The Resolution is fuzzy……..

Did u make a list for 2008? Ifn’s so, gone back and graded howya did?

Here’s mine… with results… some good, some not so good, some chitty…..

Sleep outside… (Accomplished)

Continue to blog, good Lord willing…. (Uh huh, have)

Boogie til 2009... (yeah, I’d say in attitude mosta the time.. I’m a crappy dancer though)

New Address… (Damnit)

Hotel/motel - 3 nights… (Nope)

Cruise… (Ha ha)

Cigs - yuck - I have GOT to get ridda the grip they have on me... Four times in the past three years - when combined with a cold, sinus infection - I've coughed until I momentarily passed out. I have got to quit, I know it and I don't have to hear a doctor say it - I know he thinks it. (Ahm, ok, would you believe I’m waiting to time this for when our City joins the area-wide bans? Yeah, didn’t think you would… brb, getting a cig.)

Tell impactive ones they were just that…. (I did to a few)..

Find the one to love… and glee in watching her get out of bed to walk to the restroom… (Ahm.. This would be scored mebbe incomplete… had all but the ‘love’ part)

Hold the hand of one I want to hold, and in return, them want to have it held.. (It wasn’t a great dating year, let’s leave it at that.)

Share a movie, rub a leg… (Uh huh, but not with enough frequency)

A weekend away for two… (Nope)

Choose happy over sad… (Mosta the time)

Pray for verbal hesitation when someone’s done something or said something that hit’s the belly/brain the wrong way…(Uh huh, ‘ceptin for the one time that lady intruded my cubicle with a little “tude” and I told her “please get the hell outta here, and when you wanna come back and talk civilly, please feel free to.”

Do something good for the world, with no remuneration to me… (One small thing)….

Say “hello” to people I don’t know more often… (Yes.. And it’s fun)

Continue to occasionally play pool with my younger friends who treat an old guy like one of the gang.. (Uh huh)

Befriend every hound I come in contact with…(Uh huh)

Have another year of patience with my son.…(YeS, i’Ve ReAlLy TrIeD, hArD sOmEtImEs.)

In every meeting I can with a friend, either say something to make them feel good about themselves, or to inquire of a part of their life dear to them - hopefully, in effect saying “I like you, I value your friendship..” (I’ve kinda sorta tried.. Not every meeting)

Throw on those size 36 jeans, and have there be a little air there between the belly/butt/hips and the denim… (Yes and no… Won biggest loser contest.. Dropped 21 lbs.. Halfa that crap is now back… 36’s still snug)

Continue to email the daily “You might be a Redneck if” joke to my buds.. (No, they got lamer and lamer… at least that’s my rationalization)

Continue to “have one”, play pool, Golden Tee bowling, shuffleboard, visit with friends regularly - BUT - to utilize the days/nights I ain’t doing that more constructively, educationally, in OTHER ways… (F… did the first part, failed on the second… mebbe a carry over for 2009)

Get a CD/DVD burner… (Nope, I ain’t even got onea them analog things yet)

Enjoy, frequent, behold the great outdoors as much as I did in my twenties. It’s taken for granted (the time left) - use it Victor. (Bouta C)

To reread this on 12/31/2008 and to simply like me and the year I’ve led.. (Yes.. But I’m weird, I like every year.. Even the ones where, say, a mate might “ride off on a Harley.” Ever seen a dude wearing onea those “the bitch fell off” T-Shirts? VICTOR! Sorry.. I AM NOT BITTER… FOR BEHOOGETY SAKES.. CAN’T YOU TELL I’M A PEOPLE PERSON!)

I resolve that the term “New Year” includes ALL of 2008, and if I thinka shit I ain’t thought of today - the want and ability to add it to this list.

I resolve to review this list quarterly with my eyes, but even way more frequently with my brain as I live 2008. (Yeah, think looked at it once, mid-year.. Sorry teacher)…

I resolve to hope my friends, loved ones know I hope 2008 is one of the best years of their life.. (I rectum, and I’ve already wished that to them for 2009)

Love, Victurd

Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder who.......

I wonder………

I wonder what the world would be like if we didn’t have guns…

I wonder what would happen (positively) to work performance, if… the owners said “here.. We have this much money to spend on payroll… rank your coworkers.. Then divvy it up how you feel it should be.”

My boss wondered… Our airline was asked to transport an organ (for free) for an operation in another city.. We did. But, my boss wondered “I wonder if they’ve going to transplant it for free?”

I wonder why, as we old, single farts age… there appears desperation for a mate… yet, we become pickier and pickier.. And get to be older, single farts…

My son told me.. “did you know it cost like 3 cents to make a penny, and 7 cents to make a nickel.” I wonder why we make ‘em? And who pays for the excess?

I wonder why, when… they go down as well… we call ‘em elevators?

I wonder why, when I grew up, we left windows opened at night to allow the summer air to enter thru the screen… doors were unlocked… and now we have deadbolts, security cameras, lights that come on when something moves…

Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder who… who wrote the book of love….

I wonder why people hit animals?

If we can fly people to the moon, clone a calf, build computers to hold a kajilllion megabytes, I wonder why can’t we invent a way that automobiles won’t hit other automobiles whilst in transit?

When two piddle… the ‘prelims’ are called foreplay.. Whaddaya call it when you play after? I guess “post play” would kinda sorta work. Might be one-sided though. And gooey. Sorry. Slipped.

I wonder why Uncle Sam bails out corporations while it’s for sure known that not every human in our country has food to eat for the day?

Since our planet is round, I wonder why the water doesn’t fall off?

I wonder why it takes leather balls to play rugby?

If two bisexuals were riding a bike built for two.. I wonder if it’d be called a bibibicycle or a bibiyclebult4two?

I wonder if two peoples that each have lips, or eyebrows pierced, ever got stuck together?

I wonder if two loggers constantly argued, then one day they buried the hatchet… the hell would they do then?

I wonder why it ain’t called a hairscut?

I wonder why, when we were kids, and the crotchety old teacher would lean her head down and leer at us from over the glasses… why we got more frightened? I mean hell, surely they couldn’t see us as well…

I wonder what the star is thinking, or what prompts to allofasudden say… “Ok, time to fall”…

I wonder whoever started “you can’t talk in your normal voice” in a library? And why?

If you’re late turning in a book, or you get a speeding ticket… why is the consequence called “fine’?

I wonder what Stevie Wonder wonders?

I wonder.. Is it possible to pat your head, rub your belly, wander and wonder all at the same time? On a bicycle built for two?

I wonder why I do this. (We do too Victor.)

Gotta go… (#1 since you asked).. . Wonder what I’ll do wit the resta the day?

Loveya, Victurd

I’m on Vication…….

Uh huh. Am. Took the whole week off. Yeah, I know, that’s only four working days this week, but ha ha, I took last Friday off too… So I don’t have to place my hand in that stupid palm reader time clock thingy for twelve, count ‘em, twelve days.

With such merriment… I decided to email a few of my friends who ARE working today.

Subject line: Happy New Year and……

Just a reminder... you're at work this week... I'M NOT!

HA HA HA........ HA HA HA....

Love,
Brat

Promptly, at 8:01am I received a reply. Lil’ basta’s… I’d emailed their private email addy’s, I hope their horn-rimmed IT guys are monitoring their play:

“I have nothing to say to that....
OH...except for SUCK IT, VIC!”

Thanks for replying Kendra… Did I mention I was on vacation?

Next one:

“I may be at work, but I'm getting paid to fuck around so now who's the man Vic????”

Hmmm.. Perhaps a good point there, ceptin’ I’m getting a little sleepy.. I think I’ll go take a nap… I do however hope she enjoyed the announcement “Good Morning, it’s 8am, have a great day.” (I was at Mickey D’s drinking fitty-four cent Senior coffee… reading about the wonderful Chiefs)….

Nuther:

“Happy New Year to all of you! And Victor...you can kiss my ass as well...just know that I could have taken the entire week off too…”

I wish these ditsy broads would make up their minds.. Suck it or kiss it… Hehe…

I’m thinking I may send ‘em a reminder again… ohhhh… around 2:30pm… you know.. That time of day when you’re thinking “I want the hell outta here.. And it’s only Monday.”…

And then… I’ll have another to send (I’ll be napping, but I’ll put it on auto-send at seven-fitty am tomorrow):

Good Morning…

Please know, my eyes are closed as you read this. Congrats to your company for you logging in at 8am on your personal email… they should be proud… slackers…

I’ve sent this automatically at seven-fitty am (with my nifty Microsoft Works delayed email thingy) so……. I’m sawing logs as you read…

Auto-email timer-sender thingy:
“Just a reminder… you’re at work, I’m not. I’m not coming back for a year. Twelve days I will have off. Stick that one up your Funk and Wagnel… Oh, and please… no emails until.. Ohhhhh.. Let’s say 10am… yeah, that’ll work.. I don’t want the “You’ve got mail” thing to awaken me… Just think.. You’ll only have 6 more hours to plug away there by then.. Oh, and the resta the week too, sorry, forgot that.”

This vication chit is pretty cool. I bet they’ll still welcome me with open arms when I return… ahm… in twelve days.. Did I mention that?

I mean heck, what are friends for?

Going now… nap in mind… I’ll set the alarm for… eh… I don’t think I’ll set the alarm.. I’m on Vication you know.

Happy New Year (At least you get that day off)…

Love,
Victurd

PS to KB… would u mind forwarding to LB so she’s aware I’m on Vication too? God Bless….

Weird brain……

But mebbe that’s ok. Today let’s talk “fun”. What’s fun for you? (Come on you creepy [said with love] no-commentin’ basta’s… for real.. What do you find fun?)

I likes some lyrics… like “Boom shacka lacka lacka, Boom shacka la boonka boo”…. and “Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin world go round”…

“Stop right there!… I gotta know right now!… Before we go any further--!
Do you love me?… Will you love me forever?…Do you need me?
Will you never leave me?…Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?
Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?…Do you love me!?
Will you love me forever!?…Do you need me!?…Will you never leave me!?
Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life!?…Will you take me away and will you make me your wife!?….I gotta know right now…Before we go any further…o you love me!!!?
Will you love me forever!!!?…”

Followed closely by “Let me sleep on it - Baby, baby let me sleep on it
Let me sleep on it -And I'll give you my answer in the morning
Let me sleep on it… Baby, baby let me sleep on it
Let me sleep on it… And I'll give you my answer in the morning”

I know, I’m old, don’t care… dat chits fun….

Fun was the drive to Hana. Snorkeling at Hanauma Bay.. (a friggin’ aquarium, times a kajillion).. Saying “Till Death Do Us Part” even if rather teary eyed the second time I said it, ‘cause I’d already said it once….

Fun is pets. A cat finding the sun, or, a new incredible sleeping place he/she’d never thought of before.. A hound loose and on the run.. “Smiling” even…

Meeting someone at the airport, watching them get off the plane and finding your eyes…

Fun is lacing up the softball cleats at age fitty-five.. Fun is hearing my son laugh…

Fun is intimacy.. (Ok slap me.. But you’d have to agree, there ain’t nuttin else like it on the planet.)…

Fun is a coupon for an $8.95 shampoo and cut, and leaning back having that warm water doused on your head, and the gifted massaging hands of the cutter.. It’s onea them moments where you think to yourself “can I just stay here for three, twelve hours?”…

Fun is sitting at Mickey D’s seeing a snotnose walk in, eyeballing the “ball (play) room” and saying “YAY!”

Fun is 5pm. Fun is finding a familiar, friendly voice on the other enda the phone. Fun is group emails with everyone trying to ‘one-up’ the other…

Fun is sledding.. (Kinda like life, you gotta lean forward, slowly climb back up the hill to catch the exhilaration again.)

Fun is 184 hands thrown into the air as the roller coaster starts it’s steep, fast descent.

Fun is little kid’s sports. Fun is an elderly couple holding hands walking into a store.

Fun is finding a parking spot at Wally World where you’re actually close enough to detect/see/read the sign “Wally World.”

Fun is finding an unbeknowngst ten dollar bill in a paira pants…

Fun is “They’re gonna put me in the movies”… “I am the walrus koo koo kaa choo”.. “How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat.” … “HEY, TEACHER, LEAVE US KIDS ALONE.”

Fun is sun. Rain (watching it from inside.).. A hawk soaring. Geese honking. A buddy getting pooped on by said geese.

Saturdays and Sundays are great fun. No alarm set is fun. Sleep is fun. Waking is funner.

Fun is hearing/saying “Thanks”….. The “L” word is fun, whether written or said aloud.

Fun is when a blogger has blogged too GD long, and says “it’s time to say goodbye.”

Life, if we let it be, is fun. Naked is fun. Victor, you said you were stopping. You’re no fun, basta.

May fun find it’s way into your heart, your life, your every day, your will, your spirit.. And even into your nakedness. We can have fun until the day we pee our pants and forget our name. (And even that could be a warm feeling, I reckon.) Have fun. Love, Victurd.

God I HOPE Gladys Kravits was watching! I DID IT!

I DID IT! I REALLY DID IT!

Did WHAT Victor?

I "moved", I REALLY "MOVED!"

The hell are you talking about?

Well, you gotta read the blog just below eggface, then you'll get it....

Son wanted ride to Piggly Wiggly... "K"... Got dressed, I SKIPPED TO THE CAR! (God I hope Gladys Kravits was watching!... If she wasn't, she's probably got a security camera plastered on our yard/house.. so mebbe she'll catch the replay!)...

Then... son broke into onea those hideous self-composed Emenim kinda things.. I reached for the radio... cranked it... bopped my shoulders up and down alternatively.. swiveled them hips as much as one can swivel being captive in a seatbelt..

THEN....

I turned to "Eminem" and with my imaginary remote, I clicked it OFF-OFF-OFF!

I was movin'!

Try it.. 'tis fun.

(Soon as the return lines dwindle at Wally World, I'm takin' that remote back though.. didn't work)...

Moved, Victurd.

Movement……

No, ain’t talking bowel. Ain’t talking overture…

Talking “alive”…

Fitty-four cent coffee, Mickey D provided local newspaper… Snotnose, mebbe alla 16.. He was going from one sidea the lobby to the other.. He started skipping. Kinda. It was a happy movement… I pictured him as an even littler shit in PE class.

I probly never shoulda stopped teaching Elementary PE.. Co-workers now, love ‘em, but it’s blasé’ there. Friends. AOK, but, we’re too GD (gosh darn) old to really (REALLY) move.

Onea my alltime favorite “whatinthehell shall we do today kids” classes was a little diddy called ‘movement exploration’. Now this is fancy for “run their tails off so they’ll be heap good and quiet in Mrs. Denison’s 2nd grade classroom upon return.”

Ya just line the kids up on one sidea the gym, point to the other.. And tell ‘em… “Ok, now you’re an elephant, go over there (point to the other side)”… Yessir, these are highly technical skills I gathered from’ma college days for helpin’ to ripen these little shits (said with love) brains.

Creative they were. Different they were. Oh sure, a few copiers, apers, but for the most part, VERY imaginative….

“Now you’re a giraffe!”…….

“A snake!”…..

“A snail!”….. (This is a good time killer.. Kinda like the disc jockey that loves playing Ina goda davida)…

Point being, they had a blast. They were moving. Eyes, I’ve noticed, are more excited in movement. Ever notice, we males, well.. We white males… White men can’t jump (Dance)… When’s the last time u been to see live music, and there was a fitty-fitty ratio men/women on the dance floor? The gals, they’ll get up.. Do their thing.. Uh huh, .like the “nobody’s watching” theory.. And they move. And they love it. And I love watching it. Fun. Happy. Spirited.

(Why we men outwardly project “ain’t cool” [for ourselves] is beyond me… Yes, I happen to be onea those that steers clear of the dance floor.. Because I JUST KNOW every GD eyeball in that room will be looking at me thinking I’m stupid. Or that I move stupid. Second thought, I may try to change that approach. Moving stupid should mebbe be a goal. An accomplishment. I abhor the mundane. Again quoting Rainman “I guess making things fun is the only revenge you have against mortality.” Not yes but hells yes.


Kinda like the Phillps 66 lady that is gonna “Boogie til you die.”

I don’t mean going from point A to point B. Not getting the crock pot out from under the counter. No, not climbing the ladder, getting in and outta the car. I mean irregular. Outta the ordinary. A pep in your step. Goal not “center of attention”, goal be heap big happy person.

I see walkers. (Not dead people).. I see walkers and drive by and don’t think a thing of it. Ne’er a second glance. But ya see somea them walkers today who pump their arms kinda tantrically as they walk? Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Living. Feeling. Moving. Irregular. Wonderful. For that, I’ll go from 40 mph to 25 mph just to see if I can detect ‘fun’ or ‘spirit’ in their eyeballs.. And ya know what? It’s usually there.

I vote, occasionally get off the GPS path of life. Find some how, some way, to simply move with a spirit. Perhaps not suggested in the frozen food aisle at the Piggly Wiggly, but then again, why not.. What better place to get all wiggly!

Just a little jiggle. Going out to smoke break.. Or mebbe down to the lunchroom.. Enter with a little jiggle and see the reaction. Smiles. Betta dolla it’ll be smiles. Why? Cause moving, irregular, represents happy, FEELING life. Living life.

Softball. Yes, at age fitty-five I went back (after 10 year hiatus) to play softball. What the hey, I have very good health insurance. To move was to live. I had'a blast. Hell no I don't move anything like the twerp I once was.. but it was the pointa the matter. Movement rocks. I ain't gonna lay in wait for the reaper.


Here’s hopin’ in the New Year we’ll all have a pep in our step. Even those of us with a little ‘jiggle’ on our bods (Yes, whilst I was the Biggest Loser at work… 21 pounds.. Thanks to our file cabinets at work being filled up the last three weeks with all kindsa fattening stuff from vendors… I halfa that back on ma belly.).. So those of us with a little ‘jiggle’, hell, look at the bright side… One jiggle can actually produce two, or three, or seven!

I do hereby promise to live life in 2009 with irregular movements so it will help ‘happy’ to stick around. Whilst driving, I plan on lowering left shoulder, then right, then left, etc, and moving hips as I go. When standing outside for a smoke prior to 8am.. When a coworker gets outta car, walks to door, I’m gonna overdo a big ole wave.

I’m gonna skip some, like that Mickey D’s snotnose. I wanna boogie til I die. Helps the corners of the mouth to uplift.

I’d better run now. (Or skip).. Feel ‘a movement’ coming on. At my age, that’s front burner chit. 364 shopping days left. I’m the baby, gotta love me. Happy Movement 2009. Love, Victurd.

Now what?

Wound down. The year has been wound down…

Who’da thunk it. Grew up in the era when there were ads in the newspaper “Help Wanted Men”, “Help Wanted Women.”… I’d remarked, the High School football coach owned the local swimming pool… he’d ask his black running back to “please get a first down”… but.. “no, sorry Charlie, you can’t swim in my pool in the summer.”

Rejoice. Female Vice Presidental Candidate… Newly elected African American President. We still gotta ways to go, but I’m very thankful for the strides my eyeballs have been able to witness…

2008 will be remembered as the year of economic pain. People vacationed less. Bought less. Drove less. Worked less. Lost jobs. Saw 401’s dwindle daily. Companies outta business. Layoffs. Cutbacks. No more perks. Streamline. Many of us (Victor, remember, this usedta piss her off talking like this) went from “paycheck to paycheck” to.. “Paycheck to Hotcheck to Paycheck.”

Money for your title. Borrow $500 today, we’ll rape you for $100+ on your next payday.

Victor STOP! That shit’s depressing! I know, but it’s what it is.. And that is… it is……..

Pursestrings. We all worked on tightening them. Mebbe the good is, we’ll never be slovenly, take for granted again. Almost like they did in the 30’s, hide what funds were there between the mattresses..

2008 - we said goodbye to Eartha Kitt, Slingin’ Sammy Baugh, Robert Mulligan (To Kill a Mockingbird Director), Van Johnson, Paul Newman, Richard Knerr (of Hula Hoop and Frisbee fame), Bobby Fisher, Suzanne, Pleshette, Heath Ledger, Margaret Truman Daniel, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (Remember the Beatles and TM?), Roy Scheider, Charlton Heston, Yves Saint Laurent, Bo Diddley, Jim McKay, George Carlin, Randy Pausch (The Last Lecture), Isaac Hayes, Bernie Mac…

Born… hopefully a US President, a Super Bowl quarterback, the 2030 American Idol winner (wonder what Paula will look like then), and maybe, just maybe, the genius with the cure for cancer..)

Big… Leggings, Facebook, cell phones with ABCDE etc pads, The DASH diet, The stashe is back, Hanna Montana anything, High School Musical, Britney pitfalls,

Top Ten Yahoo Searches: Britney, WWE, Barack Obama, Miley Cyrus, Rune Scape, Jessica Alba, Naruto, Lindsay Lohan, Angelina Jolie, American Idol…
The Pregnant “Man”.. Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, China, Hurricanes,

We gathered to watch Prison Break, Heroes, House, NCIS, Family Guy, Gossip Girl, Lost, Smallville, Naruto, One Tree Hill, How I Met Your Mother, Grey’s, Bones, Desperate Housewives, South Park..

We pop corned out with The Dark Knight, Iron Man, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Hancock, WALL-E, Kung Fu Panda, Sex and the City…

The Yankees spent $440 million on three players.. Plaxico shot himself, Chad Johnson became “ocho cinco”, Tony and Jessica, Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian.. Phelps’s 6 Gold…

Same sex marriage, Earthquake in China, Cyclone Ravages Myanmar, Ted Kennedy brain tumor, Gustav, Ike, Illinois Governor Arrested, OJ finally going to jail…

$4 a gallon gas, Stimulus checks, Banking bailout, The Big Three…

Neil Patrick Harris, Kathy Perry, Kid Rock, James Franco, Meryl Streep, The Jonas Brothers, Rock Band, Lil Wayne, Stephenie Meyer, The Gossip Girls, Tina Fey, Robert Downey, Jr.

Ok, I’m 2008’ed out. Somea that chit up there I don’t even know, which… is par for the course. (I get lost in Best Buy)…

It’s my hope that 2009 is a good one. Let’s hope gas stays at $1.39 a gallon. Barack spreads the wealth. That women continue to pretend “that’s revolting” only to behave as just as bigga pigs as we males.. That if Microsoft makes more changes, we can unnerstand them bastards, and they take less clicks..

My 57th year on the planet. Color it, a C+. (That’s fancy for a “D” but, I’ve held too many pity parties of late, so didn’t want all ur basta’s runnin’ off for’eer and ‘eer.

May 2009 see your gas tank full, your 401K soar, your job become rock solid… and… here’s hopin’ you get laid with regularity… Love, Victurd.

Being a kid again…..

Once a year, we getta be a kid again… Happens every year, 12/25...

A glorious time for those gathered… Lucky if there are little ones involved and you get to watch the big, bright, wide eyes…

Eat too much… Not sleep enough.. Exasperatoin from the events leading up to… causing total exhaustion.. But it’s ok, it’s Christmas..

Sad thoughts for those “no longer in the picture”, but, embedded in our brains, we bring them back out - and we relive the days they were here….

These are days we can never take back… Christmas present…

May you, yours, have a very warm and Merry Christmas… and a very Happy New Year…

Love, Victurd

How the Grinch Stole Christmas…

The “Whos” were having a good old time… They’d not quite reached the point where they played Willie Nelson’s Christmas Songs (sorry, it’s all I got)… and they were certainly not forking up “Jingle Bells” by Don’s Barking Dogs (I always save this one for cranking on my puter 12/24 at work.. Brings a smile or two.. And sure, a few rolled eyebrows, I don’t care, it’s friggin’ Christmas….

So my day starts (please run now, or stop reading if you don’t like scary movies, crappy endings, or coal in your sock) waking up a 23 yr old young man, who happens to double as my son… and I’d overslept, by like 7 minutes… all hell broker loose.. I was cursed at… evil-eyed at..and I’m thinking “Well now”… and I actually said “well now” aloud.. As in “ahm, you’re 23, you should be waking your ownself up… “ and it was overheard… and… you don’t wanna know…

Then, I drop him off at work… Continue on to my job… Feeling festive.. So, I wing a kinda-sorta sentimental email to “our group” that usedta work together.. We had fun in the day.. Lots… And I get an email back (Close your ears Lisa) from KB and it spoke about “whatinthehell have you been drinking” or something similar. It really bummed me out. I love this gal, and I know she occasionally speaks herky-jerky, but I was being serious… in relating how much her/their friendship meant.. And it kinda blindsided me… but, I’ve a history of getting feelings hurt too easily, so scoffed that shit off.

Then… HR lady called me into her office… “Vic, we’ve got some anniversaries we’re gonna celebrate during our company party Wednesday… So-and-so and so-and-so have been here five years… This guy fitteen years.. Her twenty… and him, 40 years.. FORTY YEARS, now I want you to write intro’s for all.. And I especially wanna make the 40 year thing extra special.”

I was honored. This wasn’t about “me”, and I had no notions to friggin make it about me…

So I emailed one’a the honorees.. The 20 year person.. Who happened to be the supervisor of onea the five year persons.. And said something like “_____ is getting an award for five years of service, and I will be happy to obtain personal stuff.. Would you be so kind to write up a short diddy about her job/duties/performance?… The return email said “I know you’re a good writer and all, but why you?”……….

I felt about as tall as Mini-Me on the court versus the Los Angeles Lakers….

I didn’t friggin ask anyone for this duty.. I was asked TO DO this duty… I don’t want recognition… You know me, I will write (hopefully well) about what a good person this person is.. And THAT’S IT.

Break time.. Time for a cig… Friggin A Ray… thank goodness..

So… five minutes left on break… Went to this online dating site thingy.. Was a gal I’d communicated with several times… Nice enough.. But, with somea the things she’d said, I’d noticed a little “tude”… the last email (a nice one) I’d sent, ended up “read/deleted.”

It’s friggin Christmas time… so… no hard feelings… I clicked her profile… readied a one paragraph email wishing her and her mother a very Merry Christmas………..

“Blocked… you’ve been blocked by this user.” I didn’t earn that, but, message taken.

So… Grinch for Grinch… I logged onto my “other addy” on that website, and sent the exact same email “wishing you and your mother a very Merry Christmas.”

I don’t know if it’s the friggin economy. I don’t know if it’s the “Victor you get your feelings hurt too GD easily.”.. I don’t know if it’s there just ain’t enough people getting laid with the necessary frequency they should… or what….

Anyways… a frustrating day… (On a side note, thanks radish… your email made my day)…

I have 32 hours of vacation left. I was gonna forego 8 hours of it and just take Mon/Tue/Wed off next week………….. And then I said (apologies to my niece who stops by here) fuck it. I’m taking off tomorrow (Tuesday).. Will work half day Wednesday.. Then I’m OUTTA HERE UNTIL 1/5/09.

I needs me a break. I needs me the Grinch to awaken and, according to Wiki “However, he learns in the end that despite his success in stealing all the Christmas presents and decorations from the Whos, Christmas comes just the same. He then realizes that Christmas is more than just gifts and presents. His heart grows three sizes larger, he returns all the presents and trimmings, and is warmly welcomed into the community of the Whos”

I don’t need all that shit to happen.. But it would be nice to drive across roads where there ain’t no GD speed bumps out there for no reason at’all…

Happy day, and sorry to bitch… I really, REALLY do love Christmas…

Grinchturd…….

A winters day

In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.

Sunsabitches. I don’t know where you’re reading this at.. But it’s cold. Dayum cold. Winter don’t start ‘til tomorrow. Don’t care. I’m a rock. A rock feels no pain. Too GD numb to. Draw a horizontal line ‘bout halfway thru the US, we’re all freezing. “Don’t travel, stay home” they say in the Upper Midwest. Pacific Northwest, pelted with snow after snow. Blizzard. Brrr.. I curse you December 21st, and you ain’t even here yet.


I am a rock,
I am an island.
Ive built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Nah, that ain’t me. But we all build fortress’s against Old Man Winter. Hell, just last night that dude was blowin’ frigid air at me.. Got out some plastic and weather proof tape, covered that window, kept him at bay. Two blankets and a comforter, tweren’t bad. Sure, would be nice to have another 98.6 there wit’ me

Dont talk of love,
But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Sorry Simon. You too Art. What’s life without feel? Crying is passion. Passion means one lived, loved. I’ll take that island, even if the only company is a comforter, two blankets, and an occasional cat.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

No, the physical touch is not here, but… that doesn’t stop the frequency of ‘touch’ in everyday life. Emails. Smiles. Hello’s.. Goodbyes. Phone ringing. Sitting with friends. Familiarity. Blogs. There’s all kindsa touch, even on an Island. I’m thinking’ “Little Buddy” and Maryanne touched on their island. Probably even that rich couple. The hell was their name?

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Interesting this thingamabob life is. Article on Dustin Hoffman today. Can you believe he’s 71? Two’a my alltime favorite portrayals… The Graduate.. And.. “I’m an excellent driver… K-Mart.. Gotta go to K-Mart…. K-Mart sucks.” This article focused on his age, his life, where he started, the ride along the way.. And the attitude now “I guess making things fun is the only revenge you have against mortality,” Kudos Rainman. My take exactly. Making the mundane not so much.

“Nuther article” I read was about how this timea year is a boom for the condom companies. Sales the last parta December outdo any other period of the year. Well hell yeah.. Scroll to beginning of this article “Don’t travel.. Stay home…” A comforter, two blankets, a 98.6 and a condom.

And… been awhile since we spoke of Reid and Soanya. Briefly, they’re the couple that set out with the goal of sailing 1000 days continuously without stopping on land. He fitty-something, she 20-something. They had damn near anything/everything one could think of to help ‘em make it for the duration. “Ceptin’ condoms. Yes, she got Preggo somewhere around day #400 I think… seasick… got off the boat.. He continues on.. Just made it over 600 days, still going. Disappointment hits me as he continues to relate his life on the schooner, without ever mentioning his newborn son, and rarely referring to Soanya. He still speaks ‘we’. He’s a rock on an island. And an island never cries. A shame.

We all gots our druthers. I’druther be in Florida getting’ all wrinkled up with someone around my own age.. I’druther be driving my van all across the Contiguous 48, seein’ crap I ain’t never seen. (I’ma thinking the “bottom half” of the US might be nice this timea year.) I’druther be
“197.2” (98.6 times two).. I’druther have another to share this Gosh Darn mortgage in this too big for me house.. That way, could buy what I really wanted to buy for folks for Christmas.

I gots a lot though. My health. Son, working two years straight now. A new girlfriend that offsets his “Old G” ways quite wonderfully. A car that starts, first time, every time. I’m employed. I likes what I do and who I do it with. My Eveready aging cats are “Still going.” I have heat, electricity, water. A comforter, two blankets, plastic and weatherproof tape. And… I got you babe (bop bah, bop bah) I got you babe (bop bah, bah ba bop pah)…

Damnit Victor. Never combine lyrics in a blog, and don’t EVER mention Sonny in a winter blog. K, sorry. Won’t.

I am a rock,
I am an island
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Please, give your 98.6 a hug if you gots one. Buy plastic and weatherproof tape to avoid “shrinkage.” And… no glove, no love.

Making things fun is the only revenge you have against mortality. K-Mart sucks, I’m an excellent blogger. Love, Victurd.

The glass….

It’s the eternal question… half full? Half empty?

Got an email today (God Bless you) asking “You ok?…. You haven’t blogged since Sunday.”

So…….. When time lapses like that, you can just about figure I’m in the “the basta leaks.. It ain’t either half full or empty, the friggin basta leaks”mood..

But. Ok. Better now!

Glass… A wonderful topic.. Glass represents us all, all ilks of society…. From the champagne glass.. To the Koolaid glass.. And everyone inbetween….

When I taught school… paid (measly) once a month.. Oh hell. Got that paycheck… “Yessir, gimme four’a them sirloins, two T-Bones, and six strips.”… then, as the month went on (the glass wasn’t so literally full… “Ahm, ground beef works… can you grabme that Family Pack?”.. Finally.. Week before payday.. “Honey, whereinthehell is the aisle with the peanut butter?”

We’ve all been at each and every step. Where we’re at in “glass life.”..

Glasses are for toasts.. Half the time, we won’t remember what was said.. But what the hell, it’s a time to pay homage to our friends, ourselves, perhaps the couple on the stage uniting….

I thought one time I was gonna get sued thanks to glass… and little Charlie.. Teaching PE. Onea my duties was recess. Now I loved recess as a kid, but I was so damned involved in whatever game we were playing hurriedly in our twenty minutes - I never picked up on the social aspect of it all.

Charlie, 5th grader, was chasing Amy, 5th grader. Charlie’s family was probably somewhere between Koolaid and Shasta on the glass scale.. And Amy came from a fine, tulip glass family. Neither one of them had figured that out by age 11, thus the socialness of recess.

I was sitting (hey, I do that.. And I was getting paid) on this long telephone pole.. It was three feet off the ground.. And it was placed there so the kids could use it like a balance beam..

Again, Charlie chasing Amy. For Amy’s giggly safety, she ran my way. Heading directly head on to the long end of the telephone pole, Charlie caught her five feet away, gave her a nudge, and her face, glasses, cheeks, mouth metup full force with the end of the telephone pole.

“Oh shit” I said under my breath… Amy didn’t get up.. So I ran and turned her over.. Blood.. EVERYWHERE. I’m thinking, “this is it… I’m negligent.. Her glasses broke when they hit the end of the telephone pole… she’ll never see again… I’ll get fired.. Fine, tulip glass folks will sue my ass… I’m headed to prison ‘cause I can’t pay the damages.

Turns out.. A quick trip to the nurse’s office was all that was needed.. Didn’t even needa stitch.. And I lived for another day.. I’d came down pretty hard on Charlie… but, he kinda earned it too.. Whew…

Glass packs at a teen. Loud. Motorheads. I wasn’t, some were.

Granny’s “perties”… an assortment of glass figurines adorning the huge West window in her living room…

The time I owned the mom & pop delivery business.. Drove from Kansas City to Chicago for like $2 a mile.. Was 20 miles from home.. Sleepy, yet thrilled, counting my money.. Wintry day.. GD cinder truck drove by.. “POP”… “WHAT WAS THAT?”.. Broken windshield.. Talk about a draining feeling. It was (close your ears) like going from boner to limp in a heartbeat.

Glass slipper.. Don’t know I’ve every really seen one…

Glass bottles… as a kid.. These were our “allowance” so to speak. To the local Piggly Wiggly with an empty handy six.. “Here kid, take your eighteen cents.” Do you know how much candy eighteen cents could buy back in the day? Heaven, it was heaven.

Glass blowing.. Now this could either be the craftsman down at Silver Dollar City in Branson, or, my cousin’s soon to be ex who walked away… she’s never worked.. He’s got a School System retirement.. And she’s not eligible for a penny of it since she walked. She blew that glass…

Close your ears.. . Ex # 1 was a med tech. All kindsa people came for tests to the lab she worked in. One guy, the glass light bulb was out in his brain.. Kinda a simpleton, maybe (for sure) a little ‘special’. “Here sir, take this glass jar into the restroom, and collect a urine specimen for us.”

Forty-seven minutes later, the head med tech dude is knocking at the door.. “Mr. Watkins, are you ok?”.. “Yeah.. Just gimme a little bit longer.”… so ten minutes went by….

Mr.Watkins proudly walked out, bearing a full glass jar of…………………… poop. I turd you not, he did. Head med tech dude, red-faced and borderline irate by now.. Grabbed a new tube.. Gloves on to take the poop tube from Mr. Watkins.. Exchanged the two.. And spouted “HERE MR. WATKINS, NOW GO PISS IN IT.”

There’s stained glass, glass art, Silica glass, soda lime glass, glass wool, optical glass (GOD BLESS MY IMPLANTS! NO READERS!).., fiberglass, magnifying glass, all kindsa glass..

Where’d this all start from? Oh yeah.. “The bastard’s leaking, it ain’t either half full or half empty.”

When asked that question, I teasingly supply the “the bastard’s leaking” answer - but, there are just some days in life when that’s true, and it’s hard to be helped. Koolaid days, fine tulip days. Half full. Half empty. The sonofabitch leaks.

Judy in disguise, well what you aiming for
A circus of horrors, yeah, well that's what you are
You made me a life of ashes
I guess I'll just take your glasses

A toast. My glass to your glass. Happy Holidays, and please, if you don’t celebrate, don’t come kick my glass, but Merry Christmas too. Love, Victurd.

Newsoftheweird.com

Chuck… that’s Chuck Shepherd.. Cool dude.. Has an interesting website you oughta checkout sometime if ur bored… it’s just what it says it is… news of the weird…

Now Chuck… he’s “down home”.. he won’t sue me for plagerism.. ‘cause he even says on his website can use if you make note of this website, in some kinda verbage he said that.. So… saying that…

His top two stories this week……

The Christmas Nativity scenes in northeast Spain's Catalonia region have, for three centuries, featured not only Mary and the Three Wise Men but the ubiquitous "caganer" icon, always portrayed with pants down answering a call of nature (and often so obscured in the scene as to popularize Where's-Waldo-type guessing by children). The origin of the caganer (literally, "pooper") is unclear, but some regard it merely as symbolic of equality (in that everyone has bowel movements). Catalonia is now home to artists who craft statuettes of religious figures poised to relieve themselves, and the franchise extends to renditions of sports figures and celebrities (and even a squatting President Bush). One family in Girona province sells about 25,000 a year, according to a November dispatch in Germany's Der Spiegel.

And……

Larry and Diana Moyer set out in November from Beaver Dam, Wis., in their oversized RV to spend some warm days in St. Petersburg, Fla. Since they travel with their pets, Jack (Diana's "service" kangaroo) and Edward (an elderly goat that uses a cart for mobility because of front-leg paralysis), their route south was circuitous because of some states' restrictions on "exotic" pets. The RV broke down three times. In Florida, Larry had a stroke and was hospitalized for two days. Then, a fuse box short-circuited, and the RV burned up, torching their money and ID. Diana was hospitalized for smoke inhalation. With Red Cross help, they found a motel that accepted goats (but not kangaroos, so Jack went overnight to a wildlife facility). At press time, according to a Tampa Tribune report, the couple had bought a junk car and were headed home, with Jack curled up in Diana's lap.

Ya gotta love Chuck’s site.. I do… Love, Victurd..

I been in the write place

But it must have been the wrong time

Me again. Sorry. Couldn’t thinka a damn thing to write, so, shoulda avoided the computer.. Instead, sat my fat butt down to write. “Write place”, wrong time. However, my time, like ole’ Buck O’Neill said “I was right on time.” I’ve loved my life, all (almost) that’s been in it. Who I’m around. Where I’m around. Those I thankfully got to grow up with.

I'd of said the right thing
But I must have used the wrong line

This must be stated due to my horrible ineptitude of meeting single, attractive, available women. I ain’t the shits with come on lines such as “heavy penguins.”… Huh? You know, “icebreakers.”

I been in the right trip
But I must have used the wrong car..

Oh does this hit home. Basta’s at work all snicker. I buy ‘geriatric’ cars. Huh? You know, them on their last leg. The checkenginelight Ford Taurus didn’t have “Park” so I had to dates me a girl that lived on level ground. Hehe. The Hot… Rod… Lincoln (may it rest in compression) cost me an arm and a leg in upkeep, and not having an arm and a leg, it made softball difficult.

My head was in a bad place
And I'm wondering what it's good for

The “now”. I do what I do I guess ‘cause I do it. Fun? Some. Lonely? Eh, I dunno. Not alone mosta the time, but perhaps occasional loneliness within. I ain’t got it bad though.

I been the right place
But it must have been the wrong time

Again, right on time. Vegas, The Gulf (FL, MS, TX), Hawaii (twice), The World Series, The Baseball All Star Game, Colorado…. Right places, right times.

My head was in a place
But I'm having such a good time

Virtually every Friday and Saturday night. Makes for long, sleepy Saturday and Sunday mornings.

I been running trying to get hung up in my mind
Got to give myself a little talking to this time

Amen Brother Ben.

Just need a little brain salad surgery
Got to cure this insecurity

Mebbe true. Ok damnit. True. To look online at them dating thigys, at my bank balance, at my “101K”, I wouldn’t even write a Johnson County gal for fear of snickers.

I been in the wrong place
But it must have been the right time
I been in the right place
But it must have been the wrong song
I been in the right vein
But it seems like the wrong arm
I been in the right world
But it seems wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

I am lefthanded. Wrong arm. I guess. I kinda likes being lefthanded.. Minority is good. I liken minority with heart, spirit, creativity. I’ll take using the wrong arm.

Slipping, dodging ,sneaking
Creeping hiding out down the street
See me life shaking with every who I meet
Refried confusion is making itself clear
Wonder which way do I go to get on out of here

Life should come with GPS. Pappa (who I wish was a Rolling Stone, woulda made things a lot more plausible!) usedta say “you’re a follower.” And probably true. You? Lead, follow, get out of the way, something like that. Reckon we need all parts. Howabout follower with a little rebel inside? Yeah. Fits.

I been in the right place
But it must have been the wrong time
I'd have said the right thing
But I must have used the wrong line
I'd a took the right road
But I must have took a wrong turn
Would have made the right move
But I made it at the wrong time
I been on the right road
But I must have used the wrong car

Dr. John u sunsabitch, you wrote this about me didn’t ya? It’s all good brother, I like the beat. I like the sound. Life’s a party, let’s get it started. There’s dance inside me, it just looks hideous when I let it out on the dance floor. Gal at work had a video of her one year old dancing. Made me look hella bad. She was awesome. It’s ok, as long as the dance is in there inside me somewhere, life’s much easier to wade thru.

My head was in a good place
And I wonder what it's bad for

My head ain’t bad I guess. It’s big. No, don’t mean ‘big-headed’, mean I wear a large baseball hat. You’d think “the more brain, the smarter”.. I’ve learned it ain’t necessarily so. I guess that simply means there is hope out there for men cursed with the dreaded disease shortpeckeritis. Hehe.

Tune in tomorrow, same bat channel, any GD time u wanna.. Mebbe we’ll do “Life is a Highway.. I did it my way”… or mebbe… “Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys”.. but then again, dated a gal.. She usedta go to the American Royal simply to stare at cowboy butts in Wranglers… ok, how about “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Victor, you’ve done that.

Alright wise ass.. Howabout the Sounds of Silence? Yeah that might be good. Mebbe I should just shut the hell up…. Stay warm (it’s a two blanket night here in the Midwest), have smiles, hope you’re getting’ laid.. And if you ain’t, hope you’re lefthanded…

Perverts. I meant so you’ll have “heart, spirit, creativity.” Oh Happy Day.. Love, Victurd.

All they had to do back then was to sit around and enjoy life….

Hurry. Today is hurry. Scrambled eggs in the microwave. Automated coffee maker set for 5:30am. Six piece toaster. Hell yeah. Three showers, one bath, thanks to the new, energy efficient hot water heater. (Why do they call them hot water heaters?)

Drop the elementary kid first. Middle school.. Then, one block away from the High School, dump the oldest (can’t be seen riding with mom/dad.) In my new, supercharged, 0 to 60 faster’n u can say snickerdoodle. GPS’ll take me by that house for sale in Pleasant Manor. Check my email on laptop - whatthehell, I see them sumbitches texting on the Interstate. Can’t forget my time management class tonight.

Suzie’s cough getting worse. Might haveta swing thru CVS Pharmacy and have her looked at. If they prescribe meds, we can wing thru Mickey D’s, then back thru the Drive Thru pharmacy lane. Hey, did u happen to notice at Mickey D’s, that snotnose punched a button, a cup (my medium size) dropped down, the conveyor belt slid it over, and jualah, sumbitch filled up automatically! Way cool.

Soccer practice. Dance class. Aerobics. Smith’s outta town, gotta grab their son from Scouts.. Oh shit, the Time Management Class! Need some cash for Amy’s field trip.. Buzz thru this ATM…

Gotta print out the budget. Pot luck at work tomorrow, print a recipe, start it and then throw a load in the washer. In between, will read online about composting faster.

Damnit. Forgot the boss wants those $$$ projections on his desk by 8am. I’ll Google that crap. After I’ve had me a cuppa coffee from Starbucks. Crap, what time the dry cleaners close? Thank goodness I’ve got that new quadrillion megabyte inkjet printer.

Geez, I’m stressed, WHERE’S MY IPOD? SUZIE?!!!!!

Oh shit. My wife? Where’s my wife? It’s 8:30pm, and we ain’t texted since 4:37. GD it.. Where’s my palm thingy… I know she had several things going on tonight.. Was I sposedta be there with her during any? It ain’t Jimmy’s PTA night is it? JIMMY? YOU HERE?

Patooey. Some call it… The McDonaldization of Society. I personally blame… Jiffy Pop. Them sunsabitches came onto the scene in 1959, the nervea those bastards fixing popcorn so damn fast we’d have time to pop it, and still figure out if Granny whopped Jethro on the head with the frying pan.

I have been to households… where one is on the laptop.. Another is playing a GameBoy… X-Box is going full force… “Dinah’s” in the kitchen… “Someone” is setting the table, feeding the dog, pouring water, sweeping.. Answering the phone (the landline) and looking to see who’s calling on his cell. That shit wears me out justa watchin’.

We’re slobs! Big Fat slobs! I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW!

Look here Bitch, I ORDERED FIRST… It’s MY turn to pullup to the first window!! I’ll smash your Lexus all the way to Texas!

Remember how we always thought they were puttin’ salt-peter in our orange juice at school? (Never stopped me from trying to lookup Connie Dunleavy’s dress).. Hehe..

I’ma thinking, mebbe insteada bailing out all these GD (gosh darn) banks, The Big Three.. Handing out stimulus checks… Uncle Sam’d do well to have mandatory Prozac and Quaker Oats mixed together for each and every family for breakfast right here on earth. (Or at least the US.)

Can we slow down a minute? Can we take a spin? Can we park, and simply watch people? Remember when we usedta make out waaaaay up there on that hill at the Methodist Church and look down allover our fine City? No hurries. ('Ceptin when I got fidgety, nervous cause I couldn't unsnap that damn thing.) Can we just try it again?

Can we getta REAL lock on our bedroom door? Not onea them sunsabitches with a Code… I’m talking a REAL lock.

Would they call DFS if we got onea them invisible dog shocker electrical fences and wired it around our bedroom (turning it on only after 9:00pm bed tmie) to keep them lil’ sunsabitches out?

Should every tub come with Jacuzzi jets? Could every tub come with Jacuzzi jets?

Can one simply get (only) a massage at a massage parlor?

Sheeeeeeee - iiiiiitttttt we’re In too bigga hurry. Slow down, you move to fast.. Got to make morning last.. Just kicking down the cobble stones, looking for fun and feelin’ groovy.. (turn on the electric zapper bebbe, let’s suckface.)

Quantity. Quality. Our folks probably laugh at us. The Amish probably laugh at our folks.

I still blame Jiffy Pop. At least with McDonalds, back then, we could drive by daily and watch the “Burgers sold” sign change. Oh, and I blame thirteen-year-old Morgan Pozgar. She’s the snotnose that texted supercalifragilisticexpialidocious faster’n u can say Orville Redenbacher (15 seconds)…

I do hereby promise to live life as I do on the highway. One car length per every ten miles per hour. In inclimate weather, I’m onea the ones that’s cussed at. Don’t care. I get there. And enjoy the scenery along the way. Life’s about enjoying the scenery. Damn popcorn sounds good. Think I’ll go throw some oil in the frying pan for old timesake. NOT! Love, Victurd.

Ok... I lied.....

Nothin' is kinda boring the hell outta me.

Nothin’, nothin’

The whole day through
Just an old sweet song
Keeps nothin’ on my mind

I'm say nothing,
nothin’
A song of you
Comes as sweet and clear
As moonlight through the pines

Other arms reach out to me
Other eyes smile tenderly
Still in peaceful dreams I see
The road leads back to you

I said nothing,
Ooh nothin’, no peace I find
Just an old sweet song
Keeps nothin’ on my mind

Other arms reach out to me
Other eyes smile tenderly
Still in peaceful dreams I see
The road leads back to you

Nothin’,
nothin’,
No peace, no peace I find
Just this old, sweet song
Keeps nothin’ on my mind

I said just an old sweet song,
Keeps nothin’ on my mind…..

Woke up this morning…. nothing on my mind. In some ways, that’s a good thing.. ‘cause, makes one look for sumpin.. More attentive, nothing to clogs the veins, arteries, them neurons flow free…

Whaddaya doing tonight? Nothin’… Plans for the weekend? Nothin’ really. Nothin’ comes before sumpin.. it’s the predecessor..

All whilst sitting here all of two minutes.. my brain has switched to the smooth, soft sound of Ray Charles.. the kinda music that relaxes u, makes u almost fall asleep happily – yet invigorates, recharges, plentifies the soul…

And… (say it ain’t so Victor) of course, it made me think of one day ‘someone’ will fill in the blank of ‘nothin’..

Sometimes in life when we got sumpin, we – sure- realize it, but we forget it’s too SOMETHING. So nothin’ ain’t bad. Nothin’s about hope, appreciation, admiration, tomorrow…

I see nothin’ (sorry) wrong with thinking about nothin’ for awhile. I’ve fine tuned laying around home doing nothin’… hehe.. Friends and I go out, we talk, really about nothin’.. Come home, get up, do it allover again. Nothin’ wrong with that.

Every frown leads to your next smile, every no leads to your next yes, every down is followed by your next up… and nothin’ is followed by sumpin’. Nothin’ could be worse, I guess.

May u have fun in your nothin’-ness… May nothin’ bad happen to you… May nothin’ make you cry.. I’ve got nothin’ planned for the weekend.. you? Nothin’ better than your eyeballs here… Sorry I’ve written hella, but said nothin’… Nothin’ from nothin’ leave nothin’.. ya gotta have somethin’… but nothin’ll do for a bit.

Back to my cubicle. Gonna do nothin’. Have a wonderful weekend, even if nothin’ planned. One day, mebbe the blanks’ll be filled in with somethin’.. mebbe even someone! Happy day, love, Victurd

I gotta secret……..

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I close my eyes

(Please… forgive me for a second… This song is by, patooey, Kansas. I’m born and bred Missourian. I’ve gotta take one simple moment to stick my finger down my throat… gag, be done with it, and continue… Kendra/Lisa, if ‘parts’ splatter your way, so sorry)

Only for a moment, then the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind

The significant insignificant folks in our life. It could be “we shared 7th grade science class.. We were both bored as hell… we folded up an 8 and ½ by eleven and ‘kicked fields goals” thru the ‘goalpost of our hands.”

It very well could be… I worked with you… but only for a couple months in the 80’s… I remember your smile. I remember I liked you. Damned if I can’t remember your name.

It also might be we were intimately close at work for awhile, like 6 years, we played on the company softball team.. Traveled… roomed together.. Had hella fun... Our company went Chapter 7... I’ve never seen you since.. Don’t make fuckin’ sense, we were “tight”, very, and our worlds turned upside down.

Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind, ohh

Life is so weird. We come into, and out of, sometimes just as swiftly, people’s lives - our gathering, at that time, was IMPORTANT… and whoosh.. Dust in the wind.

I won’t ever forget. I’ll forget names. Won’t ever forget ‘dust’. Leroy Peters giving me a piece of Blue gum my first day at a new school (2nd grade.) Tom Edwards, my boss in the summer as a kid, my 2nd dad.

So many classmates, coworkers, people that worked at gas stations, Piggly Wiggly‘s, Sonic, Mickey D‘s, softball teammates - dayum there‘s been a few, as in 200 or so..

Perhaps the Dave Clark Five’s “I’m in pieces bits and pieces” woulda fit better here. Dave who? You young shits say!…

Bits and pieces in our lives. They’re the threads to our existence. Stuff in life happens for a reason, I guess. I am so thankful for so many GD people that I can’t even remember their names - but they helped me thru life, thru that moment, thru that period - I will forever be indebted.

Now, don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Fleeting. What’s at the forefront today is barely in the rear view tomorrow. Feast in today, for dust in the wind happens. Stare into the eyes of the one that makes you have fun, feel good, interacts hella good… try to remember - for tomorrow - you might not.

Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
The wind

And perhaps rearranging that a tad, Dust in the wind is everything.

I’m the baby, gotta love me - but only if you remember our ‘dust’ times together. Love, Victurd.

Hugs…

Hugs be good.

Hugs talk. They say “I love you”…

“I’m glad we share the same bloodline.”…

“I’ve missed you.” “I value our past and enjoy seeing you again.”

“We tried.” “You tried.” “We won.” “We lost, but I still love you.”

“Nice job.” “You’re the best.” “I’m happy for you.” “You can beat this illness, we’re all behind you.”

Hugs take you back. They are the connector to all the time since you last were in the situation that you lived/loved your life thru together. Be it family, school, childhood, work, sporting team, band, play group, volunteer, whatever it was that brought you together in life – hugs have a way of taking you back… saying… without saying “I cherish and cherished our time.”

Hug from a little kid – what could be better. Innocence. Trust. Giving.

Seeing little kids hugging, teaching us old farts that “to live is to love.” You don’t gotta impress me, you don’t haveta buy me anything, there’s no ulterior motive – I’m hugging you because it makes me feel good, and hopefully it makes you feel good.

The second or third date hug. That’s a good one. So damned evasive, yet when it happens – a very good thing. It means that maybe, just maybe, there’s spark to light that fire.

The “I love you hug.” (Intimately.) These are the best. There’s no time limit. They usually connect from clear down to the knees, to way up to the cheeks, lips.. Equal pressure. Time please stand still, for I could hold this’n forever and ever. Like. Love. Bond. Wow.

Hugs are right up there with smiles. Smiles are good, hugs are ‘physical smiles.”

Hugs are a statement. They say “somehow in life, you’ve meant a lot to me, we’ve meant a lot to each other… please know, by this hug, you’re special to me.” Hella beat a handshake. (Of course, the handshake has it’s proper time/place.)

Hugs are warm. We needs more of ‘em. If we’re introverted, we needs to attack that. If ‘physicality’ bugs us, we needs to overcome that. If there was, at one time, mucky crap that happened between us two – screw that, lets hug and get back on course. Again, hugs talk.

Hugs is good shit. Love (and hugs), Victurd.

I get knocked down, but I get up again...

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing

I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

Chumbawamba's biggest chart hit, "Tubthumping" (UK #2, US #6), features what, without the context of the accompanying liner notes (removed from the US release of the Tubthumper album for copyright reasons), appears to some to be one of the most apolitical of any of the band's lyrics. In fact it was an explicitly working-class song, an anthem written to celebrate ordinary people's ability to have a good time despite being constantly knocked down by poverty and inequality. (Thank you Wiki… you know almost as much as that one guy at work!)


Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away

He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him of the better times:
"Oh Danny Boy, Danny Boy, Danny Boy..."

As much as I hate to admit it, this song stares me in the face. Life can knock us down, but we get up again, it’s never going to keep us down. The secret to success is how you deal with Plan B. Po’ but didn’t know it.

I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

Bills, bills and more bills. That went up this much, this sucker has doubled since 2000. Pay raises, when we get ‘em, don’t keep up with inflation. Thank goodness for the good things in life….Little things, that play huge. A coworker’s smile. An email from a friend just to say “hey”. A compliment about our dress, the work we’ve done, how we handled a situation, how we followed thru… giving a compliment.. Then.. Mebbe

Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away

He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him of the better times:
"Don't cry for me, next door neighbour..."

The “u” in neighbour lets me know (as did Wiki), these dudes (and dudettes singing ) are British.. Love their spunk. Love their message. Love the beat.. Love the fervor..

I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing

Life has a way of knocking us down, but we get back up again. U sunsabitch u, when u get down, get back up again, don’t ever let ‘em (whomever ‘em is) keep you down. Shed a tear, curse internally, curse externally, throw something (without breaking anything, hurting anyone), call time and temp and cuss the mother duggers out as if they were the ones that knocked u down.. No matter what, get back up again.

As an old fart coach, somea my favorite teams were the ones that perhaps weren’t quite as talented as the competition. They loved the game, much as we may love life. They didn’t have slam dunk ability (3 car garage, six-digit income). Yet they came to ‘work’ every day inspired to get better. When knocked down (virtually every game we played) they’d come to practice and work even harder. Beat many a team they shouldna… They got knocked down, but they got up again, you’re never going to keep them down.

I love life. We gotta go thru the downs to find our way to the ups. Here’s to brushing ourselves off… Love, Victurd.

Of pop-ups, junk email, and junk mail………

Ur pissin’ me off! Hehe.

Back in the day, had a great aunt and uncle, happened to live in Iowa… nice people… actually farmed and pretty darn well to do… They gallivanted allover God’s green earth.. And they never once paid for a night in a motel.

Now this wouldn’t be so bad, except they never shared their travel plans/itinerary.

So…. Knock on the door… Deep breath… Mostly fake smile.. “Oh HI ____ and _____! How are you?” And, up under your breath,”how long ya stayin’ this damn time?”

I feel the same way about pop-ups, junk email and junk mail. It gets my goard to be sitting here, mebbe writing to you.. Maybe winging an email.. Maybe peeking at CNN.. Maybe watching por… oops.. Sorry.. And a GD pop-up pops up promising to rid my system of intrusive malware, spy ware, yada. Uh huh. Sure.

So I always scroll to the bottom of their site, look for “contact us” and feel very good winging an anonymous email “you sunsabitches! How intrusive!.. How can you friggin’ sleep knowing that’s the way you/your company go about business?”.. and I use a few more expletives.. And I guess you could liken it to the henpecked dude who gets on the highway by his lonesome and dotes in road rage. “I’ll show them bastards!”.. Hehe.

It ain’t as bad as burglary. Theft. Larceny. But the ‘scum’ permeates it/them. Picture them nerdy ass little horn rimmed dudes punching in all kindsa programming crap - and having great smiles/cyber orgasms as they find ways to worm their way into our system. Bastards!

Junk email. Junk email is not quite as bad as the junk mail that finds it’s way into the ‘approved’ mailbox. Them sunsabitches too infringe. Probably same little horn-rimmed guys on their 2nd job, ‘doing’ themselves twice in one day.

I go to internet tools, block their damn site, but they finda way, somehow, to again penetrate the firewall.

Junk mail. Capitol One, you are scourge. Your credit card interest rates must be SKY HIGH to afford sending me regular mail daily (along with the same letter to my ex at my address.) If only I had a fireplace and the need for kindling.

Thank you - blog - for allowing me to have this bitch session.

Going now. Going to run me that free virus/anti spy scan. Going to buy me some discounted Viagra. Gonna cleanse my colon. Eww. They really send those. You get ‘em? Gonna whiten my teeth. (Hey, as a smoker, I actually opened that one up.).. And, do you really think they can 'lengthen' it? I'm being serious! Hehe.

Gonna take the three ads from the local grocery stores, and go shop and buy the discounted crap at each. Gonna take that car key the dealer on the edgea town mailed me, and see if it’s my lucky day. Gonna go purchase a house from the realtor that mails me twice a month. Gonna go write a check to the college I gradjugated from. They’ve been faithfully asking me to for 30 years now. Uh huh. Right. Just as soon as I finish fixing my leaky roof, buying a new pool liner, backyard fence, Central Air unit, and 3 panel garage door.

Wow. Better. Feel better now. I hates intrusions. But, to stop and think about it.. I’ve got relatives allover the country. I’ve always desired traveling. Free food, free ‘rent’.. No mailbox. No pop-ups, junk emails. What could be better.

I might just take that car key the dealer mailed me and see if it’s my lucky day. Starting in St. Louie I think. Seeya in five hours 2nd cousin Jeannie! Charlee? Where is it exactly you live now? Gail? How's the weather on the Left Coast? Charie? It ain't hurricane season in Florida is it? Roe, them casinos still open near Topeka?

Love, Victurd.

Splish splash I was takin' a bath.....

I’m the same, ain’t it funny how bath time has changed though?

Before we could walk or talk… they’d throw us in there… We didn’t even know the word death, but we were sure we were gonna. We didn’t like any other temperature upon our body other than the diaper, the zip up sleeper, and mom.

Then, once they figured out we could walk, talk, subsist in the tub without an additional two eyeballs on us… hell yeah… THIS, was fun!.. We’d get about one-sixth of the water on the bathroom floor.. Drown our floaty boat twenty times.. “Shoot” plastic army guys off the edge down into the ‘lake’.. And then get all pissy when it was time for mom to wash our hair.

As the years went by, bath time meant beddy by time, so we avoided. “Aw come on mom, lemme stay up another thirty minutes.. I can take a shower in the morning before school..” Usually didn’t work, but was worth the effort for occasional giving in. (Yes, I was a wimpy parent too.) Victor, you still are a wimpy parent. Bite me.

Teens. To hell with the baths. Quick shower. Gotta go. Meeting Billy and Smitty to play Indian ball. Seeya!

Twenty-something. Well. Freshly married, this would be a wonderful occasion to bathe together, but whothehell at twenty-something can afford a tub wide enough for two? So.. I’d just go watch! Sorry. Did occasionally. Twas fun!

Thirty.. Early forty-something. Baths were like Pavlov’ing. Did it ‘cause we had to. With a purpose. An express purpose. Mundane. Get it over with. Have ta.

Which… brings us up to present. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Friggin A Ray, THIS is heaven. I don’t care who calls on the phone. I could care less if the doorbell rings. I’ve even started this a full hour before Lost comes on. I’m relaxin’.

The sad part of bathing at fitty-something is…. All them years that flew by.. From the ‘shock’ baths… to the rubber ducky ones… the hurried ones.. The smooching ones… the mundane ones… our GD bodies change and start to notice all kindsa shit.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? MY LEG HAS WRINKLES! NO WAY! WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY GENITALS? Oh.. never mind. They were hidden under my tummy. Sorry…. Damn them toenails need clippin’. Nah.. That’s a hella long way to reach. I’ll get ‘em tomorrow.

We lay back. And do nothing. We’ve never had so much pleasure doing nothing, perhaps until now. We actually soap and wash alla our parts, not like when we cheated at age fitteen. We’ve no desire for anyone’s eyeballs on our body.. And quite frankly, we perhaps have no desire to watch a mate bath now.

Ok. Out I go. WAIT. Get that body centered over that foot. It’d be hell slipping. The phone’s in the kitchen. Someone would call the paramedics after a few days wouldn’t they? And they’d see me… Naked. And fitty-something. Yes, center of gravity, ‘check.’

I’m so very glad I haven’t changed and that bath time is still the same.

I can’t wait for tomorrow. We’ll get those booster bars on the walls. Have thick carpeting for ‘when’ we fall.

And when we get to Golden Acres, hell, we can walk in on any ole’ hot chick taking a bath and it’ll be considered normal behavior.

I’m not so hep on parades any longer. But I love a bath.

Wrinkled body, you’re the one,
You make bath time lots of fun,
Wrinkled body I’m awfully fond of you…

(who who bee doh!)

Wrinkled body joy of joys..
When I squeeze you, you make noise!
Wrinkled body, you’re my very best friend, it’s true

(doo doo doo doooo, doo doo)

Gait……

A manner or rate of movement or progress…

Gotta return email the other day… said something like “Some men can see right through tons of clothes. They zero in on a woman's gait. That's the kind of guy I'm looking for.”

Interesting. Not 100% sure where she was going, but I kinda sorta get the drift. It ain’t the exterior, it’s the walk. “It” is so much more important than the car we drive, the paycheck we deposit, the mortgage check we write out…

Nuther, kinda similar word that’s been standing out of late… stride. “He takes things in stride”.. a comp. Means “not easily bent outta shape.”…

Stride also means accomplishment.

Met up with an ole’ HS cronie tonight. Asked about her kids. Three of ‘em. The very first one she reported about, was the one that had kinda struggled along the way, and the progress (strides) he had made of late. Proud she was. Rightfully so.

My own child has gone thru struggle. Dropped out of HS at a much too young age, realizes error now, but there’s no going back.

What’s insidea alla us? Strides mean different things to different people. It would be a stride for me if my office desk was so very neat… if I’d finally adhered to our company goal of “paperless.” I ain’t made that stride yet. It’s my mess, and I know where every GD thing is.

Stride for the new employee is coming back on day 2. Whew, I made it through #1, not sure I wanna go back, that was rough.

Stride could be the dissertation to get into a Master’s program. Impossible for some, easy for many, a struggle for some. I like the “some” group.

When I meet folks out and about… my age or so… they proudly (and God Bless ‘em, don’t blame ‘em) relate “well, my oldest is a nurse practitioner, and my youngest just graduated and has applied for law school.” Strides. For these kids, nice strides.

For awhile, I worried because I couldn’t match those stories. My own child didn’t follow sucha path. Then I got-at thinking, perhaps my own child, while perhaps in a role not as “societal pleasing” as the above, has perhaps made greater strides.

The inner challenges we face are all different. Various degrees. Like hopscotch for some, like Rubik’s cube with the lights out for others.

Again, that gal told me about the kid who’d had the biggest struggle. Yet, he’d probably made the greatest stride - In spitea not having the paycheck, the title, the auto, the home, of her other two.

No, shouldn’t take anything away from the two that have done wonderfully - moreso to accentuate how the one who had difficulty treading water is now doing the breast stroke.

Shame on me for ever thinking “darn, I wish I could list my own having “this job, that title.”
Shame on me for my own inward thinking “I wish I was this, I wish I was that.”

We are what we are. Sure, money and titles are nice, and God Bless those who have ‘em.

Unassuming. Whenever I think of the quality of people, Jon Baker comes to mind. He probably doesn’t remember me, but I’ll never forget him.

I have no idea what this man did in his career. When I met him, he was pushing 70. He hung around the not for profit where my ex worked. Whenever there was a shit, thankless job needing done, Jon was the first in line to wanna help. Didn’t want recognition. Simply wanted to lend a hand, because he could.

Was kinda nice actually, not knowing what Jon Baker did for a living. Not knowing his background. Not knowing his bankroll. I just remember Jon Baker for the strides he made. The gait with which he volunteered.

Many things in life are rough. There are differences in us all as to “What’s hard”, “what ain’t.” I can sit here and type with ease. For me to getup and dance to fast music in a crowd entails a gallon bucket of sweat, nerves jolting upon nerves, the insidious idea that “Every GD eye in this room is looking at ME”… but I’ll do it. The gal. The guy. They move so rhythmically, but for them it’s easy. It’s a sonofabitch for me. Which is the greater accomplishment?

What’s greater… the two income middle class couple going on a cruise ,or, the minimum wage retiree couple paying their gas bill this December?.. Both are good. Both are strides.

I write this not ever wanting to leer at the ones who do so very well… but I also don’t ever wanna scorn the ones who struggle upon occasion to make strides. Somehow, slap me Lord, seeing strides by strugglers is so very good for my heart.

No clever ending here. Hop over them hurdles, however tall they may be. Jump the brook with glee, even if you neighbor is jumping rivers. Be proud, walk tall. I like your gait.

Love, Victurd.

I'm an ever rollin' wheel, without a destination real.

I'm an ever spinning top, whirling around till I drop.
Oh but what am I to do, my mind is in a whirlpool.
Give me a little hope, one small thing to cling to.

Wake up. Go to work. Take a break. Eat lunch. S’more work. Nuther break. Drive home. Eat supper. A little more work. Mebbe some fun. Go to bed. And tomorrow, a do-over.

You got me going in circles (oh round and round I go)
You got me going in circles
(oh round and round I go, I'm spun out over you)
I'm a faceless clock, with timeless hopes that never stop.

The merry go round is fun – but ifn’s ya jump off, you’ll break an ankle. At my age, mebbe blow a hip. We get on the wheel, and we don’t focus. “Watch the wheel” Vanna and Pat say. I say “watch from the wheel.”

Lord but I feel that way, of my soul. My soul is stay.
Oh but what am I to do, my mind is in a whirlpool.
Give me a little hope, one small thing to cling to.
You got me going in circles (oh round and round I go)
You got me going in circles

Spun out over life. On this wheel, but where the hell we going? Seems we pass the same things. Same view. So we don’t study it. Is there a purpose? Should we have intent? Is there sense of it?

I’m lucky. I have an ok job. I like what I do. I ain’t gettin’ rich, but the basta’s pretty much leave me alone, and that plays large. I’m thankful to be “on this circle” – but there’s a little (ok, a lot) rebel there – and I’d like to get the hell outta Dodge. Or sumpin.

Buddies o’ mine. One had 30 years in at GM by age 47, retired. He stayed on the wheel – and he’s got a great life ‘cause of it. Nuther one, he’s 35 years now at Ford. Same thing.

I ain’t gots the patience for that wheel. Close your ears, I’ve taught school, coached, driven a truck, delivered potato chips, sold for an airline, slung suitcases for a nuther, customer service for yet another, dealt craps, mowed golf greens, sport’s information director for an athletic conference, managed a small sporting goods store, managed a 65,000 warehouse operation, owned a small air cargo delivery company, umpired, refereed, bowling alley counter, logistics for a company that moves military member’s Household Goods… you name it.. I’ve been on many wheels. Some I jumped off, some went kapooey (Chapters 11 and 7).. One I got pissed and left. Felt good. “Honey, I quit today.” But you don’t have another job? “It’s ok, I’ll mow grass at the golf course if I need to.” Ended up mowing grass at the golf course for awhile. Close your ears. Liked it.

What can I say.. I get bored. I’d liketa jump, but I’m reminded of the hip, and I’m reminded of how them sumbitches I interviewed with for a 2nd job just smiled and smiled as we talked… and then I walked out the door and they musta elbowed their sidekick, smiled and said “well hell… I ain’t hiring ole’ Walter Brennan.” So, on the wheel I stay. Almost seven years now. Damn near a record for me.

Gotta itch. Can’t scratch it. Ever had a broken arm, leg, wrist? Got that cast on, itches like hell inside, can’t scratch it. So you can’t scratch from the wheel. And if that day ever comes the cast is off.. the sonofagun (arm/leg/wrist) is half the size of the other. Captivated. Controlled. Some parts to wheels ain’t good.

I love life. I love this wheel. I likes different scenery though. We get one chance. Not so certain the merry go round is for me. I’d much rather risk the roller coaster. Four-wheel mebbe, free as a bird. Go. Do. Make it. Smile. Love. See.

I ain’t so sure the point here. I guess I needs me some 49 year old, rich, divorced blonde who owns a motor home. Hehe. (I jest…. kinda.) Actually, I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t be comfy with “hers”. Need “ours.” Yeah, that works.

I think the reminder here is, mebbe, if we Pavlov thru life, soon, it’s over. Doesn’t have to be job change. Don’t take a mate to have an interesting life. Just needta mix in what suits our fancy, keeps us fresh, young feeling (or at least attitude.) I try to do all that crap. Do enjoy the day to day of the wheel. Sometimes I just gotta stop the wheel in motion – and remember to watch, enjoy life as it spins.

K, back to the wheel. Mr. Sayjak, I’d like to buy a vowel. wAtch thE whEEl. Victor, this made no sense at all. Tell me. I’m dizzy as hell from this wheel.

Ya got me goin’ in circles. Love, Victurd.

Quickies……

Pervert. Knew you’d think that. I meant blog. It’s 12:16pm, I gotta clock back in at 12:30pm. Wanna? Jk.

It’s friggin snowing out. I want Florida. I’m too old for this crap.

Fill in the blank……. “I’m so happy I could ____________”..

Had anything make u very elated of late? Eh, I dunno. I’ve had some laughs.. Had some very good experiences. Well, ok, one – of late. (Envision Barney Fife pulling out the bullet he’s been saving forever and ever.. and picture ‘turd w/Levit… ah, never mind.)

Wondering on the way into work. Who wakes up the rooster?

Christmas lights starting to popup in neighborhoods. CNN “breaking news” email yesterday “we’re officially in a recession.” Duh. Ok, them chirpy ones, with the GD lights litup. How can they aready be $o $appy Happy? Don’t they realize, the hook them limbs of the tree up, adorn, turn the lights on – they gotta put crap underneath?

I don’t think I’ll put mine up until 12/24, which, happens to coincide with our hopeful bonus here at work. Wonder how late the stores stay open on 12/24. “Hey, I know it’s only cold hashbrowns from Waffle House, but it’s the thought that counts.” Son and I ate at Waffle House last Christmas. Actually, was kinda fun. Basta’s this year though, went to no smoking. Boycotting them. Guess I’ll haveta cook. Two ashtrays in kitchen, all is good.

Quickies.. Man it’s been so long. Kid taking a nap, “come on”… “School gets out in twelve minutes… ready?”… “I know I hit the snooze twice, I still have 7 minutes before I gotta leave for work… COME ON!”…… hehe..

It’s now 12:24pm. Crap. No takers huh? Come on, call me. 867-5309 (or my cell.. we’ll forecast the future 913-384-6600)..

Sitting here wondering about “office sex.” Yes, mebbe part perve in me. I know some prolly have it. Remember a snow day a few years back.. Executive secretary panting, sweating, eventually HOLLERING “GET OUTTA THE BUILDING NOW”…. Me thinks she and the sales rep had a thingy. Two free hours that neither’s spouse would even have any idea anything was outta the normal. Eww.. Wonder where they did it.

Ya think folks do it in cars still? Seen a few sneak out to lunch. Next time, I’ll check ‘em out upon their return. See if they got that ‘glow’. Or razor burn on her face. Or shit eaten grin.

K, that’s all. This quickie’s over. If you have significant other, havea quickie. Mebbe just before your shower. Maybe whilst he’s still got shaving cream on halfa his face. Could be fun!

Long live the quickie. HURRY! Call me, we’ll “Do” lunch… Love, Victurd.

Tears….

Thank goodness for water. If’ns we ain’t got water, we’re vanished. No drink. No crops. No rivers, streams, lakes, pools, creeks… Snow.. Rain.. Oceans..

Ya hear people say “I love being around water.” And it’s true. There’s something special ‘bout it. Of course, the peaceful sound of crashing breakers at the ocean.. The clearness of a rushing creek.. The serenity of sitting on the grass by the lake – sun beaming, doing it’s display across the flat shield of water…

Inside, we have all this. And we display water when we cry. I, a male, am very GD thankful I cry. I just cried.

Friend sent a video of five young gals, two of ‘em 6, two 7, one 8… singing a jolting rendition of the National Anthem.. I felt great listening to their talent, and yes, it’s possible to have talent in singing at this age. I thought of our folks out there working on behalf of our country. Foreign soil.. Certainly they with occasional tears longing to return to familiar soil. I thought of these kids parents, and surely tears of proudness swelling in their eyes. I thought simply of emotion, and whadda wonderful muther dugger it is.

Sure, there’s rotten emotion. But, when rotten emotion hits, tears are like the pinprick to the balloon. Get that shit out. I never wish rotten on anyone, but do you remember the feeling after a good cry? Sure. We all do.

Tears help us recover. Tears help us express hurt. Tears can be selfish, but what the hey, it’s our life – upon occasion we can. The good tears. Hell yeah. Could be watching a wedding. Could be seeing a kid you’re close to excel in a sporting event, musical performance… dance.. school program.. Could be just sitting next to one you love – holding hands… Tears are wonderful.

I remember as a kid… well ok, 18. Buddy and I would (close your ears) go to the X-rated Drive In (uh huh, they had ‘em) once or twice every summer. We’d duck down in our cars making sure no one saw us.. Then we got’ta thinking, “hey, THEY’RE here too… why hide?”…

Same with tears. Whenever I have a feel good moment and I’m brought to tears – which could be any Sunday night watching Extreme Makeover… I look around to see if anyone sees me crying. Then I think “what the hey, they cry too..” or at least I hope they do.

Life is fulla up and down. Tears surround up and down. We’ve water inside us. God brings it out when necessary. No matter if it’s a good, happy cry, or a good, needed, ‘down’ cry – it’s onea the ways our body helps us make it thru this thing called life.

Our ‘pipes’ never freeze. Our ‘rivers’ never run dry. There’s no scraping our ‘windshields.’ Occasionally ‘flooding’ maybe – but never a drought. Tears are feel. Feel is wonderful. If one doesn’t feel, the hell’s the use in being here.

We all cry for different reasons, some of us are prompted easily – some, rarely – and never in public. I ain’t got a lotta control over that faucet. When the moment hits, it hits. I don’t mind tears. In fact, I’m glad I have ‘em.

If nothing else, this is fun. I hopes u enjoy – and thanks Teresa for sharing.




Happy day, love Victurd