I feel the need to say………

I’m ok. I’d guess mebbe half who swing by this blog upon occasion observe me daily. I would hope they’d say “yes, Victor does live each day happy, fun… he laughs a lot.. He jokes a lot.. He helps make work fun.” And I believe my friends outside of work would attest to this too. I ain’t so much pattin’ my own back, it’s more relaying “hey… I’m ok.”

I love blogs. I love blogging. Blogs don’t paint the entire picture. Blogs are conversations amongst that gray matter in the brain that make their way down to the fingertips, to the keyboard, and ultimately to a website where they can be scoured. I don’t put “what’s said in normal conversation” in the same realm as a blog. A blog is more intimate. Crap one perhaps might not say in public, yet weirdly, it’s opened up for anyone in the world to read.

I loved yesterday.

I’m happy today. (Not perfect.. And there’s S-H-I-T that’s going on in my life that could/would make one ‘aghast’ and perhaps say “howinthehell is he smiling?”)… But I’m happy.

I’m stuck.. Yes.. Am.. There is no ‘right way’ outta the quagmire I am temporarily in. Fitty different people, prolly fitty different suggestions. I am me. And it’s “me’s” call. A lot is economical, but the almost insurmountable part is interpersonal.

A product of this “being temporarily stuck” is to wish for tomorrow.. For a mate.. As long as I’m not totally (24/7) absorbed in this, I see no harm in it. I will carry on in life truly believing “I have yet to be in the best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

I dated a gal I admired very much. We still occasionally communicate. In late September, she chastised me for “not getting on with your life. Hesitant to make change.” Then I shared with her the crap I won’t openly share with you and her reply was “I agree with everything you said. I had no idea what the extent of the issues have been.”

That’s about all I’ll share. I do love/enjoy life. I will continue to count the days left to remind me not to waste today. I love yesterday, and dream of tomorrow. I’ll never stop wanting that feel again of what it’s like to simply wake up beside someone.

I ain’t perfect old Lord, but then… you knew that. Life ain’t perfect.. But then mebbe You helped make it that way for a reason, or reasons. You’ve placed me here for a reason, a purpose. I live doing my best to fulfill. I slip. I be human. I have pity parties. I go and drink mebbe one too many. I ‘blurt’ (and pay.).. I wish. I hope. I pray. I try to enjoy the day.

Please just understand, whilst I like to fill the blog up with glorious (hopefully) colors of paint… it simply isn’t “the big picture.” Please never forget, my life has been blessed too.

Love, Victurd.

Yesterday

all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though
they`re here to stay
Oh I believe in yesterday

Victor. You already did this one. I know. June 27, 2006. Uh huh. You’re right. Who cares. Since it’s about yesterday, why not repeat it? You mean like ground hog’s day, the movie? No, as in ‘mired’ mebbe. “Slowsand” so to speak.

Suddenly
I`m not half the man I used to be
there`s a shadow hanging over me
Oh yesterday came suddenly

I awakened early this morning. 5:20-ish.. There’s a friend of a friend, his girlfriend, and her “child” (15) living with us. This fitteen year old, somehow had contracted my computer with cyber herpes… going from site to site took so long, I coulda taken a bath inbetween, so… I wiped everything offa my hard drive, started from scratch… downloaded the AT&T Yahoo thingy, and jualah.. I’d forgotten my original password. Stuck I was stuck. Gotta hold of some AT&T foreigner in their tech support last night… “Oh, you’ll have to get password reset from billing”.. K, please connect me. “They’re not in, you’ll have to call back when they reopen at 8am Friday.” Crap. So… it’s 5:20-ish… I’ve got time to kill until 8am.

Let’s see. I could do laundry, clean, vacuum, scrub the tub… or… I could go to Mickey D’s, read the paper, and take a spin. You know me. You know which I did.

Why she had to go I don`t know
she wouldn`t say
I said something wrong
Now I long for yesterday

Actually, I got past this quite awhile back. Victor, you hideous old fart, we’ve seen your pity parties. You still love her. Oh, sure. I do. I love the ‘her’ from 1975 to 1999, but that ‘her’ ain’t living on this planet any longer. Another has invaded her bod. She be different. So, I’m left to untangle how to get from point A to point B. Victor, might I remind you you’ve been married twice? Ok asshole, make that from Point B to Point C. Thanks for the reminder.

Breakfast was wonderful, people watching, cheap coffee, their newspaper. An article about gratitude.. And I’d gotten an email very similar recently.. They tryin’ to tell me sumpin? Thought about a blog.. Then nah… Pollyanna ain't here today.

So I took a spin. One hour left now to kill. Yes, I drove by my childhood home. Yes, I drove by the college where I went, the fraternity house where I lived. The downtown Square where I one had’ta give a speech following the Homecoming parade.. Past my first girlfriends old house. Up by the High School.. Parked, for a second, by the football field behind it, remembered that’s where I broke my wrist that now hurts like hell in cold weather, so I boot scooted on.

Yesterday
Love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh I believe in yesterday

Then it hit me. The question begged. “Am I living in yesterday, because I’m trying to repeat it?”.. or mebbe… “Am I living in yesterday, because I fear the unknown, tomorrow?”.. or even, “Am I living in yesterday, because I don’t know how to go about tomorrow?”… Probably a little truth to all three…

Why she had to go I don't know
she wouldn't say
I said something wrong
Now I long for yesterday

A lot of “she’s” have exited my life. First love, wife #1, wife #2, and the passings.. My mother.. My sister… I’ve exited some women, hated providing hurt, but you can’t force feelings, no matter how hard u feel you should try.

Yesterday
Love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday
Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm............

So mebbe I should turn to other Beatles tunes for assistance with tomorrow… Let it be (just whatever happens, happens.).. A Day in the Life.. Act Naturally.. All Things Must Pass.. (Yes, damnit, I’m looking at an alphabetical list… sorry).. All You Need is Love… Another Girl.. Because.. Can’t Buy Me Love.. Dear Prudence…

Don’t Let Me Down… Don’t Pass Me By.. Getting Better.. Glad All Over.. Got To Get You Into My Life.. Help.. I Feel Fine.. I Saw Her Standing There.. If I Fell… Kansas City.. .Love Me Do.. Magical Mystery Tour.. Nowhere Man.. Paperback (blog) Writer..

Revolution.. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.. Something… That’ll Be the Day.. Ticket to Ride.. Two of Us.. When I’m Sixty-Four.. With a Little Help from My Friends.. (I never mentioned Viagra or Levitra, perverts).. You’re Going to Lose That Girl… shit, did that have to be the last one? Hehe.

So perhaps.. Cognizant of the fact that mebbe, just mebbe, I live in yesterday to perhaps hide from, hide behind a rock and peer out, remember “feel good” in hopes it’ll happen today, tomorrow - at least allows me a little perspective behind my action or inactions..

Them sumbitches had some songs eh? (And that ain't even a fourth of the list.

Why Don’t We Do it in the Road? Call me. 867-5309.. Or on my cell 913-384-6600, again, we’ll forecast the future. Love, Victurd. (I hereby promise to never repeat myself again… I hereby promise to never repeat myself again)

A time to say thanks..…

Yeah… sure... The normal stuff… Health… Family… Roof over our head.. Friends.. Pets that have made it through another year… Memories… Sunshine… Water… Electricity.. Heat.. AC.. Etc, etc…

But let’s not forget these:

I’m thankful for grocery sackers. Imagine if we had to do that crap ourselves? I’d mix cabinet stuff with frozen items, chicken noodle soup ontoppa eggs.. We’d miss the paper or plastic question… We couldn’t watch the one handed scanner and we’d completely miss the opportunity to say “now wait justa gol durn minute, that toilet paper’s on sale for $3.39, you rang up $3.99.”

The snotnoses wouldn’t have jobs… So.. They’d be loitering around the homes of the opposite sex snotnoses their own age.. They wouldn’t have prophylactic money, and our country’s be a mess.

Speakin’ a toilet paper. Toilet paper. I’m very thankful for toilet paper. Worked overtime Saturday helpin’ a dude at work setup new cubicles. Moving a guy that’s been there 35 years. He got virtually one foot for every ten years he’s been there. Can u imagine a cubicle world without toilet paper? The stench as you stood in line at Mickey D’s? The fitteen year old girls who could no longer stuff their bras for the fitteen year old boys? We needs toilet paper.

Round. God Bless round. Imagine a world without. Cars. Donuts. Baseball. Basketball. Breast implants. Theater in the.. Mouse balls.. Bowling. Golf. Testi’s (well, kinda sorta).. Nifty engagement/wedding diamonds…O’s.. ZerO’s. 1, 2, 3, 4 (that’s ten twenty thirty forty without round).. Contacts.. Rose colored glasses.. Dimes, quarters, nickels, pennies.. Ballpoint pens.. Nose rings.. Thingamabobs to hitch horses. Our world’d just be upside down without round. I’m glad we’ve got it ‘round.

Feet. Ya ever sit ‘round the table on Thanksgiving Day and hear someone say they were thankful for feet? Me neither. Should. Imagine life without feet. Feet get us out of boring conversations. Feet get us up to look under the sofa for the remote. Feet help us bootscoot to the restroom in time of great need. Can u imagine ole Shirley scootin’ cross the office to pee without feet? There’d be no foot rubs, foot fetishes, and sureasshell no soccer. We wouldn’t have anything “to take a load off” of..

Keyboards. “I’m here today, with family.. Thank Aunt Gertie, that stuffin’s the Bomb. I’m hear to say ‘thanks for keyboards’.. Stop and think what your day would be without ‘em? Typewriters, file cabinets, addressing envelopes, feeding a fax… No more fun emails to breakup the workday.. what’s worse, lil’ Jimmy couldn’t watch Pam and Tommy over and over and over. There’d be no such thing as internet dating.. Hmmm.. Mebbe this ain’t sucha bad idea!.. Keyboards. Thanks for keyboard.

Gasoline. Darnit, if we didn’t have gas, we’d have nuttin’ to bitch about pricewise. Cuss them foreigners for the high cost. We’d all have electric golf carts and haveta work within a halfa mile of our houses. Grass would grow like a sonofabitch. And.. I kinda like the smell of it. Couldn’t stare at Suzie’s butt every morn’ at the Pour Boy Gas Station. Hell, they couldn’t make it if they hadta live offa me buying my Planters Salted Peanuts and an occasional rubber sale to a sacker.

Hills. Yep Uncle Ralph, I’m talkin’ hills. No ups? No downs. No rivers, streams, lakes. No skiing. No go cart derbys.. No huffin’ and a puffin’ in the ole Dodge goin’ up, and no skeery shit like an 18 wheeler hittin’ their jack break on the way down.. We wouldn’t have Coors, waterslides, or the chance to win a free game on the 18th hole at the miniature golf course. It’d suck without hills.

Newspapers. How would we wake up if the basta didn’t thow it on the drive every morn at 5:20am? Whadda we do about bird cage droppings? How’d we light the fireplace? No horoscope, no obits, no help wanted ads- thus, sackers couldn’t find the jobs, they’d get neighbors knocked up, we’d be overpopulated and we’d have no GD place to read that we are.

Poop and pee. WHAT? Is he looney? Ok, stop and think a minute. If that shit doesn’t get out… then what? What I thought. Thank you.. For poop and for pee. As u sit around Tom Turkey tomorrow and stare at the faces, age 1 to 89, thinka what them bastas’d look like after thirty days of containment. Not a pretty site. We need poop and pee (and toilet paper.) I didn’t say round, get your mind off the tootsie roll.

Tongues. God bless tongues. Help us swallow. No ice cream. Plasterin’ a cracker with peanut butter and puttin’ it on the roof’a ole Gabe’s mouth just wouldn’t quite be as humorous. Kisses would be bland. No whistling. Ever stuck your tongue out at someone? What I thought. I’d better stop on the tongue stuff. This might be a PG-13 crowd. (What would carpetmunc.. VICTOR!.. Hehe… sorry.. Slip of the tongue.. Oops)…

Humor. Victor, so you think this was funny. No, prolly not. But thank goodness for humor. As we do sit around the table tomorrow, don’t forget to pass the humor. Jokes in the kitchen.. Dudes catching a gathered moment.. Laughing at each other.

I’m thankful ‘bouta lotta shit. And pee. And round. And newspapers. And tongues. And hills. And gasoline. And feet.. And keyboards. Even “paper or plastic?”…

In closing, I’m stealing an email I received today from Kendra, a former coworker and a person I love as a person.

The Parrot

A young man named John received a parrot as a gift. The parrot had a bad
attitude and an even worse vocabulary. Every word out of the bird's mouth
was rude, obnoxious, and laced with profanity.

John tried and tried to change the bird's attitude by consistently saying
only polite words, playing soft music, and anything else he could think of
to "clean up" the bird's vocabulary.

Finally, John was fed up, and he yelled at the parrot. The parrot yelled
back. John shook the parrot, and the parrot got angrier and even more rude.
John, in desperation, threw up his hand; grabbed the bird; and put him in
the freezer. For a few minutes the parrot squawked and kicked and screamed.

Suddenly, there was total quiet. Not a peep was heard for over a minute.
Fearing he'd hurt the parrot, John quickly opened the door to the freezer.

The parrot calmly stepped out onto John's outstretched arms.... and said,
"I believe I may have offended you with my rude language and actions. I'm
sincerely remorseful for my inappropriate transgressions and I fully intend
to do everything I can to correct my rude and unforgivable behavior."

John was stunned at the change in the bird's attitude. As he was about to
ask the parrot what had made such a dramatic change in his behavior, the
bird continued, "May I ask what the turkey did?"

HAPPY EARLY THANKSGIVING

Love, Victurd.

9897… 6889…. four…

The 9897 is the number’a times people have peeked at this blog on MySpace since I last wiped the numbers out.. who knows when that was.... Why you come I have no idea.. but.. I’m very thankful for that… I have no expressed intent in writing other than to kinda ‘recycle’ and reflect upon yesterday… and to pin hope on tomorrow… Thanks, a bunch, for that many eyeballs here….

6889, of course the “number of days left based on average life expectancy… that’s 19 more Thanksgivings… I promise not to forget this….

Four… Number of days off…. Woooo-hooooo! My sister passed in 1999.. She was also a “V” name… She had two kiddos.. Uh huh.. Both “V” names… My sister truly was the cog to our family.. the bond.. the glue.. the wonderful one.. We, me and her two “V”s, haven’t gotten together as much as we should have in the years since her passing… Thanksgiving will find us three “V”s together. “V”ery excited, and thankful…

Again thank you.. When you see days where there ain’t no blogs, it’s generally because I’m mired in a “glass half empty” kinda mood and be thankful I didn’t write! Having you here, just knowing someone perhaps has some interest, lifts me outta those dregs.. God Blessya for that…

I hope this Thanksgiving finds you doing just as you please.. in good health… and recently laid… Love, Victurd.

Pleased as punch….

Now I’ve heard this. Ain’t got foggiest on the origin. Tuning into Sunday’s NFL games, announcer mentioned he was “pleased as punch” for some player who’d been thru struggles, overcame them, and is doing pretty darn good. Cool.

I guess punch is a pleasant thought. When I thinka punch, I thinka weddings… Big bowls, ladles… stuff that just don’t happen all that often. Tiny glasses.

If you dropped in from Mars, it might not make a lotta sense. “Here, you put on this $1000-plus white wedding dress… u guys run down the road to the Men’s Warehouse, forkout a couple hunnerd for some crap you’ll wear for six hours… and then you dudes and dudettes, sort thru that parta the closet you never sort thru, grab them finest duds… and we’ll all meet up around the punchbowl..” Makes sense to me. Get sloshed, ruin finery.

My grandmother, God bless her soul, I think I’ve mentioned her here before. To recap, her ole man (my g-pa) was a St. Louis Cardinals fanatic. Now the Cardinals are owned by Anheuser Busch.. Grandpa used tacks to hang the annual Cardinal schedule in the kitchen so he wouldn’t miss a game on his transistor… Grandma would cutout Billy Graham articles to paste over the pics of bottles of Bud that adorned the calendar. A “win-win” situation for them.

Well… one wedding. Some relative, can’t remember. Granny well into her 60’s by now. She’d grab some punch, then ’smore, and s’more.. And three or four more… “This is the BEST punch I’ve ever had.”… Seems onea the grooms frat brothers had spiked the punch, granny was ’half-lit’ for the first time in her life… and I don’t think we ever told her… Hehe. Fun.

What are you pleased as punch about?

Yes, as pattern has it, I will probably blab about what I’m pleased as punch about… I’m pleased we had Obama and Palin on the tickets this election. We still gotta ways to go, but we’re getting there.

I’m pleased as punch I have a job that I enjoy. I ain’t getting rich, but they give me independence (VERY important to me)… Also, in the stop-gap search to ’catch-up’, ie, “Victor needa part-time (2nd) job“, I’ve learned people out there don’t like old farts. Sad, but true. So I’m thankful for my employment.

Gotta friend who married a chap from Amsterdam. Been here now 30 yrs. I asked him the other night (he obviously likes it here) “what makes our country special?”.. “Well, you can move anywhere…” Yes, from Florida to Washington is around 3,000 miles… and you can’t just do that in Europe. Or China. Or Japan. Or Spain, England, Germany, etc, etc… we can start any kinda business we want… and we have ‘representatives” in our government who represent us. I love my country. I don’t always agree with everything that happens, but I’m pleased as punch to live here, and would not ever, live elsewhere.

And so… I’m a GD (gosh darn) Physical Education major for behoogety sakes. Whilst you were out studying up English Lit, Political Science, onomatopoeia, chit like that, I was studying the radius, ulna, how to beat a full court zone press, and the proper way to tape an ankle sprain.

I DIDN’T know the origin of pleased as punch.

Ok, mebbe u didn’t either. Hell, I see it a good thing we learn new chit as old farts…So here goes… mebbe we’ll learn together…

The puppet show Punch and Judy, had origin as far back as the 16th Century… Puppet Punch, with his candy-striped booth, hook nose… Punch proceeds to kill his infant child, then beat his wife Judy to death (so much for Punch and Judy… I mean what’s Siegfried without Toy? I mean Roy?).. He’s thrown into prison but escapes using a golden key. He then kills a policeman, a doctor, a lawyer, the handyman, death and the devil. He murders everyone with huge pleasure, each time squeakily repeating his catchphrase, “That’s the way to do it!”….

Thus, we have “pleased as Punch.” Hehe. Well, at least it was a damn puppet. (Victor, remind yourself to never start a blog about a saying without investigating the origin of it first… k?)… Ok.. Thanks, and I’m pleased as punch for the suggestion.

Since it was a puppet kinda thing… since it’s a “show” that’s survived time… I still think it’s ok to use the saying. I’m pleased as punch you’re here… May the week bring good things to you - but mainly I hopes it brings the realization that when shit happens… it will.. And that’s ok… we’ll “deep breath”… not blurt… remember to be thankful for all the good.. And carry on.

Thanks, for reading whilst I learned. Sorry I hadn’t researched ahead. (Long range planning for me is lunch tomorrow.) Love, Victurd.

6893, and gloriously counting…..

For those of you just getting here… that number up there is… hmmm… howabout… a game… you decide… it’s either:

A) Number of day’s until this old fart’s life expectancy runs out (according to average), so, serves as a reminder to my sorry ass to not frown, mope, bitch… rather… enjoy, seek, go, do, SMILE.

B) Or… Number of “sammies” (hehe) saved up since last “you know what.”

Or.. Both.. Hehe….

On hope. Run, don’t walk, to grab a newspaper today… (The date is 11/23/2008)… And if you’re a day or more late getting here, then get with the program! Or, see if Parade Magazine has a website and search “Taking care of”….

A WONDERFUL, heartfelt story by a lady… She in her 70’s… Met this dude in High School… liked him… they met others, married… went on their way… Found themselves again in their fitties (U mean life AIN’T over?).. And have had a blessed time riding life out..

Then… he fell 9’ outta their sleeping loft (sorry, begs the question, why are 70-somethings sleeping 9’ off the ground… although.. I always did have an affinity for bunk beds.).. And he suffered brain damage… not to recover… and she talks for a few pages about taking care of him… why she does it (versus send him off to a nursing home)… I can’t retell it as good as she writes it - please just ‘go there’… It’s a damn good read, and a refreshing look at a mighty fine human being, and her perspective on ‘the covenant.” You rock lady. (For any chick flick aficionados, it’s kinda “The Notebook” in reverse… )

Speaking of aging.. A couple of things reminded me I’m getting old. Needed a sugar fix at work the other day… Downstairs to the vending machine. Eighty-five cents, pressed H6, and jualah, down went the Honey Bun to the retrieval tray. I’d put a buck in, so, I hads me a dime and a nickel coming back too. Twenty, ten, mebbe even five years ago, I’da swooped up that honey bun about the time it hit bottom… but on this day.. I remembered grabbing this would entail leaning over… using muscles I ain’t used in awhile to lean back up.. SO… I waited for the change to fall so I only had’ta lean over once. It’s hell (or heaven) gettin’ older, pendin’ on how you look at it.

Remember me and my observance skills (lack thereof)? “Honey, when’d we get that painting right there?”.. “Oh, probably two and a half years ago.” Oh.. Ok… thanks…

At mirror in bathroom at work. I noticed I had “an antenna.” Two actually. I have 60 watt bulbs in the bathroom at home.. Helps to not have so much incandescence that the crevices, crow’s feet, Tigris and Euphrates don’t show up in the mirror after I jump outta the shower. (Victor, you GD liar, you take baths… Wussy.) Ok, so I take baths. I find them therapeutic. The hell was I?

Oh yeah, standing infronta the mirror at work.. Antenna. There on each ear… Unfortunately, not at the same “height” on each ear, were two damn near half inch singular hairs sticking out. Now this ‘phenomena’ has only happened in recent years. Why? Why might I ask do I not have these damn things grow for the first fitty years of my life, then, boom - there they are allofasudden ‘bout the time I get AARP mail and fitty-four cent coffee at Mickey D’s? Why? Why me Lord.. Tell me what did I do.. To deserve growing antennas at age fitty-six?

And yes.. Did do the Mickey D’s thing this morning. In walked a granny (70’s), her daughter (late 40’s) and her daughter (19-ish)… When you stop and think about this, farm friggin out. Granny grew up a child of the Depression - learned “no” actually meant “no”… her daughter grew up in the 60’s, burned her bra and asked “Why? Why should I?”… and then 19-ish, a resident of the “me, me, me” societal group. Yet, bonded all. Learn of the other’s trials, tribulations. Coexist. Love. Respect.

So.. I write again to myself.. (hitchhikers welcome).. Victor, you ignorant slut. IF you’re lucky, IF you’re average, you’ve got 6,893 days left. Are u gonna let trivial shit like bending over, ‘antennas’ and the like ruin your day now? (Prolly not, but did you know that if you scrap brownspots with your fingernails, they’ll go away for a day… hehe.)

I hereby promise to love whatever comes forth. If it’s an obstacle, God give me the strength to jump over it (or walk around it.).. If it’s a lover, gimme the power to appreciate, respect and be thankful. If there’s no love ahead, then please Lord, please - plant (intermittently) fine, fine derrieres in the aisles of the Piggly Wiggly for me to ogle at. If it’s “I ain’t making enough” - remember the homeless feller, who in his most honest moment held the sign up “only $.87 more for a pint”…

As always, thanks for being here. (Go read Parade damnit).. I’m off to grow more ear hairs.. And thinking’ about scaling back to 40 watt bulbs at home so I can mebbe set a record with a three-quarter inch antenna. I’m the (ear hair growing) baby, gotta love me, Victurd.

PS: Had an interesting note (thanks - really - for writing)… “cool that you list your phone number (867-5309).. I almost called.”. Had’ta spoil the surprise and relate that actually was a song by Tommy Tutone…. My number is 913-384-6600. Call me, we’ll forecast the future.

Brother bought a corona, he bought it for a dime

His sister had another one, she paid it for a lime.
She put the lime in the corona, she drank them both up
She put the lime in the corona, she drank them both up
She put the lime in the corona, she drank them both up
She put the lime in the corona she called the doctor, woke him up…

The tonic. Son stopped the tonic. Cool. Old man hasn’t. They’re only $2 at The Dish, why stop? Hehe. I enjoy lollygagging with cronies. A happy Happy Hour. Or is it?

And said, "Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?
I say, Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?"

Bored. Gregarious. Huh? You moron, that’s an oxymoron. No it ain’t. Desirous of company. Bored. Gregarious. And… “Tending to move in or form a group with others of the same kind.” I do that.

"Now let me get this straight ",
Put the lime in the corona, you drank them both up
Put the lime in the corona, you drank them both up
Put the lime in the corona, you drank them both up
Put the lime in the corona, you called your doctor, woke him up,

Ok. Evils. Or are they? Yes, anything done not in moderation ain’t good. Food. Pills. OCD. Cleaning. Not cleaning. Work. Idleness… Sex. Remember the”ugly”? Well. I enjoy a cig. I enjoy a beer. A $2 corona. Am I going to hell? Well, probably fastforwarding the decision to whether I go North or South.

And say, 'Doctor, ain't there nothing I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?
I say, Doctor, doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take,
I say, Doctor, dooooctor, to relieve this belly ache?'

Bored. Simply bored. Even tire of this GD (gosh darn) computer. TV doesn’t intrigue me – alone. Reading puts me to sleep. Bitching, Victor, you’re pretty good at bitching. You mean belly ache? Uh huh, prolly, that’s why I

Put the lime in the corona, drink them both together,
Put the lime in the corona, then you feel better,
Put the lime in the corona, drink them both up,
Put the lime in the corona, and call me in the morning

And if I don’t do that in moderation… I have this ‘perceived’ high:

Wouh wouh wouh wouh wouh

Brother bought a corona, he bought it for a dime
His sister had another one, she paid it for a lime.
She put the lime in the corona, she drank them both up,
She put the lime in the corona, she called the doctor, woke him up,


Say "Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?
I say, Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take,
I say Doctor! let me get this straight".

Mebbe, just mebbe, I belly ache because

I put the lime in the corona, drink them both up,
I put the lime in the corona, drink them both up,
I put the lime in the corona, drink them both up,

I say…

Woo Woo, ain't there nothin' you can take, I say
Woo Woo, to relieve my belly ache,
You say woo woo ain't there nothin' I can take, I say
Woo woo, to relieve your belly ache,
You say yah yah, ain't there nothin' I can take, I say
Waah waah, to relieve this belly ache…

So I’ve decided to turn my life around. Revelation. Right here. (In River City.) Witha capital T that rhymes with P that stands for Pool (He’s surely got trouble.).. No more belly ache. No more bitching. It’s simple.

You drink the corona without lime. May your hours be Happy. Love, Victurd.

8pm. Home. Bored shirtless. (Just dropped in, to see what condition my condition was in)

Skeery thought ain’t it. “That wrinkly ole bastard at age fitty-six, I bet even his boobies are down ’round his naval. “

Hi. Howareya. Whereareya. Whatsnew in your world. I ain’t gotta lot to add… Been on the treadmill of life of late. Kinda monotonous, not a lotta change.

Going forward, but mebbe not exactly with compass.

Funny. To me anyways. Had someone walked up to me (or you) in High School and said “the next ___ years of your life… well.. Here’s what’s gonna happen”….

No way you rotten bastard! My mom won’t die at age 66... You asshole, I won’t lose my sister at age 51.. And I will be the only one left in my nuclear family in 2003? I friggin HATE divorce… are you telling me by age 53 I will have been divorced TWICE?.. Patooey, nope, not gonna believe it.

Weird how life happens. Stop. Quit reading. Rethink you’re life. Close your eyes. Picture that dude telling you the exact same thing. Huh uh. You gotta be shitting me? That CAN’T have happened.

Well… bottomline, what’s happened has happened. There ain’t a lot we can do about death. There’s little (now) we can do about divorce. Perhaps our bodies have changed. We’re there now, we “am’s what we am’s”…

You really mean I won’t have my first kid until I’m 32? Yessir, that’s how I see it. Will I really work for two airlines that go bankrupt? Uh huh.

You have GOT to be kidding me.. . Did you really say I will drive from Kansas City to Biloxi, MS to meet some gal I met online for a weekend? Yep. Remember? You got your first (STOP YOU ASSHOLE!!! This is PUBLISHED FOR ANYONE, EVERYONE!)….

For real? By age fitty-six I will have had TWELVE pets come and go? One of my closest friends will fall while stocking a grocery shelf at age 52 and die? No friggin way, I hate your guts prognosticator.

We could walk into the HS today… imagine things for the HS seniors that were gonna happen in their lives… and have the same shocking results…

Life doesn’t seem to be always Pollyanna, two-car garage, two kids (both degreed), longterm marriage, healthy 401K’s.. parents doing well into their 90’s… brothers/sisters fine, just fine.

We’re jolted. All of us. There’s no GPS for life. It ain’t scripted. There is no rewind, Tivo, Back to the Future.

We deal wit’ it.

Even u sumbitches in your 20’s that occasionally walk by here.. You can already tell… adaptation.. “This ain’t how I thought it’d be”…

And it ain’t.

Running back, when carrying the ball, and are about to be hit by a linebacker, they spin. Basketball players, when they go up to shoot a jumpshot, realize the dude guarding them is like 6 inches taller, somehow peripherally see a teammate to pass to.

Job loss. We make a new resume. Family loss. We mourn, we (kinda sorta) heal. Mate loss (be it divorce or death, or wish they woulda died) we make it through the molasses of recovery.

I wish I woulda been a switchhitter. NO, NO you preverts. I don’t mean “hehe… look at that limp-wrist, he swings both ways”.. I mean when life’s challenges bring on a lefthanded pitcher, I wish I had the propensity to go from batting lefthanded, to the other sidea the box and bat right.

Again, we’re left to deal wit’ it… Whatever IT is. Is it lack of self esteem, and if so, WHY? Is it lack of having a mate? And if so, this one’s a little heavier. Do I really want one? Am I really ready for one? I go #2 and don’t turn on the fan, would that bug her? Hehe.

As we progress in age, life likens a jigsaw puzzle. When we’re in first grade, seven pieces are connected and that sucker is done. Finished. Finito. Or… “FIRST!”…

Age a bit.. 500 pieces.. A little harder… yet still a gimme…

Bonified old fart.. The pieces are so GD small… we lose them… spend halfa the month of October piecing it together.. Finish… ‘cepting for those three glaring pieces that simply ain’t there.. We turn over every sofa, loveseat, chair… pull the dresser out.. Get down on our hands/knees… scour.. Say to ourselves “This shit (hands/knees) ain’t as easy as it usedta be… I think the puzzle will just have to be incomplete.”

And we arrive. That point. This sumbitch ain’t done, but it’s still incomplete. Do we regret the puzzles were so much easier at a younger age? Not no, but hells no’s… We get out the spray varnish, plaster them muther-dubbers, put ‘em away wherever we keep the other important stuff we put away.

Is it OVER because there’s a few pieces missing? Again. Not no’s, but hells no’s... I happened to believe, and it’s what keeps me going “It’s my belief I’ve yet to have the best piece I’ve ever had.” Victor? Were you at the bar tonight? You usedta say what kept you going is the belief “It’s my belief I’ve yet to be in the best relationship I’ve ever had.”

Oh yeah, mebbe you’re right. I think I did say that. May I ask though… am I ‘a “for certain” headed to hell if I did believe/want/dream of statement #1?… No Victor, I guess that’s ok, for a piece anyways…

So whatinthehell does this mumbo-jumbo blog mean? How can we make any sense of this chit?

Aha. Finally. You got it. You can’t. Life’s about rolling with the punches. It’s about dealing with Plan B (And C, D, E)… It’s about “seeing” when blindsided. It’s about liking one’s self even if you eat too much.. Drink too much… smoke too much… fret too much.. Hermit too much… extrovert too much… whatever too much…

Life happens. And it never happens on pattern. It’s sad, happy, fun, shitty, windy, rainy, snowy, cold, hot, sweaty, fast, slow, long, short, up, down, trying, easy… whatever.

Just know… no matta the way your life is going… my life is going… we can enjoy this shit.

I useda coach… The singular most important role of a coach is… to do his best to put his/her team in a position to be successful…

Victor, are you gonna gloat on that shit and say your blog is doing “just that” today?

No Mr. Halitosis, I’m not. We’re never prepared. So mebbe.. Just mebbe.. Knowing that, we kinda-sorta somehow can be.

Driving home tonight.. Opposite lane. Interstate. Flashing red lights. Some 50 yards off the interstate, crashed up agin a fence… roof of car looked like maybe it’d flipped… In nano-seconds, the lives of these folks probably change. We just never know. We can never be prepared.

If we simply know “change can occur”… and “it doesn’t always go like we think it will”… mebbe, just mebbe, we put ourselves in a little greater position for success… and to me, the definition of success is to live happy.

Loveya, thanks for being here. If you haven’t had sex in six months, call me.. 867-5309.. I’ll bring the massage oil. Love, Victurd.

Phooo pheee phooo pheee phooo… phaaaw pheeew phaaaw..

That, was a very bad attempt to spell out, sound out, the “whistle theme” from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

Victor. You’re not gonna make us revisit a forty year old movie are you?

Mebbe. Ok, won’t. But, whenya stop and think about it, the name (the good, the bad, the ugly) kinda comprises life.

I bet here Victor you’re gonna ask “what’s the good, the bad, the ugly in your life” and then you’re gonna proceed (when no one askedya) to relate the good, the bad, the ugly in your life.

Asshole. You may be right – is another song, but for another day.

Yes, of course. Please stop and think – what’s your good, bad, ugly.

And…….. uh huh.. here goes…..

Good: friends, family, pets, job (thanks for keeping this old fart as long as you have).. health (for the most part), life perspective (I think), choosing fun over patooey, a van that starts when I turn the key, actually goes down the road and that I’ve never had hooked up behind a two truck… love, like, ‘reconditioned’ eyeballs.. lots…

Bad: Money, lackthereof.. (This is where POF gals scram. Huh? Oh, I put on this dating site “Plenty of Fish” that if you really wanna know me, visit this blog).. so, admit to having a 101K insteada a 401K, in my best pig Latin “eythey, illway, amscray”.. The condition of my house – thanks in large part to a very depressed person for a fairly significant period after the sudden demise of a pretty happy 20+ year marriage… Son having occasional anger. I wish I could do something to assist here. We’ve talked “doctor/meds” – nope.. can’t get horse to water.. And some piddly stuff, but that’s the primary “bad.”

Ugly: To me, ‘ugly’ is akin to evil. Strange thing, or sad, ‘pendin’ on howya look at it, it can lend to excitement. Friends, married. At this one place I/we occasionally go to – it happens virtually every time – he’ll be yapping with someone else – she’ll seek me out.. pull me to the Juke Box (ok, so I don’t set my feet and say “no”, color me guilty.. or ugly) and we dance for a looooong time.

Last night. This friend, kinda-sorta did “a little more” than ‘just dancing”. Perhaps not apparent to those other party-goers, but very apparent to me.. and then.. followed with the words “Don’t you have something to ask me?”… The “aww shucks” in me had this one fly right over my head for about an hour.. “You mean ‘how’s the kids’?.. Is your life ok? Are you happy in your job? Is he?”… No Victor. “Don’t you have something to ask me?”….

So…… I am assuming she was suggesting getting “more”.. and I have a very good idea what that entailed (en-tail perhaps pun intended too).. and, the ugly – I thought about it.

Nuther friend. Another he/she arrangement. Not married, just together. “I love him, but when we go out, it’s like he’s with his friends and not me… he always leaves me… that, and he tells me he’s ‘not suited for a relationship’ “ yet they stay together… It was then she suggested we get together “just to see if spark there.” The ugly, I considered. This guy is very well loved in our town – and I would very definitely be “the bad (ugly) guy” in this, and it’d be hard to face all, especially him.

Bottomline, how’d it go in “Chickenman”? “Evil lurks within.”

So there I am. I’m Good. I’m Bad. I’m Ugly. Sadly (mebbe) the Good and the Ugly are the most exciting – and I’m learning/have learned there just ain’t a lot that can be done about the Bad.

Phooo pheee phooo pheee phooo… phaaaw pheeew phaaaw..

Ain’t there a commercial that says “what’s in your wallet?”… Well, instead, “what’s in your Good, Bad and Ugly.”…

Jumpin’ on ma horse now. GIDDYUP! (And stay up if you can!)… Love, Victurd.

Two’a the happiest moments of my life… .for real…….

I’ve not toiled here. Never ever. Each and every time I sit down, it’s a GD joy to do so. I think frequently “what should I write that might be funny, thought provoking… what am I down about that I/we can discuss to see if it’s really worth being down about?”….

I started doing this chit on 7/3/05, which happens to also have been my son’s 20th birthday. The “M” guy… “Dad” he recently said after for sure peeking at an occasional blog.. “would you NOT call me M____rd”… ok… so I’ll stop…

Three plus years of fun… frustration… trying to get my own ass up off the floor… and, “taking a ride in the car of life.”

I’m gonna share two emails I’ve received in those three years… It’s my greatest hope the writers of them won’t get PO’ed… ‘cause every time I sitdown at this keyboard, I thinka BOTH of their emails… and (he said with feathers puffed out) they make me feel perty damn good…

A recent one…….

met you about a year ago online. You probably don't remember me, but you have been an inspiration ever since. After having lost my husband to cancer, you caught my interest, providing a link to this page and I have been checking on you ever since. A stalker I suppose, watching from afar. Don't bitch, Daniel Steele, depends on loyal readers.

I liked the photo featured in your online advertisement but have since lost the link to view it.

You write very well and while I couldn't seem to spark your interest, you have managed to get me though some really difficult days.

Just wanted to say that I am sorry that whatsherface run off with the Harley guy, that your spending your vacation in court with son (been there done that), that the feel good girl is so shallow as to be cruising only for a paycheck, that family no long can be with you, that piggly wiggly hasn't managed to stock the shelves with several brands of "the one", or that your body is fighting back by slowing down.

Since you have provided me with so many hours of "inspirationsal" perspective, I thought maybe I would offer a little of my own. The Harley may have been the best thing that ever happened for you, that even without you knowing it you may be a blessing to someone, that the support that you give your son while frustrating also reassures you that you are needed, maybe you should try shopping somewhere besides piggly wiggly, I am finding that when the body starts slowing down maybe I should consider finding a new game, and that while memories are great reminders of where we came from and of those that we love trying to relive them results in missed opportunities to make new ones.

Sometimes aloof, sometimes cocky, I hear the spirit of a fun loving, awnry, sentimental, rebel, that is getting along pretty okay everyday and who doesn't forget to count his blessings. I know "Who ask you,?" Have you ever talked to the TV or the cat? And if so, why? Maybe for the same reason I followed through on the urge to comment, it breaks the silence.

Thanks for sharing the blog address. I'll be quiet again, at least for a while, or until I need to break the silence again! LOL…

And then, very recently, got this one…

I checked out your blogspot as you suggested in your profile.
I just had to tell you thank you. I was sucked right into your writing. You are a very deep thinker. I wanted to say thank you to you. I've been on the downward slop of the roller coaster the last few months and reading your blog gave me a reality check that it's time to get off my pity pot and turn this coaster to the upward position.

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Not doing this for a pat on the back. I am friggin’ human. There’s a gal that stops by here, I illicit all this good crap.. She’s a very good friend of mine… and when her father passed, my eyes/ears were all too consumed about me to even pay respects… I’ve failed myself, and others, miserably a time or two…

I simply thought tonight.. I’d let you know how important each every one here has been to me. I love sitting here, and the fact that you come, read, has truly enhanced my life. Hear that? You do. All things come to an end. Who knows how this story will end. All I know is, I look forward to each and every opportunity between now and “then”, that we get to get together.

It’s truly a love kinda thing. Love, Victurd

What can tomorrow bring?

If we look at it lackadaisically, not a lot. Just another day. Refresh, unwrinkled, the outfit in the dryer for five minutes… (Victor, your dryer hasn’t worked since the OTHER George was in office.)… Screw that guy, you know what I mean…

Mundane, same ole wakeup time… we brush the chops within minutes of yesterday’s clock…we know we gotta be in the car by such-n-sucha time… We go… Pavlov-like…

I’m excited about tomorrow… (Oh shit, here comes the pulpit crap again)… NO! Jane, you ignorant slut, I AM!…

I am VERY thankful, it’s not a drudge to drive into work. (Misty, Kendra, Jana… I hate your guts for leaving)… I like what I do, and who I do it with…

“Tomorrow” can bring good news… Sure, it can bring bad news too, understand that, but I’m focused in on the good.

Joe Namath said something to the effect of “I can’t wait until tomorrow, ‘cause I get better looking every day.” Well damnit Joe, that mighta worked in 1969, 1974... But I’ve seenya since… You can’t fool Mother Nature..

I’m excited because I know… that’s right.. KNOW… one day “status quo” will turn into “status HOLY SHIT.. How did this happen?”… and it will… I believe that, I do… I hope the same for you… And if that should by chance involve ‘us’, chit, call me… 867-5309...

I’m in the GD blinder “Full speed ahead” mode… and I know it’s repulsive, ‘cause I’ve been there before, no doubt will be there again… but hey, it’s cool at least, to get one’s hopes up.

Dating, being an old fart… set in our ways.. Is kinda like the drive thru at Mickey D’s… First, the longer you sit without “Hi, welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order” the more you get pissed with age… “I’VE BEEN SITTING IN THE OUTSIDE LANE FOR 37 SECONDS LONGER THAN THAT BASTARD IN THE INSIDE LANE AND YOU TOOK HIS ORDER FIRST… “ (under our breath) Biotch…

We grow weary, excited, non-believing, pissy, grumpy, muscles taut, that that shit’ll ever happen…

Funny. As I did actually go thru Mickey D’s tonight..(“Yes, could I get a large FF, three double cheeseburgers, and on those, can u make them ketchup only”… and two water cups”).. I got thru the line. The car nexta me KNEW I ordered first, but the basta tried sneaking in. No way Jose. Pimp my 1999 Dodge van’s fender if you want. I’M NEXT.

So I tells the gal at the window (as I recite exactly how my son says I’m supposed to announce).. May I have a GOOD amount of ketchup?

Ok, change back. Correct. Up to the window. Reminded snotnose “good amount of ketchup”.. Bag comes from the far left… Didn’t see that they’d put ketchup in there.. Handed it to me.. “Did you remember the ketchup?”.. “Yes, it’s in there.”

Driving son home.”These burgers have all kindsa crap on them.. Onions, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce..… I wanted ketchup ONLY”

I prayed… for justa moment.. That the year was 2012 (surely my ‘by then 27 yr old”will have a car).. And that this was a figment… but it wasn’t…

So I rolled back around Mickey D’s… thankfully, he jumped out to fix the order…. And on I go, toward ‘happy’….

There’s a “revelation” out there.. I’ve gotten excited before.. This ‘revelation’ has more complications than a Rubik’s cube… but still, it’s a revelation”…

I’ll fillya in more as time passes (To you, WTF are you here? My life’s BORING! I can’t even get laid! For BEHOOGETY SAKES the daily newspaper is a feel good for me!)

So.. There you have it. I’ve been down this path before. Recently. Not so long ago. In 2006. In 2005. In 2004, or was it 2003.

Nonetheless…the revelation is out there… for every “no” it puts one that much closer to ‘yes’. I’m a sport’s fanatic… I see the missed 3-pointers, the blown lay-ups, the passes that shoulda been caught that ain’t.

At least I’m huddling. Game planning. I’ve only emailed one (It’s a long story) about this. I’ve been ‘up’ here before.. And fallen.. And although quite Albino-toned, I heal up perty fast. Can do again.

Ya just never know what tomorrow can bring. For us all (Amen Brother Ben) it’s what should keep us going. Believing. Hoping.

Borrowing the words from that little redheaded snotnose… “The sun’ll come out… tomorrow”…

Hope ur day was filled with feel goods, smiles, recognition that “this ain’t sucha bad place in spitea the shit”, full refrigerators, warm homes, and someone to snuggle with, even if it’s a GD pet.

Love, Victurd

Hello…

Love you.. Dayum, I miscalcutated. Ifn’s u figure the average man lives to be seventy-five, I thought I had around 7,300 days left. (All day long I work with numbers, skeery!)… I recalculated.. It’s at 6901.

Gory? Ghastly? Morbid? Pernicious? Huh? Ashen? Haggard?

To the contrary.. it’s my reminder.. Full steam straight ahead (‘slow’, with eyes wide open!)..

And… if by the grace of God I get “overtime”.. then I’ll count upward!

Victor, are you gonna preach again? Not no but hells no.. I come here to talk to me.. to scoop me up and slap my face ifn’s a pity party is about to breakout… Hitchhikers welcome…

Soooooo… life truly is short.. I’m gonna try to make the most of it.. I’m gonna try to let stuff roll down my shoulders.. I’m gonna try to “find” fun.. I’m gonna try to not take for granted the wonders of nature, friends, family, pets, food, EVERYTHING, and simply enjoy this stay.

And… not to worry.. ifns’ I hit 3,285 days (my 66th birthday… Social Security hits).. and I ain’t found ‘her’… I’ve decided insteada WalMart greeter, I’m gonna be a greeter at The Cathouse in Vegas. Might even works a little overtime so I can pay for extra perks/diddies… You’re sick.. I was talking about like The Flamingo Buffett.. Seing Siegfried and “Toy” (oops.. Roy)…

Life’s a gamble ya know? We sit, we put our money out at the blackjack table.. sometimes we win.. sometimes we’re dealt 16.. it all depends on how we react to that.

I’m a gambler in life bebbe… HIT that 16, this could be good!

Here’s hopin’ this finds you happy, recently laid, and with the optimism of “if today sucked, tomorrow will be spiffy.”… Love, Victurd.

Twiggle the turtle…. Walter you sonofabitch…..

Oh joy. Frost on the morning windshield. God, please, it’s all bassackwards here. We come from the warm house, open the front door, walk to the car. Acclimate. We ain’t had time to acclimate, the we gotta scrape the windshield. (Victor you’re a rotten liar, you got in the van, didn’t scrape, used windshield wipers/solution, backed outta the driveway, it froze up, and you were too GD lazy to stop, pullover and scrape it properly. You almost hit Gladys Cravats Buick…. Remember?)… Oh yeah, sorry God, I was wrong. I’m lazy!

I gotta saying printed and placed on the walla my cubicle. It’d take a little searching to find it (my area is a mess.. I’m the baby gotta love me… it’s my mess, I like it, and I know where EVERYTHING is…).. I don’t remember it verbatim, but it’s something about granting me the power to leave some things you wanna say unsaid.

I slip. I be human. We had a shipment recently that was late (we move military member’s junk, have required delivery dates placed upon us by Uncle Sam) and there was an error made by someone… again it was late, all eyeballs were pointed at me, and insteada keeping my yap shut, I said something (loud enough six adjoining cubicles could hear) about “gonna take a picture of (the error)”… Damn I’m an idiot. The person who made the error is a HUGE plus for our company, a joy to work with, onea my favorite people in the world.. But I wanted people to know “wasn’t me” and that was more important than keeping my trap shut… said person heard what I said… I’m sure it hurt her… and my error was WAY worse than her error.

On Golden Pond. Sorry to keep returning to this movie, I’m old. Ain’t been out and about in awhile (ie, I’ve missed some 10,000 movies since..) but I loved this one.. It’s lessons.. From a recap:

Norman's harsh, cutting response to estranged daughter Chelsea's (real life daughter Jane Fonda) 45-year-old lover Bill Ray's (Dabney Coleman) request if he could sleep with his daughter: "...I'd guess I'd be DELIGHTED to have you abuse my daughter under my own roof. Would you like the room where I first violated her mother? Or would you be interested in the master bedroom?..." and Bill's indignant verbal parry: "You're having a good time, aren't you?...Chelsea told me all about how you like to have a good time messing with people's heads...But I think there's one thing you should know while you're jerking me around and making me feel like an asshole. I know PRECISELY what you're up to. And I'll take just so much of it..."

The stuff the should remain unsaid, but we don’t.

Article in the paper this morning (yes, Mickey D’s.. $1.61.. Free Sunday paper, sausage biscuit, fitty-four cent Senior coffee..)… It was a study by someone (obviously very bored) about the differences in day care…. The ones that strictly teach academics versus the ones that build social skills into the curriculum. Final answer. Of course, children who learned “huh uh, don’t do that” ultimately scored higher than those who strictly worked on the ABC’s..

Example used when Johnny knocked down Sally’s block tower she’d been building… “Sally, be like Twiggle the Turtle”… When the urge hits to swat Johnny, call him names, knock over his block building… instead.. Crawl up in your turtle shell.. Take a calm relaxing breath.. And say how that behavior made you feel.” Hence, the four year old version of leaving things unsaid. That day, I knocked over that lady’s blocks that made the error. I’m an idiot. I too am human. I be very sorry!

The scene of Ethel's slapping Chelsea hard when she calls Norman a "selfish son-of-a-bitch" and her angry retort: "That son-of-a-bitch happens to be my husband";

What’s said is said. Of course there’s the story of the child who said horrible things.. And each time he said something hurtful, his parents made him take a knife and push it hardly into their wooden fence in the backyard. Weeks later, fifty some knives were notched in the wood. One day, the child was told “if you can go an entire day without saying something hurtful, you can pull one knife out of the fence.”

In the ensuing weeks, the child pulled knives out, slipped occasionally.. But finally the day arrived when the very last knife was pulled out… Ecstatic he was… but he ran into the kitchen, announced to his parents the very last knife had been pulled.. And added.. “but there are still marks in the fence.”.. “Yes son.. When we say hurtful things, we can say I’m sorry, apologize - even when done sincerely, the hurtful remarks will remain.”

The heart-tugging reconciliation scene between a teary-eyed Chelsea and her father Norman: (Chelsea: "It just seems that you and me have been mad at each other for so long..." Norman: "I didn't think we were mad; I thought we just didn't like each other" - ending with "I want to be your friend") - in which she touches his knee, culminating with Chelsea eagerly doing "a real goddamned back-flip" off the diving board for an appreciative Norman.

Proud to announce, my own son is doing better in this arena. While the sheetrock and doors of this abode still show the scars of anger.. The verbal outbursts have tremendously decreased with aging. We all, thankfully, seem to get better with this as we age. We slip occasionally, show our ass, leave ‘scars’, but too as we age, those scars stay with us.. As in “I hurt someone and I’m truly sorry.. A real idiot.. I wish I wouldn’ta done that.” A good thing me thinks for us to recognize.

This doesn’t havea hilla beans to do with today’s theme.. But it was in the same ‘wrap’ on On Golden Pond.. And I loved it…

And the final scene in which Ethel prays when Norman collapses due to angina ("Dear God, don't take him now. You don't want him. He's just an old poop") and Norman's famous proposal in his final line to Ethel, using slang he has learned from Billy: "Wanna dance or would you rather just suck face?"

Better now. I’m better now. We all get ‘better’. Never perfect, but better. Lord if I screw up again, forget, blurt, don’t Twiggle the Turtle…please remember I’m the baby, gotta love me!

Happy trails! Love, Victurd.

What a day for a daydream.....

What a day for a daydreamin' boy
And I'm lost in a daydream
Dreamin' 'bout my bundle of joy

And that bundle of joy comes in many shapes, forms.. Sure, a female. But too, Florida, Vegas, Cancun, a cruise, Thanksgiving Dinner, the Christmas tree, a sundress, sittin’ wit’ my buds, six inches of snow, and watching it from my bed, covered with four blankets..

And even if time ain't really on my side
It's one of those days for taking a walk outside
I'm blowing the day to take a walk in the sun
And fall on my face on somebody's new-mown lawn

I dreamed today I saw snow. Just for a second, but I saw snow. Damnit it was true. Time? Not on my side? Your side? Perhaps. I tend to disagree though. Whilst our bod gravitates toward our final resting place.. The file cabinet of our brain gets fuller.. The sortation processes of “what to keep” “what’s important” “what goes on the front burner” are way better at fitty than at fitteen, or, don’t shoot me Misty/Kendra, 27-ish.. (I will admit, you’re two sharp muther dubbers, and yes, I believe you both are wise beyond your years and perhaps you “get it” as well as anya us old rasins.)

I've been having a sweet dream
I been dreaming since I woke up today
It's starring me and my sweet thing
'Cause she's the one makes me feel this way

Eh sure, why not dream. I have this ‘vision’ fairly frequently… but I ain’t sure dream is the approriate wording.. I think it just happens.. If it happens.. Had to address this since it was in the GD lyrics.. My dreams are broader, more diverse. Yours? Daydreams aren’t always futuristic… they’re about the past, like dat chit we wrote about yesterday.. They’re about family, and hone in on a certain era, time… They’re about past relationships, and the good times within.. About people who once played starring roles in our lives but the ‘show’ has been cancelled..

And even if time is passing me by a lot
I couldn't care less about the dues you say I got
Tomorrow I'll pay the dues for dropping my load
A pie in the face for being a sleep'n bull doag

Huh? The hell’s that mean? I guess it means sometimes we’re selfish. Sometimes we slip. Sometimes we’re human. Guilt/selfishness/pride are hard to swallow.. But they will go down…

And you can be sure that if you're feeling right
A daydream will last long into the night
Tomorrow at breakfast you may pick up your ears
Or you may be daydreaming for a thousand years

Breakfast tomorrow.. That’s a nice dream. It means we get another. Breakfast is my favorite meal, when it ain’t hurried. We dream often. The computers in the ole brain always chuggin’ along.. No cobwebs there. Worry, yes.. Wake in the middle of the night worrying? Me too. Then, I take a friend’s advice “what’s done is done, nothing you can do about it now.”: If I see this red door (worry) I want it painted black (daydream instead.)

What a day for a daydream
Custom made for a daydreaming boy
And I'm lost in a daydream
Dreaming 'bout my bundle of joy

Had’a buddy I worked with at United Airlines. Fernando Papi. Talked pretty fast, nifty smile. His favorite saying was “It not my yob man, it not my yob.” Fernando always asked “wanna see a picture of my pride and joy? Sure Fernando, let’s see.. He’d open his wallet, and there it was.. A picture of a bottle of Pride.. And a bottle of Joy. Hehe.

It’s said, approximately 37% of time at work is spent on work. Hella daydreaming there, perhaps not with intent, happens. In a crowd - survey. Cool. Dream.

“There are voices in my head” and I’m glad there are. Thank God for daydreams. Them neurons are pretty nifty shit! Daydreams are unique to us all. I mean there’s probably some weirdos out there who even daydream about “her” standing at the floor to ceiling window in the bedroom clad only in her negligee. Hehe. Prevert! Ok, guilty.

Whatever thoughts go thru your brain, I’m glad they’re there. What a day for a daydream. Love, Victurd.

The crevice game....

I have…

Smiles on my face, and no idea why. Just gotta haircut, seen them North-South crevices… was gonna worry about it.. figured ain’t worth it.. So, mebbe why I smile.. Them suckers (crevices) are earned…

I’ve laughed at you, me, much. I’ve laughed at my sister’s humor, my father’s humor, my mother’s humor – the creeps! (Said with love.. they helped create these crevices then the sonofaguns left me!

In the barber’s chair.. little snotnose across the way…. Haircut lady had him gigglin’.. is there anything better than a kid’s laugh/giggle? Well ok, mebbe one or two things, but they’re pretty darn cool…

Senta email to a Big Wig lady at a West Coast Port Agency… She’d asked me a question that I didn’t have the answer for… so I forwarded it “two steps above me” and started the email:
Big Daddy (Maryanne, he FORCES us to call him that!)… She emailed back “Glad that you can mix fun and work.”… Is there any other way? Dunno how old u are, where ya been, where you’re going… ain’t it refreshing though to think back on all those that helped create your crevices? (Don’t worry 20-somethings, they’re forming, it just takes another 30 or so years for ‘em to “Ditch out”…)

Victor, you’re being a GD (gosh darn) Pollyanna again… No.. Not playing “The Glad Game”… I think a lemon is a lemon.. and many times I don’t make lemonade outta ‘em.. For some very weird reason I feel peaceful, serene, and am thankful for all of the past people who put smiles on my face…

Ain’t it great to see someone you ain’t seen in quite awhile.. and in those 20 or however many paces it is before you get up to hug, shake hands, a smile erupts and you review in your brain somea the rotten shit you’d done together? I love that feel. An appreciation for yesterday. Saying, without saying “I like the hell outta you and I have fond memories of past times with you.” Life can’t be repeated… situations change.. but until we make it to Golden Acres – it’s there baby. Etched. YOU CAN’T TAKE MY PAST FUN AWAY FROM ME!!!!

At this very moment, I don’t have a thing planned for this night (Friday night)…. Goodness, back in the day, that’s all we’d talk about all week… and it usually bore out to be as fun as what we’d envisioned… Tonight though, I reflect on that. And it’s a good feel.

The growing season. It’s year round. Whilst we’ve got them memories of the crevice-makers of the past – it’s full speed ahead to making more. As the waitress at the local hideout said, after laughing, coughing so hard at what one had said “I just about peed my thong.” So now, my running cronies and I, if we’re ever outta conversation – we resort to that. Her saying.

Pete and repete. Little digs (fun) about stuff you’ve done in the past – and you’re reminded of it. At one time I’d gone out with a gal… ok, misnomer, it was a one-nighter (Forgive me Father) and when I met up with the boys, it truly wasn’t a kiss and tell.. but I did stupidly blurt out “I’d marry her”.. They’ve never let me forget this, and I love them for never letting me forget it… much as I will never let Clay forget the night in high school when he threw a dart at me (yes, a dart) and it lodged in my knee. Sitting there, sure incredible pain, but more incredulous to the act – I just stared at it in disbelief.. Tis ok, I’ve used it for 30 years of fodder.

Dumb stuff. I love dumb stuff. The brain, we all know, filled with – what are they called? Neurons? Well sometimes we humans have thoughts that bypass all that crap, we do something TOTALLY stupid… and upon occasion someone sees us.. and it’s never forgotten.. and frequently reminded. I’m glad for that.

Ok, no catchy ending here. Victor, who said you had catchy endings. Bite me neuronless. I thought I’d just stop for a moment and be a little thankful for all those around me in my past, present and hopefully future – that’ve (that a word?) helped me ‘build’ these GD crevices. Looking at it with “the Glad game” eyes, hell.. when I cry, it’s makes a hella easy way for tears to escape.. down the eye, past the nose, either the Tigris or the Euphrates will guide it down past my chin – and to the ground.

Thank you for allowing me to celebrate laughter… Sometimes I get droopy, and forget to play “The Crevice Game.” Pollyanna assuredly woulda loved seafood, liver, cottage cheese. Not me. I ain’t the Glad Game- but I’m all about (trying anyways) the Crevice Game. Hope you are too. Good luck you sonofaditches. Love, Victurd.

Whirlwinds…

We’ve all seen ‘em... Could be mebbe losing your hat… Could be Western Kansas, losing your roof… could be misjudging a fly ball.. No matta, it’s consternation…

It’s been a whirlwind of late…

Couplea days ago.. The internet thing… Few months back joined a free site where you can communicate… see pics… learn about… FASTER than 78.. We’re talking “yay/nay in a gigabyte.”..

Saw a gal nearby.. A year older.. Fetching… Winged a few “hi” emails back and forth… I just had one picture up.. She asked if I had any more... She also said “I work in the same town... We oughta get together sometime”… hehe.. I said “sure”.. She was a paralegal, and working in my hometown, so I proceeded to relate the names of lawyers I grew up with.. “he and I played little league together..”.. “he and I were in the same HS class”… so-and-so and so-and-so might not remember me, but we went to College together..

Megabyte hit shortly thereafter… “Read/Deleted”… “Read/Deleted”.. I was thinkin’ Dayum.. Either onea them sumbitches didn’t like me, or mebbe the added pics brought upchucks!

Editor’s note to yesterday’s blog… When I said (after meeting someone and the response was negative) that I “didn’t give a shit.” Well of course that’s not true.. For those who REALLY know me, they know it’s important to me to simply be liked. I tease and I play, but there is a decent heart here, and I enjoy when people like me… and vice versa…

The point of the whole paragraph was, I can’t control what people think, and I am me. There’s no changing me, who I am. And mebbe you as well. Sure, I have regrets for past behaviors. Uh huh, I’m not liking (full fledged) the life I presently lead, but I like me. I know I’m human. I’ve learned the hardest lesson there is to learn, one can only control one’s own feel.

That said. I went back to that gigabyte site today. On break (Our IT department is monitoring us… I feel like a 7th grader) I surfed that one site and found a pretty nice sounding/looking lady whose “status” was “widowed”….

She said she was looking for a friend to do things with.. And that she’s already had her soul mate for life… wanted someone to do, go. I “hear” that.. And I think to myself “she doesn’t want to betray.. I dunno how long it’s been, but she’s lonely for a mate.. And no, I don’t think if a gal emailed her, they’d go/do..” Be for real…

So I wrote “I'm very sorry as to how you got here, and I'm not good with words on this.. just know I/many, feel for you/your family...My name is Victor - I live in Liberty.. Bored as well.. and sure, looking for a friend... If you desire contacting me, it's great... if not, that's ok too.. Happy day... You have a nifty smile! Victor

The reply I got was “What in the hell are you talking about”…

So I responded “Ma'am, your profile indicated you were widowed. I was just relating that I was very sorry about that for you.”

Which ignited further fire, whirlwind… “Thank you for your concern but you might want to be a bit more clear. I wish you lots of luck.”

Mebbe she’d peeked at my pic and upchucked, I dunno. You ever reach that stage where you teeter back and forth between “I should just shut my yap right now and count my losses” and “NO, this pisses me off… I had good intent.. Screw her!”.. I was there…

So.. I wrote “Maybe I'm having a bad day as well.. I was as nice as could be and I feel you lambasted me... for no real reason.. besta luck to you as well..”

Ok, so I admit… the “maybe I’m having a bad day as well” was kinda smartass… scroll to I can’t control what people think, and I am me. There’s no changing me, who I am. And mebbe you as well. Sure, I have regrets for past behaviors. Uh huh, I’m not liking (full fledged) the life I presently lead, but I like me.”

So the wind velocity picked up.. She cranked out “When I blast you then you will know it. I am not having a bad day. You hit me wrong with your sympathy I did not ask for it nor do I want it. That said. HAVE A NICE DAY and there is no need to respond.”
Hehe… so… I considered writing back.. But then I moreso tried to fit myself into her shoes… and I couldn’t.. I know she’s struggling, hell, who wouldn’t… But I tried to see the view, and I couldn’t.

Educate me here. I ain’t asking for “oh Victor, your did nothing wrong, she’s a witch” (because mebbe you’ve been here awhile, know me, would subconsciously tend to side with me)..

I’m moreso looking at the view from her shoes… Can anyone project insight to that?

I HONESTLY didn’t mean harm.. I had no ill intent… I thought the widow thing perhaps needed acknowledgement… Mebbe I barky up wrong tree…

It’s been a whirlwind…

7200-something left. The last few ain’t been so good, but, that’s the way (uh huh uh huh) I like it… ups… downs… food for thought anyways…

I’m the baby, gotta love me… unless you look at my pic, upchuck… mebbe talk to some Liberty lawyer that knows me and says “not no’s but hells no’s”… or perhaps I was, what’s the word, insidious, to ever bring the widow thing up…

Until the day I get Senior Coffee at Mickey D’s with cane/slow pace… pee my pants and forget my name, love, Victurd.

Mirrors, video and photos… Intuition.. and Dance a Little Sidestep..

When u think about it, this is the only time we really see ourselves.. We’re captive for others – thus, opinions are formulated easily. Me, you. How do we know ourselves? Our vision is outward, our thoughts are mainly private – our brain runs a mile a minute..

Ooh I love to dance a little sidestep, now they see me now they don't-
I've come and gone and, ooh I love to sweep around the wide step,
cut a little swathe and lead the people on.

I don’t know how to relate this to young punks, but… to me, dating, and “seeing who the other is” progresses at the pace of a 78 record… In a whirlwind we decide. It’d be like “The Presidential Election is tonight, here’s your candidates… please decide.” Holy shit, you gotta be kidding me? No. Sorry. You’re on stage. Captive. We’ll review, then decide. With that decision, it’s etched. THAT’S who you are from our shoes. Sorry.

This, of course, goes both ways. I’ve been in situations where, as soon as I got outta the car, I just knew “huh uh.” Other times, I’ve enjoyed myself tremendously, “read” the other and their actions – believed they too believed – and then it’s all followed by that dreaded silence. Silence, in dating, hurts. Either end.

I’ve been “78”ed and told “too quiet”.. “too forward” (SORRY! I’m the baby, gotta love me!).. “Smoke too much”.. “Need to show more fortitude with my son.”… “Handsome” (It was a blind date.)..

And then I’ve been told “nothing”.. That silence.. The 78 decision/picture, apparently tweren’t a good one.

My thoughts on this: who gives a shit. Honest. Our view of our ownself, as we’ve mentioned – is really only in a photo, on a video, or a peek in the mirror. The remarkable brain we all possess – this is our long play, 33. We know ourself – we do. We know our heart, or lack thereof. We know our evil, or lack thereof. We know our spiritual nature, or lack thereof.

My father said on more that one occasion “Victor, you’re a follower.” And perhaps I was… No more. I am me. I likes me, if someone else doesn’t, I ain’t gots no control over that. Hurts a tad mebbe – but we all have diverse likes, dislikes. It’s human nature, and again, it goes both ways.

Victor, what are you saying here? Well, I’m saying that we ALL judge, and we ALL judge in 78 speed. Frankly, that’s perhaps not fair, but, it’s the way. I’m saying, that perhaps the innards affect the outtards in dating, or even when simply meeting one for the first time in the “real world”… The older I get, the more I understand “Some people just won’t like me.” Or you. It still bothers me – but, now I rollover and go back to sleep pretty easily!

So….. I’m suggesting here that all first dates should be 72 hours insteada 4. Play a 33 (if you can find one).. Dance.. Snuggle.. Talk.. Learn.. Judge slow.. Laugh.. Giggle.. Hell, tickle even.

Can one “know” the other in 72 hours? Well of course not, but it’s a greater glance.. Could fend off buyer’s remorse as the longer the view, the moreya see. You might find things that really bug you.. thenagain, you might find wonderful things you’da never EVER thought existed in the person you’re with…

So…… I’m free this weekend. If you have interest in a 72 hour date at 33 speed… call me.. We’ll do lunch.. and dinner.. and breakfast.. 867-5309….

Ooh I love to dance a little sidestep, now they see me now they don't-
I've come and gone and, ooh I love to sweep around the wide step,
cut a little swathe and lead the people on.

Good luck in learning of yourself better – and please help me (and you) to keep from “78”ing our opines of others. (Not to say that 78 opine isn’t necessarily “right on”.. it’s just perhaps not fair – either way.)

Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name, love, Victurd.

1/4 Fun….

I love Holidays… All… Even Columbus Day.. Some companies have ten.. some only eight…

I thinks we needs anuther…

I propose: One-Four-Fun day…

Now April Fools is 4/1.. So let’s reverse that, and do 1/4… and add, “fun”!.......

1/4 Fun…

On this day, January 4, we’ll simply have a goal of “fun”…

Some guidelines: Upper management has mandatory clock-in at 8am sharp. For every minute of tardiness, then must sit for ten on the chair of the dunk tank in the lunch room…

Footsoldiers could slide in anywhere from 8:40am to 9:20am, and mandatory “lights off, outta office” at 4:20pm.

We must switch, bassackwards, assbackwards, salutations… Insteada “hi”, “howyadoin”, “sup?” we’ll use more smile invoking words like “poop”, “Doggie doo-doo”, “who peed in your cornflakes”..

Upon a sneeze… entire office must stand and shout “HAIRBALL”..

Shots for all upon the even hours… Smokers meet in the conference room at smoke break, all others must fend for the 1/4 fun outside…

Underwear must be worn on the outside, and HR will undergo “skidmark check”, and if you fail, your pair, autographed in magic marker, will be hung on the company bulletin board…

The Interstates will have MANDATORY 45 MPH rules.. emergency flashers must be on.. if someone pulls up next to you, honks, it’s the signal to start interchanging lanes and doing figure 8’s with your compadre…

(Posted speed limit after 4pm that day, due to even hour shots, would be 25mph. Fender benders wouldn’t injure, and could be fun even!)…

Pajamas are welcome attire, bring your damn pets too, that’d be fun. Breakout meeting rooms will run The Simpsons, South Park, Family Guy, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest…

People that never have fun would be forced to.. If, after each shot on the even hour they still don’t smile, gang tackling and tickling is welcome…

Afternoon break.. Smokers may still visit the conference room to puff.. or.. join in on the company dodgeball game in the West Parking lot. Ever wanna nail that ole “B” from accounting? Here’s your chance! The guy who’s mouth is never closed? Here’s your chance to close it! Whomever throws the ball producing the biggest purple welt, would win the Purple People Eater T-Shirt…

This could even coincide with a charity. Wanna second shot on the even hours? Sure! They’re free, but for the resta the day, every time you pee will cost you Two Bucks – and we’ll pick a charity.

If a coworker farts, it’s mandatory you clap.. if it’s a real good’n (anything exceeding five seconds) you must give a standing ovation…

Each must pick a new first name.. Let’s say Victor is changed to “Asshole.”.. Suzie becomes “whore”.. Rachel is now “Bitch”…

We’d have bells to ring at our desk, signaling “more coffee please” – and upper management must abide.

Sometime during lunch, each must wisk away to the Zerox machine and take onea them nekkie pics.. post it on the bulletin board (making sure not to cover up skid-marked undies)… and we’d all play “Name those genitals” around 3:30….

Upon leaving the office at 4:20, e
ach footsoldier must nab a roll’a toilet paper from the bathroom (you creep you.. you’ve done this right before payday ain’tya?)… and decorate the upper management car of choice..

Continuing on at home, children must cook.. and we will serenade them as they do with “I’m hungry, when’s it gonna be ready”… or, “I DON’T WANT SPAGHETTI, I want a HAMBURGER.”

Old folks must retire at 9pm, and the young and the restless must then clean the bathroom, kitchen, vacuum, and fill the coffeemaker up for the morning of 1/5.

1/4 Fun. It’ll never happen. But it’d be fun. I love fun. Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name, love, Victurd.

Five years….

I dream of where I’ll be five years from now. Small house, a couplea acres.. Building a rock deck.. fire pit.. roof over it for sitting, enjoying storms.. backyard down a hill – with hopefully enough bucks to build a dam and have a small pond..

So far out I can go get the paper in my undies.. Not that I’m an exhibitionist, it’s just I’ve been cooped up next to Gladys Kravats for so many years. Feels likes I gots surveillance cameras on me with every move I make.

CD burner (no, don’t have one) to record whatever d@mn songs I wanted, and a kick-rear stereo (do they still call them that?) to crank the music and let it reach my soul.

Caller ID for “when the mood hits me I’ll answer, when not, I ain’t gonna.”

Decorate the way I wanna. If the urge hits me to hang an MU sign, will. If I see a sign with a stupid saying that I happen to like, uh huh. Fun stuff. Light. Keep it light.

Oh.. and mebbe a partner. (She could hang whatever crap she wanted to hang, and I would very definitely enjoy both brains working on any/everything)…

Slow dancing.. We’d do that a lot.. In the bedroom there’d be a floor to ceiling window looking out at the pond.. And, close ur ears, streaming sunlight coming thru to watch her in her negligee as she stared at nature. (All men are pigs)…

Mebbe working the same place.. Mebbe not.. Hopefully saving bucks ‘cause my 401K is more like a 101K.. God Bless Social Security..

Pickemup truck. Wants me onea them. Scamp, for quick getaways. Canoe, for taking two cars – parking one downstream/river 7 miles, the pickemup to fetch the canoe upriver..

Problem is, I’ve had this dream for sometime. It’s ‘now’ when I had this dream five years ago. For those of you locally in KC, it’s kinda like the “Carl Peterson 5-year plan”.. We’re on our 22nd year I think and we ain’t even had a playoff win.

What is it that prevents us from marching toward our dreams? This ole economy ain’t helpin’.. Shucks, having enough to pay bills, eat, fill tank is rough enough nowadays. Dream$ are costly. Mine are simple, I just needs me an impetus.

Lazy? Eh, mebbe some. Don’t think that’s the roota the problem. I feel like I have plentya energy, I reckon I just point it in the wrong direction..

Victor, you’re rambling, they left you in the third paragraph. Ok, well then if that’s true I can say what I want eh? I want someone that I can’t wait until she gets home so we can smooch, talk, touch, and bury our eyes in each others.. Simple eh? No, it’s hard. I find it’s been hard to find.

Older we get, pickier we get. And the pickier others get. We become set in our ways. Gets in the way of that dream crap. What’s a dream for one mebbe ‘yuck’ for another.

Helps me here Goldielocks.. howinthehell does one find “just right.” 2008. 2013. Tain’t far. (SURELY nest will be empty by then, puhhhhhlease ole Lord!).. He’s the baby, gotta love him, but grow wings young man!... Fly robin fly, up up to the sky…

Gotta go now. Going to get the paper, drink coffee. (Fully clothed.) Might picka booger enroute just to stir Gladys a tad. Will read paper, look out back window and continue to dream.

Where are ya impetus… Have a great day.. Dare to dream.. Hopin’ u have someone to suckface with.. and if u do.. please no takey for granted.. Happy day, love, Victurd.

Just a day….

I sat and stared at this page… With the risk of that one asshole saying “who said you were a writer” I think I’ve got writer’s block. (who said you were a writer?).. Asshole.

Then I got ta thinking.. All that crap runnin’ thru my brain.. your brain.. our brains.. the keyboard is too slow.. there ain’t enough megahertz, however u spell… Windows XP and AT&T DSL can’t keep up (that is, whenever I’ve paid my bill).. The brain, even this simpleton one of mine, is a remarkable muther dubber….

Thoughts of the plain ole day, what I’ve seen….

In line at Piggly Wiggly. BEAUTIFULLY gorgeous lady, roughly same age, wheelchair bound.. with a wonderful 8 yr old or so granddaughter to assist.. She put the electric wheelchair in “R” for ‘race’ and damn near backed over me… I giggled.. fastforwarded.. and imagined answering “so how did you two meet?”… Well.. she ran over me.. ‘Bound’ is a misnomer – as she was certainly enjoying being out and about…

“Dad, the trees are even pretty when the leaves all fall off.. I like ‘em like that too.. do all trees lose their leaves?”… Yeah, I think so.. while they don’t really have leaves, the fir families of trees stay green all year….(45 shopping days left!)…

Mickey D’s… Part owner of a local dive.. Late 70’s.. Struggles to the counter.. “Hi son”.. Hey Reuben, howya doin’?... Few months back, some 20-something ran up to him at the bar, goal was to hug – she knocked him to the floor… broken hip…

Few minutes later, very stately looking gent.. certainly athletic back in the day… now… the years had pushed his upper body over toward his eventual resting place.. hard to watch….

Still even, another man, even older… even worse off than Reuben or stately.. 15 paces to restroom.. with cane, stroke – took over a minute…

Second in line I was.. McDonalds dude chirps “May I help you?”… Feller in fronta me, 40-something, hands the snotnose a note with his scribble on it… points up to the board at the number he wanted.. Snotnose smile, nodded, and went to fill order.. Few minutes later, snotnose #2 walks up “may I help you?”.. ‘bout that time, #1 slides the feller his food.. as feller kissed his fingers and led his hand of thanks toward #1, he shrilled out “thank you”… #1 smiled, nodded.. he’d done well.. #2 about peed her pants as it wide-eyes startled her…

Life is startling..

Just when we feel our own problems can’t possibly get any worse – we’re awakened and realize perhaps our little diddies are actually a thing of trivial pursuit..

I didn’t enjoy observing struggle, but by God it does a heart wonders to see those that do tell the world “Go ahead life, I’ll take you on you cocksucker.. and even in my struggles I’ll find joy.”….

Almost “back to the ranch.” OHHHH NOOOO… GD (gosh darn) Black Cat… WHY ME?... Too fast to turn around.. I’m history.. My problems are real!!!!

Hehe.. If there is anyone out there who wants to grow old, have canes, lean wit’ me later, and mebbe “get a little exercise” in the meantime, call me… 867-5309.. we’ll do Mickey D’s.. or the Piggly.. or take a spin and see the trees.. or mebbe just take a nap…

Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name… love, Victurd.

Ah keep your eyes on the road,

Your hands upon the wheel.
Keep your eyes on the road
Your hands upon the wheel.
Yeah, were going to the roadhouse,
Gonna have a real good-time.

The excitement of going. Doing. Friends. Not work. Not sleep. Not cleaning the house. Not being in the ‘have to’ mode.. Fun. Relaxation with excitedness…

Yeah, the back of the roadhouse,
Theyve got some bungalows.
Yeah, the back of the roadhouse,
Theyve got some bungalows.

They dance for the people
Who like to go down slow.

Dancing – what could be better? Said before, I’m too white to fast dance, so I just get out there and move a bit. But slow dance….. mercy is there anything better or romantic. I even likes watching people dance when they ain’t at’ta dance..

Let it roll, baby, roll.
Let it roll, baby, roll.
Let it roll, baby, roll.
Let it roll, all night long.

Let it roll… Yes, let it roll. Now this doesn’t mean you have to live life hard out partying – but, in some sense, life is a party… and you don’t have to attend a party (or a dance) to let it roll… Baby.

Do it, robby, do it!

You gotta roll, roll, roll,
You gotta thrill my soul, alright.
Roll, roll, roll, roll-a
Thrill my soul.

Thrill the soul. Yeah. What’d we say in the 60’s? Groovy. Far out. Excellent. Again, we go back to that damn choice word. What’s a thrill for one might not be for the other. I pity the other.

Ashen-lady.
Ashen-lady.
Give up your vows.
Give up your vows.
Save our city.
Save our city.
Ah, right now.

I’d always hoped this had actually said “passion lady” – but it didn’t. Because to me, the zest of life is spiced just a tad bit more by passionate women. Now I don’t mean (specifically) sex passion… I mean passion… For whatever reason, in general, God created woman (please don’t slap me) not quite as strong physically as the male. Sure, there are exceptions, but for the most part this is true. So…… to see a gal demonstrate passion – for anything, is.. well.. groovy.. (Mebbe why way back in ’75, I was attracted to a gal who played basketball, drove a school bus, rode a motorcycle, AND, had a 4.0 in Biology.)

Well, I woke up this morning
And I got myself a beer.
Well, I woke up this morning
And I got myself a beer.

I’ve not done this in some time, but I have. I think it’s more about the celebration of life versus the actual act of drinking, getting drunk. The potential of ‘high’ is out there if we wanna grab it, and it doesn’t require alcohol, drugs, etc… (Ahm, Victor, weren’t you at The Dish Pizza joint last night?... Ok ok, got me – but, I absolutely try to live intoxicated with/about life when I ain’t sitting behind a cold mug. I fail sometimes, but ‘choice’
I have to remember, lifts me. And I hope you.

The futures uncertain
And the end is always near.

Let it roll, baby, roll.
Let it roll, baby, roll.
Let it roll, baby, roll.
Let it roll, all night long.

The futures uncertain and the end is always near. Yes, nicely spoken Jim. Jim ain’t here no longer. He bit the big one. Left behind is the legacy of his music. He’s etched in CD’s across the land.. As I pulled into work today (yes, Saturday. Work. I’d rather be going to the roadhouse.. hell, I’d even take an ashen lady at this point!).. this song was on.. And it kinda reminded me life’s a party.

The departed. Family members. Friends. Former teachers. Neighbors. We don’t have their CD’s for instant recall. The only CD we have of them is what’s etched in our brains.

Come to think of it, as we put the right leg forward, then the left, we create our own CD in life. When I gets in those down situations – stuff like music helps. I gotta remember “let it roll, baby, roll. We’re going to the roadhouse and gonna have a real good time.” If we choose that.

Have fun creating the CD of your life. I’m glad to be a parta it. I like your smile. I like your zest. I like your passion. I like your upbeatedness. Really nice how, when I know you might not be so spiffy on the inside – that you always portray “let it roll, baby, roll” on the outside.

The futures uncertain and the end is always near. Let’s hold hands and treasure the day, eh?
Love, Victurd

Jumper cables……

Got dandruff, someofit itches. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… Go away winter – come back… oh…. say the second weeka January…

Lower than white wale shit at the deepest parta the ocean. That’s the term that was in some fraternity song we sang eons ago. Funny, I was a PE major, can’t remember the basic muscles, bones of the bod, but I can word for word still recite Sigma Nu songs. Color me a simpleton. But a happy simpleton!

Well… kinda-sorta…

Took yesterday off because Gladys Kravats had called the City to complain of her neighbors (that be me) fence that had partially fallen… gutter, that had partially fallen off, and, a hole in the siding…. so, she was right to grump, it’s just that I hate her. VICTOR, hate is a strong word.. eh, sorry… I do.. (She yanked my son’s arm when he was 13, I ain’t talked to her since…)

Sooooooooooooo……. this old sumbitch did physical stuff all day… and I’m usedta sitting in cubicle, staring at computer, about the only calories I burn is when I get up to pee, or grab a snack from atop the filing cabinets…

Tired. I was tired. Then…. when making the last cut with skill saw (I can’t cut straight with that damn thing… why do they call it a skill saw?)… Blew a breaker.

So now… Maynard can’t play PlayStation 2 in the living room… and… brrrrrrrrrrrr… the breaker that blew also happens to operate the furnace… Cats help, blankets help, but damn it’s cold.

Ok, justabout done griping, ‘cept, there’s more bills than money at this point, and I hate$ giving an electrician the resta what’s there.

Done.

It’s just that, forgive me Father, some days suck. Some times suck. In the gamea life, sometimes you scratch on the 8-ball. Thenagain Victor, don’t forget you’ve knocked that sucker in on the break and won in one shot too… Yeah, rectum you’re right. Up, down, all around.

With losses come VICTORies… When one rides off ona Harley, perhaps anuther will spring up!..

So I got-ta thinkin’… what’s good for a jumpstart, my battery (me) is growling.

I likes…… music… pettin’ my cats.. a beer with my HS cronies… regular ole banter at work… writing (sorry, for you!)… a drive with the eyeballs peeled… seeing a deer cross the highway… catching an old friend in the aisle at the Piggly Wiggly… An email from a friend for no apparent reason..

A slicea pecan pie (thanks to my niece)… Seeing the gas gauge full and I didn’t haveta get a 2nd mortgage to fill it.. Planters Salted Peanuts.. I can’t subsist without them suckers…

Helping a friend… Smiling at’ta stranger.. Hearing the laugh of those around where that laugh comes so freely – and we really oughta stop and tell ‘em either “I so so enjoy your quick laugh” or “you’re always happy, whatinthehell is wrong with you?”…

Jumpstarts. Grumpy days. Lacka money upon occasion. Yuck. Muck. Just gotta remember, for every night spent alone, thinka the last time one got laid! Ups/downs, no pun intended. Mebbe.

Life, you’rea sonofagun and a thing of wonder all in one. Thanks for the ride. Thinkin’ about a hybrid. Maybe it would make the whole trip less costly.

So, if you’re havin’ a grumpy day… do as I say. (hehe)… bitch, moan, cuss, stomp, blog on the inside, and smile on the outside. If one smiles frequently enough and you’re single, they’ll think “aha, had the ups and downs eh?”… And maybe just maybe that day will happen.. again..

Love, grumpy (sometimes) Victurd…

Joie de vivre

Was in the kitchen last night… Son’s friend that lives with us, his girlfriend, hovered over the stove. Ground beef, some kinda hamburger helper. What looked like a pound anda halfa onions, smothered with melted cheese. Yuck.

“Vic, aren’t you gonna eat with us?” Yuck.. “ahm, sure, thanks!”… Ate. Yuck. But, loved the giving in ‘em. Tastes. Different tastes.

Twelve of us assembled. Most caucasion. Different sizes, ages, paychecks, dress. An Asian. An older African American male, and a 20-something African American female. We’d just heard over an hour and a half about a car accident. 40-something guy, small, portly, smiley, happy – had plowed into the back of a 40-something, tall, handsome dude.

Was Christmas time. Interstate. Big hill. Atop the hill, exit to a popular mall. So popular in fact, traffic filled the exit, and was overflowing into the Interstate. Portly crested hill, couldn’t stop – mashed the 40-something tall dude.

Who’s at fault? How much? Why? Why not?... Us. The blacks, whites, Asian, young, old, rich, middle, poor – grouped to decide…..

I love diversity. Our world is a puzzle and we’re all pieces within. Alaskans, hell I wouldn’t live there – they, wouldn’t be any place else. Wasting away in Key West. “The way.” “The only place.” Western Kansas farmer. “You can have your crowded Interstates, your skyscrapers.”

Christians, Hindu’s, Buddists, Atheists, Mormans, etc..

People who enjoy crossword puzzles, gardening, walks on the beach, blackjack, bingo, fiction, non-fiction, the History channel, the Missouri Tigers, (Hold your nose) The KU Jayhawks. We all have different interests. Diverse. Nifty.

Beauty in the eye of the beholder. “I love him because of his…. Confidence, eyes, chest, butt, humor, kindness, intellect, success, power, down-to-earthedness…”

“I love her because of…. her spunk, her boobs, her derriere, her intellect, her legs, her passion, her heart, her smile…” The view from our shoes ain’t the same, yet we somehow wonderfully share this muther dubber of life.

Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, those that don’t givea rats…

Walk into an auto plant.. there on the line… the country kid… the athlete who traded a full ride for a long ride… the 6’8”, 340 lb mammoth… the 5’1”, 95 lb gal… extroverts, introverts, religious fanatics… all join hands to mold the car. Their puzzle they put together.

Some within the jury talked frequently, and as they did, we tended to listen less… When an elderly lady spoke – she’d been quiet for over half an hour – we steadfastedly listened. On a fun note, we’d been subjected to 3 bouts of kick-boxing videos of the 40-something handsome dude – and his pitch “I hurt my back, my kick boxing career is over because of this.” I kinda giggled, as he looked fairly silly in the videos, but then I ran the bases at the City Park last year, so whointhehell am I to speak…

Good ideas these folks brought forth… “I never thoughta that.”… “Yes, he does deserve something.” The many minds, from way different upbringings, forced to decide.

Classic Rock, The Blues, Country, Hip-hop, Soul, Gospel, Opera, Symphonic… different.. Diverse…

The hotpants, the overalls, the cleavage shower, the conservative, the business suit – and all kindsa others somewhere in between. We’re unique, yet we makeup the world, this nation.

To me, doesn’t matter if you’re a Repub or Dem, there had to be some kinda feel good seeing Obama elected. We’ve come a long way baby. Herm Edwards, coach of the Kansas City Chiefs – shares a similar background to Barack….

Herm’s father(Black) was in the Military… Met his wife (White) in Germany.. Returned to the US to get married in 1953. Lived in the South. Wasn’t allowed. Had to travel to Washington DC to get married. Herm, born in 1954, even went thru some “bad stuff” personally regarding race..

“I had to wake my girls up to see the election. I was so proud. Proud of what my parents went through. Proud of what others before have gone through. I wanted the girls to see it rather than read about it in History books so they could say ‘I was there, I saw it.’ “

Pretty damn cool (to me… but I understand we’re diverse, and that’s what makes the world go round…)

I actually did contribute something that day in the jury. We all decided he was at fault. He’d admitted to speeding. The kick boxer (not becausea that) deserved something for his pain and duress. When we couldn’t reach financial decision, I said “let’s all write down an amount, we’ll throw out the high and the low and take the average.” We did. Can’t remember now, think it was like $14,000… Anyway, we “built that car.” We “lived in the same city together”… We coexisted.

One Nation under God, indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for all."

Gotta email from a gal that said “I have been reading your blog. Seemed there were times what you were putting out there are some of my thoughts, not all, but some.” Viva la difference. Bebbe it’s what makes the world tick.

So whatinthehell does “Joie de vivre” mean?... I was on a goofy dating site. Saw a chicky that I thought had a cool smile. Emailed her to tell her so, cept, it wouldn’t let me because some nerd (said with love, with you I peacefully coexist!) figured outta way that because I listed “Smoker” I was blocked from emailing her.

So I lied and changed to non-smoker. Emailed her, fessed up to being a smoker – and related “nice smile, just wanted to let you know.” Which, is maybe kinda sorta fancy for “give it another thought wouldya, you’re gorgeous, let’s go take a nap.” Hehe.

So she writes back… admits to “can’t” (the smoker thing) and signed it Joie de vivre…

Looked it up… (See, we’re different, somea you brainiacs already know) it means “the joy of living.”

She and I were different, yet we share that. Life, it be good, no matter what size shoe you view it from.

Happy day, love Victurd.