Wishin’ and Hopin’…..

I wish that everyone born in a societal minority would never have to face discrimination…

I wish that, when one reaches the point where there’s more bills than paycheck, and u REALLY need a haircut, that Flobee’s really worked.

I wish everyone from the US would come home tomorrow from Iraq…

I wish banks and utility companies would come to their senses, and insteada placing “overdraft fees” and “reconnect fees for reconnecting your electricity” (gas, phone, water, etc) they’d instead say “we know… we’ve been there.. What good does it do to put you even deeper in debt?… Take another thirty days.. it’s all good.” Or, “the Church of ______ has donated $___ on your behalf. You have 365 days to pay them back.”

I wish large companies/corporations would have mandatory “walk thru” days at the Humane Society. Every sixty days you must enter the back door, walk to the front and sign a sign-off sheet that you’ve been there. Mandatory that kids come with you too.

I wish singles had, in this digital age, some kinda built in ‘display’… where, if you walked up to another, it’d automatically flash stuff like “I wouldn’t date you if you were the last man on the planet.”… or… “I saw your eyes wander toward my breasts… buy me a drink and we’ll see about you seeing them.”… or… “You do seem nice, but be for fucking real, you’re like ten years older than me.”… or… “You seem nice, and yes, I’d like to go out with you at least once to see how things might go.” MANY precious dollars are wasted in wasted dating.

I wish Daylight Savings was from Jan 1 thru Dec 31st.

I wish each town would force churches to build in one great big circle, right nexta one another… and after services, there would be a mandatory 45 minute ‘mixer’ right smack in the middle of the circle with all the folks from the other churches…

I wish one day a month, all upper management personnel hadta complete every task that a subordinate would go thru for that day… and vice versa…

I wish companies would dedicate thirty minutes per week for two employees to sit together in a room by themselves - just to talk about themselves, their families.. Goals, ambitions, likes, dislikes.. Yesterday… tomorrow… and rotate the list so everyone could know everyone intimately…

I wish that, along with circumcision, GPS’s be implanted in the penis, and whenever a man was $1000+ in arrears in child support years later, it was legal to track their pee pee and find out exactly where they are, and what’s up… well… u know what I mean..

I wish runway models walked like regular people do. Don’t their thighs get chaffed?

I wish, insteada vacationing in Branson, Vegas, Cancun, South Beach, God would grant us two weeks a year in heaven (based upon prior good behavior of course)…

I wish the Oral Robert’s healing hands really worked, and that we could all learn it (in that circular thingy after church) and then we could go visit hospitals, nursing homes, even hospice homes…

I wish for one year.. Just ONE year… where MU could beat KU once in Football, and twice in Basketball…

I wish onea them Far Eastern electronically advanced countries would invent a scanner do-hicky that - whenever you ate - you’d scan whatever it is you’re eating throughout the day… the scanner do-hicky thing would record that…and then display a message like “you fatass you.. You’re 213 now.. If you eat any more, you’ll be 215 tomorrow”… or… “you’ve had your quota of carbohydrates, fats, and fiber today.. You’re low on protein.. Suggested items would be _______, _________, or ________. “

I wish I was in a situation where I could have another dog.

I wish I was in a situation where I could have another woman. (You placed importance in the order I listed those didn’t you?)

I wish there was an online dating service called MutuallyBeneficialItWillNeverAmountToAnythingOtherthatThat.com

I wish every house had four doors… one for each season… each day you could exit the door of your choice, and the weather would be that season.

I wish I could sleep as much as my cats.

I wish I had the work tasks of a grocery store manager. Be for real. They wear a tie. Stand in the aisle. And watch. They don’t putup produce, they don’t cut meat, they don’t stock aisles, they don’t check anyone out (well, you know).. They stand there. WTF is the prerequisite for that? I am good at it however.

I wish I woulda never maybe started this blog. Rereading, kinda embarrassed. Who knows if I’ll have the courage to hit “send”.

I wish the word “love” was used more often. Also “I’m sorry.” And “you look nice today”.. “I like your smile.”… “You do damn good work”.. “I value your friendship.” “I just love your laugh.”..

I wish for you that whatever wishes you have come true. The Wizard of Oz. I Dream of Jeannie.. Genie in a bottle…

’cause wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’…

Pickup a heads up penny. Find a four leaf clover. Pray. Somewhere over the rainbow. Carry an acorn. Don’t put your hat on your bed. Get outta the bed on the same side you entered. Don’t kill a bee. Meet a chimney sweep by chance. Hang a horseshoe above the doorway. Don’t walk under no ladder. Don’t break no mirrors.

Stand under the mistletoe.. Keep a rabbit’s foot in your pocket. (preferably store-bought).. Don’t open no umbrellas in the house.

I wish good things for you… Love, Victurd.

The receiving end of a smile.

Tis onea the more glorious things in life.

All kinds of differences in receiving. A friend, he/she looks at you – and immediately memories of however many years you've known each other, whatever kinda stupid/goofy/wonderful situations you've shared, however many secrets they've known/you’ve known and kept secret – that smile finds your eyes – jualah… what could be better. The smile brings comfort. It says "I love/like you" and in many ways, you've touched my life.

The smile of a cousin, brother, sister, parent, aunt, uncle, grandparent, nephew, niece… It's a bond of not only friendship – but blood. The smile carries with it love from/for those of blood that are no longer here – or perhaps are not in close proximity. The smile explains "perhaps we’ve even had words – disagreements, winged things we're regretted winging – yet, we're family, we're blood, we're ensconced, we're forever."

The smile of a stranger. What could be more special? This person doesn't know me, what can they gain? Yet somehow – he/she touched my day. I know this person has given many of the above two types of smiles – and enjoyed them (and life) so much – he/she decided to expand upon it.

Receiving a smile from a lover. Is there anything better? To know "I’m so very glad to be wrapped in your arms this very moment – there's not a place on the planet I'd rather be. I've seen and known you intimately. I view you daily, I know your strengths and your weakness's… There've been times you’ve made me feel like I've never, ever felt before, in ways I simply can't explain.. I know the many things you've overcome – and I understand your struggles in some ways.. in spite of it all, NO, wait, BECAUSE of it all – I love you.

Do pets smile? Damn straight they do! With their tail, with their tongue, with their strangely bending their body like a hot dog as they walk up to you. Their smiles say "hey.. you left me here all day.. it's cool.. thanks for the water and the food… I guarded the house – and not a sole tried to break in so they could pet me… I'm happy for whatever time I get with you – and please know, you're coming home is the excitement of my day. You go to the mailbox, and it's as if you've been in Hawaii for two weeks when you return."

Babies. Imitators. Babies observe the smiles from those above that have learned how good a smile is from friends, relatives, lovers, pets… and lo and behold – they give the smile back. What happens when they do? It brightens the room even more.

Snotnoses. I was blessed to have taught elementary school PE. If we adults could only "get it" like children do. They smile at the poor, the rich, the old, the younger, the white, the black, the foreigner, the slow child, the brilliant child. I had Dennison's 2nd grade class last thing of the day. Kids came in beautifully silent, behaved (for they knew if they did that, in a moment’s notice I'd make 'em scream at the toppa their lungs "cause that's what life all about – having a blast (when the time/place is proper)".. Tommy walks up to me… digs into his pocket… a small piece of unwrapped candy is pulled out.. it's obviously been handled for a good bit by his lovingly sweaty little palms that have been waiting to give to me.. Perhaps it'd even fell out at recess – as it was a tad dirty, had some lint on it.. Not only did I get the candy – I received the most precious smile along with it (a proud smile inspitea not being accompanied by all his front teeth!)

Here's to smiles in the good ole' US of A…. in Iraq… on the Gaza Strip.. in Sudan… Ethiopia… Kenya.. Don't make war – make smiles.

To me the smile beats the dog poop outta Prozac, Buspar, Wellbutrin, etc. Smiles ARE the antidepressant. Here’s hopin' you wing 'em frequently… and better yet – receive em often. Love, Victurd.

But... you said.....

Several times it's been pointed out to me that "you ain’t practicin' what you're preaching." Yes, yes – that's true. Upon occasion, I don't.

I don't pretends to be no preacher, and whilst I had mebbe 20 college hours in psychology – that was before the days of computers, so long ago I've forgotten even who the professors were – so I ain'ts no psychologist neither..

Although, Iv'e heard "psychologists lead the most screwed up lives of anyone." And mebbe, just mebbe, that be the case with me.

Back in the day, DB said (out of my earshot) "Victor, he’s a bullshitter." And mebbe that zeroed in on me.

I don't, with intent, behave contrary to my words here. This blog has long been a "self help" for me (and ohhhhh do I sometimes need it!)– and it's been a perk that occasionally there are other eyeballs here.

I don't profess to professin' nothing. That was a double negative wasn't it… eh, you know what I mean. "A preachment my friends you’re about to receive" – no.

I have this dream, this belief, this quest – of knowing it's like to live 'the good life.' (And I ain't talking bucks.) I strive for it. I aim for it. Sometimes I even touch the tip of it's iceberg. (I do love life, and virtually all within it - no complaints here. Sometimes puzzles to unjig, but no complaints.)

I am human, hear me roar.

May this be a good week for you. Don't jump ship from one you love. Stick to the red wristband, if yours is red as well. Keep the lights on so u can be sure.

And if you can't be with the one you love…….

Oops, there I go again. Writing one thing, occasionally behaving the other, yours in bullshitting, love Victurd.

Don't ya love her madly

Don't ya need her badly
Don't ya love her ways
Tell me what you say
Don't ya love her madly
Wanna be her daddy
Don't ya love her face

Are u like me in that u “hear” songs, but u never paid attention to “the gist” of them… I heard this one coming home tonight…

It conjured up those times in my life when, yes, I loved her (whomever she was at the moment) madly.

It’s better than a pay raise.. Better than a compliment from your boss… Yes, even better than working all weekend on a charitable project - and the feel that comes with that.

Don’t you love her madly…

Think about that… If you’re in a relationship - then yes, you know what this means. Yeah, u might takey for granted, but u know the feel.

You walk into a retail establishment - and thoughts turn from you to she (or he)… “Ohhhhh, he’d soooo like that.”

You getta email… from “her” (or him) and it’s “don’t u love her (or him) madly.”

Ring ring, or whatever ur GD ringtone happens to be… “Don’t u love her (or him) madly.”

One can be sky high about a new job… One can graduate with a 3.9 GPA.. One can have the love shared of their family.. One can jump in the pool on a 95 degree day.. One can jump in the oh so perfect 80 degree waterbed on a 10 degree day… but there’s NO feel like “don’t u love her (or him) madly.”

All thoughts are consummated by “her” (or him). All actions are centered around “her” (or him).

You could givea shit about other stuff in life ‘ceptin’ “her” (or him.) “Don’t you love her madly.”

If this cyclical MF we call life - we get in this mode… We’re oblivious as to how friggin’ good it is at the time.. We, albeit, VERY centered on “her” (or him)… we don’t think of potentially losing (thru perhaps no fault of your own) that feel. We can’t see past onea those GD calendars that flip day-by-day. We’re smitten. We’re idiotic.. We don’t think logically.. You couldn’t wipe the smile offa our face with an AK47... “Don’t you love her (or him) madly.”

The song continues, as often life does, with “Don't ya love her as she's walkin' out the door.”

All your love
All your love
All your love
Yeah, all your love is gone

See, we reach that point, we can’t fathom that. It’s a real shocker when that happens. But life is what it is. And it does happen.

So sing a lonely song
Of a deep blue dream
Seven horses seem to be on the mark
Well, don't ya love her madly
Don't ya love her madly
Don't ya love her madly

Victor… is this like a little message from you to your ex? Ahm, let’s be for real here. I was, admittedly VERY MUCH in the “don’t you love her madly” stage…

Then… “Don't ya love her as she's walkin' out the door”… and I admit I did… And in many respects, I’ll probably always love her because I’d reached the whimsical point of “Don’t you love her madly.”

But I’m Ok. I still sing this song that I never learned the lyrics to until now. (I’m impressed, it’s only like what, 40 years old?)…

The point of this all is the “Don’t you love her (or him) madly” stage.” For those, likes (forget whoinththell is still here) CJ, Connie, Lisa, Lilly Langtree, Terry, Cherryl, Valerie- that are “with one”… and to glisten and gleam that they’re able to rock to the sound of this song “Don’t you love her (or him) madly.”

Just for the feel. I hope we all one day will getta feel this feel again. I don’t givea shit if it too one day dies/ends… all things die/end.. It’s the moments in life that count.. And “Don’t you love her (or him) madly” is a very, very good moment. Focused. Centered. Blinders. One. Magnified.

Don't ya love her madly
Don't ya need her badly
Don't ya love her ways
Tell me what you say
Don't ya love her madly
Wanna be her daddy
Don't ya love her face

Morrison may be dead. The song may be decades old. The message is the same. “Don’t you love her (or him) madly” is a gift. A gift I think we’ve all shared/experienced A gift some of us thought would never end but “Don't ya love her as she's walkin' out the door” happened - we deal with it.. And we await our next “don’t you love her (or him) madly.”

I know this is stupid, but there’s a passion in the song, the stirred up mems of passion for that person, on that day.. And I figured I’d share.

May we all (if we ain’t) love madly again. Tell me what you say.

Love, madly, Victurd.

No page to display….

No page to display….

For those of us with “internet addiction” - this is a dreaded response to see.. It means, either we ain’t paid our DSL bill, the server is down, ya ain’t got something connected just right, or your 22 year old son has been somewhere on here he shouldnt‘a, and one must reload from scratch Windows XP for the 47th time..

Same thing happens when I sit here to write blog. Do it on Microsoft Works Word Processor - but oft times I sit down, stare at the keyboard - and the mish-mash of the brain states “No page to display.”

I could type stupid stuff that’s been running thru my brain - like - “wouldn’t it be fun to be a bird, to be able to fly and poop on any designated target you’d like” (can thinka a few!).. Or, “oh to be a fly on the wall”… like maybe in Elisabeth Shue’s bathroom. Victor, you’re a pig. Oink. Don’t think being a pig would be fun however.

Or maybe, to be a dog in the “pre leash law” days.. When I was a kid - my hound Brownie - Brownie roamed the streets at will.. Was fed daily at the local Co-Op Gas Station, would lounge in the AC in the lobby of the brand spankin’ new Safeway.. Would be infronta (I shit you not) the Police car whenever there was a parade.. And when the Kansas City Chiefs would “hit the blocking sled” he’d be there biting on whichever butt was grunting the loudest. All true. And no, I have no desire to bite the butt of a Chief - but Brownie could kick the ass of any hound in town, and the ‘ladies’ loved him, thus, probably 75% of the hounds today in our town carry his bloodline.

Reid and Soanya update. They were awakened today, their 300th consecutive day at sea with a hella hole in the mainsail. Many, many times thru the course of this excursion Reid has stitched small tears here and there, but this is different - this one is huge - as in taking it down… getting out the 20 yr old backup mainsail (weighing several hundred pounds, stowed away under several thousand pounds of stored goodies.)

I find it (1000days.net) an interesting read upon occasion. And today there’s a pic of the hella hole - as well as a three minute audio broadcast from their vessel - about the experiences thus far… They now hold the record for longest continuous sail for a man/woman, and the longest ever continuous sail by an American. I wonder what you tell the IRS when you’re going on an almost three year sail?

Once again I’ve received an email that makesya stop and think from Teresa.. It’s a wonderful diddy about appreciation - and has a suggestion that we’ve stated here, I just haven’t got off my duff to ever do it. If you want a feel good, try:: http://www.appreciationmovie.com/

I think a lot about smiles. I ain’t book-smart, graduated with a 2.65 GPA (which is along the lines of Animal House) - but I do think I be fairly “with it” in life education. I believe those wearing virtually everpresent smiles shouldn’t have to have resumes. Shouldn’t haveta go on dating sites online. Shouldn’t ever be questioned about their faith, trust, MO’s. I refereed again yesterday - was a lady very fetching, also very too GD young for me, also very married. I couldn’t help it - I was glued to her smile. I probably missed 40 calls because I had the corner of my eye on her. No, not because I wanted to try to disrupt a family, throw her down and have “oh baby oh baby”s - but moreso because - I wants me onea them closer to my age. Someone who “gets” life. Someone who sees the shit life presents, and views it as shineola.

What’s warmer than a smile? Babies learn this early. We all react accordingly when receiving one. I pity the fool that ain’t learned about smiles - and I feel sorry for them as they move through life never winging them.

Victor, you’re rambling again.

Screw you. That’s what old people do. May life be fun for you. May ur eyeballs take pictures. May your brain allow good thoughts of those you have good thoughts about to let ‘em know those good thoughts. May you too one day ramble before you pee your pants and forget your name. And may you too plan your pretend mission if you were/could be a bird that could fly anywhere and deposit ur feces.

The weather here sucks… It’s “stay inside” kinda stuff, typical Midwestern crap - that makes one oh so appreciate the rites of Spring. Oh, and it’s my hope you’ve gotten laid recently. Me, I don’t believe in kissing and telling. Kissing and blogging mebbe (hehe), but kissing and telling, no.

Love, Victurd

Replacements….

Me eyeballs have replacements… Me can now see.. My old lenses - shattered, ‘vacuumed’ out - down a drain somewhere..

Iraq.. I cringe every time I hear that a friend’s son, daughter, has enlisted. I fear they’ll one day be replacements.. Car bombs, more replacements..

Teeth. I gotta replacement a few years back… Kinda back about as far as the tongue can feel. Different.. Does its role well, just feels different…

Friend sent an email about kinda-sorta diving into work, allowing it to dominate one’s life… The message being - don’t forget friends and family - for in a very short time we all could be replaced at work…

I have a new cubicle mate.. And two cubicles over, where I usedta shoot rubber bands for simply no reason, a replacement there.. Nice enough people, but like crowns, fake teeth, just feels different..

Dating.. Each and every one, a replacement.. The older one gets, the more GD set in our ways we get, the replacements - they just be different.

New brakes. Don’t tell no one. The day I spent as a Redneck (pouring down rain, I pitched tent next to tire/wheel, draped bright orange tarp over that and the car,) I replaced the brakes. This was no small task (for me anyways).. And in spite of the abundance of plastic overhead - I was soaked, freezing, and exhausted some four hours later.. As I finished and went for “the shade tree mechanic’s orgasm” (no parts leftover) - I noticed in the bottom of the brake pad box these little metal “shim” thingys I was supposed to adhere to the backa the brake pads so they wouldn‘t squeal, shake, rattle and roll. Shit. Story o’ my life that I do oh so love: “it’ll do for now.” The bank teller already has my name on the deposit receipt when I pull in as she’s learned me by the noise the Hot….. Rod…. Lincoln makes as it “woaaaaaaahhhh (sssccccreeeeeecchhhhh) baby”s….

Bedpartner. Selfish each. A Freud kinda thing I guess. Nice enough. Like the fake molar - different.

Pouring the last scoop of dirt atop the just buried pet.. In time, grass eventually grows back.. To the door a pooch shows up.. Homeless… Eh, why not, come on in… Different, fake molar feel. He doesn’t do what the other did. Doesn’t lay in the same places.. Doesn’t play the banjo when scratched there… Different.. Soon, natural.. A parta the family..

Hearts, hips, knees, corneas, prosthetics - all fine and dandy, a miracle, a Godsend. Different.

Favorite athlete retires. Memories and old film all we have.. We try to love the new guy, different.. Just not the same..

I coached women’s college basketball, or tried to. Played Haskell, an Indian school. “I know, we’ll play man-to-man, full court pressure allover.” I don’t say this to group/lump all - but somehow - they all were 5’6” tall, long jet black hair, each built damn near identical.. By the time my players searched and finally found the number of the person they were to guard, the ball was coming through the net at their basket. Great coaching move Vic. What’s worse? They replaced players five at a time. About the time our gal’s found an identifier (“The one I’m guarding has a small mole over her left eye”) the replacements came in. Shit.

Geese flying. Ain’t checked Snopes - but long heard when geese fly in formation, and they lose a brethren, they keep that spot unoccupied. No replacement. Don’t wanna look in Snopes - I wanna believe that’s true. Like “there IS a Santa Claus.”

Some things, you can’t replace. Feel. You can add to it, but you can’t replace it. Hope. Smiles. Family. Words said. Email that’s sent.

Some things we don’t “re-place” in same spot and it leaves us in bind. Car keys. (Misty?.. Yes, yes, she did. WalMart. “we’re just going in for a second, I’ll leave it running.”) The remote. Yes, I always tip over the couch before I get up, walk to TV and manually change it from Fox to ESPN. Pens. Earrings. The other sock that matches. That one envelope we know we had that keeps us from finishing taxes.

Thanks Teresa for the email reminding ourselves not to get too caught up in (really, unimportant) things that don’t deal with our family, friends, loved ones. You can have an addition to the family. You can gain a friend. None can be replaced.

I had a “catchy” ending to all this shit. Just can’t find where I placed it in my brain. Please know I love you. Please know I’m a shit because each and every time I see a comment, get an email the very first thought that goes thru my brain is “I’ll respond…. later” and I sometimes forget. None go unappreciated.

Byeee… Going to referee. Replace somea the money I spent last night. You might be a Redneck if you drive your car across town and get more oglers than a car wreck would. GD I gotta replace those brakes again soon. Brakes my heart. Love, Victurd.

Love, Lace, Lingerie, Loose Ends…..

I’ve had a nice Valentine’s Day… and thou?

It began with an all too civil ride to work with Maynard. He was jovial, what sup with that?

Had a work meeting that was a little frustrating… Big wigs with big ideas, all 12 eyeballs placed on me to carry out their plan.

Lunched with very good friends… both seemingly doing very well… Both in red in honor of the day… both kinda-sorta “with man” so that’s all good…

Madea $10 bet with one as to who could lose 30 lbs first. What? How is my exercise program at the Community Center going? What Community Center? Do we have one in town? Hehe… I’ve basically cutout crap and red meat.. Remember, I’m a binge player, so don’t put it past me to have heap big craving and go to bowling alley for heap big most wonderful ever “300 burger”, a heavenly double cheeseburger with enough calories to move one from pudgy to portly. (For the record, I AM down 3 and ½ pounds in the “I am the biggest loser” race at work.)

Love, lace and lingerie. Overdone? Why? (as in, “we only have it on for like 40 seconds, then it’s to the buff”).. I vehemently disagree… It’s the idea… It’s the visual… It’s the feel.. It’s the season.. It’s the reason.. VS is enVS…

Loose ends… I had someone WAY too GD young for me email me… I asked, in my best Walter Brennen impersonation “why me? I’m an old fart.” Her answer “Old can be fun.” The even sadder part? She was/is gorgeous. And I can tell a smart/unique lady… So, we winged several emails back and forth - and she disappeared back into reality. Thanks though to her - for a fleeting moment, she made “Walter’s” day…

What else? MY LIFE IS EL BORO? Like WHY ARE YOU HERE? If you were to Google “Same ole same ole” my GD checkenginelight.blogspot.com website would come up. GO. Go Google “fun”… “lively”… “with it”… eh, why not, see what pops up.

I was excited about someone here… “on the net” as we worthless veterans call it. First time in hella I’ve been excited… Then, she’s allofasudden Casper the Ghost…. Victor, I’m only 27, who the F is Casper the Ghost? Never mind.

Today we talked “bitter.” Oh man, I hope Cyn ain’t watchin/readin’. The three of us at lunch were discussing mates who formally enjoyed intercourse with us, who took right turns to suddenly enjoy intercourse with someone else. And… the right to feel bitter. Counseling was discussed. “I’ll run the mother fucker over with my car if I get the opportunity” was mentioned.. And “I feel I have a right to be bitter… not about losing her.. But about 20+ years of my life.. For what?”

So (Cyn, please don’t shoot me).. We decided, if we ain’t dying to get back in the sack with the ones we’re bitter about - it’s Ok to host our Whine and Cheese party upon occasion. (MG, please look before crossing.)

So.. This finds me sitting behind this cheapass $399 Dell 2003 addition computer, complete with a monitor that has 27 months of second hand smoke upon it… writing you… whoever in the hell you are…

Actually, no pity party today… Boss placed nifty chocolates on office chair before I got there… New dude in our company had a candy dish with heavenly choc setup for all.. (1 ain’t gonna keep me from being the biggest loser.)… A wonderful lunch… Seeing those wearing red, receiving/giving flowers.. Happy faces… Wishing close friends Happy Valentine’s Day…

Then I spent the last three hours out and about at the intersection of I-435 and 210 Highway… What with my cardboard sign magic markered “Be Mine?”… It was perhaps even more interesting than the three hours I rang the Salvation Army bells…

I got $12.47 thrown at me ($6 of which was green stuff.)… Some gal (I guess) felt sorry for me.. Took off her bra between the red and green lights… tossed it at me… my luck… padded.. Lotsa laughs… Several uppity sneers… One gay dude who said “Ok”… and some chicky couldn’t resist, called me up.. lip locked (I guess) ‘cause she felt sorry for me.

Ok, yes, I’m teasing. But - if you know me, it ain’t something beyond what I’d do - if nothing else for the life experience of it all.

I hope you wore red. I hope someone told a story so disgusting, you turned red. I hope you had camaraderie.. I hope you had camaraderie of the “oh baby” kind. I hope u got new undies, even if they’re impractical… Uh huh, hopes u got laid.. Hopes ur in love..

Valentine’s Day, even if from the bleachers, is a good thing. Happy happy - tomorrow is Friday, and our quest for Spring is just beginning. I love life. I love milestones, future dates, anticipation of the unknown. I love today. I love tomorrow. I love you. (I wasn’t real fond of that gay dude, but I rectom to each his own)… And I love you.. Happy (almost over) Valentine’s Day… Love, “Be mine” Victurd.

Love, Lace, Lingerie, Loose Ends…..

I’ve had a nice Valentine’s Day… and thou?

It began with an all too civil ride to work with Maynard. He was jovial, what sup with that?

Had a work meeting that was a little frustrating… Big wigs with big ideas, all 12 eyeballs placed on me to carry out their plan.

Lunched with very good friends… both seemingly doing very well… Both in red in honor of the day… both kinda-sorta “with man” so that’s all good…

Madea $10 bet with one as to who could lose 30 lbs first. What? How is my exercise program at the Community Center going? What Community Center? Do we have one in town? Hehe… I’ve basically cutout crap and red meat.. Remember, I’m a binge player, so don’t put it past me to have heap big craving and go to bowling alley for heap big most wonderful ever “300 burger”, a heavenly double cheeseburger with enough calories to move one from pudgy to portly. (For the record, I AM down 3 and ½ pounds in the “I am the biggest loser” race at work.)

Love, lace and lingerie. Overdone? Why? (as in, “we only have it on for like 40 seconds, then it’s to the buff”).. I vehemently disagree… It’s the idea… It’s the visual… It’s the feel.. It’s the season.. It’s the reason.. VS is enVS…

Loose ends… I had someone WAY too GD young for me email me… I asked, in my best Walter Brennen impersonation “why me? I’m an old fart.” Her answer “Old can be fun.” The even sadder part? She was/is gorgeous. And I can tell a smart/unique lady… So, we winged several emails back and forth - and she disappeared back into reality. Thanks though to her - for a fleeting moment, she made “Walter’s” day…

What else? MY LIFE IS EL BORO? Like WHY ARE YOU HERE? If you were to Google “Same ole same ole” my GD checkenginelight.blogspot.com website would come up. GO. Go Google “fun”… “lively”… “with it”… eh, why not, see what pops up.

I was excited about someone here… “on the net” as we worthless veterans call it. First time in hella I’ve been excited… Then, she’s allofasudden Casper the Ghost…. Victor, I’m only 27, who the F is Casper the Ghost? Never mind.

Today we talked “bitter.” Oh man, I hope Cyn ain’t watchin/readin’. The three of us at lunch were discussing mates who formally enjoyed intercourse with us, who took right turns to suddenly enjoy intercourse with someone else. And… the right to feel bitter. Counseling was discussed. “I’ll run the mother fucker over with my car if I get the opportunity” was mentioned.. And “I feel I have a right to be bitter… not about losing her.. But about 20+ years of my life.. For what?”

So (Cyn, please don’t shoot me).. We decided, if we ain’t dying to get back in the sack with the ones we’re bitter about - it’s Ok to host our Whine and Cheese party upon occasion. (MG, please look before crossing.)

So.. This finds me sitting behind this cheapass $399 Dell 2003 addition computer, complete with a monitor that has 27 months of second hand smoke upon it… writing you… whoever in the hell you are…

Actually, no pity party today… Boss placed nifty chocolates on office chair before I got there… New dude in our company had a candy dish with heavenly choc setup for all.. (1 ain’t gonna keep me from being the biggest loser.)… A wonderful lunch… Seeing those wearing red, receiving/giving flowers.. Happy faces… Wishing close friends Happy Valentine’s Day…

Then I spent the last three hours out and about at the intersection of I-435 and 210 Highway… What with my cardboard sign magic marketed “Be Mine?”… It was perhaps even more interesting than the three hours I rang the Salvation Army bells…

I got $12.47 thrown at me ($6 of which was green stuff.)… Some gal (I guess) felt sorry for me.. Took off her bra between the red and green lights… tossed it at me… my luck… padded.. Lotsa laughs… Several uppity sneers… One gay dude who said “Ok”… and some chicky couldn’t resist, called me up.. lip locked (I guess) ‘cause she felt sorry for me.

Ok, yes, I’m teasing. But - if you know me, it ain’t something beyond what I’d do - if nothing else for the life experience of it all.

I hope you wore red. I hope someone told a story so disgusting, you turned red. I hope you had camaraderie.. I hope you had camaraderie of the “oh baby” kind. I hope u got new undies, even if they’re impractical… Uh huh, hopes u got laid.. Hopes ur in love..

Valentine’s Day, even if from the bleachers, is a good thing. Happy happy - tomorrow is Friday, and our quest for Spring is just beginning. I love life. I love milestones, future dates, anticipation of the unknown. I love today. I love tomorrow. I love you. (I wasn’t real fond of that gay dude, but I rectom to each his own)… And I love you.. Happy (almost over) Valentine’s Day… Love, “Be mine” Victurd.

So I said to myself….. “self……..”

The best conversations on the planet happen between yourself, and yourself. We never (rarely) share them - we withhold much because of potential hurt - but u gotta admit, we know ourselves THE best.

I was staring across the bed the other night, and I noticed there wasn’t anyone there. Not even Figaro, my cross-eyed tabby who runs into walls and like the Eveready Bunny, keeps going, and going.

So I’m thinking, like who critiques this shit that I say? But we, no matter wit’ another or not wit’ another, spend soooooooooooo many hours in life conversing singularly.

Smokin’ a cig before work, the daily routine. Folks hoppin’ outta their cars… The brain goes to work…”why in the fuck (sorry) is that guy carrying a briefcase?… he’s paid minuscule, he doesn’t get paid for taking work home…wtf is in his briefcase?” Former Postal worker?

“Geez, that married chicky usedta wear her hair in a rubber band a minimum of 4 outta 5 days a week.. Since they hired that hot dude (who happens to be black, built like brick shithouse) she’s let her hair down for like 22 days in a row. Whatsup with that and doesn’t her hubby notice?”

“Here comes Lizzy Lesbo… the old raisin that’s from the mimeograph (sp?) days… Her geriatric ‘counterpart’ drops her off same time, every day.. she’s somehow grandfathered in to always have a job, but her primary role is to walk around a greet employees, wear the carpet out... And to stick that nose (ewww) in everyone’s bidness. Why DO we keep her?”

“Here comes THAT guy. Bastard is married, yet, every time there’s a convention he flies to on behalf of the company, he’s suddenly ‘single’ and a major, major horndog. And it’s like he thinks we don’t know that crap.” Aretha would have a hard time singing “R-e-s-p-e-c-t.”

And then there are the positive ones… “I just love her… she’s the nicest lady I’ve ever met… She’s real religious, and I hope God knows what a good, good person she is.”

“GD I wish she wasn’t married. Every time I stare at her, I envision ‘huh-uh, no clothing.” And, dream away to a different life, different planet, different (or same) era… and we were ‘perfect’ together.”

Misty (former co-worker who occasionally stops by) is sitting there trying to put a name with a paragraph ain’tya?

Guidance, we “so I said to myself” folks need guidance. Two sides to every board. Two schools of thought. We ain’t got that. Our brain talks, we have no one to counter… no one to say “you friggin’ idiot… that’s lame”… “do you realize what you just said, were thinking? Step back away from it all and takea look.. See? You’re messed up.” But we don’t have that privy.

We is what we is. We think what we think. Our brain is in CONSTANT conversation. “That’ll be $4.07 sir for your Sausage Biscuit, two hash browns, and small coffee.” It will really fuck him up if I give him $5.02 won’t it?” We surmise. We predict. We’re usually correct.

We answer the phone at work. No idea what the person we’re talking to looks like… yet we surmise… we “picture them:”… it sways how we answer… thoughts go thru our brain like “I wonder if I moved to Jacksonville, FL tomorrow, would she marry me, and if we had kids (don’t be alarmed, I’m ‘fixed’) would they be as pretty as I picture?”

We have our opines about friends. If everything that goes thru our brain was somehow transmitted to them, we wouldn’t have them as friends very long. Family. Sometimes they just flat piss you off - but - again, the smile wipes out what the brain is’a thinking, and they’ll never know.

Ourselves. We talk to ourselves ABOUT ourselves. We hate us, we love us, we don’t understand us, we try to persuade ourselves, we rationalize on our own behalf. We walk up to the “Happy Birthday” spread at work, see all the ‘good shit’, tell ourselves “I know you’re in the “Biggest Loser” contest, but no one is looking, and them chocolate chip cookies look divine - dig in, one ain’t gonna hurt.”

The internet. We read a personal email that really pisses us off, yet, after our blood boils, we email back with “ha ha”. We wait and wait on a return email, IM, whatever, and in the meantime we think “to hell with that biotch, I’m sure she wasn’t Goldielocks right for me anyways.”

Conversing without conversing to another is “fer sure” an interesting topic. It’s my bet, as u sumbitches read these stupid blogs, u’re mind wanders and thinks about Victor. PLEASE, I don’t wanna know your thoughts - it’s safe just that I know “thoughts happen.” Some, all you have to go by is four stupid pictures on MySpace. You have no idea how fast I can motivate this wheelchair. (jk)…

In closing, we are our best friend - I don’t give a shit WHO you label as that. We are. It’s a must we love ourselves. We can surely love someone ALMOST as much as ourself, but not quite.

Thus, goodnight Victurd, I love you. Love, Victurd.

Woo-hoooooo… Nice tits! (Let me sleep on it)..

Victor. You’re 55. Don’t you think that’s a bit immature - as you take this MySpace quest - for the VERY outside chance “she” just may be out there - that you include sucha blog labeled “Woo-hooooo… Nice tits!”

Ahm, excuse me Paul Harvey, might I tell the rest of the story?

Three years ago… Lunch with a co-worker… He, early 20’s, glimmering with hope/wonder about life - being out of school.. Enjoying every “I’m finally out here in the real world” minute.

We had to make a pit stop by his dad’s for something before spinning thru Burger King (Dad single)… Dad at work.. Walked in the door - immediately met with “Woo-hoooo… Nice tits!”… Joe didn’t even seem to notice - I however was aghast, (and laughing), as I peeked across the room at the Myna bird. Joe’s dad (I guess) had trained him well. It was as if there were twelve guys sitting around passing a Playboy around - and the one staring at the three page foldout had said it.

I needs me onea them birds… No, not to whoop that out when a guest entered - but perhaps to train them to say special things on special occasions… You know, an ally…

I mean, how good could “WOW Suzie, you’re even sexier than he made you out to be’ be?

Or… “There’s a crazed Postal Worker wandering around the neighborhood. DON’T GO OUT THERE. You MUST spend the night.”

Mebbe, “Damn it’s hot in here… I think I’ll take off my shirt. Want some water?”

Or even…….”Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep… this is Joe Thomas with Edward D. Jones, just wanting to let you know your 10,000 shares in AZT went up over $6 a share today.” You go Myna bird, you go.

I’d even like Myna relating “In every life we have some trouble, But when you worry you make it double, Don't worry, be happy… Don't worry, be happy now.”

Now… THIS would take hella training. A kajillion in sunflower seeds… but can you picture… bringing “her” home.. Relaxing… a few glasses of wine… lights turned down low… temp perfect… snuggled side-by-side on the sofa.. And Myna retorts:

Ok, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker
going here, two down, nobody on, no score,
bottom of the ninth, there's the wind-up and
there it is, a line shot up the middle, look
at him go. This boy can really fly!
He's rounding first and really turning it on
now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna
try for second; the ball is bobbled out in center,
and here comes the throw, and what a throw!
He's gonna slide in head first, here he comes, he's out!
No, wait, safe--safe at second base, this kid really
makes things happen out there.
Batter steps up to the plate, here's the pitch--
he's going, and what a jump he's got, he's trying
for third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt--
safe at third! Holy cow, stolen base!
He's taking a pretty big lead out there, almost
daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher
glance over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted
down the third base line, the suicide squeeze in on!
Here he comes, squeeze play, it's gonna be close,
here's the throw, there's the play at the plate,
holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!

STOP RIGHT THERE! We could get Myna to continue “let me sleep on it.. Baby baby let me sleep on it.”

Fun. Life with a Myna could be fun. I think it’d be fun just to walk around the house and teach it to say “Kiss my ass.”… or “my, my, you didn’t get enough sleep”…

Or… as I was leaving “going to the AARP meeting?”…

I’d even enjoy “get a life you sonofabitch, are you gonna play on that computer ALL night?”(

Or mebbe as my own personal little “self help Myna bird”.. as in walking out the door, “remember today is the first day of the resta ur life”… . or even, “you’re embarrassing, please don’t return until you’ve gotten laid.”

“Whatup dude.’… “Word”… “Oh Richard.”… “Piece be with you.”.. “Pretty bird.” “Fly Robert fly.”… “A bird in the hand……”… “Birds of a feather will flock together”…

Victor, you’ve been voted off the island. Simon Cowell was so flabbergasted he couldn’t speak… The first few paragraphs were so disgustingly sexual even Hillary blushed. (Fly Obama fly.)…

Yeah.. I really DO think it’d be neat to own a Myna.. Teach it stuff… Mebbe even flip the bird the bird..
Happy Tuesday… I do hereby promise to never again write a blog upon return from Happy Hour. Faithfully yours, VicBird.

VD, “no glove - no love”, Steve Urkel, and turning 90...

These days preceding Valentine’s Day are filled with radio ads from jewelers, newspaper bra and panty ads from the likes of Kohls, Macys, Dillards, etc.. a kajillion grocery store flower shop blowup heart shaped, lip shaped balloons… Red, Allover red… “Love i$ in the air” for the marketers…

“Back in the day” when I was a snotnose - before the mass media invasion that followed the Beatles landing on American soil - this was all reduced to one little box of flat, cutout “Be Mine” Valentine cards - enough for everyone in your entire elementary class - as well as one for “teacher” and ONE HUMONGOUS ONE for “her” (or “him.’)

Now me, Mr. Wimpy “she’ll have to fall from the sky in my lap” always sadly pitched the ONE HUMONGOUS ONE in the trash - for fear it’d get defiled, laughed at, made fun of, given back - or something of that like. Much like today, if I see a pretty old wrinkled up chicky near my age alone on a barstool - it’d take me six shots of tequila to walk up and say “hi”.. #1, I’d never do it (fear of getting defiled, laughed at, made fun of) and #2 I can’t stand tequila.

It was though - a much exciting, anticipated thing to receive (and give) Valentine cards… You’d go thru opening ones from friends that were just that, girls that were truly friends that were girls - and FINALLY you’d open the one from the one that you’d for sure one day run off to Vegas to marry, raise 4 happy/healthy kids, and have mad amorous (whatever that was) for e’er and e’er… And, muchlike Ralphie finally decoding “Drink More Ovaltine” - the result was usually a bummer.. Patty Gross (my 4th grade heart-throb) I’ve always hated your guts for the nondescript card u gave me that day.

Saw Urkel being interviewed on TV not long ago.. Yes, Jaleel White I think is his name. The topic of the show was ‘safe sex’ and his phrase was ‘no glove - no love.’ Speakinowhich, I assume it was onea you sumbitches here who - after reading of my one brown jersey glove, and my purple stretchy glove ----- just spent $1.23 on four stamps - and mailed me a nifty pair of MATCHING brown jersey gloves. Have glove, have love - thanks! (Next to receiving booby pics in inbox, second favorite result of gifts from blogging!)

Nowadays though… whilst Valentine's Day - sure is special - when one is "without" is kinda like being German on St. Pattys Day, special - but not quite as special as being white on MLK Day.(A very special day for sure, but perhaps, like Valentine's Day in love - just somehow different, not quite the same zest).. Perhaps, VD without another, is even akin to what an athiest feels like on Christmas…

Whatshername’s birthday was February 14th - so I do have fond memories of recent years. Two in particular. I’d taken money’s returned from the IRS to purchase onea the first camcorders ever made - given kinda to family as gift - and captured son’s very first steps not long after… Second, again using tax return money, I bought a Texas-sized round diamond ring (had a visible to human eye flaw in it, didn’t care, that sucker was the size of Delaware.).. Mems to pack away..

What are ur mems? Given/received lacy love things? Home made cards? Did YOU hand out the ONE HUMONGOUS ONE from your pack in the day? Did you ever wear a glove to have love so that there was no VD on Valentine’s Day?

Hope for tomorrow. This morning as I breakfasted at the Piggly Wiggly - again I sat within earshot of the “Liars Club” coffee group… a group of obviously retired men of all walks that gather every Sunday to share tales, stories - and group purchase scratch off tickets to share the wealth… They’re older - and they’re having fun. At fitty-five, I likes the idea of knowing I can still have fun when I’m older.

Phone call to my ex-father in law… We chatted for a short.. Talked about Spring Training starting (YEAH! PLAY BALL, C’MERE ROBINS, BRING ON THE SUN/WARMTH) and I mentioned to him that today I would travel to the State Capitol town for the celebration of my mother’s sister, my beloved Aunt Elva’s 90th birthday party. (At age 90, to my knowledge, there ain’t nothing she usedta do that she doesn’t still do: drive, garden, cook, church, yada yada yada.)

I then asked ex FIL his age.. “84”… We again returned to “spring is around the corner” talk - and we’ve penciled in an 18 hole golf outing for this Spring. Again, I likes the idea of knowing I can still have fun when I’m older.

If u is ‘with someone’ - please purchase them some lacy crap to give. Recognize the day as a ‘spark’. We all know the capability of spark plugs. If u ain’t with someone - I hope you fondly recall past VD’s - and harken up a “you go girl” (or guy) attitude for those that be sparkin’.

Do the Urkel dance… make up a love potion as he did… keep ur own watch out for old farts having fun… and close ur eyes and dream of being with someone if u aint - for hope springs eternal…

Happy Valentine’s Day… Love, Victurd.

The hyoid period….

Passion, life’s all about passion. Cars, new ones, run like crazy. Dependable, zip here, zip there, always start. One day, they cough, choke, sputter. A period that will pass - with the next tune-up.

The arm bone connected to the shoulder bone, the shoulder bone connected
to the back bone, the back bone connected to the neck bone. (You’re not finding this ‘humerus’ thus far are you. Yes, pun intended.)

The hyoid bone is the only bone in the human skeleton not articulated to any other bone.

Victor, is this gonna be another GD-stupid “feel sorry for Victor ‘cause he ain’t getting laid” blog?

Ahm, no. Justa observation. As Maynard and I returned from Golden Corral tonight (sumbitches now charge $9.69/buffet + $1.69/eat…. How DO the Chinese do it so cheap?)
Anyways, as we were returning, I thought about all in life I’m passionate about at present.

And there ain’t a lot. I am passionate about writing. Of course I love my son, enjoy my work, have fun out and about with friends - but passion… writing.

The neck bone connected to the head bone. Yes, yes it is, and somewhere there amongst is the hyoid, but it ain’t connected.

Victor, you’re so GD weird, will you get to your point? Like we all understand the mashed potatoes going thru that mucky gray matter of yours?

My point is, I ain't temporarily “articulated” to another person, ie, the smooching kind. And, it’s my observation, in this “this too shall pass” period (ie, car needing tune-up, singular hood, hyoid) that there just ain’t a springboard for multiple passions. For instance, I could give a shit how my front yard looks. If I was sleeping with someone, I would care.

Me thinks, when people have a mate (and it’s a happy kinda thing) it lends itself to other/more/additional passions.

So… this IS a “One is the loneliest number” blog. Well, u have every right to deem it as you may. Wasn’t meant to be pity party, just an observation. I remember the bad ending of the last relationship (marriage)… Whilst the arm bone was still relatively connected to the shoulder bone, the shoulder bone connected to the neck bone - I had ZILCHO passion about anything.

Are you saying then that when it was good, when there was “you know”, THAT kinda passion, it afforded for passion in other areas of life too? Uh huh, mebbe.

I know there are all kinds of “amoeba’s” out there who ain’t “arm bone connected to”.. priests for example (to another human person)… a great, single writer… an artist… perhaps a musician.. And they ain’t connected… I wonder what’s in their makeup? How they stay so passionate? Are they passionate in other areas? (No alter boy jokes, k?)…

You know what I mean, like eating at the Golden Corral. GD food tastes hella better when there’s a loving smile across the table. A hand on the leg. A door opened for another. Idle chit chat about chit. Arm bone, shoulder bone, neck bone, head bone.

So……. Your ending?… Are we like supposed to publish your phone number (867-5309) so we can get you laid, have additional passions besides writing?

Eh mebbe. Hehe. Point being: if u is connected - take carea them joints. Don’t take cartilage for granted. If u is either single, or, in heap bad relationship - I think you know what I mean. And if you too are in this situation like HyoidTurd, smile, ‘cause after today it’s one day closer to that passion.. And when you/I/we finally arrive - we will have so much appreciation for it, we’ll stock the hell up on Vitamin D.. and Glucosamine Chondroitin so there ain’t no way the “arm bone, shoulder bone, neck bone, head bone” thingy separates again.

WAIT!!! I did forget one. In addition to writing, I’m passionate about boobies. So, feel free to forward pics of them pups. Mebbe this single stuff ain’t so bad after all. I mean, you maybe laughed - or even said “Oh Victor, not again.” BUT, hey, that’s something you can’t do as a married man!

Whether u be hyoid or connected… life it be good.. Passion, it be good. Happy February 6. Love HyoidTurd.

“Whenever I feel afraid

I hold my head erect.. And whistle a happy tune… So no one will suspect
I'm afraid.”

Time for some feel goods:

A nice, relaxing bath on a brutally cold day.. Whacking down that last little strip of grass - and the walk to the garage to put the mower away… and yes, even good feels…

“While shivering in my shoes… I strike a careless pose.. And whistle a happy tune.. And no one ever knows.. I'm afraid.”

Seeing a triple with the bases loaded on a sunny day… seeing your child’s smile… remembering your grandparents as they walked together.. The privilege of being able to buy an extra cinnamon roll in elementary school…

“The result of this deception… Is very strange to tell.. For when I fool the people I fear… I fool myself as well! “

A dog outside at full bore without a leash.. A new mom gloating… Checking your bank balance online just after pay is deposited.. Receiving a phone call from a friend or loved one with no expressed purpose for calling…

“I whistle a happy tune.. And ev'ry single time… The happiness in the tune.. Convinces me that I'm not afraid.“

Arriving at a stoplight at the exact same time, neither having right-of-way, and one waiving the other to go ahead and go first… Buying the last loaf of cheap bread on a Sunday night as the bread man won’t revisit until Monday… Looking out at winter and teasing it as you down a bowl of chili and crackers…

“Make believe you're brave… And the trick will take you far… You may be as brave…
As you make believe you are.”

10,000 Canadian geese roaring soooo loud you think they’re going to land on you - you look up in the air - and they’re soooo high, you can’t believe they can actually survive at that altitude, the beauty and sanctity of their multiple formations…

“You may be as brave.. As you make believe you are.”

As we weave our way around, over, through the bumps of life - it’s my hope (and remember I write to me, hop on if u like) we don’t lose focus of all the good.

Some closing thoughts about worry:

Worry is like a rocking chair--it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere

Don’t worry about life, you’re not going to survive it anyways.

When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened

Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy.

And finally: Every evening I turn my worries over to God, He’s going to be up all night anyways.

Don’t worry, be happy.. Lest we not forget the good crap. Whistle a happy tune. The result of this deception… Is very strange to tell.. For when I fool the people I fear… I fool myself as well…

May this find you safe, warm, happy, and recently laid. Love Victurd.

Super Bowel Sunday.......

“Hit it Lennon/McCartney”:
I'm a loser
I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be…

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh being regular. Life is funny at fitty-five. Yesterday I was bored, very. Went to the gym… Did 30 minutes on the elliptical… Cussed the 20-something chick behind me who ran on the treadmill the entire time.. Flipped off the longhaired 20-something next to me on his elliptical - who musta been going 143 MPH on his thing, whilst I struggled to get mine up to the range where it was actually considered cardiovascular…

Went to the sauna.. “Dad? You did? Did you wear a shirt?”… Ahm, no. “Ewwwwwww.” Relax son, there was a guy in there that looked like Mark Mangino, so all eyeballs weren’t upon my somewhere-between-36-and-38-inch-waist.

You see, we’re having a contest at work - “The Biggest Loser.” A Health and Wellness kinda thing. All actual weights are held confidential - and only “pounds lost” will be published. I have no problem admitting to the fact I weight 213. $100 awarded to the person losing the most after 30 days, $200 to the biggest L after 6 months.

Of all the love I have won or have lost
there is one love I should never have crossed
She was a girl in a million, my friend
I should have known she would win in the end
I'm a loser
And I lost someone who's near to me

Yeah yeah yeah, we remember. “She rode off on a Harley.” But that doesn’t have anything to do with this blog so why did you even add it. Good question. To be perfectly honest, whenever I blog, a song enters my brain about what I’m blogging about.. And the loser thing came this time. I didn’t know the lyrics, so I Googled ‘em, realized they didn’t really fit (‘ceptin the losing part) and went ahead and added ‘em anyways. And relax, I’m way past “lost.” I now deem that parta my life as “last”. I’ve “pooped it out of the intestinal brain.” There, how’s that?

Soooooo.. I did the gym thing. Forgot I hadta referee three snotnose basketball games later in the afternoon… My knees burned like a sonofabitch hours after refereeing… and I topped it off by going for a wonderful meal thanks to my niece/nephew-INL at an Italian joint where I downed a humongous plate of lasagna. Loser, I’m a loser.

Soooooooooooooo… to Mickey D’s this morning for a cuppa coffee… their newspaper.. (Hey, $1.25 every Sunday adds up).. And “oh just one sausage biscuit won’t hurt me.”

The ‘regular’ part? The ‘bowel’ part? Well, since u asked.. Friday, “weigh day” I’d gone with two co-workers to a Chinese Buffet… ate whateverinthehell I wanted to eat… Wondered howinthehell the Chinese eat like that and they’re all 5’5”, 115 lbs.

Back to work. Terrible tummy ache, but… hadta wait to “you know” before I weighed in. Victor, did you just blog about poop in your belly?

I couldn’t wait. Went. GD, right there in fronta me… Mr. “Regular”, was an additional 1.5 lbs I coulda added to my weigh in. Victor, that’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever written. (No it’s not. Remember? At our Animal House Sigma Nu Fraternity, circa 1970-something.. We had two thrones in one bathroom… We had a sign made up “THE KING”.. and whenever someone “made the porcelain Gods proud’ they’d leave it, affix the sign.. And it would be “saved” until someone in the other throne topped it… then sign was switched, previous King flushed. See? I think that was probably more crude.)

Geez. I can’t wait to get to that Super Bowel Buffet line today. I’d better go to the gym twice today.

I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be
Although I laugh and I act like a clown
Beneath this mask I am wearing a frown
My tears are falling like rain from the sky
Is it for her or myself that I cry
I'm a loser
And I lost someone who's near to me

Well… to be frank, there are times I resemble the “Funny Little Clown” - and not ’causea her.. but again, I pooped them ‘bad feels’ out about whatshername.. I only ‘happy cry’ now..

Victor, this blog is wandering worse than The Love Boat usedta. OK. We’re talking weight loss, pooping, and The Super Bowel.

I do hereby plan to switch from red meat to salads… I WILL pull into the Community Center a MINIMUM of four times per week. I WILL walk at work on the days I ain’t gotten by the Center. I WILL “have a little ‘space’ in me… (u know, some room between my boxer briefs and the size 36’s that now probably need to be 38’s but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna give in.)

I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be
What have I done to deserve such a fate
I realize I have left it too late
And so it's true, pride comes before a fall
I'm telling you so that you won't lose all
I'm a loser
And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be

Eh, pride’s hard to swallow but it will go down. Last, not lost. I’m a 30 day loser. Eat right, exercise, and be “Mr. Regular.” Win the $100 and then celebrate at Jackstack BBQ on a full slaba ribs.

Victor, I’ll never understand you. You’re the biggest loser - that’s for sure.

Eh, I dunno. Life ain’t all about the months you’ve stacked together, it’s the days within ‘em. For this next month - I’m gonna have a little fun. I probably will be a loser (not keep it up) and not be the biggest loser. At least it’s given me some sense of excitement as I stack this month of life away.

Excuse me sir… do you know if those are Baked Tostitos or Regular Tostitos? No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Eh, oh well, could you hand me a few? It’ll be Ok, salsa ain’t got no fat in it. HEY? Is that melted cheese?

I’m a loser, and I’m not what I appear to be.

BRB. Gotta go “you know.” It’s the ‘regular’ parts of life that make it so worthwhile. Love, VicTURD.

Take the “A” out…….

Whether it’s a first time meeting of a person… seeing an old friend ya ain‘t seen in awhile.… Could be barstool to barstool conversation… A class reunion.. Idle chit chat…….

“What do you do for A living?” is always onea the first phrases that arises…

Why?

We’re labeled by our job. When we say what we do, it automatically conjures up ideas of “how much do they make…. What kinda house do they live in… what the car looks like.. What kinda extravagances they can or cannot enjoy…

I’d much prefer to ask, or hear “What do you do for living?” I’ve never been asked that. I don’t know that I’ve ever asked it - but to me, it’d be a whole lot more telling, interesting, and I simply love to know what makes people tick.

“I love to get out on the dance floor - let the music reverberate thru my bones - let their be concert between my ears, my brain and my body parts.. I love to take baths.. I love playing with cats and dogs… I love being intimate during a thunderstorm.. I orgasmate every time I drive by Red Lobster.. To be on a cruise, away from it all, no M-F, 8-5, that’s my way of living… drives in the country… partaking an entire evening with relatives… to the park with small children… a walk around the old town square…” - beats the hell outta “I’m a claim’s adjuster for AAA insurance.” (Mid $30’s, week to week, $120,000 home with a second, 2001 Honda, one nice outta town vacation a year.”)

See? Which did you feel better about. Fuck the “A”. Fuckin’ A! (Ray)….

“I love to read, it’s my passion.. I have a few acres in the county where I enjoy hunting.. I’m immersed in the lives of my three daughters… I have a passion for the passion of those that work for me… I am always attuned to learning something new every day - and I anxiously await those opportunities every day when I wake up.. I’m big on the nuclear family I grew up in.. our struggles made us what we are today… It wasn’t what we had - because we had little - it was what we took from it. The wisdom imparted from my mother and father.. “ insteada “I’m the CEO of an electrical contractor… I started at the bottom.. Worked every job possible.. Fortunately just keep rising and rising within the company.” ($400,000, $350,000 home, gives to charity, weekend whim trips, Lincoln Navigator, soon a second home in a more tropic environment.)

Both lives have passion… both are wonderful people… both enjoy the living part of living… Who cares what they do? I guess it is a conversation starter - but do we ask to start a conversation - or, to “file away a worth (or lack thereof).” To judge. To label.

Our employment is the way we afford whatever our path is. What we do on the path is how we live. Some can afford a three car wide path, but never live.. Some don’t have a driveway - but lead tremendously happy lives… Some have both.. Some have neither..

When I’ve walked thru a cemetery - I never ever have thought “I wonder what they did for a living?”.. I do wonder “I wonder how they lived?”

You go to a sporting event, you look around and see other people living.. Some having more fun that others.. Some certainly better dressed than others.. Nonetheless, all living.

“I do love to write… I love people watching… I LOVE listening, for to me it’s a key to success in life… I love coffee and a morning newspaper.. Cranking “Fatbottom Girl” (or similar) on 435... Talking with friends about yesteryear.. Family reunions.. Virtually any kinda sporting event… the sauna… seeing a nice, nice, booty…” Traffic Coordinator for a Military Freight Forwarder.. (Pittance, decrepit $120,000 house, ‘95 Hot…. Rod… Lincoln, one weekend getaway a year, two car garage where the garage door is broken.)

Victor, do you think because perhaps you don’t make an extravagant amount you’re bitter here - and that “What do you do for A living?” perhaps is a valid question? First, I’m not bitter about money. Sure, I’d love more. I do believe I could/could have made more - but I think I maybe woulda missed out on a lot of living I’ve done. I also do think it’s a fair question, a conversation starter, oft times genuinely showing interest… but too I feel people OCCASIONALLY ask it for all the wrong reasons. At least wrong to me.

Which is more important to you? What do you do for a living, or, what do you do for living?

Love, Victurd.