I shoulda been born in Detroit…….

You broke my heart,
'Cause I couldn't dance.
You didn't even want me around,
And now I'm back, to let you know,
I can really shake 'em down.

Slow. Spoken. Silently. Then all hell breaks lose:

Do you love me?
(I can really move)
Do you love me?
(I'm in the groove)
Ah,Do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now that I can dance,
(Dance).

In a heartbeat, Motown turns one from “down” to “up”, at least me.. Mickey’s Monkey, How Sweet It Is To Be Loved (By You)… Heard It Through The Grapevine…

Watch me now,
Oh,(work, work).
Oh, work it all baby,
(Work, work).
Well, you're drivin' me crazy,
(Work, work).
With a little bit of soul now,
(Work).

See? Just visualizing, hearing that in your brain, you’ve forgotten all that’s gone wrong in the day… I see it often.. The cruddy little wonderful “ain’t changed since 1940” joint I go to, fits mebbe 60 people (wall to wall standing).. Whenever someone walks to juke, plumps quarters in.. plays Chantilly Lace.. Kansas City.. I Can’t Get Next To You… people, you OUGHTA see ‘m… old, a given, young, tapping without realizing..

I can mash-potato,
(I can mash-potato).
And I can do the twist,
(I can do the twist).
Now tell me baby,
(Tell me baby).
Do you like it like this?
(Do you like it like this?)
Tell me,
(Tell me),
Tell me.

Ohhh yes, I love it like this! Pardon me, we (old farts my age… or…. As Misty so lovingly referred to after she chastised a date (20-something) for getting into a fight with an “elderly man”.. Misty? How old is elderly? “Fifty”. I hate her guts, but you get the point.. We, the elderly, biasedly grew up in the greatest era of music that will probably ever be. Motown, followed by, and interspersed with, rock.

Do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now, do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now, do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now that I can dance,
(Dance).

STOP In The Name Of Love… R E S P E C T Find out what it means to me R E S P E C T… Papa Was A Rolling Stone.. My Girl…

Watch me now,
Hey,(work, work).
Oh, shake it up, shake it.
(Work, work),
Oh, shake 'em, shake 'em down.
(Work, work),
Oh, little bit of soul now.
(Work).

A little bit of soul… I loved the day.. And amazingly, it was an era where equality was WAY different than our attempts at it today, YET, the basta’s (said with GENUINE love) produced upbeat, happy, get wit’ it record after record…

(Work, work),
Oh, shake it, shake it baby.
(Work, work),
Oh, you're driving me crazy.
(Work, work),
Oh, don't get lazy.
(Work).

Fingertips (part 2).. Play it Stevie, then take the wheel… What I Say.. You GOT it Ray!… Why Motown even snuck into the 80’s… All Night Long (All Night)… I Just Called to Say I Love You.. Say You, Say Me…

I can mash-potato,
(I can mash-potato).
I can do the twist,
(I can do the twist).
Well now tell me baby,
(Tell me baby).
Do you like it like this?
(Do you like it like this?)
Tell me,
(Tell me),
Tell me.

It wasn’t called Dirty Dancin’ back then… I ain’t exactly what it was called, but it was happy.. Today, you might drive down the road and hear one in seven songs that evoke “yeah, THAT’s what I’m talkin about!”… Huh uh, back then, damn near everyone. It was a happy time, a fun time, a fast (yet laid back) time… Serious shit going on (Viet Nam, race riots, Bay of Pigs) - we chose happy!

Do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now, do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
Now, do you love me?
(Do you love me?)
(Now, now, now).

Baby I Need Your Loving… Bernadette.. Midnight Train to Georgia.. Three Times a Lady.. Ain’t No Mountain High Enough..

(Work, work),
Oh, I'm working hard baby.
(Work, work),
Well, you're driving me crazy.
(Work, work),
And don't you get lazy.
(Work).

(Work, work),
Oh, hey hey baby.
(Work, work),
Well, you're driving me crazy.
(Work, work),
Don't you get lazy
(Work).

Ok, so you may not be a “Motown-head” like me. Tis cool. I am soooooo friggin’ white, that when Motown comes on the radio, the juke, the DVD player, my computer at work, I actually demonstrate a pretty good little knee bouncing’ rhythm during.. FOR SURE I forget my woes during…

Yeah, we all have downs… Doc can give ya meds for ‘em.. Shrinks can lend advice for ‘em… Friends are good listeners, apathetic.. MOTOWN is a guaranteed over-the-counter pick me up.

Watch me now……. Love, Victurd

S’more drifters……

HUH? The hell’s he talkin’ about? Well, unfortunately, like when ya fax more than one page, the last one ends up on top. So read below goo goo butt.

Hehe. I did some contsternatin about drifters, and I noticed I lefta lotta drifters out. Si, there are work drifters – many. People retire, people get another job, people are led to the front door. Companies fold, cutback, are bought out, el al.

Ex-laws. As in formerly kinda-sorta related to. The end mighta come whilst she was wearing her favorite silkened-mesh bikini panties on girl’s night out – but, there are bonds formed that can never be broken. I love those drifters. Nope, will never be the same, but ya can’t wipe it off the blackboard of life.

Her friends, as in mebbe ur ex’s friends. Boyfriend’s friends, girlfriend’s friends. People who at one time were front-and-center. Situations changed that – but it’s a part of who you/we are, who we’ve become. We’re like a brick building – built from scratch with drifters, good times, hard times, sweat, hard work, relaxation, fun, the seasons – everything. Drifters are to our lives what mortar is to the brick building.

Neighbors. Some we don’t wanna see again – many we miss. Neighbors when you were a kid. Ya see a neighbor kid from long ago nowadays and ya wonder if they delighted as much as you did to that day. Tide changed, not the same, yet etched forever.

School drifters. There’s something weird about this group. Why you can’t remember the name of someone you worked with for seven years ten years ago – yet, you went to high school with her/him and you will FOREVER remember their name, face, demeanor. Because school is special, was special, least from these size tens..

Organizations, mebbe even church. I consider athletics and organization. Oh my have there been a plethora of drifters in my life there. Loved every one of ‘em. A story attached to each

Victor, are you gonna talk to yourself again here? Uh huh, mebbe. From this day forward – if I see a nervous, stomach churning new hire heading to find their cubicle – I will delight in the idea “aha, a new drifter, hopeful good times ahead!”.. Anudder softball teammate – yeah! Let’s have one and get to know one another.

A new neighbor, I might stand back cautiously for awhile – then, let’s figure out together whereinthehell we’ve been in life – and where we’re going – we might each be enriched.

A new mate. I will very definitely be ‘quiet’ around her friends/family for the short-term. (The watch out!).. Nice to meet you. (I love the fact I’ve been allowed to enter this drifter arrangement.)

Life’s drifts, gotta love ‘em. It’s the brick building we’ve become today. It’s the next story atop we’re building for tomorrow. At times, we even get to revisit certain floors. As time passes it might be a little harder to remember specifics about our past drifters – but it’s for certain they’re always there in one’s brain to cherish, or forget if that’s your desire.

Drift on. Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name, and the names of any drifters, love Victurd.

Drifters….

When u first see that word… It’s my guess you thoughta old Country Western movies, and the drifters that would come thru town… Eh, could be.

My life has been filled with ‘drifters’. I’m certain after you read that, there was somewhat a negative connotation attached. To the contrary.

I haven’t occupationally, or didn’t, find what I wanted to do forever and ever in my twenties… thus, I hop-scotched.. And have done many different things… Many jobs “ran out on me.” United Airlines (indefinite furlough, coulda gone to NY or Chicago “permanent part-time”, no thank you). Eastern Airlines (Please Mr. Union head-guy, 80% of something is hella better than 100% of nothing!”).. Chapter 7... Braniff Airlines.. Belly up… twice… Tiger Warehouse.. We had a 65,000 square foot warehouse filled to the gills, life was good. “Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered” - we leased a 2nd 65,000 square foot warehouse. Couldn’t fill it. Thus, our demise.

There have been SO many “tweeners” that I prayed would be “right”.. Owned own delivery company (doing well, though lotta hard work.. 3rd year “me or the business”… I chose the marriage.. Oops..)… Teaching school, 5 years.. Got bassackwards in required college hours mandated by district.. Quit…

Victor, this is boring. NO! WAIT! THERE’S MORE! (You jest?) No, I ain’t kiddin’! Worked for golf course, managed a sporting goods store, carried mail, sold air freight, Sports Information Director for College Athletic Conference, managed a Sonic, was in hotel sales (For a Paris Hilton Hilton), dealt craps at a casino,… STOP, PLEASE STOP!!! WHAT’S YOUR POINT?

Point is, in that span, I’ve met hella people. Drifters. Some, still there. Some, came for a short, left. (And I haven’t even mentioned where I’ve been working the last 6 years)..

If you think I regret in all of the above - well sure.. .I too regret in being married twice (6 yrs, 20+ yrs) and having those ends… Who really among us starts a job/marriage with thoughts of “ends”?

But. Do I regret all the “Drifters” along the way? Not no’s but hells no’s.

Even if you are a lucky one.. You hired on at the utility company, Children’s Mercy Hospital, “The Ford Plant”, wherever - and you’ve been there since… well back in the day when you had “a six pack” for abdomens… you’ve surely experienced “drifters” in and outta ur life. I say ‘outta’ but they never really are. They’re etched there forever.

I will never forget Fernando Papi I worked with at United Airlines and his infamous saying “It not my yob man, it not my yob.”

Saw’a dude at the down-home place I occasionally frequent. He was from one of the above places. He looked at me, smiled, I looked at him, smiled. Then we spent fitteen minutes trying to figure out howinthehell we knew each other. (We finally figured out we dealt craps together.)

There’s the same sequence… Whenever one leaves, there are hugs, there are those positive, yet far-fetched thoughts “we promise to keep in touch.. It’ll be just like it was” but it rarely is. Don’t care, you never lose the affinity for those that have “drifted” in and outta your life. Just seeing their face again, be it in real life, or be it in a dream, a thought, a reminder - it conjures a smile.

I do have lifelong friends, and for that I’m very, very gracious. I also have many ‘drifter’ friends - and with all them ‘drifts’ - so much to look back on, remember, rejoice the time.

I’ll never forget… recently… when I came back to play softball after a ten year hiatus… as I walked on the field for that first game… dude in a lawn chair (he’d just completed playing).. In our day we’d had many a battle agin’ one another.. He leaned up from his lawn chair for closer inspection... Rubbed his eyes like it was a dream.. And finally blurted “well I’ll be damned.” It was a great moment - cause it took me (and him) back to 1985, 1995.. Not that I wanna go back there - but that it helped me to remember “1985 and 1995 - life was pretty damn good.”

One would think, if you know your past, and you’ve gotten ‘way too attached’ to previous drifters in you life - you might be cold shouldered at first.

I don’t feel that way. Our stay here is short. Our relationships vary from lifetime, to maybe only for the summer. Victor, are you talking to yourself again? Uh huh, am. Love all. No matter how swiftly they (or you, exit - stage left.)

God Bless all the drifters I’ve encountered along the way. I loveya all. I remember ya all. Mebbe not first name, but if I see the face and I connotate “he/she was fun” I smile. Life’s about smiles.

I kindly thankya for droppin’ in. Love, Victurd.

The View….

Dreams are nice. No, not the kind in the middle of the night – mosta the time those kind, I’ve found, are kinda spooky. Eerie. Stomach-hurters. Sweat makers. Awaken, pinch, phew!

I’m talkin’ dreaming of wants, desires. Sometimes they’re frivolous, selfish. Sometime they’re real steppingstones to a materialistic end.

Have you ever dreamed of good things? We dream of change. Dreams can’t necessarily precipitate change unless actions are involved – nonetheless, to me it’s wonderful to dream.

Songs have been written about dreams… poems… movies… books.. Nuttin’ wrong with being a dreamer. Sometimes they come true. Field of dreams. I dunno how many thousands make the trek to Dyersville, Iowa each year to see – but, someone actually had a dream of it.. built it (actions).. and it happened (they came.)

Mebbe that nifty convertible you’ve always wanted. Three acres out in the boonies whereya can go grab the mail in your undies.. Perhaps a trip (after saving up) all around the good ole US of A.

I dream. Relentlessly. I’ve likened life here as sometimes being on a moped on the Interstate. Dreams provide horsepower to overtake. Hopes. Wishes. That all leads to smiles, and the belief “the status quo just ain’t always gotta be the status quo.”

I've had 'glimpses'. "Close calls." "Thought that was it"s... Pitter-patters that have turned to splatters. Unwanted ends. Wanted ends. No The View as of today, 7/30/2008.

Don’t laugh. (Ok, can if u want.) Daily, I take Maynard to his employ in Downtown Kansas City. There’s a thirty story highrise condo thingy there called simply, The View. Each condo is equipped with a wonderful balcony to lookout over – Kansas on the West, Missouri on the East.

My dream – is one day to see “her” out on the balcony. Robed. Waiting. In this daily awakened dream – I look. Hasn’t happened. And in this dream I hold inside, one day she’ll be there – and it’ll be a signal.. coming.. it’s coming.. a dream will materialize.

I once heard the saddest thing on the planet is an unhappy rich man for he has no hope. Well hells bells me and my Hot Rod Lincoln be far, far from rich, and I’ll be damned if I’ll fall into the unhappy trap (for long!).. I have hopes. I have dreams. Thinking of tomorrow helps today, ifya rearrange them thoughts to allow so.

That’s my take. My view. The View. Happy day, love, Victurd

Onea the things I noticed about life…..

(he said to himself) is that you always have control of your thoughts.

If you have an ugly moment in life, there’s opportunity there to focus on a beautiful time you’ve experienced.

If you’re hungup daily bemoaning “Same ole same ole” remember the day you struck out on a new venture… just getting away… or letting your mind get away..

When another, perhaps a loved one, a friend, coworker – whatever, is talking ugly. Giving you way more than you wanna hear about the ugly parts of their life – stick a cork in it, smile, and again – remind yourself of the glorious parts.

If you happen to work with a guy that knows everything, uses the word “I” every other breath – thank him for willing to downgrade himself occupationally on the company’s behalf by being a freight broker – for we all know he could probably be doing anything he wants to in this world.

Ya look in the mirror and see that ole skin not being as taught, fine as perhaps it once was… dig out a scrap book. Thumb through it until you find one where ya do look good, and importantly, one where you’re smiling. If it’s remembered that good times and smiles cause wrinkles – mebbe the reflection won’t be so offensive.

Spoil yourself to the tune of five gallons of $4 fuel – take a spin, return to happy places from your life. Wear the shoes of yesteryear. Think ahead, it wasn’t so many years ago these spots meant nothing to you – so rejoice in the fact the years ahead promise more special places.

Was driving in this morning, Maynard was in not-so-good a mood, onea them days where I have to cork it, nod, agree with anything during this narcissist moment.. It ain’t fun – then I thought how sometimes life just ain’t fun.. Then I remembered “hey, I went two for three Sunday”. Bless the facts these legs still allow me to run. I’m headed to work – where I like them, they like me, and they’ve brought me back year after year. I even have new eyeballs thanks to them.

The dregs. The dregs hit everyone – we just gotta remind ourselves life, if you look around, is pretty damn good. Base hits follow strike outs. Wins follow losses. Pretty follows ugly. Balance follows imbalance. Happy follows sad.

The magical ability of the filter of the brain to grab ugly thoughts, rinse ‘em out, turn ‘em into happy ones makes life cleaner. We’re all “there” occasionally. It ain’t permanent, it usually ain’t for long – unless we allow that filter to get clogged. Don’t do that. Think happy. Remember good past times. Spoil yourself at least once daily – how every you decide to do – you’re worth it.

Loveya, Victurd

Ok, I officially give up on that topic.

One email, no real comments about “Friends with Beni’s”… I guess it was a boring topic. So solly!

Let’s talk “Special people.” I know, many thoughts come to mind……

“Special” can mean those that perhaps weren’t given the God-given tools of most.. In the slow class in school.. Perhaps mentally disadvantaged thru birth or accident.. These folks are generally treated well, and deservedly so, as they generally are givers. They don’t know any other way. They show love, they show affection, they show concern, they show gratitude. “Shortchanged” so to speak by God, but for that very reason He made up for it in other ways.

“Special” as in friend. You know the kind. When u need that lift, somehow they sense it. When u need to talk, somehow the phone rings, or the email comes. They’re quick to ask “how are you”, “how’s your day?” “what are you doing special this weekend” and we get so GD involved in ourselves, we slip and forget to ask “You?”.. “Your day?” “Your weekend?” - BUT, there they are, the very next day, week, month - asking again.

“Special” as in ‘look-at-me’. I publish this blog at work upon occasion, so I spose this could be grounds for my firing. I work for a family owned business… Three sons now run the company. Two of the three went thru the school of hard-knocks (loading trucks, delivering furniture, office clerks, supervisors, then VP’s, one is even Pres now.) The 3rd bro, he wasn’t “raised” within the company.

He came over recently when the big conglomerate he worked for went belly up. I’ll admit, he had climbed the ladder there on his own, but in the snap of a finger (a year?) he was made a Vice-President within our company. He sometimes is a decent chap, and he’s always been fair with me (but he has chopped several longterm employees who don’t have a “niche” - begging the thought “why pay someone who’s been here 25 years worth of raises when we can get someone off the street to do the same for tons less?” - THEN turns around and asks for “Team-building suggestions.”)

Well, he’s a weight-lifter too. He’ll be talking, look down at his biceps, kinda twitch ‘em, eyeball ‘em, and then continue speaking. To himself, he’s “special.” I’m not enthralled with people who are “Special” in their own eyes. So solly.

“Special” as in mate. My first marriage only lasted 7 years, and while she really was special to me, the depth of that special-ness never reached what ‘special’ was in my longer term marriage of 20+ years.

It really is special when you’re comforted hearing that voice on the phone. Seeing them come home from the day. Greeting you at the door as your day ends. Awakening and sharing the start of the day together. Simply staring at them and thinking back on all that’s transpired, happened… how you’ve made it thru the depths, celebrated the highs, the birthdays, Holidays, vacations, summers, winters, falls, etc.

We all too often take “special” for granted. If you are around one of the givers from group one, get to know them. Genuinely care about them. Give ‘em some time from your life. You'll be rewarded twofold.

If you’re around group #2, emulate them. Ask how their day is. Thinka buying them some smallass inexpensive gift (greatly thought out) that might mean the world to them. Howabout, simply telling them “ya know, you’re a good friend.” I know how I’d feel if I heard that.

The third group. Special-self. I suggest nodding your head in agreement with whatever they say, and thinking to yourself “you’re so fulla shit, I kimda-sorta despise you but I’m mandated to sit here this instant so I do.”

To the fourth group. Please don’t take this for granted. All “Special” situations end. All of ‘em. Put a topping on that ice cream of life, don’t live vanilla only. Please take a moment, daily, if you do have a “Special” partner. Then close your eyes, imagine them gone. Not for a second, imagine this for an hour. Lay down for an hour and think of this person not being there. I suggest you do this frequently.

Your car breaks down on the road. He/she ain’t there any more. Logistical stuff like a $1000 mortgage payment that two shared is now burdened by one. You wake up in the morning, reach over, and grab nothing but sheet. Ever notice how GD long the sofa is with only one sitting in it? I saw an email the other day that suggested simply answering the phone with a smile. Little is BIG.

Victor, is this another pity party? Nah, not really. I just thought the friends with beni’s thing was special, but nobody else did - so I thought “what really is special?” I do miss all those things about the 4th group. It was now long ago I had them. We each are very different people now. Kinda allofasudden I, somehow from her shoes, lost that “special-ness”, and when that happens in any arrangement - it’s history. They say that can’t be repeated. Another actor can play the part, and hopefully the sequel is even better.

I love special (1, 2, and 4). They help make days special. They go a long ways to bringing a smile to my day, some pep in my step, and I remember with #4 I even got laid occasionally.

May you (uh oh, it’s the preacher in him coming out) appreciate special too. Many of you already do, I’m certain. In our own way, let’s somehow communicate that to them. And promise ourselves to not take special for granted - and hopefully use it to be special ourselves.

K, snap out of it and quit staring at your pecs. The dishes need washing. There’s a load to do, and caller ID says “Sally”… “Eh, she’ll call back.”

Hehe. Love, Victurd

It’s just good sex……..

Onea my ex inlaws used that line not all that long ago about a six month thingy with a friend. They never really went out too much in public - maybe a drive thru Mickey D’s - but ne’er seen at the movie theater, arm around… or at The Big Party of the weekend amongst common friends…

I think Freud said something about the basic needs…. hunger, thirst, the avoidance of pain, and sex. Pals with privileges… cut friends… extended hookup… fling.. Friends with extras.. Friends with privileges.. Bene-friends… sex buddies.. Sexualized friendship.. Friends with benefits…

Generation X seems to be really into this… What once usedta be sitting with a new friend at lunchtime, opposite sex, across the table - is now "whammo" LGNAF (let’s get naked and………).. I’m old, have u recently been to a joint where young kids hang and watched ‘em dance? My goodness - throwing themselves over one another - with sexual ‘grinds’ thrown in for good measure.. And the dude just asked to dance! Victor, get with the millennium. K, will try. (Please don't forget, I'm way too white to dance well.)

What are the reasons people get into friends with beni’s relationships? I think they vary.. I think selfishness comes into play.. I think some enter with hopes of “fingers crossed this will turn into more”.. and perhaps in today’s hustle-bustle society the belief actually exists “with my job, kids, night school, 2nd job, responsibilities - I simply don’t have time for a real relationship right now.”

I also think loneliness enters the fray - and one crosses that stream - yes, selfishly, but maybe with backa-the-mind hope “well, maybe I can develop deep feelings for this person.’ (Which is fancy for, “I wanna screw, and I doubt it will be forever with her/him.”)

Ok, strike me down Father - I have gone out with a person where each of us knew aheada time there could be no longterm thingy. When this happened - there was an age difference (mind outta the deeper gutter, I was the younger one.).. It was perhaps different in that we did go to movies, we did go to dinner, we did “other things.” But yes, ‘that’ was involved too. It wasn’t a very long thing (less than two months) - but selfishly, maybe sheepishly, I admit I enjoyed it.

This ended when she actually found someone she kinda sorta thought “uh huh, this could be him” and I was out the door. I do think, unlike most arrangements of this sort - each was able to walk away without feelings of fire (emotional involvement) needing to be doused. There was no hurt.

The single’s scene, no matta the age - is trying. Perhaps a rationalization, but the moralistic decline of America contributes - witnessed by the fact people are seemingly getting naked faster, earlier, more commonly (with commoners) than ever before.

Friends with beni’s, I think, sometimes happens when one perhaps has fear of commitment. “I want all that without that.” Longterm relationships with tumultuous endings drive one away from commitment. Fear coupled with want. “I don’t want his/her address… I’m not ready for sharing a mailbox… besides.. If either moved away from their abode… it’d be ‘my place’ and not ‘our place’.

My ex inlaw’s “relationship” survived six or eight months. Both, extremely attractive folks - the one I knew said “I don’t like his arrogance, and could never live with that but I really dig his body.” Down the road it went, no hurt upon the end.

It is lonely out here. Time makes us picky. Past “ends” make it hard to commit for fear of uncertainty. Does one every really know?

Frienda mine had a rule… No sex for six months, period. Probably a good rule, I dunno. Freud’s need thingy, alcohol, loneliness, lack of self control, selfishness sometimes get in the way.

Sorry this ain’t been funny. I would like your take, if you ain’t a chicken to extol. I do this stupid blog thingy in two places.. So if you’re here on MySpace, and you don’t want ur mug showing up along with ur comments - please go to checkenginelight.blogspot.com. There you can anonymously call me an asshole for having once been a member of the “friend with beni’ club.. Or hell, maybe you could just call me (867-5309) and we could get naked.

Hehe. Might your day includes friends. And benefits. Love, Victurd.

Magic bus... you can't have it....

Perhaps a continuation of lifting something happy out of something sad, we learn today Randy Pausch - author of “The Last Lecture” has left us here on earth.

Among his takes on life:

"I don't know how not to have fun," he said. "I'm dying and I'm having fun. And I'm going to keep having fun every day I have left."

“Look for the Best in Everybody.” His hero, a Disney employee had once told him “If you wait long enough,” he said, “people will surprise and impress you.”… “When you’re frustrated with people, when you’re angry, it may be because you haven’t given them enough time. Jon warned that this took great patience, even years. “In the end,” he said, “people will show you their good side. Just keep waiting. It will come out.”

“Make time for what matters.”……… “Dare to take a risk.” Don’t worry about failure – everyone fails at some point. Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you wanted. And it can be the most valuable thing you have to offer.. “

I truly believe this man lived his life with the bright-eyed excitement demonstrated by youth. I truly believe, he recognized that exuberance - and chose to live by it/with it/as it.

Sad, very sad he’s gone. Happy, his ideas, suggestions, examples, lessons life on.
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My slovenly Saturday…..

Yes, it began at Mickey D’s… Seven-ish… Fitty-four cent Senior coffee, local newspaper, eyeballs to people watch…

Bored, kinda, after reading the paper (but I did enjoy the diddy about the New Zealand judge stepping in and making 9 year old “Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii” a ward of the court - and changing her name… oh, and he gasped at some others he’d heard: Keenan Got Lucy, Number 16 Bus Shelter, Fish and Chips)… k, so bored…

Which is fancy for “I need a cigarette.” Plopped the car halfway between Mickey D’s and the Piggly Wiggly - read the remainder of the paper, smoked a few Camel Wides (no, not “my” brand, but they were 2 for 1...remember, gas is $4 a gallon)..

After abouta hour of reading about Buck O’Neill, Barrack, Bin Laden’s driver, “what to do with the dogs since the Woodlands Greyhound Track is closing”, my horoscope… I looked in the mirror and noticed I was covered in sweat. Ewww. I mean drenched. It’s hot out, but it was a good feel. You know, like a kid running inside on a hot summer day to graba glassa Koolaid. I was disgusted and charmed all at the same time….

Remembering I had honey do’s for Maynard at the Piggly Wiggly, and finished with the paper - decidedly drenched, dare I enter looking like that?

Sure. “I’ll just walk straight to the bathroom, blast cold water allover my face, grab my items and be done with it.”

Sign said “Restroom closed for maintenance.:” Shit.

Headed to the frozen food aisle. “I’ll just stick my head in here, then they’ll never know.” Worked, kinda sorta I guess, but I did get some passer-by stares. Remember that movie where the news anchor could NOT stop sweating, and the more he worried about it, the wetter, soggier he got? Me. That was me today.
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Home now, wondering what to do with the remainder of the day. Stopped by here -to say hi to you. I love “you”, whomever you are - cause you help me ride the bus of life, looking out the window to see and relate life’s experiences.

You’ll never know how “happy like a little kid” I feel when I see an occasional Gail “LOL”, or a CJ or Lisa wish for a happy day, or a Teresa “thank you.”

Life IS a blog. Life IS to be lived with the childlike exuberance of Randy Pausch. Seen Ebert and whomever’s Siskel’s replacement was are hanging it up. Infamous for their “Two Thumbs Up.” Life is two thumbs up. We can point our thumbs down at certain events, behaviors - but in the end, the view from this bus is two thumbs up.

Frienda mine I usedta work with has insteada “Best Regards” at the enda her emails just above her name: “it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” I was reminded of Dolly Parton in Best Little Whorehouse “it’s a business doing pleasure with you.”

It’s a pleasure doing blog with you. The Magic Bus.

I said, now I've got my Magic Bus (Too much, the Magic Bus)
I said, now I've got my Magic Bus (Too much, the Magic Bus)
I drive my baby every way (Too much, the Magic Bus)
Each time I go a different way (Too much, the Magic Bus)
I want it, i want it, I want it, I want it ...
t
Randy Pausch, PHD, downplayed his sudden burst of fame… and even his own mother introduced him as “This is my son. He’s a doctor, but not the kind that helps people.” (Wrongo she was, and she knew it too.)

That diddy reminds me of onea my alltime favs.. Supposedly Eddie Murphy was driving down the road with little Stevie Wonder. Stevie got out his harmonica, started blaring. Eddie turned, and with a smirk admonished “you wanna impress me Stevie? Take the wheel.”

Every day you'll see the dust (Too much, the Magic Bus)
As I drive my baby in my Magic Bus (Too much, the Magic Bus)

Life. I want it. Magic Bus. I want it. No AC. No sweat. God bless bumps in the road, hills to climb, rivers to forge - friends to make/keep, staring at frozen Rangu for twelve minutes, The Last Lecture, Two Thumbs up, and even Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii.

Mahalo. Love, Victurd.

Parking…

We don’t think about parking very much – but we all do it every day. Some, many times.

Long ago my grandparents lived in a small town – and the thing to do for old people (people approximately my age now and up) was to “go to town” to simply visit with other older people… Victor, you’ve told this one already. I don’t care, that’s what we old people do, we repeat things, so you’re stuck.

Anyways, they’d let their hound “Skip” out the door thirty minutes before they took the seven block ride to town – and Skip would meander thataway, and lay down in their parking place until they got there. Perty cool I thought. Every day. Seven/365.

Then, two cents gotya thirty minutes on the meter, a nickel two hours, and for a quarter – hell you could fly to Hawaii and back and still be ok. Now, to go to town – at least in the big city here, it’s $10 to park.

Do kids “park” any more? Back in the day, the lower level lot at the small local college was the gathering place. Twosomes. It wasn’t for visiting – it was for – well, makin’ out I guess it was called. There wasn’t a night all year with less than fitteen cars there. Windows really got steamed up in the winter time.

Sometimes ‘parkers’ agitates me. The Pour Boy. Occasionally someone who’s “somebody” will drive up, stop RIGHT in front, park and go inside. Everyone else is left to completely walk around their car. I ain’t big on being inconsiderate.

Mickey D’s this morning, bright and early. Some idiot had his Caddy parked completely across three handicap parking places. I purposely went to the spot just on the other sidea his car so this lazy ass would have to backup and turn to get out. Inconsiderate. What if there had been other handicaps trying to park?

Once – college – fraternity brother of ours – his VW was parked at the college beside the curb. Well, we were young, spunky, combined – the six of us had some pretty good strength – so we thought his car would look better up on the sidewalk – so that’s where we took it. Dunno if he gotta ticket or not, but he was a little embarrassed.

Bear. Nuther fraternity brother. Mall. Leaving the parking lot.. Scraped another car. Eyeballs on him. “Shit, they saw it.” Bear, quickly turned back in, jumped out, scribbled “scribble” on a piece of paper, stuck it on the dudes windshield, off he went.

My pappy usedta be in sales, and he’d get his exercise by “parking far away, and taking a long walk to wherever I was going.” Hell, nowadays Malls are dying. Like mushrooms, up pop the Kohls, Targets, Best Buy’s, Gordmans – places where we lazy bastards can drive right on up to the door – insteada escalators and long Mall hall walks.

We get in arguments over “that guy better not take my spot, I was here first.” Heard on the radio this morning – onea the DJ’s parked last night – and the car next to him in “the only spot left in the lot” was hella over the line. U know the type that do that. Usually it’s them dually hella tall fancy truck ya need a boost to even get in. Anyways, DJ intricately parks within two inches of “duallys” driver’s side door – so he’d have to get in from the passenger side. When DJ got back to his car, dually was gone – and coke poured allover DJ’s windshield. He said it was worth it. Me thinks so too.

Pa, again.. Victor – you’ve told this one too. KMA. 80-something. Leaving the Post Office, small town, 6,000 folks. Bumped a car, didn’t know he had. Two minutes later, three blocks from the Post Office, two cop cars. “Hit and Run Mister”. Hehe. Fortunately, his girlfriend was on the City Council, was with him, and she talked their way outta a ticket.

Seena friend last night. Unfortunately, like many my age, dealing with aging parents. Her mom has gone from home, to assisted, to now a nursing home. We spoke of driving – and taking away car keys. Not something enjoyable, but sometimes a “have to.” Her mom had all four corners of her car dinged up. When she noticed it, she approached her mom and thankfully her mom said “you know, I just think it’s time I stopped driving.” Whew.

And then (Victor you’ve told this one too. I know, but I oh so love it.) there was the old feller that, pulling into his driveway, hit the gas insteada the brake – ran thru his garage door, panicked, put it in reverse, hit the gas insteada the brake, ran across the street thru the neighbor’s garage door. Hehe. See, I even liked it the second time you rotten breath!

Bluebark. That I don’t enjoy hearing, seeing. We move military member’s goods where I work. Every once in awhile, up on the screen pops “BLUEBARK.” This is when we’re moving the goods of a deceased member of the Military Service. Not long ago, we had a deceased soldier’s car being taken to his home. Guy driving the big rig called, said, “There’s no way I can get this car to their house, I’m gonna park it about a mile away and leave it.” “Like hell you are buddy” (boss said) “this man gave his life for you, me, our country – you find a way to get it to his house – even if you have to take the car off, drive it there and get a taxi back to your truck.” YEAH for the boss!

K, that’s enough about parking. I’d better get back to work.

I do have a moral question for you. Laundromat. Last person (besides you) in there leaves. A completely full, probably $7 box’a laundry detergent upon the shelf. What does ya does? It wasn’t the person’s that just left, you knew that. Take it? No way?
(It’s in my trunk, mebbe I’m headed for hell, dunno. Going downtown this weekend, gotta save them bucks so’s I can park.)

Have a lovely day – and don’t bump anyone parking, and please don’t be inconsiderate.
Love, Victurd.

Happy/sad… Sad/Happy…

Read someone’s blog recently.. Can’t remember all the details verbatim – but I remember this person was widowed.. long marriage… not “picture perfect” marriage, nonetheless many good things within.. some not-so-good moments.. anniversary time – and this person asked “Do you think it’s possible to be sad and happy at the same time?”

You bet your bippie it is.

Ya ever had fever/chills – and when those chills hit, you pour a warm bath – and sink luxuriously in?… Happy/sad…

Been in a relationship – things are very good, yet sad joins happy with illness, money woes, child’s behavior/mate selection, death of a loved one… There’s happy and sad – tons…

Even been NOT in a relationship, yet happy with the surroundings/ongoings of your life? Sure, perhaps we all have…

Ya ever sit across the sofa from an endeared friend – have onea them “calm down you’ll have a stroke” agree-to-disagree spats… u “hate the moment” (sad) but love ‘em like crazy for their passion, and for your love of them. Of course – we all have.

Work. Drudge. “I can’t wait until Friday.” Yet there are happy parts within, and when that automatic deposit happens – you gleefully fill up that shopping cart at the Piggly Wiggly. Happy/sad. Sad/happy.

Ever hit a golf shot in the woods, bemoan – then thinka how silly that is ‘cause you’re not at work, you’re havin’ fun, you’re out with God and nature? I have, MANY times!

At present, gotta crick in ma neck. I’ve caught myself looking right, no problem – perhaps in traffic, maybe at the office, and even in the Piggly Wiggly when something like a very nice derriere (sorry) happens by. Happy. And then I turn my head quickly to the left and YEOOWWWW. Damnit. Sad. Hurt. Happy/sad, Sad/happy.

We visit the cemetery. The fact they’re there, in the ground, sad as hell. The smiles it brings “bringing them back to life” in our minds – happy, very.

Hell, even the daily paper has the obits and the comics every day. Sad/happy. Happy/sad.

Oh boy oh boy, tonight I’m meeting friends and we’re going to an outing. Then ya crank the car up, less than a quarter a tank. Happy/sad. Sad/Happy. (Like the dude the other day walking outta the gas station… handed the chicky some cash and said “$70 on pump 3.” I remarked “that’s hurts don’t it?” He smiled (happy) and said emphatically “YES!”

Up/down. Rollercoaster. Visiting the ‘levels’ – even all at the same time. This is damn straight a wondrous trip – this life path. Happy/sad. Sad/happy.

I absolutely don’t wish sadness on you. For you, and for me, I only hope sadness is just a reminder happy is ahead, or maybe even there at the same time.

Loveya, Victurd

No comment……..

Onea the things about writing this blog… Is whatinthehell perks you folks? I do this stupid thing in Stereo (on MySpace.. At http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=82365535 (there’s no cover charge, but I do think ya gotta be a member to get on there.. Anyways, them bastards keep only like the last five blogs, so here……… checkenginelight.blogspot.com is the only place I know to follow your comments… Count ‘em…

Why/when do people comment? Well, let’s take a look..

Days that have seen more than one comment:

First I found… about driving home and seeing a rainbow, men and aging, and a kinda rotten day……

Next: I forced the hand of four coworkers to say good things about me for a potential 2nd job I was applying for. I do humbly apologize!

And… “Boogie ‘til you die” blog. Is it Ok to feel good about one’s self? I kinda liked that one too!

Next: Twas football season. I wrote about M-I-Z, Z-O-U, and a PO’ed Chickenhawk reader wrote in, I replied. Still, it was two comments. Ya gotta love the Border War, especially when many participants are Chickenhawk fans living in Missouri, paying taxes to help build finer facilities in God’s Country (Columbia, MO)…

Next was a blog about every day life… things I do to try to stay happy… coffee.. Newspaper.. Saying “whatinthehell is wrong with you” to someone who’s always happy.. Reconnecting with those from the past… doing things from leftfield… being nice to vendors… Handshakes.. Asking about someone’s family… razz a co-worker… touch… say “I like working with you”… “thank a boss.”

Then… a blog about where I’d scatter my ashes… nice piece from Lilli.. Then a lovingly (mildly PO’ed reply from Ms. CJ about me being chauvinist ‘cause I talked about fathers/sons and omitted mom’s/gals.. ) Do they have sports for women nowadays?

Ahm… One entitled “When I see you it makes me wanna take my clothes off… but tonight I have to lay my linoleum…” about me asking a chick out, and she said “Wow.. Cool.. But tonight I have to lay my linoleum.”… and then I proceeded to tell about getting my ass kicked by a chick in a pool tourney (even though she cheated/was a bitch.) You bastards like seeing/reading about me suffering, I’ll remember that in attempt to gain future comments.

Next one was about women drivers… Biotches responded like crazy. Probably typing via ur laptop on Wi -fi connection whilst u were driving down the road.

And one bout me getting a “Ticket” at work for being on the internet (setup very nicely I might add telling you about my long search here for “her..”) There was great sympathy on your part. Gracias. But I swayed ya!

Pickmeups… Apparently, after (another) pity party. Some very nice responses… Thanks..

A Reid and Soanya blog…

A “Dammit Jim” blog because I screwed up.. Old (wonderful feller) at work said “I just don’t have many friends left”… I laughed because I thought he was teasing.. He was serious.. You consoled… I felt like crap…

The Virginia Tech shootings…

Ahm, a diddy about how they learned to make sperm from female bone marrow so fem-fem could have a kid.

Curmudgeon.. About the movie “What Women Want”.. Mel Gipson gets shocked in the bathtub and then thinks like a woman. I was a smartass about “me thinking like a woman”.. many sounded off.

A blog about dreams and how I was pissed because I had to type hard because my “y” wouldn’t work (mostly offers for free keyboard.) Thanks!

A stupid 3 paragraph diddie about geese flying by honking. Hella comments.

Mick Jagger.. A thing about kids nowadays with the “snap your finger” I want what I want and I want it now attitude… and then my real wants…

The day before cataract surgery. You all had kind words. I guess even if that shit had not worked I coulda figured out a way to “Braille” you.

A blog about how many hours in our life we poop, have sex, sleep, etc…

A Christmas blog in ‘06...

A thankful list blog…

One on quotes.. U added ur own…

A study on the song “When I was 17”…

An article about the very first penis transplant.. You GD preverts…

An article about “Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder WHO”.. birds live on live wires… the sex life of Masters and Johnson… who was in the kitchen with Dinah..

Ok Ok.. That takes us into mid-’06, and I started this basta in July of ‘05. THAT’S ENOUGH of a flashback.

As I sit, prepare, scratch notes as I drive, laugh to myself.. Think “would they like this?”.. “Is this a good idea?”.. I’ve completely figured out, there’s no figuring you bastards out. (But said with love.)

Until the next stupid idea, love Victurd.

The long and winding road

That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I’ve seen that road before
It always leads me here
Lead me to you door

Driving home tonight… Was an old dude on Sport’s Talk Radio, talking about Greg Norman’s recent showing at the British Open. You know Greg, the Shark clothing, The Aussie dude, married to Chrissy Evert. Yeah, him. Anyways - back in the day, Norman - while an incredible golfer, fairly regularly lead Major tournaments until the very end - only to somehow stumble on the way home.

He, at fitty-three, led the British Open (A tourney for ALL professional golfers, any age) with only 9 holes remaining. Greg stumbled. The old geezer on sport’s talk said “I don’t know why he’d even wanna put himself in that position.. You know.. To possibly fail again.

The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day
Why leave me standing here
Let me know the way

I disagree with the old dude. That, to me, is kinda defeatist. Sure, it depends on the person, the situation, but I believe in getting back up and giving her hell. Be it in trying a relationship again, maybe knocked on your ass in a sporting event, being told “no” for promotions, jobs…

Fuck “you can’t.” Screw “you shouldn’t”.. ESPECIALLY when either is said TO you, BY you.

Many times I’ve been alone
And many times I’ve cried
Any way you’ll never know
The many ways I’ve tried

Long ago, it was “Tarkio.” I coached the women’s basketball team at a local, liberal arts college. Our nemesis was Tarkio College. They boasted teams filled with Iowa girls, raised tall, as if to be able to look out over the tall cornfields. And play they did in Iowa. Twice a year, Tarkio trounced our ass. Do we say “Nah, sorry, we don’t wanna play you this year” or do we suck it up and give it hell - even if we maybe (again) face failure?

This one had a good ending. My final year of coaching was the most talented team we’d ever had. Not “Tarkio talented” but still, very good. We prepared, prepared prepared. We knew their plays, instincts, every move before we ever set foot on the court. A groupa kids who’d experience failure time and time again - had the wherewithal to not give up - but to try again. We won on a last second shot - and it was truly one of the most incredible moments in my life - probably many of theirs too.

But still they lead me back
To the long winding road
You left me standing here
A long long time ago
Dont leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door.

This song was supposedly written in Scotland by Paul McCartney - in effort to ease tension amongst The Beatles. It ain’t about a woman.. It’s about overcoming adversity. It’s about “Get up and go” again. It’s about all the GD women and men who sit alone on weekends because they lost (thru divorce) what they once had - and they’re afraid to fail again.

It IS a long road here. It IS winding. Life wouldn’t be life if there were no potholes. The trip down the slope wouldn’t be quite as fun if we didn’t traverse the upgrade. Gravel teaches us to slow down, tread with caution, yet continue to MOVE, toward the destination - not pull over and give up hope.

But still they lead me back
To the long winding road
You left me standing here
A long long time ago
Don’t leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah..

Yea, yeah, yeah…. So (remember, I talks to me, hitchhike if you like) jump back in there. Get up and go. Challenge yourself. Even in defeat, there is victory. If you don’t try, you lose. And (again, to me) that makes you a loser.

I understand stuff (but will never be able to see from your shoes) like being widowed, perhaps never wanting to drive because of a bad accident. But I don’t comprehend “My marriage didn’t make it.. I don’t think I can put my heart out there like that again.” Bullshit. “I’ve had twelve straight interviews for jobs I REALLY wanted. I give up.” Bullshit.

Every “no” puts you that much closer to “yes.”

Eons ago, WE were the team to beat in the local Sunday night softball league. Years, added weight, gravitational pull on our bods, and occasionally “I can’t play this week, I’ve got my grandkids” has turned us into “So”.. (which is a step down from “So-So”)… We played the modern Kick-Ass version Sunday. Yes, they (once again) scorched our ass’s. But, it didn’t stop the dream, the hope, the visualization. Never give up, never let go of a dream. Never be too scared to fail (again). ALL success comes through failure.

The long and winding road…

Dont leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah..

Loveya, Victurd.

Dad-dah…. January 13, 2010.……..

And then it happened… Was it really “Reid, I ran outta Drammamine, get me off this boat”… or…..

just found out that Soanya gave birth to our baby boy! All is well and she named him Darshen, which means seeing and being seen by divinity. Family and friends are all happy and supportive and it's about time we shared the news on the expedition website. When Soanya was sick and had to leave the ship we were not sure, so we didn't say anything then. We contacted the right people and they did a courteous and professional job meeting us at sea and taking Soanya to shore. We are forever grateful. Before setting out on the voyage we tried to discuss all the scenarios and we decided that if she had to leave for any reason, we would arrange to get her off the boat and I would keep going. When the time came it was hard for us but we knew what we had to do. Let's hope this doesn't happen on the real Mars mission, because accidents do happen. I sail alone on my life's odyssey, but time is passing fast and it won't be long until I'm back and can be with them. Soanya proved herself to me on the voyage. Without her I couldn't have gotten started. During the voyage she kept her cool and gave me strength while I over reacted, fretted and thought it was all over. They are not the first woman and child to wait for their man to come home from the sea. It is the most ancient of stories. Thanks so much to everybody for your continued support and love. Without you we could never have attempted our dream. We will keep you updated. Love, Love, Love.
Reid

Ok, may I ask, was I the only one that upchucked upon “accidents do happen.’ Patooey. Good luck to this woman as she raises this kid alone… About it all: “The HELL was she thinkin’”?

I admire his fervency, I like the thought.. But GD… I remember paying for a fitty dollar + cab ride from Washington DC to Baltimore just so I could catch my kid’s first kindergarten soccer game. Perhaps all kinds of boo-koo dollars await him in 1,000 days… but family is family.. I just don’t see the continuation as anything but selfish.. But then again, my take… Aunt always said “two sides to every board.”

Ok, enough about Reid and Soanya… How the hell areya?

The excitement of my world………. Three for four yesterday at softball.. BUT… I swear to goodness, I really coulda cared less. I really went into it thinking about “the time, how lucky I was just to be out there playing, the camaraderie of the guys…

I had a “CNN Breaking News” dream about me, but we’ll see, mebbe a blog for another day. It’s ok to dream ain’t it? And I do. I am THE creator of “OH MY, I SEE THIS, I FEEL IT COMING, IT’S GONNA BE AWESOME” and whatshername (Forgive me Father) would always say “Victor, you’ve just gotta realize sometimes people don’t get as hyped up about your ideas as you do.” Yeah, prolly. Don’t care. Can’t stop “hyped.” Good night to all, and I truly hope life is great for you… I really really do… Love, Victurd.

(PS: Reid, git urass home and be a father.) Roger Wilco, over and out.

PowerAde… to Bissell belts… with boobies inbetween… the Breast day…..

WallyWorld. I hate/love WallyWorld. It’s kinda like Alice’s Restaurant in that yes, you can get anything you want… but it’s a monopoly… biggest buying power, cheapest stuff.. And in the days of $4+ gas, another GD “have to.”

So, I “get to” go to WallyWorld. It’s always a pleasure to find an open parking spot in the same County the store is in. Yes, I’ve waited for an entire herd to pile into their van, have mom snap each and everyonea the snotnoses in - finally backup, and save myself thirty to forty walking paces.

Today’s mission “dad, will you get me a Powerade, and oh, the vacuum cleaner belt broke again.” While I tire of Mayard’s honeydo’s, the vacuum cleaner belt is a blessing - because for whatever reason, he’s OCD about the vacuum cleaner. Suit’s the hell outta me.

Powerade… Sixty cents.. WOW, this place really is cheaper than the Piggly Wiggly. I was mid-way in the store, on the far South end… Bissell belts were mid-way in the store, more kinda on the Northern end.

So I starts walking. “Tween, the kids clothes section. And then, the women’s clothing.

AND THERE IT WAS.

Right there on an end starin’ out at God and everyone, THE LARGEST bra I’d ever seen. Zebra striped even. “GOOD GOD” I thought to myself, “WHOINTHEHELL is THAT big?” I mean that thing coulda passed for a fancified two-bowling ball bag. There was enough material there I coulda worn it as pants and nobody woulda missed a beat.

So I giggled my way from the behemoth BRA, to the Bissell belts… Wondering still, whointhehell would wear that. Then I seen one. “Damn, SHE could!”… and another “MY GOODNESS SAKES!”…. The ONLY way they could EVER see their belly button is in the mirror! Guess, thinking positively, they stops crumbs from getting allover one’s pants.

Bissell belt in hand (7-9-10, yep, just like the torn one in my pocket) - I decided to take (don’t hate me) a real quick (7 minute) “Boob study” walk around the store. Snowflakes I discovered. There ain’t no pair alike. Some way up there, some way down there. Golfball size, lemon, softball, and the one’s that need trained in like you’re riding the Mamba, the behemoth zebra striped ones.

If you’ve passed by a time or two, you’ll know I’m more of a derriere kinda guy. However, with a twist to Will Rogers, I never met a pair I didn’t like. Always had an affinity for them little bitty ones (Victor, you’re really blogging this to the world? Eh why not, boobs rock!) then I dated me onea them underwire gals. Likes them too. Honest I ain’t been prolific, but must admit, seen me some different ones in the days…

Much like the “tip of the finger length” skirts in that blog right down there - today’s fashion finds a much larger portion of the boobies being exposed. A fad that’s all it’s cracked up to be.

Buddy’o mine. Don’t tell. He was for years a teach/school administrator. He’s human. After a few Corona’s, he’s always blurtin’ “show us your tits.” Hehe. A boob man. And another buddy, he goes nutso when he sees onea them that could adorn that there zebra striped bra.

Projectiles, and their power on men. So in closing, I ain’t got no great words of wisdom to sum up my 7-minute walking boob study, and a lifelong eyeballed mission of me in those lucky moments. Other than, diversity rocks. Big, small, round, perky, saggy, behemoth, lefty a tad bigger than righty, and vice versa. Them “things” there in the very middle.. Dime size to pancake size. (E-gads Victor, ENOUGH).. Hehe.

God Bless the breast. Ya gotta love ‘em. Even if you’re a derriere man. Bye bye, going to watch Maynard vacuum now. Kinda helps make up for all them moments in line at McDonalds, or at the laundry mat pouring quarters in the machines. Have the breast day ever! Love, Victurd.

Sunday thoughts….

Uh huh, Mickey D’s, fitty-four cent SMALL Senior coffee.. Sausage-egg-n-cheese biscuit (please don’t tell ‘em at work, I’m still in the Biggest Loser contest… weigh in July 31st, $200 on the line… sorry, was hungry.)

Sunday paper: local school district (public) mandating school uniforms. K. Some certain kinda pants for boys (“worn up to the waste”, ie, no ‘saggers’) and for the girls, certain kinda skirt (“must be fingertip in length”)… Now I don’t know how long your damn hands are, but mine ain’t very long. I opened my hand, looked at it, and thought “that don’t make for a very long skirt at’all.” I’m so old, I remember the Principal in our High School making gals stop, get on their knees, and if the dress didn’t hit the ground - they were sent home. The times, they are’a changin‘.

Field of Dreams. Costner, fitty-three, living on country acreage with wifey, thirty-three, and newborn kid. I guess they built it, he came, and the dude will be 74 when he shares the first legal drink with his kid. All kindsa thoughts ran through my head. Stupidity. Then perhaps envy. Then “Cool”. And finally “Eh, why not?” Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa.

Gotta ‘chain’ email thingy yesterday. Onea the messages was “If you were dying and you could only make one phone call, who would you call?” Kinda heavy. Next line was, “what’s keeping you from making that call.” Good point. Another “stop - hey - what’s that sound, every body look what’s goin’ round.” Life.. Life is goin’ round. The hustle, the bustle, the race to make it to the next payday. The blinders. The ‘have to’s.’ Occasionally stop that merry go ‘round. And remember life, whoop there it is.

Fans. I’m a fan of fans. They're hella less than AC, and they feel good. A sleeping wonder - I have one trained on me each night to sleep. Back in the day, all the fans usedta be dangerous sharp metal thingys. My Uncle Don would always draw scorn from his wifey - as he had this penchant to stick his thumb into every sharp metal catcher’s mask looking fan thingy and have the fan make this hideous noise when his thumb hit it. Shock value. I too though, remember the day he did it and this particular fan ran counterclockwise. Pretty sure that’s the day Uncle Don stopped his fun habit.

Figgy. Figaro. The cross-eyed cat that bumps into wall and keeps going like the Eveready bunny. (Long ago, I’d quit a job on principle.. “not you Victor, surely not you”.. KMA. Mowed grass at a golf course. [close your ears.. I enjoyed that job.] Anyways, the momma cat of the golf course - made the rounds daily around holes 5 thru 8. Preggo. Litter. Seven of them kitties. We golf crew mower-people whittled it down to two - finding homes for five.

Figgie and another precious kitten left. I thought I’d found a home for one of them - but the lady wanted a picture before she would agree to take the cat. So, I found a small tree, placed Figgy and his brother up in it, snapped some photo’s - went to get them developed. Next morning, Fig’s brother met his death accidentally as a riding mower backed over him. Shit. I thought to myself “all kitten’s are cute as hell, why did that “B” need a picture to see if “good enough for me?”.. Therein lies the path of Figgy finding his way to our home.

Figgy now sleeps atop my dresser - which is right next to my bed. I have two wonderful new fans, expensive - and they’re the kind that’ll still be running years from now when Costner shares the drink with his 21 yr old kid. And then I have one fan that’s used and abused. It ‘was’ a floor fan, prolly 4 feet tall. Now, thanks to a probable wrestling match (or somethinginthehell Maynard did)- it has no base, and also no cover to keep one from accidentally “Uncle Don’ing” the plastic fan blade.

Somehow, each of the two fine, fine fans have made their way into Maynard’s room - and Big Daddy is stuck with the used and abused fan. Damn him. I prop it into the dresser drawer - point it at me - and snooze the night away. Another little “checkenginelight” account of my life.

Woke up this morning, breeze of the fan still on me - and the Fig, laying on toppa the dresser, head dangled over the edge - looking cute as hell. So - hand just hadta pet the little dude - and of course he gives the accompanying satisfied “meow”… then, he stands to stretch.. A humanlike kinda thing for the morning.. His paw slides off the dresser. And uh huh, he accidentally “Uncle Don’ed” the fan blade. Hehe. U seen on America’s Funniest Videos when cats spring straight up from all fours. Was kinda like that. I’m sure he was thinking to himself in cat lingo “the hell was that?” Mebbe you’da had to been there, I dunno.

So that’s me, my day. Short skirts, lucky Costner, my buddy Figgy - fans of all. If you get a moment, call me. Make that call. 867-5309. Tell me how your day is. Please remember to stop and smell the roses. Adopt a pet. And purchase fans that run clockwise.

The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again. Oh people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come.

Tonight, 5 & 6pm games. I've decided to not fret about batting average. It's the thrill of everything around and involved. Baseball (or "plastic blade" softball for us old men) is like life. Teaches. Appreciate the surroundings. I do, I will, I am. Thanks for the lessons Costner, Terrance, Uncle Don, Figgy, KC Star.

Heaven on earth. Love, Victurd.

Que ‘ball’… or.. .. How I screwed with the Government….

Oh no Victor, you’re not gonna REALLY tell this one are you?

Eh, why not.

Long ago, in days of old… Before she went from 4 wheels, to riding off on 2...
Back even when she liked me!

I worked for an air freight company. Onea the duties on this job was “after hours” on call. You hadta have your cell phone handy 24/7. If the customer called, and you weren’t there, they went elsewhere. Iffy that happened, and iffy boss found out, I’d probably have to go elsewhere as well. Point being, you didn’t dare not answer. I’ve answered whilst showering, whilst pooping, whilst playing right centerfield, whilst sleeping, whilst having family dinners - doesn’t matter, a “have to.”

I even once answered while……………

Well… it must been a good day… she was… ‘spry’… There is male initiation, and there is female initiation, and lemme tellya - both are good, but the ‘her one’ is SPECIAL. Men are always ready, 24/7, kinda like working for an air freight company. We’re there at your beck and call.

Now onea our air freight customers was Uncle Sam. So happens there’s hella warehouse right here in Kansas City that flies critical parts out allover, whenever. It could be ‘tween 8a-5p, it could be 3:45am Sunday… or it could be 7 minutes after foreplay had started and you were… well… you know.

We were… Intimacy is a wonderful thing.. Intimacy involves love.. It involves two sharing something so very special - unique, and dedicated to the other.

Ring.. Ring…Ring… “Shit.” Ring. Ring. Ring. (Phone there on the nightstand, 12 inches away.) “Victor you better get it.” (I thought I was getting it!).. Hehe..

“Hello?”.. Victor? “Yes… hey Que (dispatcher) howya doin?” I answered softly. I mean come on, do you talk loud “during?” (Well hell, Kendra ain’t here, but I bet she probably does!).. “Hi Vic.. We’ve got a hot one. One piece, 45 lbs.. Need to get to Slidell, Louisiana like yesterday. Their part shot craps, the whole operation is down. They’re completely shutdown.”..

I stared in her eyes, held the phone. “Continued.” It was very hard to focus on Slidell, Louisiana when I was (close your ears) sliding myself. “Ahm… ahm… OK, I think I got it.”

“Can you get someone here immediately to pick it up?”… silence… more silence.. My concentration had waned.. I mean tell me, do you frequently converse with a 3rd party “whilst”?

“YES.. Oh.. I’m sorry Que… (fake yawn)… I guess I’m just a little sleepy.” That’s Ok Vic, I know you’ll take care of us… (With every movement, every turn to write numbers, weights, towns, zips down.. my concentration.. the 'feeling of "there" still, completely made it impossible to concentrate on air freight.

And then it happened…

I looked in her eyes again. I felt ‘us’. There was a twitch. And as I got ready to hit the red button, I softly said into the phone, “love you.” Hehe. We both laughed (she/me), and I felt like an idiot.. Air Freight interruptus, and I told the dispatcher I loved him. Quc ball. How I screwed with the Government.

One em-bare-assing moment in my life. Kinda funny (em-bare-assing) then, kinda funny (em-bare-assing) now.

We ‘finished”, albeit kinda hurriedly. I dispatched someone to pickup the 45 lb part, whisk it to the airport, call Que back with flight/anticipated delivery info.. And this time I made dame sure I said the regular ole’ “Good bye.” I’m certain Que was glad of that. Probably wondered about me.

May I ask though? Since I made $25 for that phone call, would that entitle me to officially be a professional gigolo?

Time to go now. Good Bye. “Love you.” Victurd.

Yes, I’d like a double cheeseburger, a dollar French Fry, a water… a po’ gal.. and two View Level tickets please…..

Ok, I’m admitting it. The stealth on wealth. As in, I ain’t got it. I know I know this will run off 95% of the Johnson County crowd (sorry, nuttin’ personal), it’s just that I’m destined to play public golf courses for the remainder of my wonderful life.

If you want “dinners on the Plaza”, a weekend getaway at the Ritz, quarterly surprises form Tivols – it ain’t me babe.

I’ma huntin’ for the one that’s not had the Silver Spoon, and would be Ok looking thru the Entertainment book for a nice evening out.. Mebbe drive an extra few miles for the Tuesday taco cheapies.. or mebbe we could even play “war” or crank Van Morrison and dance in the living room until 9pm when the Appetizers are half price at Applebees.

I was raised probably lower middle class, and I’ve gone with that flow. I’m degreed, but it ain’ta degree that makes me a pedigree. I’m Heinz. Canardly. Canardly tell what it is in the dog world comparison. Mutt. I’m of the opine, mutts rock though. They’re always happy.

Let’s getaway to Branson and stay at that $29.99 Moonliter Inn on the Strip.. Mebbe tent camp by the stream at that park up North..

Wedding? Funeral? Company dressy event? I want someone who will remark “Oh shit” when the thought comes “the hell do I wear?” insteada someone used to a walk-in closet color coded with silks and leathers…..

Small stuff. I likes backrubs (mainly giving).. morning coffee.. the paper.. a glass of wine on the deck.. mebbe a HS football or basketball game.. a bike ride.. drive to a cool ole’ town – let’s take a walk.. State Parks.. mebbe even someone who’d enjoy buying an old canoe – taking two cars to a nearby river, one 10 miles upstream.. and float the day away down to the other car..

Must enjoy insignificant, significant gifts for no reason or occasion… Would appreciate a note stuck on your windshield at work.. or mebbe a text that says “I love your butt”, “I love your brain”, or “your smile brings me mine.”

Let’s go on a cruise – and not have it be an expectation – rather exaltation. $350 auto repair bill? Hey, please don’t flip because that comes with the territory in trading “no car payments” versus $329 a month for the uptown SUV.. (And, you must understand the dog enjoys allowing you in to share car rides.)

Aldi’s, Piggly Wiggly specials.. bread from the bread store.. $2 movie theater..

It’s me, it’s who I am.. Sorry Metcalf, Overland Park, Leawood. My apologies Plaza III, the Marriott, dugout suite…

Life is all about oil/water and Koolaid. Oil don’t mix with water. Gimme Koolaid any
day.

I’ve lived life “For today.” Ya get to this age and face “oh shit, now what?”.. that’s what.. All of the above.. I’m blessed.. I’ve had a great life thus far, and I know there’s a great life ahead…

Momma always talked about writing a book about her childhood entitled “Po’, but didn’t know it.”.. I’m hear to tellya I’m po’, but rich as well. Life is enrichening. Coupon clipper. Dollar store shopper. Kohl’s clearance racks. Hamburger Helper. $5.99 customer appreciation night at Pappa Johns.

With whatever the funds allow – we’ll go. Do. Appreciate. Smile. Laugh. Enjoy. Touch. “That.” Share. Cry. Happy. Cry. Sad. Rollercoasters ain’t near as fun when there’s no one in the passenger seat.

Victor, this is ludicrous. You’re wiping out the VAST majority of women out there. Yeah, ‘spose. Hell, might as well be honest. Only takes one anyways.

If the shoe fits, let’s wear it. I mean hell, why wait until you’re retired, facing Social Security – and house payments/rent all by your lonesome. Let’s shack. Free backrubs included. Call me, 867-5309. We’ll do lunch. Somewhere on the dollar menu.

Love, Po-turd.

Seven Bridges…

Oh, there’s hella more bridges than that in life, but the Eagles seven ain’t bad.

There are stars
In the Southern sky
Southward as you go
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road


We start life flat on our back. Cross the bridge to upright, and finally to our feet. Under parent’s watchful eye for years ,then finally “we’re going to the grocery store, will you be alright?” (A bridge for the parents as well.)

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

We go thru acne, friend cruelty, starter bras, hair “there” actually growing…

Real world. Shit, I gotta work? Won’t u buy me groceries no mo?

Sometimes there's a part of me
Has to turn form here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road

We go down this highway of life, crossing the bridges – going to see grandparents. Boom. One day one.

We become parents ourselves, and the number of ‘cars’ on the bridge slow our personal pleasures down. We watch them go from flat, upright, walking, and soon we leave ‘em and head for the Piggly Wiggly.


There are stars in the Southern sky
And if ever you decide
You should go
There is a taste of time sweetened honey
Down the Seven Bridges Road..

Outta the nest, shoo fly, shoo. Ahhh, now I can play softball, watch whatever TV show I wanna – fly robin fly.

Uh oh. 1 for 5. This bridge sucks! So I/we continue on, crossing all these bridges in our lifetime.

When I think bridge, I thinka the dentist. Never liked the dentist. A “have to”. Nuh uh, think again! (said ole’ green teeth.) I would likes me onea them chairs with the neck rest on it though (seriously.)

Or old ladies, pleasantly plump, gray, flowery dresses – playing bridge. Will grannies of tomorrow (hell, maybe today) gather and have Pac-man parties?.. “Come on over at noon Myrtle, we’re having a Super Mario contest.”

Two blondes. Sisters. One on either sidea the river. “How do I get to the other side” one yells out. One on the udder side, cups her hands to forma megaphone, hollers back “you ARE on the other side.”

Coworkers. Former co-workers. Family. “In the day” we easily crossed those bridges to visit, see frequently. Now, same bridges, harder to cross. How come?

Up down. Across. Rollercoaster. Bridges are lifelike. They take us from this era to that era. Boomers with Generation X, Y. Ridin’ a bike to $4 a gallon gas. Transistors to IPods. Big Chief to laptops. Two cans, string, to cell. Snail mail to text.

Pampers to Depends with a lotta shit inbetween. Flat, to flat, and all the bridges in between. I likes bridges. Bridging the gap of equality for ethnicities, races, females, discrimination against us old farts in job hunting because we can no longer lift. (Victor, calm down.) IT’S TRUE! Just read in paper this morning (yes, fitty-four cent Mickey D’s, free paper) “On average, it takes those 50 and up 22 weeks to find a job, and younger than 50, 16 weeks.”… We’re good! We care! We don’t bite hand! Feed us!

Next time ya cross a bridge… whether it’s finding something you can’t do as well as you usedta be able to… or, perhaps you’ve learned a new skill you never thought you coulda…

Or mebbe you really are crossing a river, creek, stream on a bridge.. enjoy the beauty of life. March on. Rock on. Eyes wide open.

Down the Seven Bridges Road..

Seeya! Next time I bridge the hesitancy of no creativeness (and get a new GD keyboard, fan fell off, ruined my keyboard. Rollercoaster. Up, down. Across. Bridges.)

Loveya, Victurd.

Funny….

I started a blog “Breaks my heart” and didn’t have the heart to publish.. The last couple blogs have been kinda downers. Figured “up” was in order.

What tickles your funny bone?

I have a list.. And u can prolly tell by it, I’m old. Funny to me is: Tim Conway. Steve Martin. Richard Pryor. John Belushi. Barney Fife. Nicholson, in his own kinda way.

Inside jokes. What is funner than looking at a friend, thinking the same thought and laughter happens. Or, said keyword (a story/situation from yesterday) and immediate laughter.

America’s Funniest Home Videos… unpaid folks looking stupid. The Best!

Imitations. Imitations are good, especially when done by friends, and of folks that are just clearly weird. Kinda like an inside joke, but with animation.

When something really shitty, really stupid, happens to ya. You realize “what an idiot I am/was” and you simply HAVE to laugh. Ok, get to. Choose to.

Seeing a toddler address something they’ve never seen before. Like a puppy. Or snow. Or candles that relight after you’ve blown them out. My son, for whatever reason, hated grass as a child. Whenever we’d lower him to the grass, his legs would raise up as if to say “huh uh.” I thought it was kinda humorous.

Body noises. I’ve mentioned before when the 12 of us would sit around granny’s table to eat, grandpa turned off his hearing aid because all the chatter bugged him. In doing so, he couldn’t hear his own pooters, thus, he friggin’ “let em go” ‘cause he figured no one else could either.

An email joke where you can’t predict the Doris Day ending. Like this quick one Kendra sent me….

A man met a beautiful blonde lady and decided he wanted to marry her right away.

She said, 'But we don't know anything about each other.'

He said, 'That's all right, we'll learn about each other as we go along.'

So she consented, they were married, and off they went on a honeymoon at a very nice resort.

One morning they were lying by the pool, when he got up off of his towel, climbed up to the 10 meter board and did a two and a half tuck, followed by three rotations in the pike position, at which point he straightened out and cut the water like a knife.

After a few more demonstrations, he came back and lay down on the towel. She said, 'That was incredible!'

He said, 'I used to be an Olympic diving champion. You see, I told you we'd learn more about each other as we went along.'

So she got up, jumped in the pool and started doing laps. After seventy -five laps she climbed out of the pool went to lie down on her towel and was hardly out of breath.

He said, 'That was incredible! Were you an Olympic endurance swimmer?'

'No,' she said, 'I was a prostitute in Memphis but I worked both sides of the Mississippi…”

Unexpected. Unexpected is good. We’re so patterned in life, it takes outta the ordinary to make fun happen.

Familiarity is fun. You know what I mean. If you sit in a business meeting, you KNOW everyone, but you don’t really KNOW everyone. If you’re in your own living room, amongst a group of friends, all is comfy, familiar. Fun happens.

I’ll never forget being at a friend’s house… their daughter was having an “X-rated” kinda-sorta bachelorette party… Some representative from Priscilla’s (or similar) was there showing off toys, clothing, videos, and “enhancers”.. The topic came up of (Close your ears) the vagina. The head lady in charge said “Have you ever really studied your vagina? It’s really quite ugly.” (Giggles.) Then, one by one, they passed around a 6” round mirror, and proceeded into the bathroom to personally ‘study’ their own vagina. The looks on their faces as they emerged - priceless. The laughs, funny. The faces, really red. “OMG, it’s SO ugly!” Funny.

You had to have been there. Sometimes the written word doesn’t do justice to “funny.” Like my buddy Sanford. Sanford had polio as a youth. Because of this, the left size of his body is like twice the size of the right side. In our ‘running days’, Sanford was a weirdo (said with love.) His right size (the ‘weak‘ side), due to weightlifting was no slouch. Sanford had a propensity, in our ‘running days’ to be at a party, and disappear. One night, Sanford was nowhere to be found around 11:30-ish pm. I ran outside. There he was, 9/10’s of his body hanging out the 2nd floor restroom, but hanging by his humongous side arm, firmly holding onto the window sill. See? You had to have been there. But a moment I will never forget.

Fun involves smiles. You know my thoughts on smiles. I hope funny happens to you. And upon occasion, I hope funny happens here. I’m very appreciative of your eyeballs. It’s my ‘pay’, so to speak, for being here.

God Bless comedies, stand up comedians, friends, email jokes, instant “copied in” smartass emails amongst friends, the eyeballs of life “Catching “ funny stuff….

Fun/funny happens. Please (Victor, this is to you) allow this crap to sneak into your life, and enjoy it when it does. K, a promise. Later, going to watch Letterman’s top ten. Love, Victurd.

Lighten up Victor, you’re fitty-five, not eight-seven….

Yeah. I know. You’re right. So what I thought I’d do tonight is mebbe makea list of things that bring a smile to my face. It’s my sincere hope, you have your own list.

I love watching people who are walking, and allofasudden they trip.. For no reason.. No object.. Some object.. It’s those precious moments JUST after where they try to relate “with it”, “OK”, that bring my smile.

A little kid, aged anywhere from 6 months to whatever… and the smile/fascination they get on their face when they are so intently into anything.

An email from a person I’ve truly loved throughout life. (I don’t mean love, I this sense, like “oh baby oh baby” kinda love.)

I love hearing someone saying good/great things about a person, when that person ain’t in earshot. To me, that’s passion. That’s friendship. That rocks.

I love seeing people wiggle outta difficult situations. The three year old at Mickey D’s. Absolutely NOTHING pleases him/her. He'll cry until it seems like he's six years old. I love watching parents handle that. Or not. Or try.

I love friends revisiting yesteryear, yester month, yester week, yesterday, even if at my expense. I’ve done plenty of stupid shit, shared WAY too much information. God Bless ‘em, they remind me. I hate/love it when they do.

I love when the FM dial likens life. For whatever reason, the day I had the ‘tiff” with that chick from account‘s receivable…(one-sided, I was kinda passive… even kinkda laughed at her behavior) ‘Fatbottom Girl” came on during the drive home. I cranked it. Changed the lyrics

Or, “Centerfield” comes on, I’m not depressed about going 1 for 5, and I suckup all there is “just being a part.” Crank time.

“Paradise by the dashboard lights”… it’s kinda a synopsis of many relationships.. I’ve never been in one like that… but.. I’ve known MANY one-sided relationships… Some I feel sorry for, some I sit back and watch and think, “eh, mebbe they are lucky, what he/she needs.”

I love people “losing their shit.” Passion. Work, admittedly, has been calm of late. We usedta have this mild-mannered (nicest chicky in the entire office) who’d occasionally field a call from her ex. This dude would reel off onsecutive “disses” about mom, and what a crappy job she’s doing.. He, 16 months in arrears of child support, didn’t have a leg to stand on. She, God Bless her, would keep her calm, and then “lose her shit.” It was so wonderful to hear, the passion, the truth, the “Fuck you mister.” She didn’t care how many cubicle walls her voice carried. Passion, gotta love it.

I love idle chit-chat at work. How good does it feel to you to have someone say “how was your weekend?” It feels damned good to me, and (help me) I do always try to remember to reciprocate the question.

How good is it to ‘feel’ about a friend? U know they’re going thru a rough spot/time. You know they need contact from you - ya just ain’t certain what to say, or how to act. I had a cousin one time say “the word ‘love’ is so very hard for me to use.. You see, we never said it
growing up.. Of course, we felt it, but we never said it.” I wing that basta all to frequently nowadays, and I don’t give a rats who hears it, who’s offended by it, who’s uncomfortable with it. Love is special. If there’s love involved, be it “I’ve known you 47 years since we were nine”, jualah, use it!… If it’s a friend at work who helps foggy days be sunny, wing that mo-fo.
Love is all you need.

“Asking.” When someone asks about specifics in my life, I consider it an honor. I realize during that very moment in time, their thoughts were upon me. Sure, it could be similar to “Whatsup”.. but to be front-and-center is someone’s thoughts, WHAT COULD BE BETTER?

Tip’a the iceburg. This list is just somea the things I really love. The hour is late, and yesterday’s mowing, painting and “1 for GD 5” is catching up to me. I loveya for being here, I really do. My life is average, at the very least. Why your eyeballs continually come is beyond me - but please know, again, I love your eyeballs here.

Good chit happens, bad chit happens. We all reflect on each. It’s my hope ‘good chit’ wins out I your lifestyle/demeanor/attitude/take. I’d actually love that. Yes I would. Happy day,

love, Victurd.

When the road gets dark

And you can no longer see
Just let my love throw a spark, baby
Have a little faith in me

Oh life’s dips. Driving in, I reflected on how hideously I’d played in a stupid softball game last night. I watch youth, with their young ones – I see vibrancy. I thinka how far I’m behind in today’s electronical world. I thinka my age – and how much I believe I’d enjoy sharing a lotta years – but mebbe there just ain’t that many years to share.

When the tears you cry
Are all you can believe
Just give these loving arms a try, baby
Have a little faith in me

Then I got to work and thought “you idiot, life is good, very good. You’ve got your health, you’ve got a great job with wonderful co-workers, you got Maynard, Jackson and Fig. You’re fitty five and still playing softball for begoosey sakes.

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me

You can go out, sink four quarters in the juke, and hear Delbert sing this to cheer you up. You’re living. You’re doing.

When your secret heart
Cannot speak so *easily*
Come here darlin
From a whisper start
To have a little faith in me

Turn that frown upside down. No, you may not run like 1975. Perhaps you’ll never coach a T-Ball game again. And who cares if you don’t know and IPod from a Game Boy. You’ll never keep aging from happening – but you can be vibrant in thought. Vibrant in belief. Vibrant in life.

When your backs against the wall
Just turn around, you will see
I will catch ya, I will catch your fall
Just have a little faith in me

Scared there, I guess I was for a minute. Wallowing in self pity. Sucks eh? You ever do that? Every day should be Thanksgiving. Or, at least I needta remind me it is. I’ve lived a wonderful life, and I know there are so many wonders more ahead.

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me

Outward Victor, not inward. Look outward. So 1975 maybe brought 4 for 5.. and last night was 1 for 5. Do you realize how lucky you are they’ve even accepted you to be a part? I do. Now. And perhaps yes, I got caught up in trying to relive my youth – at least athletically. Do you remember that you mowed the grass, touched up the entire front of the house with paint, AND played two softball games yesterday? Yeah, mebbe you’re right. I’m lucky. I ain’t 25, but I’m lucky. I’m “right on time.” Vibrancy in outlook. And hey, it’s ok to look inward too – you’ve gone many a mile, walked long hand in hand… You’re lucky Victor. You’ve really lived, and you “get to” continue on. Thanks, I needed that. Life, it be good, I just gotta go, do, live, breathe… stop, relect upon occasion to fend off those dips.

All ya gotta do is have a little faith in me
All ya gotta do is have a little faith in me
A little faith in me

I’ma dip upon occasion. But I do have faith in me. Thanks Delbert. Thanks softball team. Thanks coworkers. Thanks Maynard. Thanks family. Thanks life. Love, Dipturd.

Play that funky piano white boy…

Long ago, I seen onea them player-piano thingys… It didn’t take any talent, it didn’t take any person… the thing just played… by itself.. Programmed.. Formatted.. Did.. Was.. No control.. Or mebbe, very controlled…

That, is kinda how I feel life is going at present.. Victor, is this gonna be a pity party?

Eh, mebbe. Call it what you want, I prefer to call it “sit back and look at the course of events” diddie... And them events just so happen to repeat, repeat, repeat.

As I was pooping at Mickey D’s this morning.. TMI! NOT another poop blog is it? Well, mebbe.. I got tickled this morning when I went to 1000days.net (Reid, Soanya-less attempt to sail 1000 days non-stop).. Remember, we wondered (no Victor, YOU wondered) where all his poop went. The title of today’s blog there is “endearing poop.” GOOD LORD, DOES THE MAN SAVE IT! MEBBE HE DOES USE IT TO FERTILIZE HIS BEAN SPROUTS..

Actually, it was about a Tropic bird that flew by, deposited right next to Reid. He saved it (didn’t clean) as a reminder of the beauty of the bird. Hmm.. Would that be like me not flushing the stool after the ex’s last poop? (Victor, not beyond you. Remember your story of saving “The King” at the fraternity house squatter?).. Yeah, rectum I do.

So, I was ‘depositing’ at Mickey D’s, and I hear that same hydraulic beat, smell that same weird McDonald’s smell, see the same folks, snotnoses, ad sections, horoscopes, fitty four cent senior coffee, same refrigerated truck that comes every Sunday. Play that funky player piano white boy.

My life’s become a player piano roll.

Then I walked out. And fell in love. Oh shit, not another derriere story is it? NO. A scamp. A what? U mean a tramp? NO. A Scamp.

Attached to the backa this humongous SUV was a teenie tiny little cool shaped, gas mileage friendly, aerodynamically niftily designed, very small - camper. A Scamp.

Home is where your heart is. I could live in that puppy in a heartbeat. I know sounds weird, don’t care. I could go visit friends, and borrie their driveway for the night. I could meet up with best friend, share a few Saturday night $6 pitchers, and the parking lot’d be my bedroom that night.

I could finds me some water, a creek, a lake, a river - and be ‘home.’ Playing that funky piano white boy. Routine schmootine. I wants me a Scamp.

I love Maynard and all, but the Scamp would allow me a break. I could turn the dial to whateverinthehell I wanted to watch. I could sit and listen to silence. I would not have to go around after flipping off light switches, TV’s, DVD’s, PlayStations.

I could even poop in my Scamp. Hehe. No hydraulic noises. No Mickey D smells. No Tropical birds. No “The King”s, No ex’s poop. Just me. Playing that funky piano white boy.

I’d head for St. Louie and visit my wonderful cousin who lives in the converted old grist mill. You’d haveta see this place to believe it. It’s better than sliced bread, and mebbe just below heaven. Me and the Scamp, the Mill, and yeah, mebbe even a dog named Boo.

Free as the wind. No ‘have to’s’. No GD auto-correct gay crap. No meaningless emails from some stupid single’s website where you can’t write back anyways. No writing emails to one that “mebbe” would ‘work’, only to be faced with silence, no return email from ‘mebbe’.

Throw the player roll out, live. Go. Do. Likes my friends CJ and Bobby. They go. Do. They just returned from Cancun. And returning to their home in a few weeks will be a 7’3” stuffed sailfish he caught during the trip. Far friggin’ out. Mount that humongous sailfish white boy. Unscripted. Free.

I’d get me a cell phone. VICTOR? YOU DON’T HAVE A CELL PHONE? Screw you, I was country when country wasn’t cool. Are you talking about that stupid bag phone you had in the early 90’s. Yes. Yes I am.

I would get ridda the player piano Aquila, the Gas Company, Water Department, AT&T. Gladys Kravats no longer next door. If I didn’t like my new neighbors wherever me and the Scamp landed, I’d crank up the HRL, and gets me some new ones.

I could go visit Kendra, Herbert, Dale, Sanford. Home’d be Watkin’s Mill, the Muddy Mo, Smithville Lake, The Dish, Jeff & Kim’s backyard in the country, The City Park Right Field area. Wherever, whenever. Mailbox? Who needs ‘em. Sumbitches are depressing anyways.

A tramp for the Scamp wouldn’t be a bad addition. VICTOR! Jk. You know what I mean. Finding another that ‘comes outta leftfield.’ Wants to go, do, see, live, breathe, observe, dance, sing, wherever, whenever. Play that funky piano white folks. Hell, she could be black, brown, yellow, red, I don’t care. Long as she plays. VICTOR! No no no. well… mebbe I meant it like that, I mean what the hey, THAT’s fun!.. But I meant that she too wanted to go, do. Tired of pooping in the same ole same ole porcelain.

Thank you Scamp, if even for only a second you gave me dreams of getting offa this player piano. I guess I have to go do laundry now. I choose to. I get to. I must, if I don’t want my cubicle mates to stare at me funny. I will awaken tomorrow morning around 5:30-ish. Come here (PC), poop, (sorry), bathe, run see friendly Annette at the gas station. Homosexually put fitteen dollars in the tank. (You’d prolly have to have been here before to unnerstand that one.) And the player piano happens for yet another week. Play that funky player piano white boy.

Play that funky music white boy
Lay down and the boogie and play that funky music 'til you die
'til you die, oh 'til you die

Scamp. I wants me a Scamp. Anda tramp. Is that too largea dream? Love, Victurds..

I “have to’ write…….

Writer’s block. Victor, whomevernithehell said you were a writer? YOU’RE A BLOGGER. Big diff. If you’re a WRITER, you have READERS. If you’re a BLOGGER, you have a GD CORD you plug in the wall and some kinda DSL-Dial up bill you must pay.

Wow, guess he ‘had to’ of gotten up on the wrong sidea bed.

Ahem. “Bloggers’ block. Better? Yes, thank you.

So here I sit. I ‘have to’ write. It’s expected. The one or two that occasionally stop by will no longer do so if I don’t. I have to. Remember when you were a kid? You wanted freedom from this, freedom from that, the ability to do whatever in the heck you wanted to? Then onea them parents would step in and say “no, you ‘have to’! WHY? “Because I said so.”

‘Have to’s’ have a negative connotation where results are either undesirable or unclear. I have to go to the dentist. I have to fill out my tax forms. We procrastinators delight in sidestepping this shit.

Some things, yeah… Family responsibilities…….. Sleep… Eating……. Personal Hygiene….

Onea them do-gooder's books I read online said “substitute “have to” with “get to.” Actually, I tease many with just that. “I have to go to a meeting.” NO, you GET to go to a meeting. “I have to go to :Lauren’s soccer game tonight.” NO, you GET to go to Lauren’s soccer game tonight. I play it at work, you oughta try. You too can become a smartass. It’s fun!

Onea them shrinks immersed in healing the soul suggests using ‘choose to… “even if it’s forced, after awhile, it’ll be natural and it’ll really change ur outlook on life.”

Ok, I choose to write. I get to write. Brb, I get to go poop.

And yet another online expert’s take: subbing ‘must do, IF”….

Must do, if………. If I wish to eat, I must take certain steps to obtain food. If I wish to practice medicine, I must acquire the necessary knowledge and skills. If I want to have a happy marriage, there are things I must do to achieve that value. In general, we cannot achieve values without effort, and the nature of the effort is determined by the facts of reality—specifically the law of causality, which relates actions to consequences, means to ends. In that sense, there are a great many things we have to do. But there is always an implicit "if": if we want to achieve the goal in question. Any enterprise depends on our commitment to the goal, and nothing in reality forces that commitment on us.

I must do this blog, IF I wanna keep the one or two that come around around.

I hate to pay rent/mortgage. I have to pay light company. I have to go to work. I have to put gas in my car to make it to work. I have to “here, sit there, in that cubicle right there.”

Back. I had to, er, got to, chose to, must do, IF, took my son thru the Redbox thingy. Notta bad deal. $1 for a movie. (Close your ears Marilyn.. Ex.. No, she don’t read this.. But she usedta HATE me talking about stuff like this.. I ‘had to’ really watch it. NO MORE!).. Not long ago, my bank account said “you have $67 left in your account.” So’s… I rented me (Maynard did, he ain’t got no debit card).. Like 7 movies total on two different days…

Oh shit. I guess my mortgage check beat the Redbox fees to the bank. Uh huh, seven $33 overdrafts for $1 Redbox movies. Bank said “sorry… have to charge you.“ I tried using “get to charge me”, “choose to charge me” “must if”, still didn’t help. Ok Mar, you can open ears again.

I have bathwater running. Have to go soon. I choose to. I get to. I must, if, I want to feel clean.

In closing, I ain’t real sure how I feel about “have to.” I’m way too liberal in many things, may be good, may be bad. I love asking “why?”.. I love when the ‘bigs’ are around at work, and everyone runs to “have to” in fear - and then I thinka some mostly smartass thing to say.. U know.. Like.. “It’s 4:30 and it’s Friday.. The heck are you still doing here?” Cowering, to me, is definitely not a have to.

I do like the substitute ‘choose to’ though. Right up my alley. Life’s all about choice. And sometimes have to. Done. Water’ll be cool if I don’t go. I have to wash yesterday’s yuck off me.. If I must.

Loveya.. (that ain’t a have to, it’s a want do, I do kinda thing)……. Victurd