Knows Nose, which starts like this:

My name is Blossom,
Awesome!
My nostrils are big, so I floss 'em.
Blo'S'm knows noses
cuz they help ya sniff da roses.
I like roses, cuz they blossom.
and...MY name is Blossom.
A'ight!

With the success comes a break-neck pace of promotional appearances and concert tours that Blossom can't keep up with. Her brother Joey, who's become a pimp drug dealer, tells her about a Columbian white powdery substance you snort up your nose which provides temporary energy. Six, who has since become Blossom's manager, warns Blossom against trying the coke. "That stuff is bad news chicky." As Six herself is currently a coke whore and wears tight mini-skirts and halter tops trying to attract Pimp Joey's free bumps (and grinds). You hear some "contemplation music" as Blossom makes 'perplexed' faces trying to decide between sleeping and missing her next appearance, or taking the coke and making it through. The little devil Blossom on her shoulder wins, so she pours the white powder on her mirrored coffee table in her sweet penthouse pad. She tries a regular straw, but realizes it's not big enough for her oversized nostrils. She rips her pad apart trying to find something suitable to accomodate her gigantisized nose holes, finally settling upon an uncooked manicotti as her tool. She closes her eyes, places the manicotti in front of the pile of powder with the other end up her nose (there's room to spare, mind you) and breathes in deeply. The powder is sucked up in nanoseconds, but she continues to breathe in. The pictures fly off the wall and go up the manicotti, the TV flies across the room and is sucked in, the curtains, bed covers, pillows - all fly up her nose. She opens her eyes to find an empty room, dismissing it with, "hmm, the movers must have come early." She is running late for her appearance on Saturday Night Live, and must dash out the door without checking herself in the mirror. Blossom appears on LIVE television with a curtain tassel hanging out her nose. One of her costars sees it and points and laughs. Suddenly another cast member points and laughs. The whole world starts laughing at Blossom! She's so embarrassed she starts crying and runs out of the set. Thus ends her career. The ending scene is the Russo family and Six sitting around on the couch. The super wigged-out dad asks,"Did you learn anything from this Blossom?" Blossom retorts,"Yeah, never buy curtains with tassel! It's a decorating and career disaster!" They all laugh and live happily ever after.

SCENARIO 3: Mayim Bialik goes to some university and gets a degree in rocket science. Oh wait, this one is way too close to the truth......

WHAT DO Y'ALL THINK.....WHAT HAPPENED TO BLOSSOM?

Amputated Arms

2004-12-01T17:05:00.000-05:00

QUESTION: How does a person with amputated arms wipe? I'm not trying to be funny or mean. I've been wondering for days, and nobody seems to know.

Procrasti Nation

2004-11-17T16:26:00.000-05:00

Wouldn't it be cool if there was a nation of only procrastinators? I mean I seriously would move there. Then people would expect you to "put it off" for another day. Think how much work would NOT get done. This thought was born out of utter annoyance of people asking me, "did you get that report done yet?" It's like, 'Yes, but I'm holding it here, completely done just so I can hear you ask the same question daily, thus annoying, me further, and thus causing me to HOLD the damn report another day'. If I was done with the danged report, I would give it to the proper people promptly! But it's not done, because I like to look at it, minimize it, resize it, stretch it out, minimize it again, change all the colors, change the font, reformat it, print preview it, then I like to press SAVE even though I didn't do anything to it. That last step is necessary in the event I actually DID do something. Notice to co-workers and bosses alike: If you give me a deadline, please don't ask about the piece of poo until the deadline. THANKS! I mean, if they want to have two deadlines, like a halfway deadline, and a final draft deadline, then fine, but why dog me throughout? Ok, that was a fun way to get such an insignificant complaint off my chest! Now I know why people Blog. This is awesome!

I frighten myself when I drink which is...

2004-11-01T11:38:00.000-05:00

Why I ended up going home alone on Halloween...........

I did something so horribly embarrassing....I was dancing with this girl that I thought was dressed up as a pregnant Shakespearian woman and she said, "you can grab anything you want to"....so I reach out with both hands like I was going to grab her b00bs, then instead, quickly grabbed what I thought was going to be her fake stomach. It ended up being her REAL stomach....all jiggly and fat. I could have died.

A bottle of gin definitely impares one's rational thought process.

Days Like This

2004-09-30T20:00:00.000-04:00

Is it just me, or does working for a giant corporation, that could buy half the world, suck? I mean, they pay me diddly squat to do something a monkey could do, but then add all these retarded rules that a monkey wouldn't obey. Like I can't be on the internet, or I can't be on the phone, or I can't throw poop at the passers-by. If I'm doing the job of a monkey, then I expect the privileges of a monkey DAMN IT! Yes, I want to eat fleas off my co-workers while I click a mouse button all day. I know that I should just be thankful to have a job and I shouldn't complain, but what's the fun in that?

You know I just had the best thought for a new office concept! Tree Top Offices. Build a tree-house with an office in it that is fully connected to the information super highway. What better way to become one with nature while still earning a living? GADZOOKS! Well, I'm copyrighting or patenting this idea currently, so nobody try to steal it!

Does anyone have any cool Jello Shot recipes other than the vodka variety?