I HAVE a good feel for emotions… I generally understand them…. I ain’t cocky, but I feel I have decent empathy… can detect, just by looking at someone’s face - whether something is up in someone’s world, or that maybe they just got laid the night before….
I’M A PEOPLE PERSON FOR C$#$%#$’S SAKE - HOW COULD YOU TELL ME I HAVE “BELOW AVERAGE EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE”??????
Oh….. Hi…… sorry… . A little carried away there….
I spent halfa the weekend biting my nails worrying about: me, my life, “are my thoughts/beliefs screwed up?”, do I need a life ‘oil change’? Should I come from right field insteada leftfield? I am a compilation of those before me… (hehe, maybe it’s partly THEIR fault!!!!)
I hung my head as I went to work today… I truly love people… Sure, I avoid the negative ones… but at least I can detect their negativity…
I was browsing thru certain tests.. Actually… looking for perhaps a new (creative) bulletin for MySpace because I about vomit when I see the ones that say stuff like “what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream”, “do you kiss on the first date”, “would you rather attend a movie or a live play?”… meaningless bullshit…. (Sorry, way I feel)…
So I took the following test… now I don’t expect you to take the following test… It’s 106 questions long… and afterward it told me ‘you are below average in emotional intelligence” and that was basically it… except I could dig out my credit card to find out why, and what I could do to “improve my life, my problem solving” etc, etc.
http://www.queendom.com/tests/access_page/index.htm?idRegTest=1121
I was below average…..
So I said “Screw them bastards” and took this test tonight (much shorter)
http://www.queendom.com/tests/access_page/index.htm?idRegTest=1121
“You scored a 135.” WTF is that? Outta how many? I remember once coming home so proudly after running a varsity cross country race finishing 52nd - screamed it to my parents, and they looked at me dumbfounded. “Outta what?”… Turns out, 145 was top. Phew. Thanks. I needed that. I feared they were gonna whisk me away to St. Joe (insane asylum) where they have a decoupage thingy made up from all the nails, pens, screws, etc some patient swallowed. Much better.
Then I thought, ok, one of each. Mebbe I better take another…
So I did (even shorter than the last)……
http://www.ihhp.com/quiz.php
I gotta 35 on this. About ready to flip, they said “very good.” “High”. Patted me on the back for empathy, and then said there were still a few things I could improve upon..
Phew. I’m not nucking futs. I’d let the emotions get the besta me. Cept them bastards said I didn’t have any. FU I cried watching the Mickey Mantle-Roger Maris movie “61” this weekend.
A tear literally rolled down my eye this morning - as the contents from a fired employees desk that were strewn atop the file cabinets (“take whatever you want”) whittled down to nada.
I see the definition is: Emotional intelligence is the innate potential to feel, use, communicate, recognize, remember, learn from, manage and understand emotions.
I think I’m average. I think the above all comes from life’s learnings, and we all do that decently. We get better as we go, but we’re human, we slip. We chastise ourselves, apologize if necessary - and move on.
It was all in all kinda cool taking the tests. Ya get bored, try ‘em. If you have bad results, not too worry. St. Joe ain’t a bad town. Hehe. Nah, I think the topic is so new, there’s 612 people that are experts with 947 ideas about it.
Victor, this was pretty boring shit. I know, sorry. But I was flustered. I promise, I’ll try my damndest to draw a smile next time. May your emotional intelligence be measured longer than the average Oriental pecker. (Not my stats… remember that study I did on the net about penis’s?.. they were, the smallest.)
Happy day, Love, Victurd.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid???? Victor, that’s a long time ago…
Si Senorita, me know.. A lotta stuff about my life is a long time ago… I’ll drive by a place – remember when it was the old grocery store, or the Drive In theater.… Was watching the movie “61” (About Roger Maris, Mickey Mantle and their home run chase of Babe Ruth in 1961) with my son – and told him “ya know, they had a fun movie come out right after Maris broke the record.. Roger and Mickey even starred in it… I saw it at the Plaza Theater.” He countered with “you mean down on the Plaza?”… “No.. here in Liberty, right about where the fountain is @ City Hall.. you know, where they setup bands for city occasions.”
Living in the past? Oft times. The past was very fine to me. My take, every minute very shortly turns into the past. In ten years, we’ll be talking about things that happen today.. We’re building a life in progress..
I kinda sorta think I went thru the 60’s, 70’s, and a good portion of the 80’s hell on wheels – and mebbe that’s why more old mems pop up…. Mid-eighties on – ‘twas family (my/our own) time – and those were special memories… hard to replay the times of parent/young child.. impossible to relive/replay the whatshername/Victor time..
The New Millennium me.. (Victor, do you realize this entire blog is about YOU?) Yes, yes I do. But – it’s my hope your brain queries as well – and that you reflect back as to your happiest times – or you take your current situation – and not necessarily try to replicate that era… but I see nothing wrong with dipping your toes in the good times of the past…
As Butch and Sundance peeked back behind – they were being followed by some 200+ men… “Who the hell are those guys” they asked… I say, “whothehell am I” – and the answer is – a conglomeration of the above.
So.. 60’s, 70’s, parta the 80’s = hell on wheels. Parta the 80’s, 90’s = car parked, building baby cars.. The car’s been back outta the garage – and going like hell. Yes, I notice more creaks/groans.. no, the car doesn’t run down the rode at the same speed/smoothness it once did… but it’s still hell on wheels..
Am I rationalizing because I like to go out and have a good time? Probably. But too – isn’t life all about having a good time? Is playing a CD of “25 hits from 25 years of Motown” hiding from today? Mebbe. Is going to the City Park, reading the Sunday paper and envisioning good times from the past an attempt to turn back the hands of time? Possibly.
I’d much much much prefer to be in a relationship – take turns cooking/doing dishes. Work together in the yard. Share laundry duties. My turn for Piggly Wiggly. Hell, go to Piggly Wiggly and make out in the frozen food aisle even. But I ain’t got that.. So I go.. and I have no regrets..
If I wanna crank Ray Charles’s “What’d I say” – I’ll crank Ray Charles’s “What’d I say.” If I wanna remember being parked in the parking lot of Schoeller’s grocery store waiting for Robert to get off work so we could head out – I will. If I wanna go to my favorite dive – see friends from yesteryear/todayyear – I will. There are some benefits to singlehood.
In punching the timeclock of life, I’m gonna try to give ‘er all I got. I intend to surround myself with smiley situations – and run from evil, gossip, unneeded confrontations, etc. I am yesterday. I am today – which will be a memory tomorrow. Who the hell is that guy? He’s hell on wheels. Maybe his ride needs a little GPS – but by golly he’s taking in every scenic turn. He’s gadding about versus turning old, gray, stale on the sofa. Perhaps he’s rationalizing to defray guilt, fear of being seen as immature. I don’t think so. Life is a party – let as many in the door as you can.
I see my role not to ask “who the hell is this guy?” My role is to live life the way I wanna live life – then when they shake my ashes out at the City Park, THEN they can ask “whothehell was this guy?”
I hope your ride is of your choosing. I hope it’s happy. I hope it’s smiley. I hope it’s fun. I hope it ain’t got gossip, evil, unneeded confrontation. Whether you pick hell on wheels or the sofa, God Bless you in your quest for a quality life.. Love, Victurd.
Living in the past? Oft times. The past was very fine to me. My take, every minute very shortly turns into the past. In ten years, we’ll be talking about things that happen today.. We’re building a life in progress..
I kinda sorta think I went thru the 60’s, 70’s, and a good portion of the 80’s hell on wheels – and mebbe that’s why more old mems pop up…. Mid-eighties on – ‘twas family (my/our own) time – and those were special memories… hard to replay the times of parent/young child.. impossible to relive/replay the whatshername/Victor time..
The New Millennium me.. (Victor, do you realize this entire blog is about YOU?) Yes, yes I do. But – it’s my hope your brain queries as well – and that you reflect back as to your happiest times – or you take your current situation – and not necessarily try to replicate that era… but I see nothing wrong with dipping your toes in the good times of the past…
As Butch and Sundance peeked back behind – they were being followed by some 200+ men… “Who the hell are those guys” they asked… I say, “whothehell am I” – and the answer is – a conglomeration of the above.
So.. 60’s, 70’s, parta the 80’s = hell on wheels. Parta the 80’s, 90’s = car parked, building baby cars.. The car’s been back outta the garage – and going like hell. Yes, I notice more creaks/groans.. no, the car doesn’t run down the rode at the same speed/smoothness it once did… but it’s still hell on wheels..
Am I rationalizing because I like to go out and have a good time? Probably. But too – isn’t life all about having a good time? Is playing a CD of “25 hits from 25 years of Motown” hiding from today? Mebbe. Is going to the City Park, reading the Sunday paper and envisioning good times from the past an attempt to turn back the hands of time? Possibly.
I’d much much much prefer to be in a relationship – take turns cooking/doing dishes. Work together in the yard. Share laundry duties. My turn for Piggly Wiggly. Hell, go to Piggly Wiggly and make out in the frozen food aisle even. But I ain’t got that.. So I go.. and I have no regrets..
If I wanna crank Ray Charles’s “What’d I say” – I’ll crank Ray Charles’s “What’d I say.” If I wanna remember being parked in the parking lot of Schoeller’s grocery store waiting for Robert to get off work so we could head out – I will. If I wanna go to my favorite dive – see friends from yesteryear/todayyear – I will. There are some benefits to singlehood.
In punching the timeclock of life, I’m gonna try to give ‘er all I got. I intend to surround myself with smiley situations – and run from evil, gossip, unneeded confrontations, etc. I am yesterday. I am today – which will be a memory tomorrow. Who the hell is that guy? He’s hell on wheels. Maybe his ride needs a little GPS – but by golly he’s taking in every scenic turn. He’s gadding about versus turning old, gray, stale on the sofa. Perhaps he’s rationalizing to defray guilt, fear of being seen as immature. I don’t think so. Life is a party – let as many in the door as you can.
I see my role not to ask “who the hell is this guy?” My role is to live life the way I wanna live life – then when they shake my ashes out at the City Park, THEN they can ask “whothehell was this guy?”
I hope your ride is of your choosing. I hope it’s happy. I hope it’s smiley. I hope it’s fun. I hope it ain’t got gossip, evil, unneeded confrontation. Whether you pick hell on wheels or the sofa, God Bless you in your quest for a quality life.. Love, Victurd.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
I thought only fair.....
To visit the view of online dating from a woman’s shoes…. So… I signed up.. As blondekclady… 52... 5’4”, slender (and stacked.) bastards will hate me ‘cause I ain’t real… Ok, so I did so to get the female perspective.. Don’t get pissed, the men spell much better on these sites… and, as we all already knew - are generally piggies! Not all, but many.. Here goes:
“I am a very handsome man” (no picture on dating site.)
“hi there no remarks about the name ok, unless you know what it really means,”, signed ‘toejamjohn’
“Hi there!
just something about me, i just expect people to be who they say they are . I like slender woman,attractive,nice desposition very little luggage.” Ahm, if any of you have a nice desposition, would you email me a pic of it?
“I'm adventures and love to live life, Their is a time and place for everything, Looking for friend and what ever may happen. Love the outdoors as well as home life. Looking for a woman that is caring loving and has a tast for living and will cut loose!” Ahm, let loose? So, like this first encounter… Super 8?
Looking for sports/athletic gal in good shape 30-45... (he 54)… Pool,,,,beach,sand,and drinks with little umbrellas sure sound like dfun” D-Bomb
“enjoy working with wood” RUNNNNN!!!!
‘I am a happy person with a very hi iq annd darn proud of it… If you are reasonabley intelligent have a great body (had to throw that in, its my nature) I want you.” Sounds reasonabley enough to me Einstein…
“I am in a dead-end relationship and we are discussing divorce. I am interested in a woman who is either in the same situation or who understands the circumstances.” Sounds as if another in hopes of a first date at the Super 8.
“I don't date prostitutes; any woman who is just out for the money. Being truthful in a relationship is important to me… I own my house outright, since I can't do everything I need some help around the house, I'm not a good housekeeper and I can't cook very well either. The ten best lotto numbers in my life are eight one six three six one two seven nine seven. I'll see you at the he famous.” (In any are interested in this position, I can get you his email address.)
“I'm very open about everything,get turned on by honisty people,keeping secrets is a total turn off for me,my friends no me as trryroberts in the village land.” No comment.
“looking for someone who desires some sack time & needs some desires fulfilled. please no one over 40!!!!!! (Age 55. Again, no comment.)
“quickly: recent x smoker, longtime atheist,liberally open minded,live alone,allergic to cats/barking dogs& obno kids,match/date must be normal weight” (Is this the kinda chap that has you thinking “I’ll take two.”?)
“Are there any ladies out there who have a passion for wearing stockings and a garter belt or thigh high stockings most days?” Again, I promise you, I’m just copying and pasting.)
“I'm looking for sex because I'm not getting it at home. No strings attached. Looking someone in a similar situation.”
“I am Looking for a lady that wants a young man for themselves. I can be a little rough, but only if you like! “
Have a great evening…. Oh, and as an aside… on this specific site - whenever you look at someone’s profile, they know which profile looked at them.. I feel like dog poop. Somea the females I made fun of are now contacting me kinda sorta semi-hopeful. Brb, going to look thru the inployed ones.
Love, Victurd
“I am a very handsome man” (no picture on dating site.)
“hi there no remarks about the name ok, unless you know what it really means,”, signed ‘toejamjohn’
“Hi there!
just something about me, i just expect people to be who they say they are . I like slender woman,attractive,nice desposition very little luggage.” Ahm, if any of you have a nice desposition, would you email me a pic of it?
“I'm adventures and love to live life, Their is a time and place for everything, Looking for friend and what ever may happen. Love the outdoors as well as home life. Looking for a woman that is caring loving and has a tast for living and will cut loose!” Ahm, let loose? So, like this first encounter… Super 8?
Looking for sports/athletic gal in good shape 30-45... (he 54)… Pool,,,,beach,sand,and drinks with little umbrellas sure sound like dfun” D-Bomb
“enjoy working with wood” RUNNNNN!!!!
‘I am a happy person with a very hi iq annd darn proud of it… If you are reasonabley intelligent have a great body (had to throw that in, its my nature) I want you.” Sounds reasonabley enough to me Einstein…
“I am in a dead-end relationship and we are discussing divorce. I am interested in a woman who is either in the same situation or who understands the circumstances.” Sounds as if another in hopes of a first date at the Super 8.
“I don't date prostitutes; any woman who is just out for the money. Being truthful in a relationship is important to me… I own my house outright, since I can't do everything I need some help around the house, I'm not a good housekeeper and I can't cook very well either. The ten best lotto numbers in my life are eight one six three six one two seven nine seven. I'll see you at the he famous.” (In any are interested in this position, I can get you his email address.)
“I'm very open about everything,get turned on by honisty people,keeping secrets is a total turn off for me,my friends no me as trryroberts in the village land.” No comment.
“looking for someone who desires some sack time & needs some desires fulfilled. please no one over 40!!!!!! (Age 55. Again, no comment.)
“quickly: recent x smoker, longtime atheist,liberally open minded,live alone,allergic to cats/barking dogs& obno kids,match/date must be normal weight” (Is this the kinda chap that has you thinking “I’ll take two.”?)
“Are there any ladies out there who have a passion for wearing stockings and a garter belt or thigh high stockings most days?” Again, I promise you, I’m just copying and pasting.)
“I'm looking for sex because I'm not getting it at home. No strings attached. Looking someone in a similar situation.”
“I am Looking for a lady that wants a young man for themselves. I can be a little rough, but only if you like! “
Have a great evening…. Oh, and as an aside… on this specific site - whenever you look at someone’s profile, they know which profile looked at them.. I feel like dog poop. Somea the females I made fun of are now contacting me kinda sorta semi-hopeful. Brb, going to look thru the inployed ones.
Love, Victurd
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Victor, I can't believe you are doing this.....
Aw WTF, they’re the ones that posted this stuff… Yes, I know - but YOU, you of all people.. Your talk about hating discrimination, racial/ethnic jokes.. Your hatrid of others putting people down... Your GD Pollyanna "take pictures with your eyes" talk.. You, lover of ALL people.. WTF is up with this? Making fun of people?
I just wanted to share what internet online match thingies can be like for those that ain’t internet online match edjumacated… C’mon, lighten up.. Havea laugh…
“Hi my name is Glenda and I am a young 50 looking for someone who can keep up with me.” This shit drives me batty to no end. Glenda, in who’s opinion? Oh, and three laps, HS track of your GD choice.
“i,m a 51 year old womam. i like danceing, hiking, cooking, caning,singing,watching movies, siting by the fireplace, snuggling.” Womam? Danceing? Siting? You’re into fucking caning? Lady they got sites for that shit.
“i am a vary nice person and get along with just about any body im looking for a guy who will treat me nice and like to do things together and one that wants a lone term relationship and i dont want any talk about sex until we get to know each other for a while “ Vary well should scratch that lone one off.
“I don't play games and will not except a man that does.” Huh?
“i was a certified nurses aide for 6 years at john knox vialliage, i am not inployed right now but i am looking for work i dont act or look my age of 57 so i called this program and they changed my age on here so younger men would be available to me." (listed as 45). Do I need to even say anything here? Good luck filling out your job implications, and I hope you get many enterviews. (I think she’s lying. I think she was a fucking resident there.)
“I have been devorced for 7 years.” Wow. But, I gotta admit, I didn’t learn howta spill separate until I was that.
“I cannot make you happy. So if that is what you are looking for, keep on looking….If you can't love yourself, you can't love anyone else….If you think you are an easy going person, again, keep on looking.. I'm not your mom. I'm not going to try to change you. (Wanna bet?).. Okay, I'm off my soap box now.” SHIT she forgot her phone number, I coulda had some fun.
“I'm highly educated with a professional career, looking for the same. I'm looking for a friend with benefits relationship to start as I'm not in a hurry to remarry.” Wouldn’t “I’m smart, let’s fuck” been easier?
“Are there really any men on here wanting a relationship?” Ahm, no. What’s your bra size though?
“Looing for someone who enjoys life. I am not looking for someone who is a player.
I am not looking for someone who I need to be taken care of. So in other words someone who has his act together.” Dammit, I guess this counts me out.
“Have you ever smelled lilacs during a gentle rain?” Ever eat a pine tree? Too GD fluffy lady, seeya later.
“I dont like playing games....I dont like liars so if u must dont talk to me....I am a bit guarded as I have been hurt badly. Im not looking just for sex so if u are dont bother.” Damn, now I’m intrigued as to how she hurt herself…
“hi i am 43 years old and i am looking for an older man that is older then me.” I promise you, I’m just copying and pasting, I ain’t writing this shit.
“I do not go for cheaters, lier's, thief's... My natural hair color is brown but I dye it blonde… I do not do drugs, and don't care to meet some one that does. I do not go for people using Viagra.” DAMMIT. I can’t be a lier and tell her I don’t need the stuff.
“I am younger than my years physically and probably emotionally, fun, intelligent and I know how to speak to anyone, am told I am attractive, darn cute but am not a prima donna.Although i appreciate the finer things.(don't we all?)” Gotta be Leawood, KS.
“Does this stuff really happen.” No, but you can, with persistence, get laid here.
Just the tip of the iceberg. Twenty minutes worth of searching. I will say though, I’ve met some vary nice ladies. Never caned any though. Enjoyed danceing with some. Most was devorced. Never run onta any uninployed ones. Honest, I ain’t a lier. Good luck to you if you are a fellow online dater. May your dream be only a click away. Love, Victurd.
I just wanted to share what internet online match thingies can be like for those that ain’t internet online match edjumacated… C’mon, lighten up.. Havea laugh…
“Hi my name is Glenda and I am a young 50 looking for someone who can keep up with me.” This shit drives me batty to no end. Glenda, in who’s opinion? Oh, and three laps, HS track of your GD choice.
“i,m a 51 year old womam. i like danceing, hiking, cooking, caning,singing,watching movies, siting by the fireplace, snuggling.” Womam? Danceing? Siting? You’re into fucking caning? Lady they got sites for that shit.
“i am a vary nice person and get along with just about any body im looking for a guy who will treat me nice and like to do things together and one that wants a lone term relationship and i dont want any talk about sex until we get to know each other for a while “ Vary well should scratch that lone one off.
“I don't play games and will not except a man that does.” Huh?
“i was a certified nurses aide for 6 years at john knox vialliage, i am not inployed right now but i am looking for work i dont act or look my age of 57 so i called this program and they changed my age on here so younger men would be available to me." (listed as 45). Do I need to even say anything here? Good luck filling out your job implications, and I hope you get many enterviews. (I think she’s lying. I think she was a fucking resident there.)
“I have been devorced for 7 years.” Wow. But, I gotta admit, I didn’t learn howta spill separate until I was that.
“I cannot make you happy. So if that is what you are looking for, keep on looking….If you can't love yourself, you can't love anyone else….If you think you are an easy going person, again, keep on looking.. I'm not your mom. I'm not going to try to change you. (Wanna bet?).. Okay, I'm off my soap box now.” SHIT she forgot her phone number, I coulda had some fun.
“I'm highly educated with a professional career, looking for the same. I'm looking for a friend with benefits relationship to start as I'm not in a hurry to remarry.” Wouldn’t “I’m smart, let’s fuck” been easier?
“Are there really any men on here wanting a relationship?” Ahm, no. What’s your bra size though?
“Looing for someone who enjoys life. I am not looking for someone who is a player.
I am not looking for someone who I need to be taken care of. So in other words someone who has his act together.” Dammit, I guess this counts me out.
“Have you ever smelled lilacs during a gentle rain?” Ever eat a pine tree? Too GD fluffy lady, seeya later.
“I dont like playing games....I dont like liars so if u must dont talk to me....I am a bit guarded as I have been hurt badly. Im not looking just for sex so if u are dont bother.” Damn, now I’m intrigued as to how she hurt herself…
“hi i am 43 years old and i am looking for an older man that is older then me.” I promise you, I’m just copying and pasting, I ain’t writing this shit.
“I do not go for cheaters, lier's, thief's... My natural hair color is brown but I dye it blonde… I do not do drugs, and don't care to meet some one that does. I do not go for people using Viagra.” DAMMIT. I can’t be a lier and tell her I don’t need the stuff.
“I am younger than my years physically and probably emotionally, fun, intelligent and I know how to speak to anyone, am told I am attractive, darn cute but am not a prima donna.Although i appreciate the finer things.(don't we all?)” Gotta be Leawood, KS.
“Does this stuff really happen.” No, but you can, with persistence, get laid here.
Just the tip of the iceberg. Twenty minutes worth of searching. I will say though, I’ve met some vary nice ladies. Never caned any though. Enjoyed danceing with some. Most was devorced. Never run onta any uninployed ones. Honest, I ain’t a lier. Good luck to you if you are a fellow online dater. May your dream be only a click away. Love, Victurd.
I'd like Door #3 please....
Choices. Three of the women nearest and dearest to me - make very very good choices. In their careers, in their parenting, in their written word, in their spoken word. I’ve marveled at them. However, they all suck in mate selection.
Believe me, I KNOW I am far, far, far from perfection - but I too would classify myself in the group above… It’s my belief marriage is something to be taken very seriously. Tying the knot should only be done after you’ve deemed if you can survive through your mates imperfections - as well as them putting up with your imperfection..
I am human, hear me roar. You are human, I hear you roar.
Why do people select mates that just don’t work out? Why are some women intrigued by “the bad boy” and some men by the dominating woman? One knows this in advance, and then asks “why’d I do that” after it happens - or, perhaps more blindly “how’d that happen?” Gee, I dunno.
Today, very very few make it thru with the same mate. Yes, oft times it’s out of one’s control when it doesn’t happen. Perhaps either ourselves, or the mate just isn’t the person we/they were thought to be.
Who wrote the book of love, and did they use spellcheck?
I heard the latest/last Harry Potter book has a page missing, and virtually all that read it don’t notice. I wonder if that’s what’s happened to the book of love.
I have heard “I always end up getting shit on.” Funny, some tend to park beneath assholes. Buddy ‘o mine, deathly fear of upcoming canoe trip - snake falling into canoe from tree above. Fuck that. Don’t go under any trees. Navigate. We don’t navigate in life. We go full bore, oh-baby-oh-baby - we become smitten, then bitten - and again we ask “how’d that happen?”, or more observantly “why’d I do that.”
I guess I’m rationalizing for the six year ongoing process that hasn’t lent itself a mate for me. Much, I know, precipitates this. Two that have walked away makes it even harder to totally give one’s heart. And age. We see a behavior we don’t like - and we say “nah… I don’t wanna do this the resta my life.”.. We could even subconsciously say to ourselves “if I don’t get into a relationship - then there’s no fear of having it end” and we while away life alone.
So…. Summing this all up, it don’t add up. So… I’ll trudge to the future with the immediate selfish list: some fun out with my runnin’ buddies.. My Freudian wish list: ahm, friend with beni’s (867-5309).. Good cold beer in the fridge… a harmonious work atmosphere. A car that starts. A bank account that has balance.. And an Aladdin’s lamp to rub and have ‘her’ one day appear.
Longterm lease available: good (not perfect) man… He usedta be kinda athletic (gravity is taking place - but he PROMISES 150 crunches a day IF you are ‘her’. He has all the hair on his head left. Some crevices. A shit-eaten grin (note: not a bad boy.) He whistles too much probably. He probably tries to make everything in life too light, fun. He has an occasional skidmark (but promises to buy Spray and Wash insteada the cheap shit at Dollar General for ‘her’).. A nasty bunion on the backa my right heel (eh, could be shit you’d need/wantata know.) Shortpeckeritis, but still operable.. No great equity/401K, but really not much debt either. He touches too much, probably. He enjoys giving a massage probably moreso than getting one. He thought oral sex was ‘talking about it’ until shortly after marriage #2 ended. (Victor, you’rea GD pervert.) Aren’t we all? He loves pets, kids, Soul Music, anything with a great beat, BBQ ribs, peanut butter, Fritos, people watching, anything associated with water, etc (use your imagination on that one.)
Victor, you’re overdoing it a tad. I don’t care, this is important shit. What about ‘her’? Whaddaya/whodoya seek? I pray I’ll just know. If interested, please dial 867-5309 and leave message accompanied by bra size, slack size, bank balance, and if you don’t mind getting your fingernails dirty or not. Teasing, about all. (Except the fingernail part. That’s a haveta.)
Door #1 wadn’t it. Ditto Door #2. Where the hell are you woman? My bellys a getting’ bigger, my crevises are getting’ deeper - and I grow closer every day to eventual dementia, incontinence, and ahm, somea that other stuff that happens to men as they age.
Call me. We’ll do lunch. Love, Victurd.
Believe me, I KNOW I am far, far, far from perfection - but I too would classify myself in the group above… It’s my belief marriage is something to be taken very seriously. Tying the knot should only be done after you’ve deemed if you can survive through your mates imperfections - as well as them putting up with your imperfection..
I am human, hear me roar. You are human, I hear you roar.
Why do people select mates that just don’t work out? Why are some women intrigued by “the bad boy” and some men by the dominating woman? One knows this in advance, and then asks “why’d I do that” after it happens - or, perhaps more blindly “how’d that happen?” Gee, I dunno.
Today, very very few make it thru with the same mate. Yes, oft times it’s out of one’s control when it doesn’t happen. Perhaps either ourselves, or the mate just isn’t the person we/they were thought to be.
Who wrote the book of love, and did they use spellcheck?
I heard the latest/last Harry Potter book has a page missing, and virtually all that read it don’t notice. I wonder if that’s what’s happened to the book of love.
I have heard “I always end up getting shit on.” Funny, some tend to park beneath assholes. Buddy ‘o mine, deathly fear of upcoming canoe trip - snake falling into canoe from tree above. Fuck that. Don’t go under any trees. Navigate. We don’t navigate in life. We go full bore, oh-baby-oh-baby - we become smitten, then bitten - and again we ask “how’d that happen?”, or more observantly “why’d I do that.”
I guess I’m rationalizing for the six year ongoing process that hasn’t lent itself a mate for me. Much, I know, precipitates this. Two that have walked away makes it even harder to totally give one’s heart. And age. We see a behavior we don’t like - and we say “nah… I don’t wanna do this the resta my life.”.. We could even subconsciously say to ourselves “if I don’t get into a relationship - then there’s no fear of having it end” and we while away life alone.
So…. Summing this all up, it don’t add up. So… I’ll trudge to the future with the immediate selfish list: some fun out with my runnin’ buddies.. My Freudian wish list: ahm, friend with beni’s (867-5309).. Good cold beer in the fridge… a harmonious work atmosphere. A car that starts. A bank account that has balance.. And an Aladdin’s lamp to rub and have ‘her’ one day appear.
Longterm lease available: good (not perfect) man… He usedta be kinda athletic (gravity is taking place - but he PROMISES 150 crunches a day IF you are ‘her’. He has all the hair on his head left. Some crevices. A shit-eaten grin (note: not a bad boy.) He whistles too much probably. He probably tries to make everything in life too light, fun. He has an occasional skidmark (but promises to buy Spray and Wash insteada the cheap shit at Dollar General for ‘her’).. A nasty bunion on the backa my right heel (eh, could be shit you’d need/wantata know.) Shortpeckeritis, but still operable.. No great equity/401K, but really not much debt either. He touches too much, probably. He enjoys giving a massage probably moreso than getting one. He thought oral sex was ‘talking about it’ until shortly after marriage #2 ended. (Victor, you’rea GD pervert.) Aren’t we all? He loves pets, kids, Soul Music, anything with a great beat, BBQ ribs, peanut butter, Fritos, people watching, anything associated with water, etc (use your imagination on that one.)
Victor, you’re overdoing it a tad. I don’t care, this is important shit. What about ‘her’? Whaddaya/whodoya seek? I pray I’ll just know. If interested, please dial 867-5309 and leave message accompanied by bra size, slack size, bank balance, and if you don’t mind getting your fingernails dirty or not. Teasing, about all. (Except the fingernail part. That’s a haveta.)
Door #1 wadn’t it. Ditto Door #2. Where the hell are you woman? My bellys a getting’ bigger, my crevises are getting’ deeper - and I grow closer every day to eventual dementia, incontinence, and ahm, somea that other stuff that happens to men as they age.
Call me. We’ll do lunch. Love, Victurd.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Top or bottom?
Of course, there’s exhilaration to both… but there are differences….
On the bottom - you’re really kinda restricted… Not much movement - that’s almost exclusively controlled by the one on top… Oh, it can be great from the bottom - don’t get me wrong.. In fact, I personally believe there’s more feel when your on the bottom… On the other hand, it’s usually “dirtier” down there… and you’re stuck in it - no place to go, you simply have to put up with it..
Whilst atop - you call the shots… You control… You make the moves… the bottom reacts to those moves.. Sometimes there’s wild and crazy moves made… some with great thought - some without much planning or foresight… You enjoy that feel of being above - and sometimes you simply lose control - and the one on bottom, again, is at your mercy.
Some can be really really good on the bottom, and then if they ultimately get to the top, they stink it up…Once up there, again, the bottom person can’t do anything - and it’s virtually impossible to get them off the top no matter how bad they are..
Of course, I’ve too seen those that have been on top - oh leaders of the motion - only to succumb to returning to the bottom - and generally they don’t take it as well down there… Hemmed in. No freedom to express. Usedta control, now being controlled.
Mosta my life I’ve enjoyed the bottom. I know that’s probably a personal thing to say - but it’s true. I’ve been under some great ones - but conversely, I’ve been under a few that didn’t have the kutzpah to say “YES! YES! YES!”
I’ve gotten out of some of those relationships when the top stunk it up… oh, I loved virtually romp - but sometimes enough is just enough.
I’m not great on top because I fear the trampling, the hurt that can come from above… I don’t mind the ‘dirt’.. Oh there’s still some freedom down below - and again, sometimes the sensation can be incredible..
Thus ends my conversation - and I reckon to capsulize - I’d never make it in management. I’m more the worker bee, foot soldier type.
Huh? What’d you think I was talking about? MY GOODNESS. You’rea GD (Gosh Darn) pervert. Why don’t you go back to watching your porn you sicko… So, you mean through all that you were visualizing, thinking back about your experiences… lying there in the ‘dirt’.. controlling the flow… being restricted… being free to do whateverinthehell you want to? Why you little shit, I bet you HAVE said YES! YES! YES! haven't you? I'd be ashamed.
Please. Do tell. Or I’ll haveta go watch porn.
Victor, you’re one weird pup. Is there sucha thing as normal?
Ok, Ok, since you asked… or read nine paragraphs wondering which I prefer… both… I’ve served in both roles.. I’ve enjoyed each equally… Uh huh the “yippee-aye-oh” from above is nice… but it’s too wonderful to watch the passion when you’re below… Actually, I’ve come to the conclusion (both ways) that both are good. Why you can even call me at 867-5309, and I’ll take the wet spot. I don’t mind.
Sick, sick puppy. No, free, free person. Just trying to have a kick in life. How’d Bruce Willis put it? Yippee Kay Ay Mother &@#$%$”
Life’s a teeter totter. Sometimes top, sometimes bottom. Sometimes people go in the opposite direction, sometimes the same. Sick…. Victor you’re sick… Ok, sorry. Whichever you prefer - top or bottom, I hope things conclude the way you want them to. Please don’t fake it if they don’t.
Love, Victurd.
On the bottom - you’re really kinda restricted… Not much movement - that’s almost exclusively controlled by the one on top… Oh, it can be great from the bottom - don’t get me wrong.. In fact, I personally believe there’s more feel when your on the bottom… On the other hand, it’s usually “dirtier” down there… and you’re stuck in it - no place to go, you simply have to put up with it..
Whilst atop - you call the shots… You control… You make the moves… the bottom reacts to those moves.. Sometimes there’s wild and crazy moves made… some with great thought - some without much planning or foresight… You enjoy that feel of being above - and sometimes you simply lose control - and the one on bottom, again, is at your mercy.
Some can be really really good on the bottom, and then if they ultimately get to the top, they stink it up…Once up there, again, the bottom person can’t do anything - and it’s virtually impossible to get them off the top no matter how bad they are..
Of course, I’ve too seen those that have been on top - oh leaders of the motion - only to succumb to returning to the bottom - and generally they don’t take it as well down there… Hemmed in. No freedom to express. Usedta control, now being controlled.
Mosta my life I’ve enjoyed the bottom. I know that’s probably a personal thing to say - but it’s true. I’ve been under some great ones - but conversely, I’ve been under a few that didn’t have the kutzpah to say “YES! YES! YES!”
I’ve gotten out of some of those relationships when the top stunk it up… oh, I loved virtually romp - but sometimes enough is just enough.
I’m not great on top because I fear the trampling, the hurt that can come from above… I don’t mind the ‘dirt’.. Oh there’s still some freedom down below - and again, sometimes the sensation can be incredible..
Thus ends my conversation - and I reckon to capsulize - I’d never make it in management. I’m more the worker bee, foot soldier type.
Huh? What’d you think I was talking about? MY GOODNESS. You’rea GD (Gosh Darn) pervert. Why don’t you go back to watching your porn you sicko… So, you mean through all that you were visualizing, thinking back about your experiences… lying there in the ‘dirt’.. controlling the flow… being restricted… being free to do whateverinthehell you want to? Why you little shit, I bet you HAVE said YES! YES! YES! haven't you? I'd be ashamed.
Please. Do tell. Or I’ll haveta go watch porn.
Victor, you’re one weird pup. Is there sucha thing as normal?
Ok, Ok, since you asked… or read nine paragraphs wondering which I prefer… both… I’ve served in both roles.. I’ve enjoyed each equally… Uh huh the “yippee-aye-oh” from above is nice… but it’s too wonderful to watch the passion when you’re below… Actually, I’ve come to the conclusion (both ways) that both are good. Why you can even call me at 867-5309, and I’ll take the wet spot. I don’t mind.
Sick, sick puppy. No, free, free person. Just trying to have a kick in life. How’d Bruce Willis put it? Yippee Kay Ay Mother &@#$%$”
Life’s a teeter totter. Sometimes top, sometimes bottom. Sometimes people go in the opposite direction, sometimes the same. Sick…. Victor you’re sick… Ok, sorry. Whichever you prefer - top or bottom, I hope things conclude the way you want them to. Please don’t fake it if they don’t.
Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Speak up Sonny!!!!
Old. Ok, you whippersnappers can run, or… you can stay and laugh…
I’ve had numerous occasions in my life where I’ve felt…. Old.
Usedta own a mom and pop delivery service. I’d always gone myself to the accountant - and after 4 or 5 trips I said “you know, you do the books.. He’s asking me questions I really don’t know… will you go next time?”…… so….. We go… Long about four minutes into our visit, after he’d looked over everything… he pipes in with “WELL… aren’t you gonna introduce me to your daughter?”
October 13th, 2002 (My 50th birthday)… at the mailbox… Liberty, Missouri… 5:36pm… AARP? I don’t fucking believe it.. A letter from AARP!
That first swing in slow pitch… GD I went from age 54 (when he released pitch) to 56 by the time I swung… oh.. And I turned 57 before I reached first base.
The longest unambiguously documented lifespan is that of Jeanne Calment of France (1875-1997), who was aged 122 years. I wonder if she still thought about sex at 122. I hope so. Shigechiyo Izumi, at 120, is believed to have been the longest living man. It’s highly certain he thought about sex at age 120.
Oldest to ever give birth…. Adriana Iliescu… age 67. Mom? Where are the toys? Are you telling me there’s no toys at Golden Acres?
Oldest living President. George W. 83.
Welcome to WalMart… Oldest living worker: 102 year old Russell Clark, manager of an industrial park and other real estate developments. Wonder if he surfs the internet? MySpace account? Depends I guess.
Dimitrion Yordandis, ran the Athens marathon race at age 98. Shit, I needed this. I feel young. I think I’m going to the Community Center to try a one and a half off the high dive.
At age 60, Kansas City’s own Satchel Page became the oldest to ever play in the major leagues. Oh, and he pitched. Three innings. Three SHUTOUT innings. (Oldest to ever play in a professional game? Kansas City’s own: Buck O’Neill, age 94, Kansas City T-Bones.)
Oldest College Graduate? Nola Ochs, age 95, Fort Hays State University, Class of 2007. Oh, and she was a Zeta Tau Alpha, and on the pom pon squad. Just teasing.
Oldest to climb Mount Everest: 71
Oldest to parachute: 92
From an old blog’a mine (probably stolen/borrowed from Chuck Shepherd < I tell you, you gotta go there sometime: Of elderly drivers and confusion: Age 89, Dearborn, Mich. backed into his own garage, panicked, accelerated into a neighbor's house across the street... age 89, New London, Conn - plowed through a summer festival crowd, injuring 27... age 86, Brookfield, Wis. - drove through front doors of a McDonald's, hehe, "Honey, I'm going to go getme onea them AARP discounted Egg McMuffins, brb."... age 84, Tamarac, Fla. - backed over her landlord, then panicked and drove over him again, then panicked and backed over him again, with one of the drive-overs fatal..
Aging rocks. We can’t slow down Mother Nature, but we can have fun/make fun. Every day truly is a gift. Had lunch with “old” friends today. Drove there in my “old” car. Listened to “old” songs along the way. Got home tonight, put on my “old” comfies. Will sleep alone tonight, that’s getting “old”. Mirror = “old”. Royal’s losing, especially to Yankees, getting “old”. Priest Holmes coming back! “Old.”
Car tires, house decorations, mailbox, deck, wardrobe, hamburger in fridge, “old.” Internet dating - “old”. Starting over “old.”
It’s all good. “Old” is keepsake. “Old” is precious. “Old” is the lump formed in the mattress. Comfy.
Think I’ll go see my “old” buddies, bowl a game. Have one. Might as well look the act. Gonna leave my zipper down and left turn signal on. Oh, and white patent loafers, pants hiked up above belly button.. And I promise to bitch about the Government.
I can’t wait to grow old (er). Love you.. Now WTF was your name again? Victurd.
I’ve had numerous occasions in my life where I’ve felt…. Old.
Usedta own a mom and pop delivery service. I’d always gone myself to the accountant - and after 4 or 5 trips I said “you know, you do the books.. He’s asking me questions I really don’t know… will you go next time?”…… so….. We go… Long about four minutes into our visit, after he’d looked over everything… he pipes in with “WELL… aren’t you gonna introduce me to your daughter?”
October 13th, 2002 (My 50th birthday)… at the mailbox… Liberty, Missouri… 5:36pm… AARP? I don’t fucking believe it.. A letter from AARP!
That first swing in slow pitch… GD I went from age 54 (when he released pitch) to 56 by the time I swung… oh.. And I turned 57 before I reached first base.
The longest unambiguously documented lifespan is that of Jeanne Calment of France (1875-1997), who was aged 122 years. I wonder if she still thought about sex at 122. I hope so. Shigechiyo Izumi, at 120, is believed to have been the longest living man. It’s highly certain he thought about sex at age 120.
Oldest to ever give birth…. Adriana Iliescu… age 67. Mom? Where are the toys? Are you telling me there’s no toys at Golden Acres?
Oldest living President. George W. 83.
Welcome to WalMart… Oldest living worker: 102 year old Russell Clark, manager of an industrial park and other real estate developments. Wonder if he surfs the internet? MySpace account? Depends I guess.
Dimitrion Yordandis, ran the Athens marathon race at age 98. Shit, I needed this. I feel young. I think I’m going to the Community Center to try a one and a half off the high dive.
At age 60, Kansas City’s own Satchel Page became the oldest to ever play in the major leagues. Oh, and he pitched. Three innings. Three SHUTOUT innings. (Oldest to ever play in a professional game? Kansas City’s own: Buck O’Neill, age 94, Kansas City T-Bones.)
Oldest College Graduate? Nola Ochs, age 95, Fort Hays State University, Class of 2007. Oh, and she was a Zeta Tau Alpha, and on the pom pon squad. Just teasing.
Oldest to climb Mount Everest: 71
Oldest to parachute: 92
From an old blog’a mine (probably stolen/borrowed from Chuck Shepherd < I tell you, you gotta go there sometime: Of elderly drivers and confusion: Age 89, Dearborn, Mich. backed into his own garage, panicked, accelerated into a neighbor's house across the street... age 89, New London, Conn - plowed through a summer festival crowd, injuring 27... age 86, Brookfield, Wis. - drove through front doors of a McDonald's, hehe, "Honey, I'm going to go getme onea them AARP discounted Egg McMuffins, brb."... age 84, Tamarac, Fla. - backed over her landlord, then panicked and drove over him again, then panicked and backed over him again, with one of the drive-overs fatal..
Aging rocks. We can’t slow down Mother Nature, but we can have fun/make fun. Every day truly is a gift. Had lunch with “old” friends today. Drove there in my “old” car. Listened to “old” songs along the way. Got home tonight, put on my “old” comfies. Will sleep alone tonight, that’s getting “old”. Mirror = “old”. Royal’s losing, especially to Yankees, getting “old”. Priest Holmes coming back! “Old.”
Car tires, house decorations, mailbox, deck, wardrobe, hamburger in fridge, “old.” Internet dating - “old”. Starting over “old.”
It’s all good. “Old” is keepsake. “Old” is precious. “Old” is the lump formed in the mattress. Comfy.
Think I’ll go see my “old” buddies, bowl a game. Have one. Might as well look the act. Gonna leave my zipper down and left turn signal on. Oh, and white patent loafers, pants hiked up above belly button.. And I promise to bitch about the Government.
I can’t wait to grow old (er). Love you.. Now WTF was your name again? Victurd.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Another day... another dollar....
Peeked in on Reid and Soanya (the 55 yr old dude and 23 yr old dudette that are attempting to break the world record for continuous sailing)… Record is like 600+ days, they’re attempting 1000. Thrice around the globe. After their adventurous start (sailed into a Naval firing range, had a wreck with a freighter, had “mast problems” <- read into the May-December whatever you want.). Things are pretty calm with them.. They just crossed the equator and watched their GPS countdown, and then up as they did. They aren’t having to fish as “flying fish” are landing on their deck every day - they scoop them up and send ‘em to the fryin pan for supper. Ninety days down, 920 to go… If you’re bored, go to 1000days.net
Victor, no one cares about your body. Yes, I’ve noticed that the last six years. Ok, scratch that, the last two with whatshername too, so make it eight years. Anyways, I’m paying for playing. Just this morning as I got into my car my right thigh screamed out “Victor you fucking idiot, you’re 54, you haven’t exercised enough and you go out and play two games of softball like we’re used to that shit?”
Why are you here? Go do dooce.com if you wanna read a spectacular blog. I hate her though. Get this, she started - I dunno, some 5-7 years ago… I saw her on Good Morning America.. Where I got idea for this stupid thing.. And she has now gotten enough viewers, advertisers not only for HER not to have to work - but now her hubby has quit his job and they survive off of it. Biotch only writes about every 3rd, 4th day - and here I am feeling guilty if I don’t say “howdy-doody” nightly… Victor, no one enjoys your bitching. Wrong. I do!
Maynard has a job interview tomorrow. Where he usedta work. I’ve crossed the index finger and the middle finger on each hand, wrapped them with athletic tape for good luck. Told Maynard I got hurt sliding into home Sunday. It's been a mo-fo typing this blog.
I want a dog again. If you have one, pet him/her for me.
I want a wife again. If you have one, pet her for me.
I wanna sell the house, take off a year, cavort about the Contiguous 48 in my Hot… Rod… Lincoln.. See Cooperstown.. NY City (just to drive thru).. Upstate NY… over to the 4 dead guys in granite… to the wilds of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming… down Highway 101... Back up to Utah.. Across the mountainous states…back down south to Texas… across to Florida… up to the Carolinas… West thru the Smokeys.. Swing by Graceland, Beale Street…. But first, I must find my own Soanya (remember? 55/23).. Hehe… Hell, who am I kidding, I’d be nodding off after 400 miles… Burma Shave…
This has absolutely nothing to do with that, but Chuck Shepherd’s News of the Weird reports:
“Among the recent discoveries of substances that provide similar virility outcomes as Viagra: the venom of a variety of black widow spider found in southern Chile”…. “The health drink Boost Plus”… brb, going to Piggly Wiggly… The winter-flowering heather plant (according to botanists at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh, Scotland);.. And walnut extract (according to a researcher at University Malaya in Malaysia) (though one would need 7 pounds of walnuts to achieve the effect of one pill)… I do love nuts though..
Oh, and one more “Chuck diddy”… If you ever piss and moan about your day, the last few days… be glad ya ain’t Tony Hicks… He was hospitalized in Knoxville, Tenn., for separate wounds on July 1, 2 and 3; he was hit by a car one night, then released from the hospital the next day, but was back in after an intruder attacked him in his home, and after his release the next day, he was back after police shot him in connection with a robbery…. (Left thigh chimes in “Screw Tony, I STILL hurt.” - Wait till next year big boy when we play eight consecutive weeks!)….
Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder who.. . Who wrote the book of love…- and does he have any idea how much consternation he’s caused…. I’ve wondered: What do woodchucks chuck?… Weebles wobble but how do they sleep?… Why is touching a ladder to a power line fatal when birds nap on them?…. Why do people that needta run don’t, and those that do don’t needta?… If we’re so GD advanced why do we now pay for TV and radio?
White flag, I know. Enough. Thanks for being here. You’ll never know what your being here means to me..
Another day, another dollar. Just waking up makes it a good day. Victor, you GD Pollyanna. Hey, the way I see it… it’s like the punk kid that says “hell, I don’t wanna live to be 80.” Ask him that when he’s 79 years, 364 days old.
Peace out, goodbye. May a bird shit on you. May your chewing gum lose it’s flavor on the bedpost tonight. (Still, pet your bedmate for me.) Love, Victurd.
Victor, no one cares about your body. Yes, I’ve noticed that the last six years. Ok, scratch that, the last two with whatshername too, so make it eight years. Anyways, I’m paying for playing. Just this morning as I got into my car my right thigh screamed out “Victor you fucking idiot, you’re 54, you haven’t exercised enough and you go out and play two games of softball like we’re used to that shit?”
Why are you here? Go do dooce.com if you wanna read a spectacular blog. I hate her though. Get this, she started - I dunno, some 5-7 years ago… I saw her on Good Morning America.. Where I got idea for this stupid thing.. And she has now gotten enough viewers, advertisers not only for HER not to have to work - but now her hubby has quit his job and they survive off of it. Biotch only writes about every 3rd, 4th day - and here I am feeling guilty if I don’t say “howdy-doody” nightly… Victor, no one enjoys your bitching. Wrong. I do!
Maynard has a job interview tomorrow. Where he usedta work. I’ve crossed the index finger and the middle finger on each hand, wrapped them with athletic tape for good luck. Told Maynard I got hurt sliding into home Sunday. It's been a mo-fo typing this blog.
I want a dog again. If you have one, pet him/her for me.
I want a wife again. If you have one, pet her for me.
I wanna sell the house, take off a year, cavort about the Contiguous 48 in my Hot… Rod… Lincoln.. See Cooperstown.. NY City (just to drive thru).. Upstate NY… over to the 4 dead guys in granite… to the wilds of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming… down Highway 101... Back up to Utah.. Across the mountainous states…back down south to Texas… across to Florida… up to the Carolinas… West thru the Smokeys.. Swing by Graceland, Beale Street…. But first, I must find my own Soanya (remember? 55/23).. Hehe… Hell, who am I kidding, I’d be nodding off after 400 miles… Burma Shave…
This has absolutely nothing to do with that, but Chuck Shepherd’s News of the Weird reports:
“Among the recent discoveries of substances that provide similar virility outcomes as Viagra: the venom of a variety of black widow spider found in southern Chile”…. “The health drink Boost Plus”… brb, going to Piggly Wiggly… The winter-flowering heather plant (according to botanists at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh, Scotland);.. And walnut extract (according to a researcher at University Malaya in Malaysia) (though one would need 7 pounds of walnuts to achieve the effect of one pill)… I do love nuts though..
Oh, and one more “Chuck diddy”… If you ever piss and moan about your day, the last few days… be glad ya ain’t Tony Hicks… He was hospitalized in Knoxville, Tenn., for separate wounds on July 1, 2 and 3; he was hit by a car one night, then released from the hospital the next day, but was back in after an intruder attacked him in his home, and after his release the next day, he was back after police shot him in connection with a robbery…. (Left thigh chimes in “Screw Tony, I STILL hurt.” - Wait till next year big boy when we play eight consecutive weeks!)….
Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder who.. . Who wrote the book of love…- and does he have any idea how much consternation he’s caused…. I’ve wondered: What do woodchucks chuck?… Weebles wobble but how do they sleep?… Why is touching a ladder to a power line fatal when birds nap on them?…. Why do people that needta run don’t, and those that do don’t needta?… If we’re so GD advanced why do we now pay for TV and radio?
White flag, I know. Enough. Thanks for being here. You’ll never know what your being here means to me..
Another day, another dollar. Just waking up makes it a good day. Victor, you GD Pollyanna. Hey, the way I see it… it’s like the punk kid that says “hell, I don’t wanna live to be 80.” Ask him that when he’s 79 years, 364 days old.
Peace out, goodbye. May a bird shit on you. May your chewing gum lose it’s flavor on the bedpost tonight. (Still, pet your bedmate for me.) Love, Victurd.
Monday, July 23, 2007
I'm alive.......
Pensive. Those moments leading up to game time (5pm Sunday) were that, pensive. Numerous times I saw the head dude pointing, counting, and he always came up with less than ten - the number it takes to field a team.
(If you’re just getting here, RUNNNNNN… I can’t pay my f-n bills, I got GD raccoons in my attic, I drive a hot… rod… Lincoln (1995, kickass cassette player)…
Fifteen minutes until game time. Head dude again counted. “Vic, we needya.” Shit.
“Didn’t you usedta teach?” Yeah, back in the dinosaur days… why? “My name is Scott… I played 5 years in the Minors.. I thought I recognized you from teaching/coaching… wanna play catch?”… $15,000 worth of eye implant work went thru my brain.. “Sure, let’s.’
Have you ever gone nine years inbetween games of catch? I was thinkin’ about ‘how could I have felt more uncomfortable’ - and I guess it woulda been had I been in a fit of passion with a hot fitty-something chicky.
Catch went ok. I even got the nerve up to throw my old trusty knuckle ball to him.. Years ago, bastards would cuss at me when playing catch, ‘cause it could violate the laws of physics, and occasionally hit them in the groin, the chest, or mebbe the mouth.
“Vic, where do you wanna play?” Out there. Pointing as far away from the infield as I could. I value my testi’s (one’s been fixed) and I value my eye implants - “Victor, about the only thing that could goof them up is if one became dislodged.” Yeah… “out there somewhere.”
“Ok, you’re in right.” Right is good.
We were in the dugout by now, moment’s away from first pitch. My savior, some young dude mebbe 22, walks up at game time. “Vic, you’re gonna alternate with Lenny at catcher.” F’n A Ray. I can do that. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play, today.
Lenny goes first. Not bad..
We all (everyone in the dugout) bat. We have a group of pussys (sorry) that have semi-retired, and all they do is bat. I see the order, I’m like 9th outta 13.
On deck. I follow Dickie. I search for a bat that feels right. Howinthehell do you know, after nine years, what feels right? No time, Dick singles.
Here I go. The ump, who I’ve known since he was a little shit, gives me that crooked mouth smile. I step up to the plate. I remember my eye doc saying “Now Victor, with this mono thing, there’s a very good chance it will screw up your golf game.” “Doc, my golf game sucks, I don’t care, I just wanna see… not have blurred vision.. Be able to see colors again.. And to be able to drive at night.”
So here’s my payback. Nine years since. A complete different set of eyes staring at the ball. I’m nervous as hell. 384 eyeball are upon the old guy… I stare at the 20-something ready to unleash the ball…
It’s right down the middle… I start my swing… in 2007.. But it’s so GD slowmo, it feels like 2008 by the time it gets there… “Don’t fail me now plastic lenses”… I start my swing on Sunday, the ball arrives late Monday night.. I hold back.. I’m out of sorts.. I feel like I’m on the dance floor.. I’m too GD white, dancing, and everyone is staring.
My front foot lands two hours, twelve minutes prior to the pitch. My bat starts one hour, 43 minutes prior to the pitch. I’m “out there.” Somehow, the “up close” and the “long distance” implants luck out.. The ball travels an estimated 83’ from home, just outta the 3rd baseman’s reach… I run like hell (fast walk) to first… Single.. I hear the roar (laughter) from the bench. But there I am, 54, on first. F’n A Ray.
It was different. It was weird. It wasn’t just likea bicycle. But I loved it.
There was really nothing spectacular about my game, or our game. We won the first game like 19-14.. And we lost the second one 14-10. I actually had like 5 hits.. Made 2 outs.. Didn’t strike out.. Actually tagged a guy out at home, caught a pop foul.
I wasn’t (too) embarrassed. I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t haveta get out my BlueCare Card. There was even cold beer and BBQ chicken waiting in right field.
“Hey Vic, if they do have the league again next year, you wanna play with us?”
Ya know, I might. I just might.
You can’t turn back the hands of time. The old gray mare she ain’t what she usedta be, ain’t what she usedta be.”
If I coulda bought a packa Topp’s baseball cards and chewed on the pink sticka gum I woulda. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t God-awful either. Again, I’m alive. I’m sore as hell, but I’m here. I was very, very thankful - and told them so….
I wish, for blog readers, I coulda knocked in the winning run in the bottom of the 7th… or made a sliding game-saving catch.. Or, mebbe even stretched a 2-base hit into a triple. I didn’t. But I made it. And they even asked me if I wanted to play in 2008. F’n A Ray.
Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin' it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So Say Hey Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don't say "it ain't so", you know the time is now.
Yeah! I got it, I got it!
Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it's time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all - a moment in the sun;
(pop) It's gone and you can tell that one goodbye!
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.
With love, Victurd.
(If you’re just getting here, RUNNNNNN… I can’t pay my f-n bills, I got GD raccoons in my attic, I drive a hot… rod… Lincoln (1995, kickass cassette player)…
Fifteen minutes until game time. Head dude again counted. “Vic, we needya.” Shit.
“Didn’t you usedta teach?” Yeah, back in the dinosaur days… why? “My name is Scott… I played 5 years in the Minors.. I thought I recognized you from teaching/coaching… wanna play catch?”… $15,000 worth of eye implant work went thru my brain.. “Sure, let’s.’
Have you ever gone nine years inbetween games of catch? I was thinkin’ about ‘how could I have felt more uncomfortable’ - and I guess it woulda been had I been in a fit of passion with a hot fitty-something chicky.
Catch went ok. I even got the nerve up to throw my old trusty knuckle ball to him.. Years ago, bastards would cuss at me when playing catch, ‘cause it could violate the laws of physics, and occasionally hit them in the groin, the chest, or mebbe the mouth.
“Vic, where do you wanna play?” Out there. Pointing as far away from the infield as I could. I value my testi’s (one’s been fixed) and I value my eye implants - “Victor, about the only thing that could goof them up is if one became dislodged.” Yeah… “out there somewhere.”
“Ok, you’re in right.” Right is good.
We were in the dugout by now, moment’s away from first pitch. My savior, some young dude mebbe 22, walks up at game time. “Vic, you’re gonna alternate with Lenny at catcher.” F’n A Ray. I can do that. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play, today.
Lenny goes first. Not bad..
We all (everyone in the dugout) bat. We have a group of pussys (sorry) that have semi-retired, and all they do is bat. I see the order, I’m like 9th outta 13.
On deck. I follow Dickie. I search for a bat that feels right. Howinthehell do you know, after nine years, what feels right? No time, Dick singles.
Here I go. The ump, who I’ve known since he was a little shit, gives me that crooked mouth smile. I step up to the plate. I remember my eye doc saying “Now Victor, with this mono thing, there’s a very good chance it will screw up your golf game.” “Doc, my golf game sucks, I don’t care, I just wanna see… not have blurred vision.. Be able to see colors again.. And to be able to drive at night.”
So here’s my payback. Nine years since. A complete different set of eyes staring at the ball. I’m nervous as hell. 384 eyeball are upon the old guy… I stare at the 20-something ready to unleash the ball…
It’s right down the middle… I start my swing… in 2007.. But it’s so GD slowmo, it feels like 2008 by the time it gets there… “Don’t fail me now plastic lenses”… I start my swing on Sunday, the ball arrives late Monday night.. I hold back.. I’m out of sorts.. I feel like I’m on the dance floor.. I’m too GD white, dancing, and everyone is staring.
My front foot lands two hours, twelve minutes prior to the pitch. My bat starts one hour, 43 minutes prior to the pitch. I’m “out there.” Somehow, the “up close” and the “long distance” implants luck out.. The ball travels an estimated 83’ from home, just outta the 3rd baseman’s reach… I run like hell (fast walk) to first… Single.. I hear the roar (laughter) from the bench. But there I am, 54, on first. F’n A Ray.
It was different. It was weird. It wasn’t just likea bicycle. But I loved it.
There was really nothing spectacular about my game, or our game. We won the first game like 19-14.. And we lost the second one 14-10. I actually had like 5 hits.. Made 2 outs.. Didn’t strike out.. Actually tagged a guy out at home, caught a pop foul.
I wasn’t (too) embarrassed. I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t haveta get out my BlueCare Card. There was even cold beer and BBQ chicken waiting in right field.
“Hey Vic, if they do have the league again next year, you wanna play with us?”
Ya know, I might. I just might.
You can’t turn back the hands of time. The old gray mare she ain’t what she usedta be, ain’t what she usedta be.”
If I coulda bought a packa Topp’s baseball cards and chewed on the pink sticka gum I woulda. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t God-awful either. Again, I’m alive. I’m sore as hell, but I’m here. I was very, very thankful - and told them so….
I wish, for blog readers, I coulda knocked in the winning run in the bottom of the 7th… or made a sliding game-saving catch.. Or, mebbe even stretched a 2-base hit into a triple. I didn’t. But I made it. And they even asked me if I wanted to play in 2008. F’n A Ray.
Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin' it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So Say Hey Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don't say "it ain't so", you know the time is now.
Yeah! I got it, I got it!
Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it's time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all - a moment in the sun;
(pop) It's gone and you can tell that one goodbye!
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.
With love, Victurd.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Please scatter my ashes here.....
Do you have a special place? If you were “that” insteada buried - where would it be? Over the rail into the Atlantic offa cruiseship you enjoyed so much? Lover’s Leap, mebbe where you first ‘leaped’?… Granny’s place in the country.. Out back by the chicken coup?… Whereya grew up?… That first house you actually owned?…
I’d like to be dropped off at the City Park. Where I live. A little bit’a history there for me. Scratch that, hella history there.
My first memories were of citywide celebrations - 4th of July fireworks where the whole damn town could fit in the bleachers. (we’re approaching 40,000 now)… Playing Little League for the Junior Sheriffs and getting a miniature badge.. Watching the big kids hit towering homers..
As a snotnose of 12, getting to play on the BIG diamond with the 13-15 year olds as they had trouble filling out their teams. Those of us that knew which direction to run after hitting the ball were selected to move up. Imagine the thrill (or fear) of a 7th grader, trying to hit a pitch thrown by a High School sophomore…
Baseball there from 12-19... Local paper sharing the results, mom clipping out the ones that included Victurd’s name.. The horse stables - where “did you hear about Jack and Diane going down there?”
Umpiring. Trying to make change enough to not have to take her to the stables. I thought the ‘61 Chevy was a much better venue.
Working there, too many damn summers whilst I was in High School, College, and even later summers when I taught. I mowed it. I bladed it. I fixed holes, dug basepins, lined them (time after time), fixed bleacher boards, patched an already patchwork backstop… threw a rock at a bird, dammit I actually hit it.
Softball there… Ahem, would you believe 20 thru 45? I know I know. I woulda kept playing, but I lost the vote 1 to 1. Perhaps a beer or two tossed back in the parking lot behind right field.
Among the mems. The kid that got hit in the hand whilst batting, who then limped to first. All Star games with REAL loudspeakers. Getting the field in tip-top shape on nights I had a game. Spilling a gallon of orange paint (we were to paint the benches) in the backa my ‘68 Mercury and answering 463 times “what happened?”
Losing the City Championship on an Sunday night to onea my fellow co-workers… only to come to work at 8am Monday to find the bastard (and teammates) STILL partying - and soaking up in the wading pool there…
Big Fred hitting a triple (quite a feat for his large body) - calling time out - walking (slowly) to the drinking fountain - and walking (slowly) back. Who was gonna hurry him along?
Seeing my kid pitch off of the same mound his old man did some some 31 years later. Tossing an big old dude outta the game after he’s screamed at me for the 47th time “JUST HOW DO YOU CALL BALLS AND STRIKES?” My answer, loud enough for both sets of bleachers to hear “well, firstly, I wouldn’t do so with alcohol on my breath.” He backed off pretty rapidly!
Fast forward to today. 47 years after I first set foot on that field. Today is the very last game of the softball league I played in so many years. One team that’s still lingering there - is short players today. Uh huh, I did. I volunteered. “I know I’m crappy, but I can be a number so you don’t have to forfeit. I can play catcher.”
I suggested they try to find younger ‘tween now and then - but I’m going anyways. What’s worse - I’m excited. Goal is no broken bones, no pulled hamstrings, no running up for a ball that’s actually well over my head, yes - getting a base hit, yes - catching at least one fly ball - but mainly, feeling that feel of a little kid again. I know I’m crazy. I know I’m too old. I’d do the fantasy baseball camps the Major League teams have - but hell, they’re like $3500...
If I get to play, and if I can still move - I may even write about it. If I don’t get to play - they’re having a little wing ding after the games in the right field parking lot I love so dearly. Stories will be retold (Like the time Tom was under a MAJOR LEAGUE popup at shortstop, the wind knocked off his hat, the sun shielded his eyes at the last second - the ball landed squarely on his forehead and rebounded at least 80 feet back into the air - where Chump caught it cleanly at 2nd base. Tom had heap long seam mark on his forehead for over a week. Didn’t hurt nearly as much as his pride.)
The more beers that go down, the better the plays on the field will sound. Goodbyes will be said - and for many, their gloves will be put away forever and ever.
I know blogs like this bore the shit outta women. I guess it’s a guy thing. Camaraderie, competition, whooping up on an opponent that’s cocky as hell, the sweat, the challenge, the dust, the high fives, the “That’s Ok”s…
One large part of my life. Please sprinkle some on the mound. Some in the outfield. Some on the benches. Some in the dugouts. Some in the coach’s box. Some where the umpire stands. A lot in the right field parking lot.
Today, at age 54, I get to be a kid again. Love, Victurd.
I’d like to be dropped off at the City Park. Where I live. A little bit’a history there for me. Scratch that, hella history there.
My first memories were of citywide celebrations - 4th of July fireworks where the whole damn town could fit in the bleachers. (we’re approaching 40,000 now)… Playing Little League for the Junior Sheriffs and getting a miniature badge.. Watching the big kids hit towering homers..
As a snotnose of 12, getting to play on the BIG diamond with the 13-15 year olds as they had trouble filling out their teams. Those of us that knew which direction to run after hitting the ball were selected to move up. Imagine the thrill (or fear) of a 7th grader, trying to hit a pitch thrown by a High School sophomore…
Baseball there from 12-19... Local paper sharing the results, mom clipping out the ones that included Victurd’s name.. The horse stables - where “did you hear about Jack and Diane going down there?”
Umpiring. Trying to make change enough to not have to take her to the stables. I thought the ‘61 Chevy was a much better venue.
Working there, too many damn summers whilst I was in High School, College, and even later summers when I taught. I mowed it. I bladed it. I fixed holes, dug basepins, lined them (time after time), fixed bleacher boards, patched an already patchwork backstop… threw a rock at a bird, dammit I actually hit it.
Softball there… Ahem, would you believe 20 thru 45? I know I know. I woulda kept playing, but I lost the vote 1 to 1. Perhaps a beer or two tossed back in the parking lot behind right field.
Among the mems. The kid that got hit in the hand whilst batting, who then limped to first. All Star games with REAL loudspeakers. Getting the field in tip-top shape on nights I had a game. Spilling a gallon of orange paint (we were to paint the benches) in the backa my ‘68 Mercury and answering 463 times “what happened?”
Losing the City Championship on an Sunday night to onea my fellow co-workers… only to come to work at 8am Monday to find the bastard (and teammates) STILL partying - and soaking up in the wading pool there…
Big Fred hitting a triple (quite a feat for his large body) - calling time out - walking (slowly) to the drinking fountain - and walking (slowly) back. Who was gonna hurry him along?
Seeing my kid pitch off of the same mound his old man did some some 31 years later. Tossing an big old dude outta the game after he’s screamed at me for the 47th time “JUST HOW DO YOU CALL BALLS AND STRIKES?” My answer, loud enough for both sets of bleachers to hear “well, firstly, I wouldn’t do so with alcohol on my breath.” He backed off pretty rapidly!
Fast forward to today. 47 years after I first set foot on that field. Today is the very last game of the softball league I played in so many years. One team that’s still lingering there - is short players today. Uh huh, I did. I volunteered. “I know I’m crappy, but I can be a number so you don’t have to forfeit. I can play catcher.”
I suggested they try to find younger ‘tween now and then - but I’m going anyways. What’s worse - I’m excited. Goal is no broken bones, no pulled hamstrings, no running up for a ball that’s actually well over my head, yes - getting a base hit, yes - catching at least one fly ball - but mainly, feeling that feel of a little kid again. I know I’m crazy. I know I’m too old. I’d do the fantasy baseball camps the Major League teams have - but hell, they’re like $3500...
If I get to play, and if I can still move - I may even write about it. If I don’t get to play - they’re having a little wing ding after the games in the right field parking lot I love so dearly. Stories will be retold (Like the time Tom was under a MAJOR LEAGUE popup at shortstop, the wind knocked off his hat, the sun shielded his eyes at the last second - the ball landed squarely on his forehead and rebounded at least 80 feet back into the air - where Chump caught it cleanly at 2nd base. Tom had heap long seam mark on his forehead for over a week. Didn’t hurt nearly as much as his pride.)
The more beers that go down, the better the plays on the field will sound. Goodbyes will be said - and for many, their gloves will be put away forever and ever.
I know blogs like this bore the shit outta women. I guess it’s a guy thing. Camaraderie, competition, whooping up on an opponent that’s cocky as hell, the sweat, the challenge, the dust, the high fives, the “That’s Ok”s…
One large part of my life. Please sprinkle some on the mound. Some in the outfield. Some on the benches. Some in the dugouts. Some in the coach’s box. Some where the umpire stands. A lot in the right field parking lot.
Today, at age 54, I get to be a kid again. Love, Victurd.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
RIGHT... RIGHT... YOU'RE BLOODY WELL RIGHT...
You’ve got a bloody right to saaayyyayyy…
I been in the right place, but it musta been the wrong time…
Right, Wiki says, is the legal or moral entitlement to do or refrain from doing something or to obtain or refrain from obtaining an action, thing or recognition in civil society. Right?
Right-handed. Mr. Right. Yield right of way. Gay rights. Equal rights. Legal rights. I’m gonna read you your rights. Civil rights. Contractual rights.
If you think from leftfield, you’re considered right brained. We all know someone who is always right. Knows everything. We gotta guy at work we call Google. Who needs the internet? He’s always right.
Do you always behave right? You know right away when you don’t.
Right wing. All the right moves.. Right on! Right angle.
In your right mind.. Live in the right neighborhood. Go to the right school. Cocktail party, choose the right ones to startup conversation.
Sales - get to the right person. Right hand turn. Right hand turn signal. Victor’s right to Marcie’s jaw. (You’d have to have been here… no I wouldn’t do that. It ain’t right.)
RIGHT NOW. I will right after I get back from….. I right fine day.
Right the boat. Designed to right generations of unfair labor practices.
You can’t see that? RIGHT THERE! Right a wrong.
Tis a fun word. We don’t always do the right thing. Hell, I never knew what compound interest was until it was too late to compound. I’ve tied the knot twice - right choices? Have I raised my son right? Did I pick the right occupation? Can I get it right next time?? Whereinthehell is the right woman? When I meet her, will I know the right stuff to say?
Can u project what feels right today - will feel right the future?
I’m rightly glad you’re here. Right kind of you. May you have fun with words in life. May things workout right for you… May you have confidence in the choices you see as right. You are deserving - may all the right things happen to you. I’m right proud to call you friend. Right on. Love, rightly so, Victurd. (What follows below is something I ‘stole’ from a site on the internet. Kinda liked it. If you have time, have at:
Do Good Anyway:
People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.
If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish motives.
Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable.
Be honest and transparent anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.
People who really want help may attack you if you help them.
Help them anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt.
Give the world your best anyway.
~ Mother Teresa
I been in the right place, but it musta been the wrong time…
Right, Wiki says, is the legal or moral entitlement to do or refrain from doing something or to obtain or refrain from obtaining an action, thing or recognition in civil society. Right?
Right-handed. Mr. Right. Yield right of way. Gay rights. Equal rights. Legal rights. I’m gonna read you your rights. Civil rights. Contractual rights.
If you think from leftfield, you’re considered right brained. We all know someone who is always right. Knows everything. We gotta guy at work we call Google. Who needs the internet? He’s always right.
Do you always behave right? You know right away when you don’t.
Right wing. All the right moves.. Right on! Right angle.
In your right mind.. Live in the right neighborhood. Go to the right school. Cocktail party, choose the right ones to startup conversation.
Sales - get to the right person. Right hand turn. Right hand turn signal. Victor’s right to Marcie’s jaw. (You’d have to have been here… no I wouldn’t do that. It ain’t right.)
RIGHT NOW. I will right after I get back from….. I right fine day.
Right the boat. Designed to right generations of unfair labor practices.
You can’t see that? RIGHT THERE! Right a wrong.
Tis a fun word. We don’t always do the right thing. Hell, I never knew what compound interest was until it was too late to compound. I’ve tied the knot twice - right choices? Have I raised my son right? Did I pick the right occupation? Can I get it right next time?? Whereinthehell is the right woman? When I meet her, will I know the right stuff to say?
Can u project what feels right today - will feel right the future?
I’m rightly glad you’re here. Right kind of you. May you have fun with words in life. May things workout right for you… May you have confidence in the choices you see as right. You are deserving - may all the right things happen to you. I’m right proud to call you friend. Right on. Love, rightly so, Victurd. (What follows below is something I ‘stole’ from a site on the internet. Kinda liked it. If you have time, have at:
Do Good Anyway:
People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.
If you do good, people may accuse you of selfish motives.
Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable.
Be honest and transparent anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.
People who really want help may attack you if you help them.
Help them anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you may get hurt.
Give the world your best anyway.
~ Mother Teresa
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Single and fitty...... something....
As I grew up… observing the love of my folks… the tight bonds of virtually every couple from that era… I’da said you were a fool if you’da told me I’d be single, and 50.… something.
I Googled “Single and 50” (which is fancy for Yahoo’ed it, ‘cause everyone Googles, I think I’m more of the right brain… besides, I’ve gotten laid before off Yahoo… Google’s never done shit for me.)…
Founda book that actually sounded kinda interesting…. Savvy Senior Singles by Samantha Landy… I liked her approach…
Every seven seconds, someone turns 50 and faces the second half of his or her life. Half or better, get there single. Sure, some by loss of spouse thru death - many by an untimely divorce…
Samantha said “There were countless books written for singles in the 30-50 age group, but the selection for ‘the 50+ set’ was disappointing at best—mostly empty promises presented by people who don’t have a clue what it’s like to walk in the shoes of a single living in a world that idolizes youth and denies the validity of the natural aging process,” she recalls. “The needs of a staggering number of people were simply not being met.”
I likes that. Idolize youth, and deny the validity of the natural aging process. It’s true. Ya peek at them singles sites - and one in three will tell you “been told by many I don’t look my age.” Or, they dress punkass, or play punkass music. If you’re by chance under fitty and reading this, it ain’t personal. I didn’t think of how fitty-somethings thought when I was younger.
Samantha’s book talked about “the skyrocketing rates of STD’s in senior singles. WHAT? Someayou fuggers are actually gettin’ laid? I hate your guts!
Pre-nups… a common thing. Buddy ‘o mine a few years back… went into divorce court inebriated… told the judge “Ahhhll I whannt is mah coooler.” The judge awarded him, his cooler. I’m kinda diggin’ on this coon family in my attic, I think that’d haveta be in my pre-nup. Along with the ‘95 hot…. Rod…. Lincoln… (oh, and my cassette tapes.)
Her book ain’t about how to get a fantastic new body… a mile long list of rules and regimens…
If I didn’t fear the bastards in our IT Department at work would steal my debit card info, I think I’d order it on Amazon.com.
Really I think, without reading, her books simply says “make the most of your hand… no matter how the cards are dealt.” Kinda likes that too. Oft times, we have no control in life on what card comes outta the deck next. Why waste time on the things we can’t control. Why get our bowels in an uproar when it won’t be long before we can’t control them anyways?
So I say… Have sex… Don’t say “damn… I wish she (or he) was 30...” Just close your eyes and think 30 anyways. Or… Think 50... Something.. And imagine all the 30-somethings that ain’t getting laid at that particular moment. Oh, but Samantha spoke of the STD thing. So… no glove, no love. Hehe.
Ya go on a date and when you meet ya think “there ain’t no way in hell”… sooooom thinka the time spent as a page in the scrapbook of your life.
A relationship that’s ended? Be thankful that it was a parta your life…
One that you think is really hot and she (or he) refuses to budge/go out with you? (Close your eyes and pretend you’re doinking each other anyways.. and at age 30-something. The art of visualization is great when utilized at fitty... something)
Life, at our age is precious. Every moment counts. I tire of the lemonade outta lemon thing. But there’s nothing wrong with smiling through thin. And “oh baby - oh baby” ing thru the thick.
There are several alternatives to being single at fifty…..something. We could be in relationship - and unhappy. We could be in relationship and happy. We could be dead. Given those alternatives, being single and happy ain’t bad.
I think I’m going to bed now. I didn’t have to tell that to anyone, just didso outta politeness to you. Ain’t sure what I’ll do tomorrow night - but I’ll decide that. Would I rather be doinking with the lights off and pretending we were each thirty? Yeah, reckon. If it was right. But if it ain’t - single and fitty…… something, ain’t bad.
If YOU are single… and fitty…. Something… Go... on you go.. RIGHT NOW… go have somea the best sex ya ever had…. What’s stopping you! You don’t need permission! (Just close the blinds.)
Love, Victurd.
I Googled “Single and 50” (which is fancy for Yahoo’ed it, ‘cause everyone Googles, I think I’m more of the right brain… besides, I’ve gotten laid before off Yahoo… Google’s never done shit for me.)…
Founda book that actually sounded kinda interesting…. Savvy Senior Singles by Samantha Landy… I liked her approach…
Every seven seconds, someone turns 50 and faces the second half of his or her life. Half or better, get there single. Sure, some by loss of spouse thru death - many by an untimely divorce…
Samantha said “There were countless books written for singles in the 30-50 age group, but the selection for ‘the 50+ set’ was disappointing at best—mostly empty promises presented by people who don’t have a clue what it’s like to walk in the shoes of a single living in a world that idolizes youth and denies the validity of the natural aging process,” she recalls. “The needs of a staggering number of people were simply not being met.”
I likes that. Idolize youth, and deny the validity of the natural aging process. It’s true. Ya peek at them singles sites - and one in three will tell you “been told by many I don’t look my age.” Or, they dress punkass, or play punkass music. If you’re by chance under fitty and reading this, it ain’t personal. I didn’t think of how fitty-somethings thought when I was younger.
Samantha’s book talked about “the skyrocketing rates of STD’s in senior singles. WHAT? Someayou fuggers are actually gettin’ laid? I hate your guts!
Pre-nups… a common thing. Buddy ‘o mine a few years back… went into divorce court inebriated… told the judge “Ahhhll I whannt is mah coooler.” The judge awarded him, his cooler. I’m kinda diggin’ on this coon family in my attic, I think that’d haveta be in my pre-nup. Along with the ‘95 hot…. Rod…. Lincoln… (oh, and my cassette tapes.)
Her book ain’t about how to get a fantastic new body… a mile long list of rules and regimens…
If I didn’t fear the bastards in our IT Department at work would steal my debit card info, I think I’d order it on Amazon.com.
Really I think, without reading, her books simply says “make the most of your hand… no matter how the cards are dealt.” Kinda likes that too. Oft times, we have no control in life on what card comes outta the deck next. Why waste time on the things we can’t control. Why get our bowels in an uproar when it won’t be long before we can’t control them anyways?
So I say… Have sex… Don’t say “damn… I wish she (or he) was 30...” Just close your eyes and think 30 anyways. Or… Think 50... Something.. And imagine all the 30-somethings that ain’t getting laid at that particular moment. Oh, but Samantha spoke of the STD thing. So… no glove, no love. Hehe.
Ya go on a date and when you meet ya think “there ain’t no way in hell”… sooooom thinka the time spent as a page in the scrapbook of your life.
A relationship that’s ended? Be thankful that it was a parta your life…
One that you think is really hot and she (or he) refuses to budge/go out with you? (Close your eyes and pretend you’re doinking each other anyways.. and at age 30-something. The art of visualization is great when utilized at fitty... something)
Life, at our age is precious. Every moment counts. I tire of the lemonade outta lemon thing. But there’s nothing wrong with smiling through thin. And “oh baby - oh baby” ing thru the thick.
There are several alternatives to being single at fifty…..something. We could be in relationship - and unhappy. We could be in relationship and happy. We could be dead. Given those alternatives, being single and happy ain’t bad.
I think I’m going to bed now. I didn’t have to tell that to anyone, just didso outta politeness to you. Ain’t sure what I’ll do tomorrow night - but I’ll decide that. Would I rather be doinking with the lights off and pretending we were each thirty? Yeah, reckon. If it was right. But if it ain’t - single and fitty…… something, ain’t bad.
If YOU are single… and fitty…. Something… Go... on you go.. RIGHT NOW… go have somea the best sex ya ever had…. What’s stopping you! You don’t need permission! (Just close the blinds.)
Love, Victurd.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The best sex I've ever had.....
Wow. You really are a pervert aren’t you? You sicko you… Hehe… Don’t blameya, I’da looked too…
So is this kiss and tell? Well… Mebbe… I mean shit, I’m much closer to dementia than virgin hood…. They’ll never know!
This was all brought about… yes… in the middlea computerized bowling not too long ago… Mikki… the GD barkeep… generally very PG… nice… complimentary… not daring at all… said.. “somea the best sex I ever had was when I was pregnant.”
One of the more disgusting chaps in our group (sorry) said “well, that’s because it was a threesome.”
When pushed, she backed off…. “I didn’t say THE BEST sex I’ve ever had.. I said SOMEA the best sex I’ve ever had.”
So, your mind is wondering… you’re thinking back… was it…. Were we… could it have been… oh I’ll never forget… I can’t believe that one time in… I’m so embarrassed to think about this, but yes it was when we…
Hey. It’s Ok. We’ve all been there. We all think back. No, we don’t dissect everything like the Fox analysts on an NFL football Sunday… but we do remember… we do recall.. We do.. Yeah we do - cherish what stands out…
Without naming names… sure… the first…. I was so in 16-love… and I will go to my grave loving her… When my ex rode off on the Harley, it was to reunite with her first… so I guess I understand…
Same chicky… Baccalaureate.. Outdoor party… In the country… abandoned house… (Cops came.. Shined lights… people pitched, threw, tossed 6-packs as far as an 18 yr old could pitch-throw-toss 6-packs… and the next day we collected 137 beers to tide us over for the remainder of the summer.. Hehe.) It was quite crowded… Like a SW Airline commercial.. “Wanna get away?” Uh huh… so we did… on the roof… please don’t tell no one…
Bed and Breakfast… I think it was Rocheport, Missouri, or somewhere thereabouts… It was onea the most fabulous weekends I’ve ever spent. We were “new” to that… We’d walked the Katy Trail… we’d drank wine at the winery overlooking the Muddy Mo (you forgot you were in Missouri it was so GD scenic)… we retired to the fanciest room of this fancy Bed and Breakfast… No details.. (frequent blog readers might remember) but, let’s just say it was a Jacuzzi with a blue light. The weekend, the relaxation, the place, and at that point in the relationship - the person. Twas heavenly.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the good ole’ waterbed. I’ve slept in that puppy for 30 years now… It’s the SAME waterbed, when whatshername was Prego.. I usedta tease her in the morning when she wanted help getting out.. And I’d make her beg for like 3-8 minutes… hehe..
Let’s just say… old people should use waterbeds.. HEY, I’M OLD.. Yeah, but you ain’t gotta woman.. Oh yeah.. Sorry.. let’s just say, the rails, the baffles, the “for every action there’s an opposite and equal reaction” ß the waves.. Uh huh… Goodness if only that bed could talk it’d say “you didn’t get it very often did you old man?”… hehe… No, matter a fact I didn’t - but when I did… heavenly…
I’ve had stupid sex. I’ve had “it’s too GD early in our relationship sex.” I’ve had “mutually beneficial sex.” I’ve had sex alone. Oops, scratch that one.
All of the above instances… it wasn’t about the “oh baby oh baby”… the moves… the “My GOD I can’t believe you”… the way she twitched… the way she made me twitch.. The reverb of the waves… the firmness of a 20-something body… the looks… the dress… how long it’d been since…
It was all about feel. In all of the above instances, I remember great feel. Sure, there are more instances where I’ve experienced feel - but these came to mind first - and I’ve probably already bored you back to Chuck Shepherd’s News of the Weird (If I haven’t, you should check it out sometime.)
Sex isn’t about gymnastics. It’s not about the finest ass. The longest dong. The general public opine of the hierarchy of the one you’re with… It ain’t about ‘the Quest’… the conquer..
To me… it’s when the sex is secondary to the feel. Swear to goodness I can get just as turned on (if not more) by a wonderful makeout session as I can the act.
To me, it’s just as erotic to affix eyeballs as it is to affix them other parts. Honest. IF the feel is there.
Passion is very very close to feel. Not exactly there, but damn close. Feel is like being on the dance floor and not giving one thought to what people are seeing as you dance. Feel is intimate. Feel is private, dedicated to one. Feel is reciprocal… Feel rocks…
Ok… close your ears… one last instance of feel… I was on call at work.. We moved small items for the National Weather Service after hours… could be a problem with a weather station in Slidell, LA and we hadta get a 12 pound part there like yesterday to fix the problem.
I gotta call from “Que”.. the dispatcher of our local “hurry-up-and-go-get-this-crap” cartage company… He was returning my call on the specifics of a shipment I’d called him on 30 minutes earlier. In the meantime, “I-rode-off-on-a-Harley” got amorous… like all pigs.. I initiated everything mosta the time… but this time she had… Que called me as we were… u know… still kinda-sorta united… I was writing on the pad on the nightstand next to the bed.. We’d kinda-sorta ‘twitch’ every so often… as I hung up the phone with ‘Que’.. I said “love you.” Victor, you really didn’t did you? Sorry, I did.
May you have feel. My you one day go to a bed and breakfast with a blue light Jacuzzi, may you someday do it on a roof, may you remember back to your first time with great fondness..
I’m not real sure why sex, intercourse, feel, all that is so secretive, hush-hush, protective, private, et. al. I hope, as you read, you thought back to your “best sex I ever had.” Bet a nickel it involved feel. I feelya… Love, Victurd.
So is this kiss and tell? Well… Mebbe… I mean shit, I’m much closer to dementia than virgin hood…. They’ll never know!
This was all brought about… yes… in the middlea computerized bowling not too long ago… Mikki… the GD barkeep… generally very PG… nice… complimentary… not daring at all… said.. “somea the best sex I ever had was when I was pregnant.”
One of the more disgusting chaps in our group (sorry) said “well, that’s because it was a threesome.”
When pushed, she backed off…. “I didn’t say THE BEST sex I’ve ever had.. I said SOMEA the best sex I’ve ever had.”
So, your mind is wondering… you’re thinking back… was it…. Were we… could it have been… oh I’ll never forget… I can’t believe that one time in… I’m so embarrassed to think about this, but yes it was when we…
Hey. It’s Ok. We’ve all been there. We all think back. No, we don’t dissect everything like the Fox analysts on an NFL football Sunday… but we do remember… we do recall.. We do.. Yeah we do - cherish what stands out…
Without naming names… sure… the first…. I was so in 16-love… and I will go to my grave loving her… When my ex rode off on the Harley, it was to reunite with her first… so I guess I understand…
Same chicky… Baccalaureate.. Outdoor party… In the country… abandoned house… (Cops came.. Shined lights… people pitched, threw, tossed 6-packs as far as an 18 yr old could pitch-throw-toss 6-packs… and the next day we collected 137 beers to tide us over for the remainder of the summer.. Hehe.) It was quite crowded… Like a SW Airline commercial.. “Wanna get away?” Uh huh… so we did… on the roof… please don’t tell no one…
Bed and Breakfast… I think it was Rocheport, Missouri, or somewhere thereabouts… It was onea the most fabulous weekends I’ve ever spent. We were “new” to that… We’d walked the Katy Trail… we’d drank wine at the winery overlooking the Muddy Mo (you forgot you were in Missouri it was so GD scenic)… we retired to the fanciest room of this fancy Bed and Breakfast… No details.. (frequent blog readers might remember) but, let’s just say it was a Jacuzzi with a blue light. The weekend, the relaxation, the place, and at that point in the relationship - the person. Twas heavenly.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the good ole’ waterbed. I’ve slept in that puppy for 30 years now… It’s the SAME waterbed, when whatshername was Prego.. I usedta tease her in the morning when she wanted help getting out.. And I’d make her beg for like 3-8 minutes… hehe..
Let’s just say… old people should use waterbeds.. HEY, I’M OLD.. Yeah, but you ain’t gotta woman.. Oh yeah.. Sorry.. let’s just say, the rails, the baffles, the “for every action there’s an opposite and equal reaction” ß the waves.. Uh huh… Goodness if only that bed could talk it’d say “you didn’t get it very often did you old man?”… hehe… No, matter a fact I didn’t - but when I did… heavenly…
I’ve had stupid sex. I’ve had “it’s too GD early in our relationship sex.” I’ve had “mutually beneficial sex.” I’ve had sex alone. Oops, scratch that one.
All of the above instances… it wasn’t about the “oh baby oh baby”… the moves… the “My GOD I can’t believe you”… the way she twitched… the way she made me twitch.. The reverb of the waves… the firmness of a 20-something body… the looks… the dress… how long it’d been since…
It was all about feel. In all of the above instances, I remember great feel. Sure, there are more instances where I’ve experienced feel - but these came to mind first - and I’ve probably already bored you back to Chuck Shepherd’s News of the Weird (If I haven’t, you should check it out sometime.)
Sex isn’t about gymnastics. It’s not about the finest ass. The longest dong. The general public opine of the hierarchy of the one you’re with… It ain’t about ‘the Quest’… the conquer..
To me… it’s when the sex is secondary to the feel. Swear to goodness I can get just as turned on (if not more) by a wonderful makeout session as I can the act.
To me, it’s just as erotic to affix eyeballs as it is to affix them other parts. Honest. IF the feel is there.
Passion is very very close to feel. Not exactly there, but damn close. Feel is like being on the dance floor and not giving one thought to what people are seeing as you dance. Feel is intimate. Feel is private, dedicated to one. Feel is reciprocal… Feel rocks…
Ok… close your ears… one last instance of feel… I was on call at work.. We moved small items for the National Weather Service after hours… could be a problem with a weather station in Slidell, LA and we hadta get a 12 pound part there like yesterday to fix the problem.
I gotta call from “Que”.. the dispatcher of our local “hurry-up-and-go-get-this-crap” cartage company… He was returning my call on the specifics of a shipment I’d called him on 30 minutes earlier. In the meantime, “I-rode-off-on-a-Harley” got amorous… like all pigs.. I initiated everything mosta the time… but this time she had… Que called me as we were… u know… still kinda-sorta united… I was writing on the pad on the nightstand next to the bed.. We’d kinda-sorta ‘twitch’ every so often… as I hung up the phone with ‘Que’.. I said “love you.” Victor, you really didn’t did you? Sorry, I did.
May you have feel. My you one day go to a bed and breakfast with a blue light Jacuzzi, may you someday do it on a roof, may you remember back to your first time with great fondness..
I’m not real sure why sex, intercourse, feel, all that is so secretive, hush-hush, protective, private, et. al. I hope, as you read, you thought back to your “best sex I ever had.” Bet a nickel it involved feel. I feelya… Love, Victurd.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Must be the season of the witch……
When I look out my window
Many sights to see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
That it's strange
So strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
Oh no
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Tonight I gotta email from onea the bud’s that departed our company. Sure, the times are still fresh - and the email was like we’d just high fived each other ten minutes ago.. But now change confronts us…..
As much as we all seek the daily grind - to keep things status quo good - there always is change in life…
I truly have a remarkable memory for names and faces from friends of the past from school, work, softball teams, organizations I’ve belonged to… but throughout - there’s constant change we must get used to….
We have our constants… always family… and usually one or two very very close friends… My best friend is Sanford - and whilst someone once said “that’s not a true friendship” (due to periodic lapses thru the years for numerous reasons - never in conflict) when my friend Sanford and I are together - it’s like it was 40 years ago.. Or 30... Or 20... There’s never nerves involved, never lack of things to say… Each and every time we meet, it’s like 1968 allover again…
Often, life’s changes smack us right in the face. A quick change to another job… death, even, happens… We’re left to pickup the pieces and move on.. And there’s that emptiness so epitomized by the geese flying in formation with a space open for the one that departed….
There are lucky ones… one’s whose careers are long-term.. Whose family has longevity… God Bless them… We don’t envy - we’re simply happy for them….
Spousal/partner change… that’s truly a “holy shit what happened” eye-opening event… Ya go from breaking bread, fanning farts, sharing the agreed music station in the car, washing their grimy undies, observing their happiness, sadness, what perks them.. Sharing their friends/family.. They become your friends/family.. And then WHAMMO… gone… Must be the season of the witch….
Relocation is a biggie in fucking with our brains.. EVERYTHING changes….In this day and age of “instant touch” thru cell, text, email, web cam, whatever, it just ain’t the same…
You yourself… think back…. Who were your friends five years ago? Ten? Twenty? Did you unfortunately lose any loved ones of late?.. The times, they area changin’…
What’s the purpose to all this? The message? I wish I had answers…
My take (and again, I write this crap to talk to myself mainly) is we should suckup each and every day - each and every interaction opportunity - for we have no idea when the situation, surroundings, players on the scorecard - will change…
You’ve got to pickup every stitch….
Must be the season of the witch…
When we look out our windows.. What do you think we will see? So many different people to be…It's strange …Sure it's strange…
Reckon it’s the quilt of life. Life’s kinda like Red Rover Red Rover send Tommy right over… Clinch (tightly) the hands of your loved ones… friends… for we won’t be on the same team forever and ever.. . Build bonds of strength.. Even though they may not be tremendously vested…
We’ve got to pickup every stitch… Must be the season of the witch... May you have peace in change….. Love, Victurd.
Many sights to see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
That it's strange
So strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
Oh no
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Tonight I gotta email from onea the bud’s that departed our company. Sure, the times are still fresh - and the email was like we’d just high fived each other ten minutes ago.. But now change confronts us…..
As much as we all seek the daily grind - to keep things status quo good - there always is change in life…
I truly have a remarkable memory for names and faces from friends of the past from school, work, softball teams, organizations I’ve belonged to… but throughout - there’s constant change we must get used to….
We have our constants… always family… and usually one or two very very close friends… My best friend is Sanford - and whilst someone once said “that’s not a true friendship” (due to periodic lapses thru the years for numerous reasons - never in conflict) when my friend Sanford and I are together - it’s like it was 40 years ago.. Or 30... Or 20... There’s never nerves involved, never lack of things to say… Each and every time we meet, it’s like 1968 allover again…
Often, life’s changes smack us right in the face. A quick change to another job… death, even, happens… We’re left to pickup the pieces and move on.. And there’s that emptiness so epitomized by the geese flying in formation with a space open for the one that departed….
There are lucky ones… one’s whose careers are long-term.. Whose family has longevity… God Bless them… We don’t envy - we’re simply happy for them….
Spousal/partner change… that’s truly a “holy shit what happened” eye-opening event… Ya go from breaking bread, fanning farts, sharing the agreed music station in the car, washing their grimy undies, observing their happiness, sadness, what perks them.. Sharing their friends/family.. They become your friends/family.. And then WHAMMO… gone… Must be the season of the witch….
Relocation is a biggie in fucking with our brains.. EVERYTHING changes….In this day and age of “instant touch” thru cell, text, email, web cam, whatever, it just ain’t the same…
You yourself… think back…. Who were your friends five years ago? Ten? Twenty? Did you unfortunately lose any loved ones of late?.. The times, they area changin’…
What’s the purpose to all this? The message? I wish I had answers…
My take (and again, I write this crap to talk to myself mainly) is we should suckup each and every day - each and every interaction opportunity - for we have no idea when the situation, surroundings, players on the scorecard - will change…
You’ve got to pickup every stitch….
Must be the season of the witch…
When we look out our windows.. What do you think we will see? So many different people to be…It's strange …Sure it's strange…
Reckon it’s the quilt of life. Life’s kinda like Red Rover Red Rover send Tommy right over… Clinch (tightly) the hands of your loved ones… friends… for we won’t be on the same team forever and ever.. . Build bonds of strength.. Even though they may not be tremendously vested…
We’ve got to pickup every stitch… Must be the season of the witch... May you have peace in change….. Love, Victurd.
My Deepest Darkest Secrets......
PSYCHE!
Hi, and good morning. When someone asks you “how are you doing” – a) do we really want the true answer, b) do we really care, and c) do we really listen? d) do we really tell the truth?
“Well.. I’m doing good. Frank hopped on last night and was finished before I even got warmed up – so I’m flustered.”
“Ahm… I kinda-sorta had the flu/upset tummy all weekend… goodness gracious do I need to do laundry.”
“Hey, I’m doing great. Thanks. In fact, if I borrow $200 from the Quick Cash joint Wednesday, I can actually make my house payment on time.”
“Oh.. my kid got arrested again. We dipped into our savings to get him out.. the lawyer will probably scoop up the rest of it.”
“I’m awesome. Bernie was away on a fishing outing with his buddies so I went over to Howie’s house and we doinked four times in six hours.”
“I’ve got an itchy itchy rash.”
“Herm’s been trying for like 12 years to get me to… you know… that backdoor thing… I was a little drunkie Saturday night… bastard snuck up on me… am I walking funny?”
“Life? It’s grand! In fact, we’re going to wallpaper the bathroom with disconnect notices (North Wall) and foreclosure notices (South Wall.) Saving the East Wall for my termination notices… And topping it all off (West Wall) with threatening letters from the IRS. Come on over after it’s done, I’ll showya.”
“Oh, life’s not to bad for my age I guess. Got the hem’s.. GD brown spots.. creeky bones… I’m gettin’ skinnier… Sometimes I don’t make it in time to the commode… what was the question again?”
I reckon we should simply appreciate “Fine. How are you?”
I would find life a tad bit more interesting however if people would answer truthfully. Even if it ain’t great. It’d give a whole new view into everyone’s lives… We generally share our most intimate secrets, stories, feelings with the ones we are closest too.. Yeah.. I know – some who do out and out spout everything out – we’re sorry we asked ten seconds after we did. Maybe it ain’t sucha good idea..
So up there in your noggin’, the next times someone asks “how are you?” Smile, think of all the really crappy, yucky parts of your life – grit the chops and say “Fine. How are you?”
Tune in tomorrow when we’ll ask… “how was your weekend?”
Love, Victurd.
Hi, and good morning. When someone asks you “how are you doing” – a) do we really want the true answer, b) do we really care, and c) do we really listen? d) do we really tell the truth?
“Well.. I’m doing good. Frank hopped on last night and was finished before I even got warmed up – so I’m flustered.”
“Ahm… I kinda-sorta had the flu/upset tummy all weekend… goodness gracious do I need to do laundry.”
“Hey, I’m doing great. Thanks. In fact, if I borrow $200 from the Quick Cash joint Wednesday, I can actually make my house payment on time.”
“Oh.. my kid got arrested again. We dipped into our savings to get him out.. the lawyer will probably scoop up the rest of it.”
“I’m awesome. Bernie was away on a fishing outing with his buddies so I went over to Howie’s house and we doinked four times in six hours.”
“I’ve got an itchy itchy rash.”
“Herm’s been trying for like 12 years to get me to… you know… that backdoor thing… I was a little drunkie Saturday night… bastard snuck up on me… am I walking funny?”
“Life? It’s grand! In fact, we’re going to wallpaper the bathroom with disconnect notices (North Wall) and foreclosure notices (South Wall.) Saving the East Wall for my termination notices… And topping it all off (West Wall) with threatening letters from the IRS. Come on over after it’s done, I’ll showya.”
“Oh, life’s not to bad for my age I guess. Got the hem’s.. GD brown spots.. creeky bones… I’m gettin’ skinnier… Sometimes I don’t make it in time to the commode… what was the question again?”
I reckon we should simply appreciate “Fine. How are you?”
I would find life a tad bit more interesting however if people would answer truthfully. Even if it ain’t great. It’d give a whole new view into everyone’s lives… We generally share our most intimate secrets, stories, feelings with the ones we are closest too.. Yeah.. I know – some who do out and out spout everything out – we’re sorry we asked ten seconds after we did. Maybe it ain’t sucha good idea..
So up there in your noggin’, the next times someone asks “how are you?” Smile, think of all the really crappy, yucky parts of your life – grit the chops and say “Fine. How are you?”
Tune in tomorrow when we’ll ask… “how was your weekend?”
Love, Victurd.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
When I see you it makes me wanna take my clothes off… but tonight I have to lay my linoleum…
Uh huh.. That was my ‘date’. I embellished the first part - but the second part (hey, it’s Ok) is true. She moved into the basement apartment of a house - and she pretty much volunteered to fix it up - and I don’t know if there’s something deducted off the rent…. When I called (roughly three hours before date time) she was flustered - I could tell.. And said she had furniture allover.. And she was just getting ready to make the big cut on the linoleum in the kitchen. When I see you it makes me wanna take my clothes off… but tonight I have to lay my linoleum… Again, tis cool. I’d rather find out early than to waste either of our’s time.
So….. I drove straight to the party (for my two closest buds at work - the bastards are departing me.)… People from work who you didn’t think drink liquor, drank liquor. People, who you look at and say “no way can this person dance” - danced like hell. A good time was had by all. Somewhere along the way boobs were exposed. Makes sense to me. We’re losing two of our coworkers, so here, here’s my tits. Hehe.
Pool. They had three pool tables. Me and another old dude were challenged by two whippersnapping co-workers. They talked trash for thirty minutes straight and never won a game. During this thirty minute period - a steady stream of “Hi, I’m trying to look like I play professional pool on ESPN” walked in. Probably twenty of ‘em, each toting their pool cues in cases. They sat, ALL facing us, staring.
After we’d womped up on the young punks the third or fourth time, onea the ESPN pro pool players walked up to us and said “ya wanna get in an 8-ball tournament?”.. Hmmm.. They all stared at us - as if they were caged animals at the zoo awaiting the zookeep to tossa fish at ‘em.
Eh, what the hell… I hadn’t played great - but I hadn’t played bad.. I was completely sober and didn’t plan on drinking. (WHAT? VICTOR? IS THIS YOU? ARE YOU SICK?).. Actually, I woke up with a head cold.. Even laid in my car and slept at work after popping an assortment of sinus/aspirin/ibuprofen junk…
“It’s 5 bucks, double elimination.” Ok, my name is Vic, I’m in. So the bastard puts my name on the board as Vick. Ah what the hell..
The caged animals are now limbering up (honest) and they’ve screwed their 2-piece cues together - and awaited their first guppy to dominate. I waited and I waited and I waited for them to call my name. Games happened. No “Vic, you’re up.”
Now the nerves are frayed - I’ve seen some good players - and my hopes of winning a game or two had now come to “geez, I hope I at least get a couplea shots.”
Finally - “Vic, you’ve got the next game against LJ.” LJ emerges from the ESPN Pro Pool Player Zone - introduces himself as Larry.. He’s 50-ish, with arm tatoos, cig hangin’ outta his mouth, had the Brillcream combed kinda back kinda sideways thing goin’ on - and picture perfect of what you’d think of when you think of “A pool hall guy.’
He breaks - surprisingly doesn’t make anything. We alternate shots - again - and again - I look down, hell I’ve only got two balls left to his five. I made a tremendously lucky shot that I called (you haveta call which ball you’re trying to knock in, and you must designate which pocket it’s to go in.) I was setup easy for the 8-ball, made it, and by golly I’d won. I extended my arm to shake the hand of LJ Larry the ESPN Pro Pool Player Pool Hall Guy - and instead he grabbed the rack and said “now we play another.” Shit.
I probably couldn’t beat this guy again ever in my life - and now I find I gotta beat him two outta three to advance to the winner’s round… I held my own - but LJ got me in the 2nd game.. I scratched at an integral point in the final game - setting him up easily to knock in the final balls. Dammit, I lost - but just winning one game against the “I screw my pool cue together”s, felt good.
So I go to the loser’s bracket. Back to the party - which was adjacent to the pool tables. More boobies, cameras flashin’ allover. Hugs to the ones departing, toasts - and - we talked and talked about everyone that didn’t attend.
“Vic you got the next game.” I was playing “The lawyer guy.” The Lawyer Guy was from our party - attending on the arm of onea my coworkers. It’s like Sienfeld where I work. Ya name people. There’s “The Church Lady”, “Steven Segal” and “Chia Pet” to name a few. Oh, and I'm "Old guy" I found out. A frienda Kendra's was introduced to me - and she said, "Oh, you're 'old guy'" I hate Kendra's guts. If you ain’t asleep by now and you’re wondering, huh? Chia Pet? Yeah.. Onea the owners, very bald on top, had onea those thingies where they take hair/follicle from a lower point on his head and transplant it on top of his head, thus Chia. I’m sure it will look good one day, but right now there’s a very obvious straight line all around the basea his head where the transplants were taken from.
Lawyer Guy and I play it close… I get two easy shots when I’m down to one ball and the 8-ball - and advance in the Loser’s bracket.
More boobs, watching the dancers, catching an inning of the Royals… an old boss is by now slobbering drunk telling me how much he thinks of me.. And whilst it’s appreciated… When you’re slobbering drunk, you love everyone. The appreciation of your fellow coworkers all get prettier at closin’ time.
“Vic, you’ll be playing Marcie next.” Now, last I remember, Marcie is a chick name. There were a couplea chicks in the ESPN Pro Pool Player Group that walked in - and Marcie happened to be among them.
She smiled - what seemed genuine, but I could tell somehow just how she extended her arm too GD straight “beware of this woman.”
Now I’m really nervous. I’m playing on the table right next to my co-workers, and I could actually lose to A GIRL.
Trying to make lighta the matter… Marcie had on a pretty lowcut top. I walked to Lawyer Guy’s date (my friend) and said “Ya know, if you play against a gal that’s wearing a lowcut top and you lose, you really win.” Somehow that relaxed me - and I actually made a few balls.
After I’d made like the 4th one Marcie asks “did you call that shot?” It was the most obvious shot on the table. The ball was right infronta the hole. The cue ball was setup perfectly some 18 inches back..There were no other balls within two feet of the view of that. Which, to me, in pool etiquette translates to “why you fucking bitch.” It happened twice - she asked me that twice. Each and every time I shot I pointed the cue at the very obvious ball I was trying to hit, and then the hole I was trying to put it in. Enough. Apparently not for her though. She got my gourd. I don’t know if it was a ploy - but it worked cause I was thinking to myself “no way in hell I wanna lose to this bitch.” My heart was pumping very rapidly, it affected my play (not to the good) - but, I somehow managed to get down to the 8-ball.. And I smiled at Marcie, pointed (and verbalized) “8-ball in the corner pocket.” Lo and behold the 8-ball went in the corner pocket.
I wish that were the end of the story - and that somehow I’d met the love of my life at the party and we went home happily ever after, doinking daily until the day we peed our pants and forgot our names - but…………………..
The cue ball happily followed the 8-ball in the same pocket. Winner Marcie. I wanted to again call my next shot “Victor’s right fist to Marcie’s right jaw” but I don’t believe in hitting women - so, I shook the too-GD-straight-fakey-fakey-friendliness of her right arm, and said “congratulations.”
Pride is hard to swallow, but it will go down. Tired, I said my goodbyes - I hate goodbyes - and rolled 37 miles back home. It was an ordinary evening. I played in a pool tournament. I watched a 65 yr old man dance likea sonofabitch (with the best looking gal there). I danced a slow dance with one of the departing co-worker’s moms - I probably had a temp - I was sweating profusely.. Yuck, I’m sure she enjoyed that.. I saw boobs. I got beat by a bitch. I beat Lawyer Guy. I beat LJ Larry the ESPN Pro Pool Player Pool Hall guy (once.. I know, I know - he beat me twice.)…Still, a good night.
Calling next shot: 54 yr old body in that bed right there, no alarm set. That clear enough Marcie? Life, it’s good - even when you knock in the all white ball. Love, Victurd.
So….. I drove straight to the party (for my two closest buds at work - the bastards are departing me.)… People from work who you didn’t think drink liquor, drank liquor. People, who you look at and say “no way can this person dance” - danced like hell. A good time was had by all. Somewhere along the way boobs were exposed. Makes sense to me. We’re losing two of our coworkers, so here, here’s my tits. Hehe.
Pool. They had three pool tables. Me and another old dude were challenged by two whippersnapping co-workers. They talked trash for thirty minutes straight and never won a game. During this thirty minute period - a steady stream of “Hi, I’m trying to look like I play professional pool on ESPN” walked in. Probably twenty of ‘em, each toting their pool cues in cases. They sat, ALL facing us, staring.
After we’d womped up on the young punks the third or fourth time, onea the ESPN pro pool players walked up to us and said “ya wanna get in an 8-ball tournament?”.. Hmmm.. They all stared at us - as if they were caged animals at the zoo awaiting the zookeep to tossa fish at ‘em.
Eh, what the hell… I hadn’t played great - but I hadn’t played bad.. I was completely sober and didn’t plan on drinking. (WHAT? VICTOR? IS THIS YOU? ARE YOU SICK?).. Actually, I woke up with a head cold.. Even laid in my car and slept at work after popping an assortment of sinus/aspirin/ibuprofen junk…
“It’s 5 bucks, double elimination.” Ok, my name is Vic, I’m in. So the bastard puts my name on the board as Vick. Ah what the hell..
The caged animals are now limbering up (honest) and they’ve screwed their 2-piece cues together - and awaited their first guppy to dominate. I waited and I waited and I waited for them to call my name. Games happened. No “Vic, you’re up.”
Now the nerves are frayed - I’ve seen some good players - and my hopes of winning a game or two had now come to “geez, I hope I at least get a couplea shots.”
Finally - “Vic, you’ve got the next game against LJ.” LJ emerges from the ESPN Pro Pool Player Zone - introduces himself as Larry.. He’s 50-ish, with arm tatoos, cig hangin’ outta his mouth, had the Brillcream combed kinda back kinda sideways thing goin’ on - and picture perfect of what you’d think of when you think of “A pool hall guy.’
He breaks - surprisingly doesn’t make anything. We alternate shots - again - and again - I look down, hell I’ve only got two balls left to his five. I made a tremendously lucky shot that I called (you haveta call which ball you’re trying to knock in, and you must designate which pocket it’s to go in.) I was setup easy for the 8-ball, made it, and by golly I’d won. I extended my arm to shake the hand of LJ Larry the ESPN Pro Pool Player Pool Hall Guy - and instead he grabbed the rack and said “now we play another.” Shit.
I probably couldn’t beat this guy again ever in my life - and now I find I gotta beat him two outta three to advance to the winner’s round… I held my own - but LJ got me in the 2nd game.. I scratched at an integral point in the final game - setting him up easily to knock in the final balls. Dammit, I lost - but just winning one game against the “I screw my pool cue together”s, felt good.
So I go to the loser’s bracket. Back to the party - which was adjacent to the pool tables. More boobies, cameras flashin’ allover. Hugs to the ones departing, toasts - and - we talked and talked about everyone that didn’t attend.
“Vic you got the next game.” I was playing “The lawyer guy.” The Lawyer Guy was from our party - attending on the arm of onea my coworkers. It’s like Sienfeld where I work. Ya name people. There’s “The Church Lady”, “Steven Segal” and “Chia Pet” to name a few. Oh, and I'm "Old guy" I found out. A frienda Kendra's was introduced to me - and she said, "Oh, you're 'old guy'" I hate Kendra's guts. If you ain’t asleep by now and you’re wondering, huh? Chia Pet? Yeah.. Onea the owners, very bald on top, had onea those thingies where they take hair/follicle from a lower point on his head and transplant it on top of his head, thus Chia. I’m sure it will look good one day, but right now there’s a very obvious straight line all around the basea his head where the transplants were taken from.
Lawyer Guy and I play it close… I get two easy shots when I’m down to one ball and the 8-ball - and advance in the Loser’s bracket.
More boobs, watching the dancers, catching an inning of the Royals… an old boss is by now slobbering drunk telling me how much he thinks of me.. And whilst it’s appreciated… When you’re slobbering drunk, you love everyone. The appreciation of your fellow coworkers all get prettier at closin’ time.
“Vic, you’ll be playing Marcie next.” Now, last I remember, Marcie is a chick name. There were a couplea chicks in the ESPN Pro Pool Player Group that walked in - and Marcie happened to be among them.
She smiled - what seemed genuine, but I could tell somehow just how she extended her arm too GD straight “beware of this woman.”
Now I’m really nervous. I’m playing on the table right next to my co-workers, and I could actually lose to A GIRL.
Trying to make lighta the matter… Marcie had on a pretty lowcut top. I walked to Lawyer Guy’s date (my friend) and said “Ya know, if you play against a gal that’s wearing a lowcut top and you lose, you really win.” Somehow that relaxed me - and I actually made a few balls.
After I’d made like the 4th one Marcie asks “did you call that shot?” It was the most obvious shot on the table. The ball was right infronta the hole. The cue ball was setup perfectly some 18 inches back..There were no other balls within two feet of the view of that. Which, to me, in pool etiquette translates to “why you fucking bitch.” It happened twice - she asked me that twice. Each and every time I shot I pointed the cue at the very obvious ball I was trying to hit, and then the hole I was trying to put it in. Enough. Apparently not for her though. She got my gourd. I don’t know if it was a ploy - but it worked cause I was thinking to myself “no way in hell I wanna lose to this bitch.” My heart was pumping very rapidly, it affected my play (not to the good) - but, I somehow managed to get down to the 8-ball.. And I smiled at Marcie, pointed (and verbalized) “8-ball in the corner pocket.” Lo and behold the 8-ball went in the corner pocket.
I wish that were the end of the story - and that somehow I’d met the love of my life at the party and we went home happily ever after, doinking daily until the day we peed our pants and forgot our names - but…………………..
The cue ball happily followed the 8-ball in the same pocket. Winner Marcie. I wanted to again call my next shot “Victor’s right fist to Marcie’s right jaw” but I don’t believe in hitting women - so, I shook the too-GD-straight-fakey-fakey-friendliness of her right arm, and said “congratulations.”
Pride is hard to swallow, but it will go down. Tired, I said my goodbyes - I hate goodbyes - and rolled 37 miles back home. It was an ordinary evening. I played in a pool tournament. I watched a 65 yr old man dance likea sonofabitch (with the best looking gal there). I danced a slow dance with one of the departing co-worker’s moms - I probably had a temp - I was sweating profusely.. Yuck, I’m sure she enjoyed that.. I saw boobs. I got beat by a bitch. I beat Lawyer Guy. I beat LJ Larry the ESPN Pro Pool Player Pool Hall guy (once.. I know, I know - he beat me twice.)…Still, a good night.
Calling next shot: 54 yr old body in that bed right there, no alarm set. That clear enough Marcie? Life, it’s good - even when you knock in the all white ball. Love, Victurd.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Bits of tid..............
71% of American favor getting most troops out of Iraq by next April. Being a bit of a rebel, I’m rarely in the majority. Here, I am.
Go figure. Two psychology professors at a local college were moved from the general psychology department to the medical department in late 2005 after complaints of sexual harassment. With this transfer, one received a raise from $76K to $101K, the other from $75K to $93K…. Two of the complainers filed lawsuit. Among the court statements “I was told by them that I needed to be more of a “team player” and saw them kissing and massaging other women in the lab, grabbing women from behind in choke holds, and referring to female students as “sluts.”… The two received a settlement recently of $1.1 million total. Ironically, the attorneys received $443,141. Pardon my French. They sued about the professors’s intent of screwing them, and they ended up getting fucked by the attorneys.
Flight from Atlanta to Oklahoma. Toddler, upon takeoff, continued - over and over - saying “bye bye plane.” Perturbed, flight attendant tells mom 'It's not funny anymore. You need to shut your baby up,'" Penland (mom) told WSB-TV in Atlanta. When Penland asked the woman if she was joking, she said the stewardess replied, "You know, it's called baby Benadryl." "And I said, 'Well, I'm not going to drug my child so you have a pleasant flight,'" Penland told the TV station. In spitea passengers taking up on her/baby’s behalf - they turned the plane around, and dumped her and "bye bye plane" baby back in Atlanta. Bye bye plane.
By now you’ve surely seen or read of the dude in Oregon who attached helium filled balloons to his lawn chair and went on a 193 mile flight (with wife following via back roads on ground.) I wasn’t aware this was a “re-do” of a man who did the same in 1982. In the ‘82 event, the nearby commercial airport control tower gotta call from an approaching pilot “ahm, we had just passed a guy in a lawn chair.” Feller was fined $1,500 penalty for violating air traffic rules, and surely he also had to at least pay for dry cleaning of the pilot’s pants.
It’s bassackwards now. Where I work, we have “The L.”… It’s the long L-like hallway on the North and East side of the building where the upper class resides. (Talk on break was of the “declining middle class.” - Well, same where we work, it’s either upper, or lower socio-economic.) Anyways, they gotta Executive Bathroom which is really really nice. I go in there to poop on purpose for several reasons. One, in spitea their doo-doo not stinking, they have Lysol, we do not any longer. (I can see why, that shit’s like $4.50 a can.) Two, I’m just waiting for the first Jim Crow “HEY, you can’t go in there” comment. (I swear I’d be dead if I were black.) Three, the bastards got thick, soft, quilted toilet paper. (We have single-ply, probably from Dollar General.) I’ve come to surmise the company is really concerned about the biggest assholes.
Article in paper on howta save on gas when traveling this summer… Among the ideas: have vehicle checked/maintained - could increase fuel efficiency by 11%.. Loose gas cap… bad O2 sensors… driving 5mph slower when AC is on (Like that’s gonna happen.).. Anyways, I’m generally - as someone once said a “Pollyanna” here… Well, the cockdobber they interviewed in the paper beamed “I fill my tank when it is half full instead of half empty.”… Funny haha. Not me. I put $10 daily and hope and pray my ‘hot rod Lincoln’ will make the 75 mile round trip daily. Thus far I ain’t hadta hitchhike. Hell, who knows, that could be mebbe even better than the frustrating internet dating. Mebbe tomorrow I’ll only put $9 in.
Kimberly Clark (I think it was) is introducing this new thingamabob for restrooms that, by the power of “put your hand here, motion activated” dispenses 5 (AND ONLY FIVE) panels of toilet paper. “People will only generally use what you give them.” Bullshit. I’d run my hand across that puppy like six times to ensure I had enough. Why even in the “L” bathroom, with that thickass paper, 5’s not gonna clean them big assholes.
Being a weirdo like me - I’m frustrated by unusual things. Waiting in line at McDonalds (or similar) only to pull up to the window and hear “Thank you for choosing McDonalds, I’ll be with you in a moment” ß that one really pisses me off…. Clerks who have co-worker conversation - see you peripherally, and continue to have co-worker conversation before assisting me - really really pisses me off…. Standing second in line, seeing two cash registers, six employees behind counter, and one customer being helped really really really pisses me off. Where was I going? Oh yeah. Back to toilet paper. Some of life’s most frustrating moments (for me) have come whilst I was finished pooping at a bathroom in public - and you’ve gotta have a GD engineering degree to get the toilet paper to unfurl. I’ve come close to walking out ‘sticky’ in frustration. No not really. Ok. Really. Is it just me - or are there more GD toilet paper gadgets than brands of magazines and each and every one seemingly more difficult to just get to the start of the unfurling?
Hey… sorry this was sucha crappy blog. I’d wipe it all out, but I already saved the doc. I would backspace my mouse (ie, putting on the skid marks), but again - it’s a done deal. I would flush the whole damn thing, but I ain't blogged in a few days. May you not find yourself stuck in sticky situations. May you, with ease, find the end of the GD toilet paper roll in public. May you hit the “gimme gimme” the Kimberly Clark thingy AT LEAST TWICE in silent (non-farting moments) protest. May you remember to zip up your britches.
Here’s hopin’ life ain’t poopy forya. Love, Victurd.
Go figure. Two psychology professors at a local college were moved from the general psychology department to the medical department in late 2005 after complaints of sexual harassment. With this transfer, one received a raise from $76K to $101K, the other from $75K to $93K…. Two of the complainers filed lawsuit. Among the court statements “I was told by them that I needed to be more of a “team player” and saw them kissing and massaging other women in the lab, grabbing women from behind in choke holds, and referring to female students as “sluts.”… The two received a settlement recently of $1.1 million total. Ironically, the attorneys received $443,141. Pardon my French. They sued about the professors’s intent of screwing them, and they ended up getting fucked by the attorneys.
Flight from Atlanta to Oklahoma. Toddler, upon takeoff, continued - over and over - saying “bye bye plane.” Perturbed, flight attendant tells mom 'It's not funny anymore. You need to shut your baby up,'" Penland (mom) told WSB-TV in Atlanta. When Penland asked the woman if she was joking, she said the stewardess replied, "You know, it's called baby Benadryl." "And I said, 'Well, I'm not going to drug my child so you have a pleasant flight,'" Penland told the TV station. In spitea passengers taking up on her/baby’s behalf - they turned the plane around, and dumped her and "bye bye plane" baby back in Atlanta. Bye bye plane.
By now you’ve surely seen or read of the dude in Oregon who attached helium filled balloons to his lawn chair and went on a 193 mile flight (with wife following via back roads on ground.) I wasn’t aware this was a “re-do” of a man who did the same in 1982. In the ‘82 event, the nearby commercial airport control tower gotta call from an approaching pilot “ahm, we had just passed a guy in a lawn chair.” Feller was fined $1,500 penalty for violating air traffic rules, and surely he also had to at least pay for dry cleaning of the pilot’s pants.
It’s bassackwards now. Where I work, we have “The L.”… It’s the long L-like hallway on the North and East side of the building where the upper class resides. (Talk on break was of the “declining middle class.” - Well, same where we work, it’s either upper, or lower socio-economic.) Anyways, they gotta Executive Bathroom which is really really nice. I go in there to poop on purpose for several reasons. One, in spitea their doo-doo not stinking, they have Lysol, we do not any longer. (I can see why, that shit’s like $4.50 a can.) Two, I’m just waiting for the first Jim Crow “HEY, you can’t go in there” comment. (I swear I’d be dead if I were black.) Three, the bastards got thick, soft, quilted toilet paper. (We have single-ply, probably from Dollar General.) I’ve come to surmise the company is really concerned about the biggest assholes.
Article in paper on howta save on gas when traveling this summer… Among the ideas: have vehicle checked/maintained - could increase fuel efficiency by 11%.. Loose gas cap… bad O2 sensors… driving 5mph slower when AC is on (Like that’s gonna happen.).. Anyways, I’m generally - as someone once said a “Pollyanna” here… Well, the cockdobber they interviewed in the paper beamed “I fill my tank when it is half full instead of half empty.”… Funny haha. Not me. I put $10 daily and hope and pray my ‘hot rod Lincoln’ will make the 75 mile round trip daily. Thus far I ain’t hadta hitchhike. Hell, who knows, that could be mebbe even better than the frustrating internet dating. Mebbe tomorrow I’ll only put $9 in.
Kimberly Clark (I think it was) is introducing this new thingamabob for restrooms that, by the power of “put your hand here, motion activated” dispenses 5 (AND ONLY FIVE) panels of toilet paper. “People will only generally use what you give them.” Bullshit. I’d run my hand across that puppy like six times to ensure I had enough. Why even in the “L” bathroom, with that thickass paper, 5’s not gonna clean them big assholes.
Being a weirdo like me - I’m frustrated by unusual things. Waiting in line at McDonalds (or similar) only to pull up to the window and hear “Thank you for choosing McDonalds, I’ll be with you in a moment” ß that one really pisses me off…. Clerks who have co-worker conversation - see you peripherally, and continue to have co-worker conversation before assisting me - really really pisses me off…. Standing second in line, seeing two cash registers, six employees behind counter, and one customer being helped really really really pisses me off. Where was I going? Oh yeah. Back to toilet paper. Some of life’s most frustrating moments (for me) have come whilst I was finished pooping at a bathroom in public - and you’ve gotta have a GD engineering degree to get the toilet paper to unfurl. I’ve come close to walking out ‘sticky’ in frustration. No not really. Ok. Really. Is it just me - or are there more GD toilet paper gadgets than brands of magazines and each and every one seemingly more difficult to just get to the start of the unfurling?
Hey… sorry this was sucha crappy blog. I’d wipe it all out, but I already saved the doc. I would backspace my mouse (ie, putting on the skid marks), but again - it’s a done deal. I would flush the whole damn thing, but I ain't blogged in a few days. May you not find yourself stuck in sticky situations. May you, with ease, find the end of the GD toilet paper roll in public. May you hit the “gimme gimme” the Kimberly Clark thingy AT LEAST TWICE in silent (non-farting moments) protest. May you remember to zip up your britches.
Here’s hopin’ life ain’t poopy forya. Love, Victurd.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Exhaustion........
We’ve all seen a toddler around 8pm… After roughly 13 hours of following them around as they go non-stop to suckup life - the system crashes… the eyes start closing.. There’s still fight left inside so they pop back open… but the weariness in the bod finally wins out… ZONKED.
Tis how I currently feel. If I ain’t been working’, and working overtime (probably 20 hrs this week) I’ve been going. I love going. Going ain’t lonely. Here, at this monitor is mostly lonely (except for your wonderful emails, comments, a few por.. er… PORpoise sites. Ahm, I love dolphins!) it’s just me.
Home, presently, ain’t where the heart is. It needs work. It once was happy, and now it’s sad. Not because the “participants” have changed - but it’s time for a new start, this is a recording.
Last night, I was in idiot mode supreme. Ran into a gal I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Her, her ex, me, my ex usedta hang when we were puppies. Close your ears, I always LOVED looking at her booty (I was married, not dead). So, we played some pool. DAMMIT, I hated she had to lean over upon occasion to reach the cue ball. (The years have served her well.)
So we talked about this kid, that kid, this ex, that ex, whatinthehell has happened the twenty years.. Tomorrow… changed outlooks… and I remember some shots I didn’t purchase, and a few beers. This is a recording.
She’s hardened in her look at marriage, relationships… and is quite pleasantly single, with notta lotta desire to change that. But hey, I could use a runnin’ buddy - and she did give me her number - and by night’s end we were joking and laughing like we did back in the days of Laugh In. Next thing I know “LAST CALL.” And Mikki saying “IT’S ONE-THIRTY, NOW GET OUTTA HERE.” (Where have I heard that before?)
I arise, slowly, and curse the alarm clock at 6am. I remember I’m happy God has given me another day so I smile. As I get up, I’m reminded my body is 54 and I’ve been running like I’m 24. So I curse my body. Then I remember the deaf guy with one arm smiling at the Brigade game, and immediately I get a smartass smirk on my face, pointed at me - into the mirror. (Good God Victor, you’ve been eating well too.)
Four acetaminophens, four ibuprofens, six Rolaids, one diarrhea thingy (When you’re sliding into home and your pants are full of foam diarrhea, diarrhea.), a scrumptious Mexican lunch with former co-workers (Mistake. Not the coworkers, the Mexican food.) later - another hour anda half of overtime - I’m that toddler.
I’ve gone like crazy. Many would call it crazy. I ain’t generally funny nor borderline obnoxious in public amongst friends. Tiredness makes me semi-funny and very borderline obnoxious out and about.
I wanna suckup every minute of every day. I wanna go. I wanna share. I wanna live. I wanna see. I pay when the eyes start closing around 8-ish, but pardon the toddler pun - I sleep like a baby.
The only better thing is complete exhaustion from a sexual tryst, but it’s been so long ago to try to remember such an affair, it’s exhausting to think back that far.
Going to nap now. May, just may wake up in 30 minutes and take a walk. May, just may sleep all night, awaken at 4-ish and head to Waffle House for wonderful coffee, newspaper, and peeks of others out enjoying life.
Even if there’s perhaps a hitch in the get along of this wayward path - I’m enjoying the hell outta making footprints.
Life rocks. Play hard. See the world with the excitement and quenched for learning eyes of a toddler. Call me childish - frankly Scarlet. Sdflkjljkljg.. Oh, sorry, the eyes were dropping off.
Sleep like a baby - baby. Love, Victor Immature. Or plain ole Victurd will do as well. Happy happy!
We’ve all seen a toddler around 8pm… After roughly 13 hours of following them around as they go non-stop to suckup life - the system crashes… the eyes start closing.. There’s still fight left inside so they pop back open… but the weariness in the bod finally wins out… ZONKED.
Tis how I currently feel. If I ain’t been working’, and working overtime (probably 20 hrs this week) I’ve been going. I love going. Going ain’t lonely. Here, at this monitor is mostly lonely (except for your wonderful emails, comments, a few por.. er… PORpoise sites. Ahm, I love dolphins!) it’s just me.
Home, presently, ain’t where the heart is. It needs work. It once was happy, and now it’s sad. Not because the “participants” have changed - but it’s time for a new start, this is a recording.
Last night, I was in idiot mode supreme. Ran into a gal I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Her, her ex, me, my ex usedta hang when we were puppies. Close your ears, I always LOVED looking at her booty (I was married, not dead). So, we played some pool. DAMMIT, I hated she had to lean over upon occasion to reach the cue ball. (The years have served her well.)
So we talked about this kid, that kid, this ex, that ex, whatinthehell has happened the twenty years.. Tomorrow… changed outlooks… and I remember some shots I didn’t purchase, and a few beers. This is a recording.
She’s hardened in her look at marriage, relationships… and is quite pleasantly single, with notta lotta desire to change that. But hey, I could use a runnin’ buddy - and she did give me her number - and by night’s end we were joking and laughing like we did back in the days of Laugh In. Next thing I know “LAST CALL.” And Mikki saying “IT’S ONE-THIRTY, NOW GET OUTTA HERE.” (Where have I heard that before?)
I arise, slowly, and curse the alarm clock at 6am. I remember I’m happy God has given me another day so I smile. As I get up, I’m reminded my body is 54 and I’ve been running like I’m 24. So I curse my body. Then I remember the deaf guy with one arm smiling at the Brigade game, and immediately I get a smartass smirk on my face, pointed at me - into the mirror. (Good God Victor, you’ve been eating well too.)
Four acetaminophens, four ibuprofens, six Rolaids, one diarrhea thingy (When you’re sliding into home and your pants are full of foam diarrhea, diarrhea.), a scrumptious Mexican lunch with former co-workers (Mistake. Not the coworkers, the Mexican food.) later - another hour anda half of overtime - I’m that toddler.
I’ve gone like crazy. Many would call it crazy. I ain’t generally funny nor borderline obnoxious in public amongst friends. Tiredness makes me semi-funny and very borderline obnoxious out and about.
I wanna suckup every minute of every day. I wanna go. I wanna share. I wanna live. I wanna see. I pay when the eyes start closing around 8-ish, but pardon the toddler pun - I sleep like a baby.
The only better thing is complete exhaustion from a sexual tryst, but it’s been so long ago to try to remember such an affair, it’s exhausting to think back that far.
Going to nap now. May, just may wake up in 30 minutes and take a walk. May, just may sleep all night, awaken at 4-ish and head to Waffle House for wonderful coffee, newspaper, and peeks of others out enjoying life.
Even if there’s perhaps a hitch in the get along of this wayward path - I’m enjoying the hell outta making footprints.
Life rocks. Play hard. See the world with the excitement and quenched for learning eyes of a toddler. Call me childish - frankly Scarlet. Sdflkjljkljg.. Oh, sorry, the eyes were dropping off.
Sleep like a baby - baby. Love, Victor Immature. Or plain ole Victurd will do as well. Happy happy!
Monday, July 09, 2007
TELL ME WHAT'D I SAY????
YouTube it………..
This is probably repetitive. This is probably repetitive. Oops, sorry!
Again last night – bored outta my gourd… I turned to YouTube. YouTube is the anti-Kervorkian – in that you can bring those gone “back to life.” You can turn 2007 into 1967. You can watch Ray Charles in the 90’s.
I literally jammed for over an hour on – mostly those that have departed – but, in jam sessions that included those we’re still blessed to have…
Again, Ray. Louie Armstrong – Marvin Gaye – The Big Bopper – Johnny Cash – Elvis – The Temps (all but one now gone) – Belushi and his buddy as the Blues Brothers… there was a piano thingy with Ray, Chubby Checkers and Jerry Lee Lewis – awesome..
Fun, they were having fun.
We’re in the “YouTube” of our lives. We’re ‘’recording’ what people will have left to remember once we’re outta here. I noticed lotsa stuff as I watched. I enjoyed seeing smiles. I enjoyed the passion. They were literally having fun. I enjoyed the camaraderie and respect when they worked with partner(s). Sure – they had talent – but I really think had they not had the personalities – the outlook – to go with it.. they’da all been some recording artist from the middle-a-nowhere – going nowhere.
I forget sometimes that each day, each interaction with my son is being “YouTube”d for tomorrow. I work with co-workers – and everything ends – and all we’ll have is the playback in our minds of what once was.
Jane you ignorant slut – YOU KNOW when I write crap like this – again, it’s mainly a reminder to me…
But may we take the lessons from Ray, Marvin, Louie, The Bopper, Johnny, Elvis – and live our YouTube’s out smiling. With passion. Having fun. Enjoying camaraderie. A good outlook.
I mean whothehell want to watch the opposite?
Hey mama, don't you treat me wrong,
come and love me all night long.
Oh oh, hey hey,
all right now.
See the girl with the diamond ring,
she knows how to twist that thing.
Oh oh, hey hey,
all right now.
Tell your mama, tell your pa
I'm gonna ship you back to Arkansas.
Oh yes, you don't do right,
you don't do right.
Tell me what'd I say,
tell me what'd I say right now.
Tell me what'd I say,
tell me what'd I say.
Tell me what'd I say,
tell me what'd I say.
Yes, I wanna know,
I wanna know.
Baby, I wanna know right now,
yes, I wanna know.
Honey, I wanna know,
yes, I wanna know.
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY ho HO hey.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY ho HO hey.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good right now.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good.
Huh HUH
Ho HO
Huh HUH
Ho HO
Huh HUH ho HO huh.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right right now.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right.
Come on, twist that thing.
Come on, twist that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Make me feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right. - Ray Charles
The passion, the fun, the smiles, the good vibrations exude from that. Ya know, he coulda been the bitter old man that stayed cooped up in his apartment – rarely venturing out amongst the seeing folks. Our YouTube memory could be of an old geyser that was grumpy, cussed, bitter about being blind. Huh uh. He was Ray. Happy. Passionate. Fun. Good vibes. Smiles.
Bebbe let’s ride life out as if we’re making YouTube memories of our own. What’d I say? (Listen up dammit or we’ll ship you back to Arkansas!)…… Happy tubing. Love, Victurd.
YouTube it………..
This is probably repetitive. This is probably repetitive. Oops, sorry!
Again last night – bored outta my gourd… I turned to YouTube. YouTube is the anti-Kervorkian – in that you can bring those gone “back to life.” You can turn 2007 into 1967. You can watch Ray Charles in the 90’s.
I literally jammed for over an hour on – mostly those that have departed – but, in jam sessions that included those we’re still blessed to have…
Again, Ray. Louie Armstrong – Marvin Gaye – The Big Bopper – Johnny Cash – Elvis – The Temps (all but one now gone) – Belushi and his buddy as the Blues Brothers… there was a piano thingy with Ray, Chubby Checkers and Jerry Lee Lewis – awesome..
Fun, they were having fun.
We’re in the “YouTube” of our lives. We’re ‘’recording’ what people will have left to remember once we’re outta here. I noticed lotsa stuff as I watched. I enjoyed seeing smiles. I enjoyed the passion. They were literally having fun. I enjoyed the camaraderie and respect when they worked with partner(s). Sure – they had talent – but I really think had they not had the personalities – the outlook – to go with it.. they’da all been some recording artist from the middle-a-nowhere – going nowhere.
I forget sometimes that each day, each interaction with my son is being “YouTube”d for tomorrow. I work with co-workers – and everything ends – and all we’ll have is the playback in our minds of what once was.
Jane you ignorant slut – YOU KNOW when I write crap like this – again, it’s mainly a reminder to me…
But may we take the lessons from Ray, Marvin, Louie, The Bopper, Johnny, Elvis – and live our YouTube’s out smiling. With passion. Having fun. Enjoying camaraderie. A good outlook.
I mean whothehell want to watch the opposite?
Hey mama, don't you treat me wrong,
come and love me all night long.
Oh oh, hey hey,
all right now.
See the girl with the diamond ring,
she knows how to twist that thing.
Oh oh, hey hey,
all right now.
Tell your mama, tell your pa
I'm gonna ship you back to Arkansas.
Oh yes, you don't do right,
you don't do right.
Tell me what'd I say,
tell me what'd I say right now.
Tell me what'd I say,
tell me what'd I say.
Tell me what'd I say,
tell me what'd I say.
Yes, I wanna know,
I wanna know.
Baby, I wanna know right now,
yes, I wanna know.
Honey, I wanna know,
yes, I wanna know.
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY ho HO hey.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Sing me one more time.
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY
Ho HO
Hey HEY ho HO hey.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good right now.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good.
Make me feel so good.
Huh HUH
Ho HO
Huh HUH
Ho HO
Huh HUH ho HO huh.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right right now.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right.
Baby, it's all right.
Come on, twist that thing.
Come on, twist that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Keep a twistin' that thing.
Make me feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right.
Well, I feel all right. - Ray Charles
The passion, the fun, the smiles, the good vibrations exude from that. Ya know, he coulda been the bitter old man that stayed cooped up in his apartment – rarely venturing out amongst the seeing folks. Our YouTube memory could be of an old geyser that was grumpy, cussed, bitter about being blind. Huh uh. He was Ray. Happy. Passionate. Fun. Good vibes. Smiles.
Bebbe let’s ride life out as if we’re making YouTube memories of our own. What’d I say? (Listen up dammit or we’ll ship you back to Arkansas!)…… Happy tubing. Love, Victurd.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Everything you wanted to know about dating but were afraid to ask.....
Ok, that was a lie. But you’re here. So HA!…
I found this site, topdatingtips.com and they had a little survey thinga goin;… found it pretty interesting…… read along with me as we compare results…. Wouldya?
Do you believe in love at first sight ?
1. Yes 71%
2. No 20%
3. Don't Know 9%
Unfortunately, I do. This has bit me in the butt more than once. The eyes are just below the brain, and the “hubba hubba” info goes from eyes to heart - and the brain doesn’t have the time to step in and say “Wait a minute you friggin’ idiot!”
Choose the most important features of a partner
1. Looks 11%
2. Personality 30%
3. Physique 5%
4. Sense of Humor 14%
5. Eyes 10%
6. Popularity 0%
7. Smile 12%
8. Hair 7%
9. Education 7%
10. Career 3%
I’m participating here under some protest - for I believe “Love of Motown” shoulda been on there somewhere. I see personality ranks first. So, they’re saying the ears (mostly) win out over the eyes in ‘cipherin’….
When a previous relationship has ended which of these is true ?
1. I was unfaithful 0%
2. He/she was unfaithful 29%
3. Amicable separation 9%
4. Irreconcilable differences 23%
5. Angry breakup 3%
6. Still friends 14%
7. Still lovers 3%
8. Just drifted apart 6%
9. Not sure what happened 14%
Again, baby protest… “Ran off on a Harley” wasn’t listed.. So I guess I’ll settle for #2.…
On a date do you think your companion is generally 100% truthful ?
1. Yes 22%
2. No 78%
3. Don't know 0%
I’m in the minority on this one. What reason would they have to lie? I mean, if there’s a 2nd, 3rd date , wouldn’t they be “found out”?
When does a date become a relationship ?
1. 1 week 3%
2. 1 month 17%
3. 2 months 20%
4. 6 months 13%
5. Once we have had sex 13%
6. Once I have met the parents 8%
7. Once we have been on vacation 0%
8. Once we have moved in together 0%
9. When he/she says I love you 25%
Again, I protest. To me, there just comes a point where you don’t have the desire to meet/see anyone else. There’s no set time frame to this, nor does it matter if you’ve doinked, met the Fokkers, or share the light bill.
What is the biggest acceptable age gap for you ?
1. Same age only 0%
2. 1 years 2%
3. 3 years 12%
4. 5 years 44%
5. 10 years 24%
6. 15 years 4%
7. 20 years 2%
8. 25 years 4%
9. Age doesn't matter at all 8%
I think it’s dependent upon the people involved. I think chemical way overweighs chronological. Not askin’ ya to agree wit’ me, just wingin’ my opine.
What is the first thing you notice about your date ?
1. Looks 38%
2. Dress 10%
3. Personality 17%
4. Wealth 0%
5. Style 2%
6. Manners 0%
7. Smile 10%
8. Eyes 19%
9. Humor 4%
10. Generosity 0%
HEY WAIT JUSTA GOL DURN MINUTE… Lemme scroll back up to the second question… It was Choose the most important features of a partner and personality had the most at 30% (looks was 11%).. There’s a hitch in the getalong here. I personally lean toward a) are they addicted to their cell phone.. b) do they look like a meth or crackhead.. c) are they genuinely nice - which I guess is personality. (I went out with one chick - twice - she never asked one question about me. I shoulda known.)
How hard it it to find someone you really like?
1.) Impossible 9%
2.) Difficult 59%
3.) Fairly difficult 21%
4.) Fairly easy 9%
5.) Very easy 3%
May I again interject protest. There’s heap big difference between “really liking someone” and having that hot, throbbing, intense, I can’t-hold-back “Oh Baby Oh Baby” desire. I’ve liked EVERYONE I’ve ever gone out with. The “Oh Baby Oh Baby” has occurred mebbe 20% of the time (unless there were drinks involved.)
Do you like being single ?
1.) I love it 0%
2.) I like it 15%
3.) I don't mind 35%
4.) I don't like it 15%
5.) I hate it 35%
I guess I’m in the 35% don’t mind. I’d much rather be lonely by myself than lonely in a relationship.
Do you find it easy to meet new people ?
1.) Very easy 17%
2.) Quite easy 6%
3.) Easy 17%
4.) Quite difficult 42%
5.) Very difficult 17%
6.) Impossible 3%
#4, all the way. Again, I’m not the type to run up to a table of women (my age) and do the “heavy penguin” thing. (Ice-breaker)…
Would you like to get married ?
1.) Yes 44%
2.) No 12%
3.) Maybe 32%
4.) Not again 4%
5.) Don't know 8%
If a batter goes 0 for 2, he’s hitting .000, so that’s perceived as shitty. But.. If he gets a hit in his third at bat, he’s now batting .333 which is considered top of the class. At 54, I don’t give a shit about the marital certificate - sure - I would - I want more the relationship…. Regardless if hitched or not.
Girls, do you prefer nice guys or bad guys ?
1. Nice Guys 38%
2. Bad Guys 15%
3. Any man I can get ! 6%
4. A blend of both 34%
5. Neither 7%
How important are a guy's shoes when checking him out ?
1. Extremely 8%
2. Very 13%
3. Quite 45%
4. Not very 11%
5. Not at all 6%
6. Don't notice 18%
I’m fucking sunk here. Kohl’s Clearance Rack. (Two years ago)
What kind of woman do you go for ?
1. Modern career girl 35%
2. Professional go-getter 7%
3. Home-loving girl-next-door 34%
4. The quiet librarian 4%
5. The outrageous vamp 0%
6. The femme fatale 0%
7. The girl at the checkout 6%
8. Someone like mom 1%
9. The free spirited hippy chick 8%
10. Your ex 6%
Again - how can u lump all that crap in with what kinda person you’d like to be with? I am sure there are some from each category I’d like, and some I wouldn’t. Howabout adding “Calm, laid back, great smile, “get’s it” “ to that list?
Do you know what people are attracted to about you ?
1. Yes always 4%
2. Yes I have some ideas 32%
3. I can guess 18%
4. Not really 32%
5. No idea 14%
NOT ALL, but many have been of the domineering sort (and I’m not talking kink here you kinkster)… We live and we learn.
For me, dating is mainly about..... ?
1. Love 21%
2. Marriage 19%
3. Friendship 8%
4. Partnership 6%
5. Sex 19%
6. Company 3%
7. Social life 3%
8. Romance 12%
9. Conversation 3%
10. Sharing 6%
All of the above, but again, #2 ain’t that important to me. (But if important to ‘her’ should I ever find her… then cool.)
I dunno whyinthehell I blogged this. Reckon it was kinda interesting seeing from other’s shoes. Dating is tough. Dating is difficult. Dating is expensive. (Victor, you dumbass, I’ve seen you pull out your Entertainment book with “2 for 1” dining coupons.) Dating is expensive. Dating sucks. Dating rocks. Dating is “get me the hell outta here”. Dating is “Oh baby Oh baby.” Dating is uncomfy, laughing, sharing, learning, touching, eww’s, baggage, kids, life, future, eyes on eyes, fun, trying… but most of all… to this end, it’s a necessity. May you have a keen eye in dating. I wish “Oh baby Oh baby”s, your way. (If you’re here and you’re married - BE GLAD.) Love, Victurd.
Ok, that was a lie. But you’re here. So HA!…
I found this site, topdatingtips.com and they had a little survey thinga goin;… found it pretty interesting…… read along with me as we compare results…. Wouldya?
Do you believe in love at first sight ?
1. Yes 71%
2. No 20%
3. Don't Know 9%
Unfortunately, I do. This has bit me in the butt more than once. The eyes are just below the brain, and the “hubba hubba” info goes from eyes to heart - and the brain doesn’t have the time to step in and say “Wait a minute you friggin’ idiot!”
Choose the most important features of a partner
1. Looks 11%
2. Personality 30%
3. Physique 5%
4. Sense of Humor 14%
5. Eyes 10%
6. Popularity 0%
7. Smile 12%
8. Hair 7%
9. Education 7%
10. Career 3%
I’m participating here under some protest - for I believe “Love of Motown” shoulda been on there somewhere. I see personality ranks first. So, they’re saying the ears (mostly) win out over the eyes in ‘cipherin’….
When a previous relationship has ended which of these is true ?
1. I was unfaithful 0%
2. He/she was unfaithful 29%
3. Amicable separation 9%
4. Irreconcilable differences 23%
5. Angry breakup 3%
6. Still friends 14%
7. Still lovers 3%
8. Just drifted apart 6%
9. Not sure what happened 14%
Again, baby protest… “Ran off on a Harley” wasn’t listed.. So I guess I’ll settle for #2.…
On a date do you think your companion is generally 100% truthful ?
1. Yes 22%
2. No 78%
3. Don't know 0%
I’m in the minority on this one. What reason would they have to lie? I mean, if there’s a 2nd, 3rd date , wouldn’t they be “found out”?
When does a date become a relationship ?
1. 1 week 3%
2. 1 month 17%
3. 2 months 20%
4. 6 months 13%
5. Once we have had sex 13%
6. Once I have met the parents 8%
7. Once we have been on vacation 0%
8. Once we have moved in together 0%
9. When he/she says I love you 25%
Again, I protest. To me, there just comes a point where you don’t have the desire to meet/see anyone else. There’s no set time frame to this, nor does it matter if you’ve doinked, met the Fokkers, or share the light bill.
What is the biggest acceptable age gap for you ?
1. Same age only 0%
2. 1 years 2%
3. 3 years 12%
4. 5 years 44%
5. 10 years 24%
6. 15 years 4%
7. 20 years 2%
8. 25 years 4%
9. Age doesn't matter at all 8%
I think it’s dependent upon the people involved. I think chemical way overweighs chronological. Not askin’ ya to agree wit’ me, just wingin’ my opine.
What is the first thing you notice about your date ?
1. Looks 38%
2. Dress 10%
3. Personality 17%
4. Wealth 0%
5. Style 2%
6. Manners 0%
7. Smile 10%
8. Eyes 19%
9. Humor 4%
10. Generosity 0%
HEY WAIT JUSTA GOL DURN MINUTE… Lemme scroll back up to the second question… It was Choose the most important features of a partner and personality had the most at 30% (looks was 11%).. There’s a hitch in the getalong here. I personally lean toward a) are they addicted to their cell phone.. b) do they look like a meth or crackhead.. c) are they genuinely nice - which I guess is personality. (I went out with one chick - twice - she never asked one question about me. I shoulda known.)
How hard it it to find someone you really like?
1.) Impossible 9%
2.) Difficult 59%
3.) Fairly difficult 21%
4.) Fairly easy 9%
5.) Very easy 3%
May I again interject protest. There’s heap big difference between “really liking someone” and having that hot, throbbing, intense, I can’t-hold-back “Oh Baby Oh Baby” desire. I’ve liked EVERYONE I’ve ever gone out with. The “Oh Baby Oh Baby” has occurred mebbe 20% of the time (unless there were drinks involved.)
Do you like being single ?
1.) I love it 0%
2.) I like it 15%
3.) I don't mind 35%
4.) I don't like it 15%
5.) I hate it 35%
I guess I’m in the 35% don’t mind. I’d much rather be lonely by myself than lonely in a relationship.
Do you find it easy to meet new people ?
1.) Very easy 17%
2.) Quite easy 6%
3.) Easy 17%
4.) Quite difficult 42%
5.) Very difficult 17%
6.) Impossible 3%
#4, all the way. Again, I’m not the type to run up to a table of women (my age) and do the “heavy penguin” thing. (Ice-breaker)…
Would you like to get married ?
1.) Yes 44%
2.) No 12%
3.) Maybe 32%
4.) Not again 4%
5.) Don't know 8%
If a batter goes 0 for 2, he’s hitting .000, so that’s perceived as shitty. But.. If he gets a hit in his third at bat, he’s now batting .333 which is considered top of the class. At 54, I don’t give a shit about the marital certificate - sure - I would - I want more the relationship…. Regardless if hitched or not.
Girls, do you prefer nice guys or bad guys ?
1. Nice Guys 38%
2. Bad Guys 15%
3. Any man I can get ! 6%
4. A blend of both 34%
5. Neither 7%
How important are a guy's shoes when checking him out ?
1. Extremely 8%
2. Very 13%
3. Quite 45%
4. Not very 11%
5. Not at all 6%
6. Don't notice 18%
I’m fucking sunk here. Kohl’s Clearance Rack. (Two years ago)
What kind of woman do you go for ?
1. Modern career girl 35%
2. Professional go-getter 7%
3. Home-loving girl-next-door 34%
4. The quiet librarian 4%
5. The outrageous vamp 0%
6. The femme fatale 0%
7. The girl at the checkout 6%
8. Someone like mom 1%
9. The free spirited hippy chick 8%
10. Your ex 6%
Again - how can u lump all that crap in with what kinda person you’d like to be with? I am sure there are some from each category I’d like, and some I wouldn’t. Howabout adding “Calm, laid back, great smile, “get’s it” “ to that list?
Do you know what people are attracted to about you ?
1. Yes always 4%
2. Yes I have some ideas 32%
3. I can guess 18%
4. Not really 32%
5. No idea 14%
NOT ALL, but many have been of the domineering sort (and I’m not talking kink here you kinkster)… We live and we learn.
For me, dating is mainly about..... ?
1. Love 21%
2. Marriage 19%
3. Friendship 8%
4. Partnership 6%
5. Sex 19%
6. Company 3%
7. Social life 3%
8. Romance 12%
9. Conversation 3%
10. Sharing 6%
All of the above, but again, #2 ain’t that important to me. (But if important to ‘her’ should I ever find her… then cool.)
I dunno whyinthehell I blogged this. Reckon it was kinda interesting seeing from other’s shoes. Dating is tough. Dating is difficult. Dating is expensive. (Victor, you dumbass, I’ve seen you pull out your Entertainment book with “2 for 1” dining coupons.) Dating is expensive. Dating sucks. Dating rocks. Dating is “get me the hell outta here”. Dating is “Oh baby Oh baby.” Dating is uncomfy, laughing, sharing, learning, touching, eww’s, baggage, kids, life, future, eyes on eyes, fun, trying… but most of all… to this end, it’s a necessity. May you have a keen eye in dating. I wish “Oh baby Oh baby”s, your way. (If you’re here and you’re married - BE GLAD.) Love, Victurd.
Probably the alltime favorite email I've had in my in-box........
If you were here yesterday - you know it was kinda a blase', so-so, average, run-a-the mill day...
So....... I get up this morning.... and read the email I'd gotten at work - but couldn't open it there - because I knew the wonderfully sick/sexy sense of humor of the person who sent it.... That, and I didn't want the IT Department getting their jollies - gratis...
So go here... (link follows)... Do it for your Country for goodness sakes... (Oh, and make sure the kids ain't nearby!)...
May you have the breast day possible.......... Love, Victurd
http://youtube.com/watch?v=AHin8ZhgQTs
If you were here yesterday - you know it was kinda a blase', so-so, average, run-a-the mill day...
So....... I get up this morning.... and read the email I'd gotten at work - but couldn't open it there - because I knew the wonderfully sick/sexy sense of humor of the person who sent it.... That, and I didn't want the IT Department getting their jollies - gratis...
So go here... (link follows)... Do it for your Country for goodness sakes... (Oh, and make sure the kids ain't nearby!)...
May you have the breast day possible.......... Love, Victurd
http://youtube.com/watch?v=AHin8ZhgQTs
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Another one bites the dust.........
Deke, my old airline buddy… he was the one that would grump and groan his way thru the day… his job was… to fix ground equipment that was broke… he wasn’t too in tune to job security.. For every time you drove/pushed a piecea equipment into his abode for fixing… he set off in a tirade that would make Ralphie’s father sound like a Baptist minister… But Deke, you don’t get it.. If crap didn’t break down.. We wouldn’t need you.. Nonetheless.. At day’s end he’d walk the to calendar and dramatically cross of the the day with a big X with his magic marker. Somehow I don’t think “Honey I’m home” were his first words offa the stoop of his abode at home…
So, I place an “X” in light pencil on the day… not dramatically.. But thankfully - that I got-ta hang around for another day….
Sat, with guilt, in my cubicle last night after 5pm to catch up on some much needed catching up on crap. I say with guilt - ‘cause most aren’t allowed to work overtime. In fact, it’s so crappy.. Late in the day you hear ‘Hazel, you clocked in 7 minutes early from lunch.. So you’ll need to clock out at 4:53 today.”
Still managed to make the tail end of Happy Hour. Old buds. Married bastards - but you’d never know it. Two at this one place.. Over to the regular joint.. More computerized bowling. Fifty-seven other places I’d rather be - one billion women I’d rather be with - but for now, it fits. I was home, zonked by 10pm, or thereabouts.
Saturday. Uh huh. Breakfast at my favorite joint. Long about the time I’d finished the Sport’s section and was moving to the front page, bastard looks up at me like “You’rea GD pervert, quit staring at my wife.” I stared back with the look that said “I KNOW I’m a GD pervert - and she’s wearing that top that shows off halfa her boobies because she’s been married to a doink like you for boo-koo years.” I think we communicated Ok, he never stared back.
Drove into work. Not quite the guilt feeling as last night - as co-workers ain’t gots no idea I’m here. Six hours.
Drove home. AC. I friggin’ love my AC. It’s kinda like sex. When you don’t have it, you're so much more appreciate of it when you finally do. I pray for the day when I have AC, sex, and the mortgage ain’t sucha challenge.
Went back to favorite bar. Six people. None of which were alive when Nixon was in office. Had one, headed home.
Email from chicky saying I was included in a dream she had. (Nevermind what I said about throwing coins in fountains for good luck being fruitless.)
I heard from Jo, and if it’s the Jo I’ma thinkin’ of (I quit forever!??? That you?) I am way glad to hear from her..
IM’ed with an old work bud that has gone on to better and brighter things (nuther job).
“Vic, I’ve struggled all my life kinda-sorta with money.. But here I am making the best I’ve ever made.. I can make my bills no problem.. And I don’t have a woman.” (He, 40-something, divorced)..
“ME TOO!” I countered, ‘ceptin the money part.
“I’ve been married three times.. And each time they walked out.”
“ME TOO!” (twice) I countered.
And the colored girls sang "dum, dum, dum, dum de do waa." … So, I said “yeah, I was driving home from the bar.. Thinking “sonofabitch.. It’s 9pm on a Saturday night.. I know there’s gotta be thousands of KC women sitting at home.. Wishing they were out and about.. Lonely too.. And here I am headed for the barn. (With AC though)…”
He was of the giving up mode. Or gave up. It’s all about ‘mist’. Either optoMIST, or pessiMIST.. I think he mist that point.
We did the normal guy-to-guy talk about eye candy at work. (Go ahead, sue me for harassment!)… He related he was an “ass and leg” man… while I just mentioned the booties.. He said there were two (very young) on the dock where he works that leave nothing to the imagination… and I was crying in my beer about my two favs leaving work here.
So - we ended our IM wishing each other good luck.. And that “yeah.. Let’s get together soon..”
It wasn’t a “Deke 24 hours” - but it was nothing special. Got the Lincoln licensed. Took a dynamite nap.. Woke up when I wanted to wake up (no alarm)…
All in all, a rather unspectacular day. Hey, that’s cool. Sometimes the roller coaster is on the straight and narrow before it’s ascent and descent.
If you need an upper, think about all the 7-7-7’s that are doinking as we blog out in Vegas. 7/7/7 was special for them, and I’m glad. Here’s hoping, beginning 7/8/7, life still rocks.
Loveya… sorry this was boring.. But ya know.. .sometimes life just is boring! Victurd.
Deke, my old airline buddy… he was the one that would grump and groan his way thru the day… his job was… to fix ground equipment that was broke… he wasn’t too in tune to job security.. For every time you drove/pushed a piecea equipment into his abode for fixing… he set off in a tirade that would make Ralphie’s father sound like a Baptist minister… But Deke, you don’t get it.. If crap didn’t break down.. We wouldn’t need you.. Nonetheless.. At day’s end he’d walk the to calendar and dramatically cross of the the day with a big X with his magic marker. Somehow I don’t think “Honey I’m home” were his first words offa the stoop of his abode at home…
So, I place an “X” in light pencil on the day… not dramatically.. But thankfully - that I got-ta hang around for another day….
Sat, with guilt, in my cubicle last night after 5pm to catch up on some much needed catching up on crap. I say with guilt - ‘cause most aren’t allowed to work overtime. In fact, it’s so crappy.. Late in the day you hear ‘Hazel, you clocked in 7 minutes early from lunch.. So you’ll need to clock out at 4:53 today.”
Still managed to make the tail end of Happy Hour. Old buds. Married bastards - but you’d never know it. Two at this one place.. Over to the regular joint.. More computerized bowling. Fifty-seven other places I’d rather be - one billion women I’d rather be with - but for now, it fits. I was home, zonked by 10pm, or thereabouts.
Saturday. Uh huh. Breakfast at my favorite joint. Long about the time I’d finished the Sport’s section and was moving to the front page, bastard looks up at me like “You’rea GD pervert, quit staring at my wife.” I stared back with the look that said “I KNOW I’m a GD pervert - and she’s wearing that top that shows off halfa her boobies because she’s been married to a doink like you for boo-koo years.” I think we communicated Ok, he never stared back.
Drove into work. Not quite the guilt feeling as last night - as co-workers ain’t gots no idea I’m here. Six hours.
Drove home. AC. I friggin’ love my AC. It’s kinda like sex. When you don’t have it, you're so much more appreciate of it when you finally do. I pray for the day when I have AC, sex, and the mortgage ain’t sucha challenge.
Went back to favorite bar. Six people. None of which were alive when Nixon was in office. Had one, headed home.
Email from chicky saying I was included in a dream she had. (Nevermind what I said about throwing coins in fountains for good luck being fruitless.)
I heard from Jo, and if it’s the Jo I’ma thinkin’ of (I quit forever!??? That you?) I am way glad to hear from her..
IM’ed with an old work bud that has gone on to better and brighter things (nuther job).
“Vic, I’ve struggled all my life kinda-sorta with money.. But here I am making the best I’ve ever made.. I can make my bills no problem.. And I don’t have a woman.” (He, 40-something, divorced)..
“ME TOO!” I countered, ‘ceptin the money part.
“I’ve been married three times.. And each time they walked out.”
“ME TOO!” (twice) I countered.
And the colored girls sang "dum, dum, dum, dum de do waa." … So, I said “yeah, I was driving home from the bar.. Thinking “sonofabitch.. It’s 9pm on a Saturday night.. I know there’s gotta be thousands of KC women sitting at home.. Wishing they were out and about.. Lonely too.. And here I am headed for the barn. (With AC though)…”
He was of the giving up mode. Or gave up. It’s all about ‘mist’. Either optoMIST, or pessiMIST.. I think he mist that point.
We did the normal guy-to-guy talk about eye candy at work. (Go ahead, sue me for harassment!)… He related he was an “ass and leg” man… while I just mentioned the booties.. He said there were two (very young) on the dock where he works that leave nothing to the imagination… and I was crying in my beer about my two favs leaving work here.
So - we ended our IM wishing each other good luck.. And that “yeah.. Let’s get together soon..”
It wasn’t a “Deke 24 hours” - but it was nothing special. Got the Lincoln licensed. Took a dynamite nap.. Woke up when I wanted to wake up (no alarm)…
All in all, a rather unspectacular day. Hey, that’s cool. Sometimes the roller coaster is on the straight and narrow before it’s ascent and descent.
If you need an upper, think about all the 7-7-7’s that are doinking as we blog out in Vegas. 7/7/7 was special for them, and I’m glad. Here’s hoping, beginning 7/8/7, life still rocks.
Loveya… sorry this was boring.. But ya know.. .sometimes life just is boring! Victurd.
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