The Pinnacle

I work in printing. Printing for banks specifically. You know, the receipts, the deposit slips, the drive up envelopes. Boring stuff.


Today I will embark upon the greatest project that I've had in my hands in 8 years.


I'm printing an envelope for a strip club!!!!

I'll let that sink in for a minute.


A strip club!


I guess people need a place to keep all those ones.....


I'm so proud. I can't wait to tell my mom that I'm contributing something to a strip club other than my paycheck.

Behold!

The glory and wonder of Christmas.........

It's no Leg Lamp, but I think it conveys the spirit.

Another visitor this weekend. I'm not sure how I feel about all this social interaction. I don't see it stopping til New Year's either. But, rest assured, 2009 will find me sitting on the couch at 12:01 a.m. enjoying the peace and quiet (possibly sleeping) and dreaming of a better year to come. For all of us.

OCD 3, Me 0

So I've been looking for some chairs and a couch to replace the couch and loveseat that I currently have in my living room. And by looking I mean stalking the auction house practically being eaten up by finding something that doesn't look like someone lived on it, in the rain, next to the sewer, with dogs, and turds. Last night, I found 2 chairs that are wonderfully clean (like no one ever even sat in them) and I had one like them a long time ago, so I was all over them! Even my nemesis, The Junk Man, didn't bid on them. Score!! Now....the Dilemma.


You see, my couch is the piece that really needs to go. The loveseat is comfortable still. However, the loveseat is too small to take over the couch's spot in the room, in front of the coffee table, in front of the fireplace (in the house that Jack built). Too. Small. It throws off the whole balance of the living room. Seriously. No, really. Enter my dad and his friend. They're telling me last night (at 10:00) how I can move this here and that there and if I move my tv to another corner and blah blah blah. The thing is, the tv can't move because I don't want a cable running across the floor all the way across the room. The table directly opposite the tv can't move because it has the wireless rear surround speaker on it and we all know that your speakers HAVE to be lined up. HAVE to. This comes as quite a surprise to men who have only recently experienced DVDs. A baffling surprise to say the least.

So, around 10:15, after a long period of postulating, I decided that we just needed to move stuff so I could see it. And, you know what? It doesn't look bad. I haven't had a chance to sit in there and see how it feels but it looks good...almost better, but I won't tell them that. My only concern is getting the fan in one of the windows this summer, but I'll worry about that then. The chairs aren't there yet. They're going to get them for me this morning since I can't seem to get out of work. Of course, if I was working instead of blogging, I could probably go. The thing is, because the room is different, I couldn't sleep last night. Couldn't sleep. I can't work today. I took over this supervisor spot without hesitation and wasn't nervous. But, you move my room around and suddenly I'm Rain Man. Hmph.


So, yeah. I'm leaving around 10:30 today and arranging and rearranging and sitting for an hour or so until it feels right. Then, I'll go back out to the grocery store like I need to and wanted to do on the way home from work today but can't because I HAVE to get there to see how things are and blah blah blah. God, I'm sick.


Have a good weekend!!

17 has turned 35

Well, 34 for now, but whatever.


When I was in college eons ago, one year every Friday was tomato soup and grilled cheese day in the cafeteria. Lacking money and homecooked meals on cold days, I looked forward to this event all week. Also, I didn't have any classes after lunch. Enjoying some tomato soup just now, I realized that it has indeed turned very cool outside and I'm also still lacking money and homecooked meals most days. See how the world's all one big circle. Stupid world.


Other than that, well, a lot...but not much. I've been busy at work for the first time in ages. After running from every sort of responsibility you can imagine for the past forever, I'm now officially a Boss. Wheee! It's no different other than now when I'm loud and opinionated, some people have to listen to me. Awesome. But, it gives me something to focus on at work other than which 90s alt. band is my favourite or which songs from the 80s that I absolutely could not live without or what I'm going to make for dinner and will it involve drinking some beer or should dinner time be pushed back to accomodate said drinking or "I can't believe it's only damn Tuesday"....Well, you get the idea.


I prepped my house for the cold weather yesterday, which basically means I just shut the storm windows. Now, I need to buy 2 heaters for the living room. I was planning this 3 weeks ago, but it was warm and they still had fans out in the store. So, being the Super Genius that I am, I forgot about it. Until it was 29 this morning. I guess I thought that if in the middle of October it's 85 degrees then naturally winter just isn't coming.


We were tailgating at a football game the other week and rode in my friend's SUV. He has a kid so naturally his car has a DVD player in the back. I wanted to watch a movie but all he had was "James and the Giant Pickle" which despite its pornish name is a kid's movie. As we're pulling out of the parking lot saying our goodbyes to all our tailgating BFFs, I may or may not have leaned out of the back window to offer this girl a ride along with the chance for her to see J (me) and the Giant Pickle. I'm not sure why she didn't get in with us....She must be gay.


Well, that's it from my corner of the cube...I'm sure somewhere here there's someone that needs to be told what to do.

Give me oysters and beer for dinner every day of the year

Behold the majesty of the rolling cooler. It was marketed as a "beach cooler." Let me just tell you how big a pile of horseshit that is. It plows sand better than it rolls, but that couldhave been from the 2 cases of beer and 20 lbs of ice in it. Whatever. False advertising I say.

remnants before sundown

Where we spent most of our days

We drove out on the beach right behind the Cape Hatteras light house.

I tried to get some pictures of the bait fish that were swimming right behind the breakers that made the water look literally like it was boiling, but they didn't turn out. The dolphin pictures are too far away, too. But, they were there dammit!!

There's also a picture of a woman from Denmark that I had to help pull out of the surf because she got a cramp apparently in her leg. It didn't turn out that well either. I think my buddy was laughing too hard to take it. I'm saying an apparent cramp because she spoke NO English at all but kept rubbing at the back of her leg. They were very appreciative though of my concern and didn't seem to mind that I smelled like beer and fish. So, score 1 point for Denmark.

It was only a week's vacation, but surprisingly unlike most vacations I've been on, the good feelings seem to be lasting a little longer this time around. We're already talking about where we want to go next year. I can't wait for the next trip somewhere!

A life lived without shoes is a good one

Here are a few pics from the Big Vacay. I'm waiting on my sets to come back, but I snagged these from everyone else.

We got to the beach on Saturday afternoon and tossed the bags in the door and headed for the beach immediately. Several beers later, we were priviliged enough to watch the mostly full moon rise over the water.

Then, the mosquitoes came out. Yeah. That's right. Mosquitoes at the beach. I've never seen it in all my life. They were so thick that you couldn't really go out after dark. Even in 30 mph + winds. Apparently, they like the coast since the Great Dismal Swamp (no joke) burnt up a few weeks ago.

Sunday...let the fishing begin!!

Squid is better as calamari.

Look at that rod, would ya? (that's what she said)

This picture isn't photoshopped. The pier really is warped and crooked like that from storms. Yet, it's amazingly sturdy. And, by Wednesday (?), very windy....

I'm propping my beer up and trying to keep it from blowing into the water.

This is Dylan, my friend's dog. He LOVED the beach. We're not posing here, however. I'm sitting on him to keep him from rushing out into the water after his owner. M was out too far for the dog to keep up with him and the surf was really rough. That ridge behind me appeared overnight. The whole beach was that high the day before. So, yeah, I got to dog-sit...and it took two of us to hold him back That can hugger in my hand? Best. Three. Bucks. Ever. EVER. You put the can down in it, and it has a lid. A lid!!!!!!!! Not only does it keep the sand and stuff out of your beer, but it also looks conspicuously like a travel coffee cup. Best 3 bucks I've ever spent.

We caught a good many fish every day, but didn't keep any. It wasn't worth the trouble of getting them back home. Besides, there was plenty of shrimp and chicken and steaks at the house waiting on us. I can't remember a week where I felt so good. I can't wait to go back next year.

Hopefully I'll have some more pictures by the end of the week

OCD 2, me 0

I'm a pretty laid-back kind of guy. I try not to really give a damn about much of anything. But, there are some things that really get me fired up. Especially simple things that should remain so. We've probably discussed this before, but just go along with me, huh? I like things to be in order, neat, arranged, where they belong. I dislike random messes. Stacked books, papers, etc. are fine...as long as there's some semblance of order to them. Yeah, I know. Anyway.....


When I moved in to my place last year, the kitchen ceiling needed fixing and the porch wanted painting. I told them and they said something like blah blah blah. So, I let it go. I mean, it doesn't really affect me and after about a month or so of constantly looking at it and cursing everything around me, I got over it. Mostly. Well, this year when my lease came due and I hesitantly resigned it, I noticed that they were raising my rent $25 a month. Hey, that's not that bad, but still...I've never been late, no improvements have been made at all, and I'm getting ready to enter the Arctic season. So, along with the lease I sent a letter saying that I didn't mind paying the rent, but I want something for my money. I want the porch painted, the ceiling fixed, and a few other little things. That was a month ago. I figured they just blew me off and laughed at my futile efforts while cashing my checks. Imagine my surprise when I came home the other day and found both things done.


Now, when I came home last weekend, I was on my way back out the door for the weekend to see Jimmy Buffett (AWESOME) and a ballgame (also a lot of fun). I came in to find the kitchen light on and some of the stuff from the top of my fridge on the counter. "Holy Shit! I've been robbed", I thought. But, then I thought "why would they move the stuff from my fridge if they were robbing me? And, if they were robbing me, why wouldn't they take my vintage Dukes of Hazzard lunch box including thermos?" I know, right? That's totally worth some big bucks. Well, at least $50. So, I started looking around. All of the pictures had been moved on the wall. All of the pitchers on the top of my cabinet had been moved. The dishes on the shelf of the cabinet had been moved. My sink mats had been moved. I almost passed out. I was due to leave in 30 mins. There's no way I could shower and fix all that stuff in 30 mins!!!! There's also NO way I could leave it like that til I was back home Sunday night. I'd never be able to relax at all. So, I set to straightening everything and wiping up the best part of the plaster dust and all that until the kitchen was almost back to normal. I left the actual scrubbing of everything until Monday. As long as everything was back in its place when I walked in Sunday night, I knew I'd be ok. I left the house an hour later. Crisis averted.


When OCD strikes its second blow

Also over the weekend, I watched "Southland Tales." It's not a bad movie. I think I would really enjoy it if I watched it again. It was fairly interesting and more than a little confusing at times. I watched some of the extra stuff after the movie (which I usually don't do because I don't like to hear people prattle on and on and on and on) looking for a little more, a little explanation, or something. Turns out it was supposed to be a comedy. Hmph! Well, I did laugh at some things and there were a few clever references in it, but just having comedic actors playing somewhat serious roles does not a comedy make. But, whatever. If they thought it was funny, it's their time and money invested in it, so who am I to say? Maybe I'm not smart enough to get it. It wouldn't be the first time. But, anyway, the thing that drove me nuts about it??? They took part of T.S. Eliot's "Hollow Men" as a refrain for the movie. Except they changed it. Grrrrr. Instead of "This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper," they said "This is the way the world ends, not with a whimper, but a bang." I understand what they were doing, what with the movie and the plot and all that........but still. Still. Hmph. I don't know. I thought I'd get over it, but it's been bugging me all week. Now it's out there. It can bug you now. Or not. I don't care because I got it off of my chest finally.

And Comcast still hasn't responded about the damn channel volume level differences. Asses.

Off to tailgate at the University in the rain tomorrow! Rock on!

Product Review, Part the Something

Say you're at the store and you're on a budget. You live alone and like to cook, but most days cooking a really good meal for one person is a big pain in the ass. You like meals that have a little of everything and consist of more than just opening a can. You grew up eating tv dinners and when you walk by them in the freezer aisle, you get a little nostalgic. Except you're nostalgic for being a kid and sitting in front of the tv on a Friday watching the Dukes of Hazzard, but whatever. Then, all of a sudden, you see it. The Hungry Man Dinners....on sale for $2 ea. They're apparently usually $4. I'll get to that in a minute.

So, now you're sitting at home. You got home a little later this evening and it's perfectly cloudy and cool outside so you sit on the porch and drink some beers. 6 later, and you're hungry, but you realize it's now 6:30. Well, hell. That's not time enough to thaw some meat and prepare a real meal. But, wait!!! What's that in the freezer?

Why, it's a Mexican Fiesta! Well, colour me happy! It even has some type of pudding dessert with it. Holy shit! Fire up that microwave, here I come!

If I just described ANY of your thought processes, please stop before you get to the meal in the picture. You'll thank me later.

I'm afraid to exhale heavily today.

This is vaguely creepy

This article about Comcast monitoring the internet for people bitching about Comcast and then responding to said complaints (albeit helpfully) kinda creeps me out a bit.

That being said, I have Comcast cable and am wearing out the mute button on my remote. TBS and USA and sometimes TNT are broadcast at a lower volume than the rest of the stations, so I have to turn the tv way up to hear it (especially over the Stomp Olympics Qualifying upstairs). Then, when the commercials come on, there are, without fail, 2 in a row at some point in the break that blare out at a volume reminiscent of the old Maxell tape commercial with the guy in the chair being blown away by the sound.

I'm either gonna need a new remote, or someone at the local Comcast office needs to learn to operate the sound board a little better. I wonder if Comcast will notice this email...about Comcast.

By the way, I do like the turtle commercials.

This ain't Sesame Street.

I have birds in my chimney. They must’ve built a nest in there over the summer and now the eggs are hatching. They’ve been raising hell for the past couple of days. I didn’t think much about it because I’m not planning on burning it this winter and I figured they’d get out on their own soon. Until last night. I was sitting on the couch and heard a tink-tink-tink noise….there was one on my fireplace screen. I almost shit myself. I stood staring at it in amazement for a little bit until I realized that I needed to catch it before it got outside of the screen and into the living room causing me to flail about wildly and knock things over either trying to catch it or trying to get away from it. Finally, I went to the kitchen and got a pot and a lid and went back to corral it into the pot. I eventually got it in there and then took it outside and tossed it free. You know, fighting off spiders in the house is one thing. Birds are a whole different story.

You can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning....

Whew! What a Saturday! I'm glad to report that I managed to attend a big party Saturday and made it through without a) offending anyone (that I know of), b) falling into the pool, c) falling down in general. I even picked up a huge bag of trash before I left Sunday morning. And, while all this makes for boring blogging, it also testifies to the fact that I must be getting old.

My friends had a pig roast Saturday, and it was a blast. I saw a bunch of people, well a few, that I haven't seen in a long, long time. We caught up with each other, drank a pile of beer, and did some other stuff. I can't really remember a whole lot after my dominance at beer pong turned into what must've been just dumb luck. It could've happened right around the time that I decided a dance move that looked eerily like a seizure was necessary before each toss. I don't know. It was meant to psyche the other team out, but I'm not real sure it worked. Unless them laughing their asses off counts as psyching someone out. Then, later it got dark. By that I mean the sun went down too. I managed to find a cooler with community beer in it, so that qualified the evening as a success. I bedded down in the back of my truck with a sleeping bag, a blanket, and a pillow and woke up without bruises and scratches and the overwhelming sense of shame that can often come from being at a party where you don't know a lot of the people in attendance, so I wrote the night off as being all good. It was really, really good to see those guys again and get things on track.

In other news, DirecTV gave me the big piss off in their response to my email. I don't feel like arguing today so I haven't responded yet. Of course, the day's not over yet either.

Ebay will be the death of me. Or at least the financial ruin. All my Fiesta is replaced, along with a whole lot of new pieces too. Damn a good deal! Also, there's a XM boombox and car kit on its way to me this week. I know, right? Welcome to the 2000s. I hear that this is a new millennium. I used to have one a long time ago, but my tightness overruled my hatred of local radio. No more. And, my own cds? I need forced variety...at least the variety of stations that play mostly only music I like and may or may not already own somewhere in a scattered selection.

I'm not crazy at all. Really.

And, completing the Old Trifecta, how about this weather? For the past 2 weeks, it has felt like fall. I. LOVE. IT. Yesterday, I actually made a pot of chili. I was trying to reserve that for the first weekend of football, but I couldn't wait anymore. I don't want to wish time away, but is it the first weekend of September yet? I'm going to have to apologize to Netflix for dropping my account down to the minimum as my weekend viewing will now be full til January.

Oh, it's an exciting life.

City mouse vs. Country mouse

Tell me why, again, people want to live in town? I mean, yeah, it's convenient to Things, the streets are kept relatively clear in the winter, there's activity and commotion and people to watch. There are also neighbors on top of you, shady characters up and down the street in front of your house, thumping bass at all hours drowning out your television from passing cars, trash, and about a million other things that try to push me to the brink of insanity. I've lived in town before, but it was a smaller, cleaner, quieter town. I wasn't much on that either, but figured if I could handle that, then surely the excitement of this place would outweigh the nuisances. Mostly, it does. Mostly, I think, because of my house itself. I like it there. It's comfortable and it fits me. I like the porch and the fact that since I have to have neighbors, at least it's only one set upstairs. I won't get into the fact that they're practicing for the newest Olympic event: Constant Stomping From One End Of the House To the Other.

Yesterday when I got home, I pulled in the driveway as usual, carried my groceries inside, and set about opening the windows. Nothing out of the ordinary. I opened a beer and flipped on the tv and glanced out my side window like I always do. That's when I saw it.

This is an approximation of what the side of my house looks like now. There were 2 old dishes left there by the previous tenants, but they weren't really a problem. They're out of sight from the window and perhaps they'll be of use at some point. However, DirecTV, in its infinite laziness, came and installed a new dish for the people upstairs. It's one of the new HD dishes that's approximately the size of a small car. And, it's right in front of the window. RIGHT. IN. FRONT. I could understand this if there weren't room anywhere else for it. This is not this situation. A mere two feet to the right of it is an entire side of the house with no windows at all. None. The other 2 dishes? They're placed where you can't see them because apparently whoever installed those took a moment to, oh I don't know, think about someone else and that that someone else may not want to look out upon this monstrosity every day. I want to write them a letter and make them come move it, but I know they won't. What do they care? They're getting their money from the people upstairs and don't give a damn about me, but it infuriates me. Not as much as plastic wrap, but close. Not the dish so much, rather the uncaring nature of people in general. Also? Now, because the people upstairs don't believe in throw rugs to muffle sound, I get to listen to Telemundo at top volume. It's awesome, I tell you. My dad was looking at a house out a little somewhere with a garage apartment. I don't want to be 34 and living at my dad's place, but it's looking a hell of a lot better.....

In the meantime though, perhaps I can decorate the dish so at least I have something to look at that's a little more pleasing.

One more virtue I don't have....

Patience. Yep, I don't have any. I don't like to wait on things. I don't like when things that are simple and SHOULD go right, don't. I don't like stupid annoying little frustrating things that hover like gnats around your eyes and then either fly right into them or into your mouth or both.

You see, I haven't bought plastic wrap (saran wrap..whatever) for years. Years. Whenever I have something to wrap or save, I either use a dish or aluminum foil. It's just easier. And more expensive. So, in my frugality of late, I opted to spend $1.00 or so on plastic wrap rather than the $3 on foil. I know, I know. It's two bucks. Who gives a shit, right? Well, it's the principle of the thing. If the rest of the civilized world can get this plastic shit to stick to what it's supposed to and not to itself and itself only, then why can't I? I mean, it's not like I'm not an intelligent guy that can fix things and figure things out and solve problems. This plastic wrap shouldn't be that much of an issue.

Except it is.

Fast forward from that day (or rewind from this one, whichever you please) and find me in my kitchen after grilling hamburgers and consuming several Summer Ales (it's the Grains of Paradise that make this a truly tasty treat) preparing to wrap up the leftovers. I've attached a picture here to show the layout and to later provide a visual aid.

I'm standing directly in front of this cabinet at the stove with my back to said cabinet. It's 10 feet away or so, all the way across the kitchen. I'm wrapping these hamburgers and flailing about with the plastic wrap when I finally (after 2 wadded up balls of wrap) manage to get them into a bunch and a seemingly passable mess. That's when I pick up the package, and they slide out the back and onto the floor. The floor that I'd just cleaned that morning. And the grease residue? Down the front of my stove. The plastic wrap, however, managed to stay in exactly the same shape it was in before I picked up and perfectly stuck to absolutely nothing as its contents fall devil-may-care to the floor. I picked up the roll, undaunted, and tried again. 2 more wadded balls of nothing. All of a sudden, I went blind with rage at this wrap and sent it hurling behind me to the floor. Or where I thought the floor should be, which was apparently exactly where the pink gravy boat is sitting on the shelf of the cabinet. It broke (from the plastic wrap roll....really??) as did the black serving plate stacked under the blue plate behind it. 2 pieces of rather costly dinnerware are now broken due to my saving of $2. I can't blame this on irrational anger or beer or no patience, really, because I gave that damnable wrap every chance to perform correctly. Or perhaps it was performing correctly...in its uselessness. Needless to say, the wrap is going in the trash and I'm buying foil again. And, now, $40 or so in replacement dishes. Those dishes rarely, if ever, get used, so I don't need to replace them, but they mean more to me than that. They're representations of a new time in my life (or an older one revisited maybe) and a time in that I didn't think I got that damned mad anymore (apparently I was wrong), so, I'm going to suck it up and buy other ones (although apparently the pink is rare now because it's entirely too expensive on the old ebay) and use it as a reminder and a lesson learned. I just wish I would've learned the lesson on a cheaper beer glass or something. I should send the plastic wrap company a letter and a bill, but it won't do any good. Rest assured, however, that there will never, ever be plastic wrap in my house again. Ever. I won't even let someone else bring theirs in. I'm mad now, just thinking about it. Damn you Glad/Saran/Generic plastic people. Damn you to hell.

yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Is a man the sum of memories and deeds or is he the sum of experience and lessons learned? Are the two different? Vastly, I should think. The first seems to lend no forgiveness or redemption. The second promises hope in some type of a better future.

Or, is this the same semantic battle for justification I’ve been fighting my whole life? The prettying up of ugliness? A mule in a horse harness?

Is life one turn of a phrase away from good or bad? With the right phrasing can the balance swing? Is there ever really a balance anyway, or is that an illusion from our childhood that we’re still holding to?

Lucky there's a family guy....

This is my first weekend at home in 2 weeks. That's not a big deal, right? I mean, most people do things outside of their home most weekends, don't they? Most people don't savor the time spent sitting on the porch and cursing at the troublesome neighborhood people and watching shitty television all weekend, do they? I mean, I do, but normal people don't. Right? Anyway, so being gone for 2 weeks and now getting to stay home and enjoy the peace and quiet and warm, summer days comes as a welcome reward. You know why? I spent the last 2 weekends with my family. My family. I live far enough away to discourage frequent visits. And, not only did I spend 2 weekends with my mother, but I also got to see some extended family too. Woo. Hoo. Why is it when you see someone in your family that you haven't seen in awhile, they have to comment on your appearance? Your hair, your weight, your clothes, something? I hadn't been at my uncle's for 20 mins. before he made a comment about me gaining weight. Well, uncle, as you can see in your mirror, beer is not the same as a diet pill. I know, right? I keep believing that they'll invent it one day, and I don't want to miss my chance. So, yeah.


My mom lives in the mountains. I love it there. I grew up there. Their house is awesome. My stepdad is awesome. My mom is the sweetest person in the world, really she is. She has a great heart. BUT. BUT, she needs to get out more. You see, out here in the real world, there are other things to worry about besides flies, what time we're having dinner, how many beers we've had, what we're going to have for breakfast, the internet, gas prices, the digital television conversion next year and whatever the newest paranoia of plagues that the television news is spewing forth 86 fucking times a day. Yeah, out here we worry about other stuff. Life. Out here we worry about things like hoping traffic's not bad so my beer's not warm by the time I get home from the store, do I really need to eat tonight because I don't feel like cooking AND washing dishes, having to do laundry because I'm out of underwear and socks, will the rabbit come back this evening or did he get in the neighbor's garden and get hurt, etc., etc. I mean, this is serious stuff man. But, the beauty of out here in my world? No Drama. None. When drama calls, I hang up on that shit. My mom worries about everything. Everything. I feel bad for her really because I don't know how she gets to sleep at night. She asked me at one point if there was anything I cared about or worried about when we were sitting out on the porch. I looked around and leaned out so I could see that the sky was perfectly blue and said "nope, not really, because it doesn't do any damned good at all." She didn't get it, I don't think. I couldn't imagine living that way. My friend and I were talking about it at work the other day and we realized that 95% of the people around us and that we interact with on a regular basis are like that. No wonder I'm frazzled and grouchy most of the time! Hey, world, it's not me it's YOU.


I think, in celebration of my reunion with my porch, I'm going to grill some stuff and take myself to the movies tomorrow. And possibly wash my truck. I hate washing a vehicle, but it needs to be done because I hate looking dirty more. If I still lived at home in the mountains and drove places that got a vehicle dirty, I wouldn't mind so much. But, no. I live in town. Hellish town. Therefore, my truck should be clean dammit. Also I might scrub the walls in the bathroom. I don't know why. They look like they need it and it's been on my mind. Maybe I have too much time alone after all.......

Really? or, the way my world turns

I go to an auction with my dad every Thursday night. Mostly, we go so we can go out to eat beforehand. But, once in awhile there's a treasure to be had or resold, and there's always a more than a few people to make fun of, so it's a good time. And, that's where my nemesis Junk Man is, so that's a plus. Although lately, he's been kicking my ass. Stupid economy. Stupid old people with pocketfuls of money.

Anyway, so last night, we're standing outside smoking and enjoying our coffee when I hear "I'll give you $20 for that shirt." I looked around and saw this old woman standing there and figured that she must really like Chris Knight. I laughed and told her "Sorry, I paid $20 for it and don't know if I can get another one." She kept on and on and on til the price got to $35. At this point, I'm seriously considering going home and changing shirts and bringing this one back. I mean, I'm all about the Benjamins, you know. So, I'm standing there mulling it over and I tell her that for $35 up front, I'll go home and be back in 10 mins with the shirt. Hells yeah. And NOW is the point in the story where it all goes to hell and you get a glimpse into my life. She looks right at me and says "Ah, you figured me out. I just wanted you to take your shirt off." I thought I would die. And puke simultaneously. You see, a) I'm not in the shape I used to be in (or I would've done it anyway) and b) this woman was over 60 and missing teeth. I'll give you a minute to let point B set in. Just to catch you up, I'm 34. Got it? Good. My dad was standing there. My dad, who at that point says "For $35, I'll take it off of him by force." I looked at him and said "You can shut the hell up now."

I don't think I've ever smoked a cigarette so quickly in my life. Not even when we used to sneak them in the bathrooms in high school.

I mean, is this what I can expect for the rest of my life?

I'm joining a monastery. Tonight.

Charity begins at home

You know what really pisses me off?

Oh, wait.

I'll tell you. Don't wear yourself out making a mental list. You don't have that much time.

I went to the store Thursday (a day early due to the holiday) and loaded up on the usual stuff, counting my pennies as I pushed the cart around looking ever so single in my food choices, and pulled up to the checkout. I was trying to sneak the extra case of beer that I left in my cart through (because sometimes you can and fuck them they shouldn't be charging that much for it anyway) when the manager walks by and reminds the cashier to ring it up. You bastard. Then, as I'm bagging my own groceries (just as well since no one can do it right anymore anyway), the cashier has the gall to ask me if I want to donate a dollar to whatever idiot organization that has the little jugs out at all the registers. For all I know it was send monkey-faced kids to space camp or some shit like that (although that I might actually pay to see) but I didn't hear any of that. All I heard was Rage (that's right, capital R) filling up my head. I'm pretty sure I channeled Carl from Sling Blade at that point. "I just saw red" I kept bagging while looking right at the cashier and said "Why no, I wouldn't. It's bad enough that Food Lion (yes, I'm calling you assholes out) charges me ridiculous prices for the same things I was buying a month ago and can get elsewhere cheaper except I don't want to make a hundred stops on the way home and I'm bagging my own shit, but then you want me to give another dollar for something that I'm pretty sure never gets where it's going? haha! Good luck with that. For all the money I spend in here every week, Food Lion can pony up my dollar's worth and be happy to do it." She just laughed and kept ringing stuff. I hope that prick manager heard too. And, I hope the monkey faced kids don't get to go to space camp because I totally would've given a dollar if they'd have let that beer slide through.

Sometimes, the truth doesn't hurt.

It's that time again, ain't it Harley?

Today we're going with a bullet list because I don't feel like being coherent.

• The temperatures are back to normal now. This is nice. I did, however, buy an a/c for my bedroom Monday evening. Last night I had to sleep with a blanket on. It seriously feels like a wonderful little motel room in there. Except cleaner. I hope.


• I've been reading more lately. It's nice to get back into it again. I go through spells where I don't pick up a book for awhile and I always wander around bored and grouchy. Then when I start reading again, I feel better. I don't know why I stop. I guess so I can appreciate it more when I start back up. Kind of like a lot of things I guess.


• This weekend is the Huge Community Yard Sale. Let me tell you how bad I hate this thing. It's an entire day (starting Friday evening and/or around 5 a.m. Saturday morning...yes, 5 a.m. ) of people driving, walking, bargaining, stopping in the middle of the road to see if there's anything worth stopping for, and generally being assholes. It's a joy, I tell you. A joy.


• That being said, yours truly will be out there with a little table set up of things I don't need anymore and hate to sell but have to because I need the money for stuff. The first person that tries to haggle me down from my marked price is getting cussed. Really. It's a dollar, numb nuts. Deal with it. I'll throw it right the fuck away before I give it to you for less.


• In that vein, does anyone out there or anyone you know need some motorcycle leathers???? I have everything you need. And, everything must go. The prices are negotiable (honestly) on everything except the leather jacket. I have chaps, leather pants, a leather shirt (great for your inbetween temperature days or a surprising rainstorm), a denim jacket complete with a $30 patch, and a HD jacket that I paid nearly $400 for. The jacket I want $200 for. Everything else we can talk about. Or, we can talk about that too if you want some other stuff. Hell, I just need the money. Everything is an XL. I can't remember what the pants are, but I think I only wore them twice (yes, with longjohns underneath) and they're still as soft as they were when they were new. As is the jacket. It still, in fact, smells new. Email me if you're interested and we'll strike a deal.


• I hate to sell that stuff. Memories, you know. Time, money, experiences invested in it all. An entirely different life, a different lifestyle, now so long gone. It feels like decades ago. And, I kinda miss that guy. He and I would get along famously now, though. But, still. His was a more hectic, simpler world. Mine's simpler, but more hectic if that makes sense. I don't know. I think, though, that I NEED to get rid of it and hopefully that'll help ease some of these lingering ghosts....maybe. If not, at least I have some cash. And I can buy new things to distract myself.


• While you're buying, don't forget to check out my book.....


• And, lastly, a picture of me at the ballgame. I'm not putting this up here so you can marvel at my beauty. I'll wait, though, while you do that. I'm putting it up there to see if you can notice the rare, hardly seen in public thing in the picture.

Yes, that's a FREE BEER I'm holding at the ball park.

I meant to do that.....

Last weekend, my buddy and I took off to Baltimore to watch the Orioles play the Red Sox. He was the only Oriole fan in our whole hotel I think. And, at the Inner Harbor. But, everyone was really nice to him and didn't throw things at him. In anticipation of both the crowds and our overpowering thirst after having driven for 3 hours in torrential rains and bumper to bumper traffic, we tossed the bags into our room and jumped on the train to head over to the stadium. Score 1 for Baltimore's light rail system. On the way, we encountered a crazy man that was entirely "discombobulated" by "all these white people on my train." For 15 minutes, he went on and on about "what are all these white people on my train? Must be a ballgame today or something." No, really? You're surrounded by a train full of people in Boston apparel. You live in Baltimore, home of the Orioles. How in the hell do you not know that there's a game? I guess, though, if you're discombobulated, the days all run together.

After we left crazy man arguing with the Transit Cop, we herded across the street and headed down to the Harbor to get a cold beer or 12. And when I say herded, I mean it. There must've been a thousand people pushing and grunting across the street. Anyway, we walk like 100 miles or something and we could smell food from all the restaurants we're passing and all I want is a cold beer and possibly some wings and I'm ready to choke the next person that stops in front of me to take a picture of a ship that's been there forever and will still be there in the next 10 seconds, so let me the fuck by lady. Weeding through the crowd like some sort of shape-shifting predators, we made it to the end of the line. My friend thought we'd try the ESPN Zone. Neither of us had ever been in, but we'd seen it on tv, so what the hell, right? I stood in line at the bar for 10 minutes. For my first beer. As a matter of fact, right before I reached over and popped the head off of the bartender, 2 seats at the bar opened up. I yelled his name a couple of times and growled at encroachers, and we were seated. Finally..... And, from then on, the experience improved. Slacky The Bartender left, and Hottie the bartender stepped up. Not only was she cute, she was efficient. I think I fell in love just a little. And, the cheese fries were awesome. Of course, I hadn't eaten since 9 that morning and it was now after 5. A few beers later, we were tired of being jostled around in our seats, so we set off like all great explorers in search of a new bar stool we could call our very own.

I'm a sucker for a pub (shut up, Captain Obvious) and lo and behold (!) there we were right in front of one, up on the second story (up a periously twisty staircase...that was probably 6 feet or more wide and steel, but whatever) with a great view of the harbor when I walked outside to smoke. And ?! 2 seats right at the bar, right in front of the taps, right in front of the television. The bartenders were friendly, it was quiet, and we could watch the evening game right there from our comfortable seats. Rock on! An undetermined amount of time passed, the game ended, and we figured we'd better catch the train before it stopped running. Back up the 100 mile street and we finally caught the third train from the stadium. They may think about maybe adding a couple cars to the train on game days. I'm pretty sure that lady didn't like me rubbing up against her with every bump in the road. Or maybe she did. Hell, I don't know. I think she minded less once the train started moving, though.

Ah, Sunday.......game day. I'm up like a kid at Christmas. This was my first professional game ever. I make noise and flip channels on the tv til my friend gets up and we head out for the train at 10. Um, yeah. It doesn't start running til 11. Fuckers. It's a 1:30 game. The earlier I get there, Baltimore, the more money I'll spend. Trust me. Anyway, 11 comes and we jam on the train so close that I can tell what people had for breakfast. But, we're on the way to the game, right? 2 guys behind us were talking about how they hated these days and if he'd have known there was a game he wouldn't have ridden the train (again, how do you not know?) and how he didn't buy a ticket anyway because they were too expensive. Sorry that $3 is killing you, man.

Pile out at the stadium, wait for the gates to open, hit the first beer stand in sight, and we're underway! My college paid for a picnic for us (the ticketholders/alumni) in the Bullpen area (if you ever get to do this, go for it!) so we went in and got our food and found seat and started looking around. Here's where the story gets good. Beer count = 2. I look up from my seat and what do my eyes see before me? Taps unencumbered by a cash register!!! Were they really giving me free beer for an hour and a half and lunch all for $22?? I may have found heaven right here. Let the day commence, eh? So, we walk around and look around and watch the players warm up from right above the bullpen (see what they did with the name there? ha!) and drank these free beers. It was awesome. I would've loved to have been able to watch the game from there, but that was not to be. 1:15 arrived ....and off to the nosebleed section. Beer count = 9.

We're up in left center, nearly at the top. I can see everything. Well, everything except the players, really, but I can make out the difference between the white dots and the gray dots. Meanwhile, the concession stand is right under our seats...with no line. ha! Here we go again. Manny hits homerun 501 and there are some other good plays and I can't get my camera ready in time to take a picture of this one girl in a really small tank top, but eh, what're you gonna do? The pile of bottles under our seats is growing and it's hot as hell, like Africa hot, up there. The game is fun. I love watching it on tv, but if I had the chance to go to a live game every week, I'd be all over it! Especially if I could sit up close. Beer count = I have no idea. I'm guessing that I'm nearing 15 or 18 by now.

We herd back out of the stadium and in search of food with a million other people. Hey, I said, let's go back to the pub and eat there. We're filing along the street all asshole and elbow with a million people when the sidewalk narrows. (If you made it this far, congratulations. This is the good shit) There's a curb or a flowerbed or something in front of me blocking my way. No problem, I think, because I can jump right up on that and keep walking. I'll wait while you laugh to yourselves. I think it was 6 or 10 inches off the ground. I lifted my foot approximately 1 to 2 inches and went right at it. See, in my mind, it looked good. Smooth. I was gonna kick this curb's ass. Little did I know that the curb was calling in reinforcements from its friends, flowerbed and sidewalk. In reality, it looked like I hit it, rolled on top of it, kept moving, and then rolled off onto the sidewalk effectively blocking the way of all the million people I was walking with. I hit it hard, rolled, and then fell onto the sidewalk and was laughing so hard I couldn't get up. My friend couldn't help me for laughing at me. Finally some nice guy helped me up and we were on our way. Thankfully nothing got broken (either on me or the camera) but I did get a nice scrape on my arm out of it. And everybody in Baltimore got a good laugh. And everybody at work yesterday also got a good laugh. I'm surprised my friend didn't call them right then.

We had dinner at the pub and a couple more beers and managed to make it back to the train without further incident. It's rumoured that I almost stepped on a homeless man that looked eerily like the lead singer of The Spin Doctors, but I don't believe that. I don't remember seeing him. So, obviously, I'm right. Beer count = I can't keep up anymore. I know it's still early and I'm out of money, though.

A free breakfast the next morning, some gas in the car, and we're back home by noon. Oh, what a weekend. I can't wait to do it again! Except maybe this time without all the falling. At least by me.

Helpful, handy hints from me to you.

1. If you're cutting hot peppers and have to go to the bathroom, wash your hands before you go. Just sayin'. I mean, you know this and I know this and have gone over it a hundred times. But, like with math and sexual harrassment seminars, a refresher course never hurt anyone.

2. That nail that's worked its way up out of the floor? The one that you know where it is so you always avoid it? Yeah, go ahead and take 2 seconds to get the hammer and tap it back down. It's 2 seconds vs. jumping and spilling your beer when you don't avoid it.

3. That neighbor that's a little creepy and wants to talk and sometimes borrow money? Don't. Better he thinks that you're a nutjob that hates people (score!) than for him to be over all the time.

4. When you're drinking, hide your phone and your checkbook/credit cards/check cards. This handy tip could save you making an ass of yourself or spending money you don't need to. That person that you think is just dying to hear from you after you've been drinking all evening and they're just getting home from work couldn't really give a shit about the intricacies of The Andy Griffith Show. And the chip maker from the informercial is a piece of garbage.

5. When someone says "hey, do you mind if I stop by? I've some things I want to talk about." Go ahead here and be busy. Have an excuse or 3 ready. Talking seriously about stuff never got anyone anywhere.

6. Always keep quick meals in your freezer and macaroni and cheese on your shelf.

7. Always keep ice cream in your freezer.

8. Stop on the way home and buy beer whether you think you need it or not. You either do or you will.

9. Just because new people moved in upstairs from you, don't keep the stereo down lower than normal. Break them in right off the bat. Besides, they'll either stomp around half the evening or their kids will run fucking laps in the house for 2 hours straight. Turn it up. If you have a subwoofer, even better.

10. At work, carry stuff around with you all the time and look mad. I think George Costanza said this once. I can't remember now. But, really. It works. It keeps people from bothering you or asking you if you just have one second to look at something.

That's all for now, kids. Feel free to add to the list. Like G.I. Joe said, knowing is half the battle.

Ask me if I care....

There's a lady and her family that live across the street from where I work. They work in the yard nearly every day. All day. And have been for the past year or so. Granted, their yard looks wonderful....but, really? I stand outside at break (or at random points throughout the day) and watch in what has to be total amazement. I've had yards. I've worked in them. I've planted trees, mowed, pulled weeds, etc. But, all day? Nearly every day? Is this what normal people do? I wonder what it's like to care about something that much, to be so motivated by something and consumed by an end goal that never really arrives. Some people, I've heard, find yard work relaxing. My dad's one of them. Relaxing to me is not sweating my balls off and swatting gnats and flies and bees all day. Sorry, dad. It's just not. It is also not painting (either inside or out) or *gasp* running/jogging. Give me a cold beer and some good music (company preferred, but optional) and I'm good to go. In light of this revelation, and since the 80s revival is in full swing it seems (I suppose it still is. I also don't Keep Up With Things.) I've developed a new Care Bear concept that I think will sell to adults and be very popular. You know how some of them had hearts and rainbows and all that flowery shit? Well, not this one buddy. This is the beginning of a series I think. We'll call them Don't Care Bears and they'll signify the things that are really on men's minds.



Behold my brilliance.....

I think the next few in the series will include strippers, midgets, and balloons....

Love in the checkout line

Today's Friday....the best day all week. Well, except for Saturday. Saturday kicks Friday's ass because I can wake up whenever I want and then go lay on the couch and go back to sleep and not shower til later in the morning and start drinking beer whenever I damn well feel like it. Sidenote: Dear FOX: Put the Saturday baseball games on at 1:00 please. Thank you.

Anyway, back to Friday. Not only is Friday the last day of the workweek, it is also my grocery "shopping" day. Or, as it's otherwise known, "The day I try to get the girl ringing up my purchases to pity me and come over to cook for me and hook up." You see, I'm a simple man. I live alone. I love to cook but don't get too excited about it when it's just me there. So, my staple items are pretty standard stuff. In fact, I don't ever need a list when I go to the store. 2 cases of Miller High Life (or something more expensive if I'm feeling froggy), 2 frozen pizzas, random other frozen stuff, and eggs (sometimes), bread and cheese, and whatever is close to the checkout and is on sale. It's quite the cartload, believe me. I mean, really, I can't believe she's not throwing herself at me in a lusty frenzy over my obvious culinary mastery. But, whatever. She's probably gay.

But, this leads me to another point. (good thing, eh? Because grocery shopping is actually more boring to read about than do. Who would've guessed?)

Prices. Everyone's bitching about gas and all that..... Yeah, yeah. I mean, what can you do about that? Not drive? Ride a bicycle everywhere you go? Stay home from work in protest? Hell yeah. I'd love to do all that. Unfortunately, it's not feasible, so I suck it up at the pump every week.

Nay, nay. I'm talking about something more important. I'm talking about the fact that frozen pizzas have jumped over a dollar in price in the past 2 weeks and a case of cheap beer is now like $12 or more (depending where you go). Now, Mr. President, this is serious shit. I mean, it's one thing that our wonderful economy has taken a huge shit all over us and hours are being cut at work and people are being laid off. It's another thing that we can't afford to drive to work AND eat lunch. But, when you start fucking with a man's staple food items, we've got a serious problem. And, I'm pissed. I mean, even the cardboard cheap pizzas that I wouldn't hit a dog in the ass with are "on sale" for $1 each. $1, really? They surely haven't improved since I used to buy them in college 15 years ago for .50. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're EXACTLY the same. They might even be worse. Screw Exxon and Mobil and all those guys. Let's talk about the Digiorno and Miller Brewing price gouging. That's it. I'm calling a congressional investigation on this fiasco. Thanks for your help.

In other news, we had tornado warnings around here last night. That's just weird considering that I live in a valley in the mountains and not in the midwest. More importantly, however, is that these warnings interruped "My Name Is Earl" (which I normally don't watch on its regular night). The reason I'm mad about that? Alyssa Milano was on there. Dammit! From what I could see, she was looking deliciously trailer-y and hot as all hell. But, did I get to watch it? No! Instead I got to watch the local weather guy trying to figure out how to use his new fancy technology to zoom in on storm areas and then get too close and then fumble fuck around trying to zoom back out. Beautiful, I tell you. NBC, I'm calling you out too.

Despite all this, I'm SO glad it's Friday. Even if I have to forego some usual items. Because I refuse to drink any cheaper than the High Life. In fact, I could be considered a Certified Purveyor of The High Life. That is, if you want to come over and have a beer on the porch. Have a good weekend!

Totally Awesome Chip Review, Part The Third

Guess what, kids? Your favourite offering here is back!!! From time to time, the Snack Guy leaves out freebies on the breakroom table that are getting ready to expire. Not one that fears an expired food, I quickly fill my desk drawer with these goodies for the days where I inevitably forget my lunch.





You may remember the Gangsta Bee.





And, also there was the Oozing Wing.





Today, I bring you the Holiest of Holies.

Cheddar Jalepeno Cheetos. Not only has Chester the Cheetah matured in his commercials, going from the insanely cheese (crack) addicted lunatic that he began as to the glasses wearing sophisticate that is a proponent for screwing up a bitch's laundry, but his flavour has evolved as well. I mean, I totally would've thrown some orange-y goodness in with that woman's whites.

And, the packaging? Brilliant. Let's analyze it, shall we?

First, we have Chester in a cowboy hat and sunglasses. Well, jalapenos are southwesterny and grow in the sun.

Second, he's roping one. With his tail. See what they did there? Yee-haw I say!

And they're marketed as being "crunchy" because no one likes a soggy cheeto.

I recommend these, pardner. Giddy up!

meditate on THIS......

And, don't forget this other literary masterpiece.....

that's how I roll.......

I went. I fished. I drank. I coughed. I drank some more. I fished. I coughed. I ate wonderful breakfasts. I saw things I'd never seen before. I forgot my camera. Dammit.
This is a picture I snagged from Google of where we spent Friday and Saturday fishing. You just drive out on the beach and park. And drink. And you have the best part of the place to yourself. It's totally unreal. The lighthouse doesn't sit on the shore anymore. They moved it about a mile or so back a few years ago because the beach was eroding. Yeah. Moved it. The whole lighthouse. At one time. Well, over the course of a long time, but still.....That's damn impressive. Anyway, I have never had the beach pretty much to myself ever. It was amazing.

The first day I found PERFECT shells. The conch shells that you only ever find pieces of. And there were no fish. But, there were lots of beers.
The second day there were no shells ( a different part of the beach) but there were lots of fish. Well, a bunch of sand sharks and one for real, honest to god, shark. I don't know what kind it was, but it was about 3.5-4 feet long with real, pointy shark teeth. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. Pictures? No, apparently the convenience stores in NC don't believe in disposable cameras either. Oh well, hopefully this fall we'll see some more because you can bet I'm taking my camera then!!!!

It had to be this week, didn't it?

I'm supposed to be leaving for the beach for the weekend today at 3:30. That would put us at Hooters having pitchers of beer and dinner and almost there by 7ish. It's supposed to be 70 degrees or more there all weekend. The house is free. The beer may or may not be on ice right now. The problem? I'm sick. And so is my friend that's going along. And, we have been. All. Week. I mean, all week...really? Who in the hell has a fever for 4 days? I'm going back and forth today between feeling like chugging 3 or 4 pitchers and curling up under my desk and dying...or passing out...and not in that good way that I would probably be feeling later this weekend. We've been planning this and looking forward to it since January. I LOVE the beach. I don't, however, think I would love feeling like I did this morning when I woke up and being 5 hours away from home. On someone else's couch. I don't know. It irritates me because I'll bust my ass to get to work regardless of how I feel, but I'm actually considering passing on this trip because I feel like hell and all I want to do is lay around. Does that make sense? I mean, am I nuts? I should go anyway and hope that I'll get better. Otherwise, I know that I'll start to feel better tomorrow afternoon anyway and it'll be too late to go........Of course, if I didn't get better while I was there, it would be a cheap trip. Damn being sick.......

I'm bored...humour me.

I have flowers growing in my back yard. I first thought they were weeds, albeit pretty purple ones, but weeds nonetheless. There are a lot of them and they were left when the mower came the other day. Saturday, I picked one to smell it because the bees are very fond of them. They’re hyacinths (I think that’s what they’re called, anyway) and smell lovely. But, because they don’t get the morning sun, they’re barely blooming. I wish I could bolster them, but hopefully this means that they’ll last a lot longer than the ones in my neighbor’s yard that are fully blossomed.

I also have one lone tulip that opened to the day Saturday. A striking red, it is. I thought it might be a daffodil last month.

My gardening knowledge knows no bounds, apparently.

Sometimes I go to the bar in the evenings when I have nothing to do. I usually go by myself as my friend(s) usually have other Normal Things to occupy their weeknights with. I sit in mostly the same spot and am generally recognized, but rarely talk to anyone there. Sometimes idle chat ensues, and sometimes I carry it on. Sometimes I sit and listen and talk to the people that no one else will listen to either out of fear of asking for money or a latching onto that sometimes occurs with regular folk like that. I don’t care. I think everyone deserves to be listened to once in awhile. Hopefully one day, someone will listen to me when I’m old and sitting there (probably on the same stool) and haven’t spoken a thought out loud within earshot of another person in weeks.

I sit at work and look at awards and certificates and other random paperwork and wonder where the last 8 years of my life have gotten to. Would the Me that started this job in 2000 recognize the Me that’s sitting here now? What happened to the Dream I was chasing when I started? A house, a family, a less stressful career, etc., etc. Somewhere in between starting to care too much about work and not enough about Important Things and alleviating boredom at work and at home, I lost sight of a lot of things. I suppose that happens to most people, though, and takes a lot of conscious effort everyday to not do so. Apparently, though, no one around me learns by example, only by doing…much to my dismay and theirs, eventually I’m sure.

I want another tattoo. I don’t need any more. But, I want 3 more smallish ones. Now. I wish I knew what was going to happen with the economy and gas prices and all that bullshit. I mean, I know what I think is going to happen which should make me want to horde my money. It, however, does not. It pisses me off and makes me want to buck the system. I’m no longer the rebel that I once was. I am, though, still paying for that rebel’s dumbass expenditures.

People, I have noticed lately, say less disparaging things to/about me (at least that I can hear). This is a good thing. But, I’m not sure why at the same time. I have it narrowed down to 3 things I think.
1. They figure that I don’t care and am not going to listen anyway.
2. They fear that I’m going to go batshit crazy at any moment and they don’t want to be the one to push me over the edge.
3. Maybe, just maybe, I’m on the right track and it’s obvious for once.


Spring brings out the wanderer in me, but not as much as fall. Spring makes me want to seek out new places to live and new things to do. I’m too chicken to go anywhere or do anything different though. I guess I always have been to some degree. I feel like I’m under The Man’s thumb and am not quite sure how to break that mode of thinking.

In 1992, I had one of the best spring seasons that I can remember. Everything just seemed to click. And, riding that euphoria into the summer, I promptly screwed up big time. There’s a pattern here. Trust me.

I’m glad I went to college and remember the best part of it fondly. Sometimes I feel like I should push myself to use it more.

I’m incredibly bored at work. Can you tell?


Don't forget to go buy this.

Just another day at the office

I recently introduced my co-worker and friend to g-chat. Following is an excerpt of this morning's conversation.

me: jesus...the turtle's got her spring outfit on today.i'm going to puke
Sent at 8:28 AM on Thursday

coworker: nooooooooooooo

me: oh yes. wait til she comes out there.it's making me rethink this whole "skirt season" thing.

coworker: do really have comcast cause its so much faster??!!

me: who wants some more pot roast?

coworker: you push it....push it real good

me: if she were to back that thing up, it'd need a beeper.

coworker: ok im coming to check it out

me: baha ok

coworker: it looks like bread rising around a piece of twine

me: i'm so not eating lunch now, fucker.


oh, and don't forget to buy this book

Spring?

My calendar tells me that it's April 1. It also says that Spring started on March 20. There have been a few warm days that, like me, want to believe this written word. The flowers that are struggling through the rain and wind and cold nights are believing it too. Maybe I should believe like they do and instinctively know that it's time to push my head up and bloom, regardless of what's going on around me.

Hey, don't forget to go HERE and buy this book.......

This is probably a mistake....

Ok, here you go.

Now that I've blown what little anonymity I had, go here to buy this masterpiece. And tell all your friends. And write reviews. And feel free to generally blow smoke up my ass. If you don't like it, well then, you can go ahead and keep those comments to yourself. hahaha! No really, I'll take all criticisms good and bad.
Thanks guys

March is the Best. Month. Ever.

What? You don't think so? Please, allow me to demonstrate why this is the greatest month all year.

1. The weather's getting warmer (albeit a little slowly).

2. There's more daylight in the evenings.

3. Today, there's a Holiday.

4. Tomorrow, there's my birthday.

5. Tomorrow, there's also another Holiday.

6. Monday, there's St. Patrick's Day (my calendar says it, so THERE.)

7. Spring starts next week.

8. I'm off next Friday.

9. Did I mention Spring already?

10. Daffodils.

So, there you have it.

Happy March!!

Dumbass, party of one?

Let me tell you what I did yesterday.......

Without going into too much detail about what I do for a living, because no one really cares (hell, I don't care most of the time), I have a big machine that essentially develops metal plates for printing. This machine has to be turned on and properly warmed up for 25 minutes every morning (sounds like a girl I used to know) before any actual work can be done. Yesterday, I come in and go through the usual routine except there's no display on the control panel. Nothing. I can hear a fan running, so I know that it's trying to run, but it won't come on. So, I sit and curse at it for 2 hours until the techs come in and I can call them. At noon, a service guy shows up. Wonderful!!! About 45 minutes later, he had it running again. The problem? I must've hit the emergency stop button first thing in the morning, thereby killing all power to the machine. He reset the button and off we went. Oops.

Why, yes, I would like fries with that.

Once more in my futile attempt to understand society and its "norms," I took advantage today of the "buy 1 jalapeno burger, get 1 free" coupon that I got in the mail last week. No, I didn't eat both of them. I don't have a deathwish. Yet. I gave the other one to a friend at work. Anyway, I get up at 4 a.m. By 10 a.m., I'm 1/2 way through my day. Do you know what happens at most people's midpoints in their day? Yep. Lunch. So, having been taught the vaulable lesson of the difference between 10 and 10:30 in the fast food world, I waited. And waited. My stomach was trying to eat my backbone. But, I understand that Breakfast is served until 10:30, at which point I can only assume all the leftover biscuits and sausages and "eggs" magically transform into stale fries and hamburgers. Hey, you only have to tell me that once. Or maybe twice, even though I know it's an argument I won't win. I once ordered lunch at 10:20 and they told me that I would have to wait until they finished with breakfast before I could get my order. 10 minutes. My response? "No problem, start cooking it now as I'm always in this damned line for 15 minutes anyway." That went over like a turd in a punch bowl. One other time? I asked for some of those lovely diced onions that only McDonald's has to be put on my sausage biscuit. She said, "we don't have those for breakfast." To which I replied "you mean, you don't have any in the whole restaurant and at 10:30, Wells Fargo brings them in or something?" Also not received well. So, imagine my surprise today when I showed up at the drive thru at 10:27, fully expecting to be shot down. This time, however, was different. After a lot of delay and some serious questioning by the clerk to her manager (really, I'm not making that up), it was decided that yes I could have a burger. The time at this point? 10:31. Time that I pulled out of the parking lot....10:45. I guess today really is my lucky day -- in some perverse parallel universe I'm guessing.

finally something to post....

I've been at a loss for something to post about recently. I can't decide if that's good, bad, or boring. I'm going with good because it means I'm not bitching about anything :-P

Nina tagged me to do this book thingy...

Directions: pick up the nearest book. Open to page 123. Type the fifth sentence on the page.


"One acquires important knowledge in the dwelling place of another generation."

Go, ahead, tag yourselves and let me know all about it :-) I promise you won't go blind from it.

no more yanky my wanky, Donger needs food

Sixteen Candles was on last night. Yes, I watched it. Most of it with the sound down because I was listening to an awesome cd that I can't remember the title of right now. Yes, it was that good. But, I digress. I'm a sucker for the 80s movies and know most of them by heart. I don't know why really. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that the actors were almost the same age as I was at the time, and I lived in a podunk town with little to no adventures and these kids were having parties and bonding in detention and stealing panties and having romantic interludes as only adolescents can. It was like a public journal of awkwardness and it was nice not to feel alone. Movies these days don't do that. They promote the good looking, cool kids who are just the right weight with the perfect hair and perfect skin. And, while I think overall that the kids today are better looking than they were 20 years ago, that's still not fair to all the kids who aren't exceptionally beautiful and/or rich and/or talented and/or whatever farce Hollywood is promoting in its latest "effort." Life's normal and plain and boring 90% of the time. Especially when you're living at home and have a curfew and chores. It's supposed to be. It prepares you for life on your own...you know when you have bills and no money and chores. If you have a crapton of excitement as a kid, you're going to be really, really disappointed when you get older and find out that working in a cube staring at a monitor and the words of other people is about as exciting as your day's going to get. Wouldn't it be more awesome if you spent your time as a teenager getting ready for the Big Day when you could break out on your own and do something important? And by do something important I mean buy beer and make grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. I'm just saying that the movies are building these kids up to think that the world's a dynamic place where all the hot girls swoon whenever you walk by and your hair is always perfect and everyone can dance/rap/paint/whatever. And, yes, people can do those things. But, it takes a lot of work and practice and hair gel. That's something that most flicks leave out. That's something that most kids don't want to do anyway. The best thing for these trouble-making kids is an afterschool job. That'll crush their dreams earlier and save them from the bitter twenty-something disillusionment that will befall them as surely as I'll have beer and grilled cheese for dinner tonight.

happy friday!

a false spring, or a conversation in my mind

There are things, no matter how well intentioned, that should never be said or done. No matter if there are rules, sanctioned agreements, prior evidence. These apply to everyone else, yes, but not to you. You, my friend, are subject to a whole different set of rules that you're not privy to.

It's ok. I've never been good at following rules anyway. Generally, I speak or act with my heart on my sleeve and then try to pick the pieces up later. You can keep your rules and your agreements and your pseudo-philosophical tenants to yourself please. I fell for them once too often and now I know that they're not really there at all.
I felt alive for the first time in a long, long time and it was overpowering. I had forgotten what it was to feel that way and I guess I let it get the best of me. I thought, maybe, that I had grown to the point where I could handle it, but now it's obvious that I can't, that I haven't grown at all really. Regressed, perhaps.

You should've known that this would happen, that we would have this conversation.

On some level I did. On another, I felt so childlike and full of wonder that I let myself pretend that it would all work out like some late night movie.
So, now I'll retire. I'll retire this old heart to its shelf over the fireplace. I'll hang my hopes in the closet with all the unworn jackets, waiting for the perfect occasion. I'll refill my pen and buy new notebooks. I'll wrap myself in this damnable cloak that I've made and weather this storm. And I'll hope that somewhere you know that I was kind of right, even if you never admit it, and that your future is a bright one, even if I'm not in it. I wear enough albatrosses around my neck without adding yours to it. I just can't anymore.

No one asked you to carry this burden. No one asked you to be involved. In fact, had you not been involved, there would be no problem.

I was asked. I was asked, told, shown, moved.....moved. Do you know how long it's been since something moved me? Took the breath from me? Jesus, man. But, it doesn't matter now. Not anymore. I'll keep that part of it with me, though. Always.

******

sorry for being cryptic. I'm fine. Just got some stuff on my mind. Feeling a bit better now, actually. In other news, my book is one step closer to being published as I finally sat down Saturday while "working" and typed everything up. I need to format it and arrange it, but I'm on the way. I'll put a link here when it's ready. And I expect all of you to buy at least 10 copies and to tell all your friends hahaha! No, I'm kidding. 1 or 2 each will be plenty.

let it snow, let it snow

It's funny how we never grow out of the part of our childhood that makes us excited to see it snow. I guess it goes back to days out of school spent sledding and having snowball fights and freedom from cars and adults. Even now, as it's been snowing for 5 minutes here, I find myself wanting to get out of here and go drive around or sit at home and watch it snow on the city. I love the quiet purity that comes with it, the heaviness in the air. The people at work are like a classroom full of children, looking out the windows and squawking endlessly about the snow and how they're going to get home and all that. Me, I look forward to rough conditions. Not that we'll get any. Most likely, it'll snow for an hour or two, then ice a bit, then rain. That's been our pattern for several years now. But, I'll take what I can get. If it's going to be cold and I'm going to sit in my house in layers like Nanook of the North, then I may as well have something to look at outside.

7 (?) Weird Things

As weird as I am about most things, you'd think I wouldn't have any problem coming up with 7 things to list. Actually, I don't. The problem is finding interesting ones. But, let's see what we can get, eh?

1. I rarely sit back on the couch or in a chair. In fact, I'm sitting on the edge of my chair right now typing this. At home, I sit in the middle of the couch and lean forward on my knees most of the evening. Once I sit back and relax, I fall asleep. Almost immediately and nearly every single time.

2. I have fallen asleep while lying back and eating potato chips. I kept eating the chips.

2a. I'm incredibly classy.

3. I don't read the newspaper or watch the news. On the rare occasions that I do pick up the paper, it's on a Monday morning so I can see if I know anyone on the obituary, er, I mean engagement page.

4. I like bluegrass music. But only on certain days, in certain weather conditions. It needs to be a cool day, like in late Autumn, or a bright cold one with a fire going.

5. I was in 2 musicals in high school. I can't carry a tune with a bucket.

6. I obsess over how I smell. I put my coat in the closet when I get home so it doesn't smell like the fire or cigarettes. I keep my bedroom door shut so my room doesn't smell like fire or food or cigarettes. I constantly buy new cologne because I like to always smell different. I don't understand people with b.o. or the ones that their nights follow them to work the next day. Everyone has a distinct smell about them, so much so that I can usually tell you who's coming into the room without looking (it's more than perfume/cologne...it's something else, but I don't know what it is), and I can't imagine being noted for that smell not being a good one.

7. I would like to have grown up in the 50s. I would've so had a hot rod and a leather jacket. Actually, I would now if I had some extra money. The car, that is. I already have the leather jacket. And chaps. And leather pants. No, I'm not a freak. I used to ride a motorcycle most of the year. Really. Swear. And, no I don't parade around in all that leather now. Although that would make for an interesting day at work ....hmm.......

EDIT: I think I just consumed enough garlic in my lunch to safely avoid or even kill vampires for the rest of my life. Move over Buffy...I mean Van Helsing.

News Flash!!!

There's a headline on Yahoo this morning that says MP3 players may cause hearing loss.

What's next? Big Macs make you fat?

I'm glad that the news world is keeping me abreast of all that's happening.

Screw you Winter!!

Normally, I'm a fan of winter. I like cold days, warm houses, good food, big sweaters, and all that jazz. Not anymore. Winter can officially kiss my ass. It was 9 last night. In some parts of the country, I know, it's a lot colder than that and for a lot longer than one night. I also understand that I had no snow and ice to contend with on top of the freezing cold. However, that's not my point, and I don't care.

Wanna take a guess on how cold it was in my house when I got home at 3:30 yesterday afternoon? Go ahead. I'll wait while you ponder it.

42. Forty-two. 10 degrees above freezing. That is ridiculous. Absolutely and positively ridiculous. But, J, don't you have heat? What about your fireplace? What about living in a house that's not pushing 100 years old?

1. yes, I do have heat. I have a kerosene heater and an electric heater. The main heat for the house is oil/radiator heat. I refuse to turn the furnace on because I refuse to pay near $4 a gallon for fuel oil. On both principles of me being tight and tired of the government screwing me and everyone else AND the simple fact that I don't think I could afford to run the tank dry in a month or two and have to refill it to the tune of $700, I say nay, nay to the oil heat. Thanks, Government, you've really stuck on in us all this time. What good is it to have tanks on the oil fields if oil prices keep going up and up? Stupid bastards. I bet the oil moguls aren't freezing at night. Pfft.

2. The fireplace works pretty well, as long as it's only down to 30 or so outside. Most of the heat gets lost up the chimney if it's much colder than that. I'm going to push the landlord to see if they'll either put in a stove insert or at least split the cost with me on it. Plus, I'm running on low on wood (ha! whatever!) and am waiting for my supply to come.

3. I could move, yes. But, I really, really, really like this house. The thought of going back to something newer and all pre-fab like everything I've ever lived in really, really makes me sick to my stomach. I love my house with the old, cracked plaster and wood floors and big porch. It's the first place I've lived in that has character on its own without me piling money into it to make it look like something it's not. Instead, all of my stuff compliments it. That, and I hate moving. I just moved in August. I don't really want to do it again. Besides, winter's only like 3 months. And, it's supposed to be 70 here by Monday. What the hell? I mean, I don't care...Go, Global Warming!! I'm taking my aerosol can outside right now and emptying that bastard to speed the process up.

To top it off, my back seized up this morning in some sort of spasm that I can only think came from lying under a blanket in front of the heater on my couch for 4 hours or so and then going to bed under a pile of blankets and fearing to move from one position on punishment of frostbite. I would like to choke someone today out of sheer frustration.

All that whining being completed now, I would like to say that I'm stopping at the store tonight to pick up those wool fingerless gloves that people seem to like because it's really, really hard to drink beer when even the koozie is cold.......

Let's gooooooo..........

Dear Jimmy Johnson,

I hope you and your spray on hair are eating a big plate of shut the hell up today. It's bad enough that I have to listen to you ramble incessantly on Sundays, but I thought I was going to jump through my television after you last night during the pregame show. Please stick to endorsing hair spray and leave the rest of us alone.

Dear Rich Rodriguez,

I hope OSU beats you senseless in the upcoming season. Oh, and thanks for undercoaching against Pitt because you were on your way out the door without telling anyone and costing us a chance at a national title. Jackass.