Write on.......

Oh shit. Now there are 4 more eyeballs here (until they're lulled to sleep anyways)and I feel like a wet-behind-the-ears journalist facing a deadline. To that I say, patooey! PrEsSuRe? I can handle pressure!

Me no comprende why you are here. I mean, I'm very, very average. Made B's and C's in High School (oh, but on a dare from father --> a $50 dare, I ran for Stucco President, I don't think anyone else ran, I won - and the last fitteen minutes of every class the National Honor Society Students were allowed to leave class/wander halls - and the dumbass teachers thought "well, since he's Stucco President, surely he's in the Honor Society" so - I got up and left every day every class fitteen minutes early.)

I had a 2.65 GPA in college, but it was the best six friggin years of my life (and you think I'm joking! It's all true.) Can you imagine the fun? Six, count 'em, SIX, incoming groups of freshmen women... WHY did I get out so soon?

Random thoughts:

I hate Kendra and Misty (cruddy co-workers)because they always talk about getting laid. Difference 'tween me and them, I too talk about it, but that's all. Bastards, I hate 'em. Kendra will say something like "well.... I was gonna go to the gym, but I decided to stay home and exercise" and roll her friggin eyes and flash that s-eatin' grin at me.. The only retaliation I've come up with is shooting rubber bands at her - and blowing smoke rings at her during lunch (she recently kinda/sorta/whenever she's not at "Church" quit smoking.)

Driving home, until now, has always been mundane. Now, as cataracts advance there's an added exhileration as I feel kinda like I'm riding the bumper cars in Branson and I gotta sit all forward and erect to make sure no idiots bash me. You'd be amazed at how close the sum'bitches come sometime...

Ya gotta love little kid's sports.. Did my three 1st and 2nd grade basketball games Saturday - and ceptin' for my smartass partner saying "man, why are you sweating so much?" it was a wonderful time. I was way too GD attentive to the game/my job and didn't have any chance to stare closely at grandmas... Fuck 'em I say, hey - they don't keep score anyways, next week I'm turning my back to the game and checking out the bleachers...... My favorite part of it all is the expression on the kids faces... Fun, fear, fortitude, fervor... In the 3rd game, this little guy was dribbling down the court... crossed the center line... approached the toppa the circle... he almost tripped and lost tracka the ball... it landed right in the hands of the kid that was guarding him... the kid was startled.. I guess felt sorry for the chap - and HANDED HIM THE BALL BACK! NICE... IF ONLY the world were so NICE. Passion - I have a passion for kid sports... I've never had one moment during where I worried about: mortgage, work, car, getting laid, empty fridge, empty wallet... etc. It's a blast.

Some other crap that puts me in a devine mood with a devil-may-care disposition: Motown (especially the Temps), BBQ ribs, close your ears -> following a nice, nice butt.. Golden T bowling with my old HS cronies and Miller Lite... Watching people dance (I'm VERY white).. Walking in the hottest of temps and just getting drenched.. Seeing joy on other's faces.. and shooting rubber bands at or blowing smoke rings at Kendra.

Been awhile, wonder if Susan Lucci is still hot... Single?

GPS Satellite Tracking Systems? Who needs 'em.. To keep track of me, just tune in Traffic on the 9's on 980 AM.

Elvis was 42 when he keeled. I wonder how many times he got laid?

Can you stand one more cataract joke? Yesterday, returning inside from break, there was this wonderful looking Honey Bun on my chair at work. Honey Buns damn near made the devil-may-care list. I had no idea who'd done it.. Asked Kendra (we share MY cubicle).. she looked over as if she was seeing it the first time - so knew it wasn't her.. So, grabbed more coffee, tore into eating the Honey Bun - and about a thirda the way through I hear "YOU'RE EATING THAT? DON'T EAT THAT, IT'S GOT MOLD ALLOVER IT." Uh huh, was true. The white mold looked liked icing. It was like onea those "Want to get away" Southwest Airline ad moments. I can hear the bastards plotting.. "hey, let's give this to the blind guy!"... My attorney suggested I might make enough to sell "your Godforsaken car". I hate him too.

Kinda considered doing the online dating sites again.. but.. went through three of 'em last night - and they each had plenty a questions to really narrow down the search.. but I never could find one that mentioned if you lived on a hill or not - so I doubt I'll do it. If you've forgotten, my car is RNDL, as in no P.

OK, deadline - as in old, 10:15pm. Thanks to all who leave comments.. it's a wonderful prerequisite to "Buddy can you spare a dime." Love, Victurd. (Oh, btw, I've got popup blocker on this new GD (gosh darn)AT&T Yahoo thingamabob, so, it wouldn't allow me to do spellcheck. So, grits to you if you find errors.)