I can't stop this feeling
Deep inside of me.
Girl, you just don't realize
What you do to me.
When you hold me
In your arms so tight,
You let me know,
Everythings alright, ahahah
Ohhhh.. ohhhh.. man.. I was dreamin’. “She” was there. The answer to all ends. Now, we know that’s ridiculous, don’t we?
If you are partnered – it ain’t the other’n that you derive all happiness from is it? Oh sure, helps, adds – but rectum happiness comes from within.
I mean, ya think Hillary is happy only due to Bill? June happy just ‘causea Ward? (And why’d she wear a dress 24/7?)..
Victor – are you rationalizing to portray happiness – and – that since you ain’t got anyone you don’t NEED anyone? Ok, so I’m easy to figure eh?
God Bless coupledom. Ya can’t force it, ya can’t control it’s ‘end’ (as every coupledom ends.) I’ve learned ya can’t even will it. U can wish it – but ya can’t snap the fingers and makes it happen.
Life has this way of tapping you on the shoulder to say “cheer up you schmuck, there are so, so many in worse situations than you.”….
Yesterday – friend shared her childhood. It wasn’t a pretty picture at all. I love this person. She’s turned into an incredible human being – but as she told her story – I sat stone-faced.. to the point of being apologetic for what she’d been thru. Knock, knock – Victor? You had an INCREDIBLE childhood – so what are you gonna do – sit around and stew because ya ain’t getting’ laid?
Victor – if u continue this “poor poor pitiful me” thing, then you’ll even run off your only reader. Hehe. Right you are. Life is good, life is fun.
How so? Tell me something funny. Well, I was on the ladder Saturday – some 25’ up in the air.. Patching some holes in the sidea my house – and, apparently I awakened the bird who’d decided to make onea them holes his home.. and when he flew out – I peed a bit, then then stumbled and tumbled almost offa the ladder. Thank goodness for the gripa my right hand – cause that’s all that was keeping me on the ladder. Glady Kravats was out there with pom-poms cheering for me to fall to the ground. And for you perverts who wanna make fun of me talking about “my good grip” – screw you. …. I’m lefthanded. Hehe.
So, we (the raccoons, the birds, the ants, a few spiders, two cats, Maynard and I) live happily – not conventionally, but happily.
My mama usedta say “one day I’d love to write a book… about my childhood.. and I’d call it “Po, but didn’t know it.”… I likes that. It speaks all about happiness. Insteada thinkin’ about all ya ain’t gots, reckon we should treasure what we do gots.
Can’t buy me love. Can’t “snap” happiness. Gotta frown? Turn upside down! Need a giggle? – Just go ‘xporin’. They’re out there – EVERYWHERE. Feelin’ empty? Well – be glad you have the capacity to be full. Takea walk in the yarda bones – that’s empty.
Tell me something else funny Victor. Well, let’s see. There’s a new girl here at work – really nice. But I gotta know, is that spaghetti or a baby in her belly. Victor, that was mean. Didn’t meanta be, really I’m just curious. Actually, she’s very pretty. Oh, and I just ran up to another new chicky here.. “_____! ______! You GOTTA get out to your car – NOW! Someone stucka “Chickenhawk” license plate on the fronta it!”… If you ain’t from the MO-KAN area, u no comprende. Say, did you hear about the Jayhawk fan that froze to death at the Drive In? Yep. He went to see “Closed ‘til Spring”.
Life can be sad. Life can be empty. Life can be rough. Life can be trying. We lose ones we love. People allofasudden are no longer in our lives – thru death or choice or geography or other employment or something. Let’s be happy, full, fortuitous with what we’ve got. When work gets stressy I remind myself “I love my job, I love my job.”.. Life now is, eh, about a B-. That’s good! I’m glad I’m here. Po, know it, but that’s ok. I’m emotionally at least upper middle class in outlook!
Ouga Chaka ouga! .... Ouga Chaka ouga! .... I’m hooked on a feeling. May you have happy tears. May you laugh till milk comes outta your nose. If coupled, may you love intently. If alone, look in the mirror and smile, that’ll make two. Pet a pet. Smile at a stranger. Ouga Chaka ouga! .... I hope you’re hooked on a feeling – a feeling of happiness.
Victor, you’re the weirdest sonofabitch I’ve ever met. Ouga Chaka ouga! .... Why would you say that? Happy day, love Victurd.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Que Sera, Sera….
When I was just a little boy
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Well, a few months back some chicky called me “pretty boy”, yet another said after/during ‘you know‘ “you’re not what I want… what are you… 65?”.. both, sadly true…
I’ve never been rich… monetarily…
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Me thinks there was rainbows… Ohhhh not that there wasn’t hella sunshiny days - but they were intermixed with rain.. And toward the end, it rained like a sumbitch…
Now I have children of my own..
They ask their father, what will I be,
Will I be handsome, will I be rich,
I tell them tenderly...
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Frankly, Maynard never asks. He just says “Please go get me that, please go get me this. Will you pick me up there, then?”
So I ain’t real sure about that song. To me (all you young people will now go “huh?”) it’s ironic that Doris Day sings this, because if there was one thing in life that was predictable, it was a Doris Day movie. Que sera sera, what’s next on the reel we already see, que sera sera.
Do we paint our own futures - or are we a victim of them, a happy recipient of them?
I rectum if we knew what lies ahead - it wouldn’t be any fun. Does that cast a spell on visualization? I think not. Does it ‘snap’ hope? Not no but hells no. Does it mean we can’t wish for a parade without rain? Hardly.
Funny… we’re so in hurry of tomorrow we forget today. Wishing our lives away. I’ve been guilty of that. “Passing time until ‘her’. “
Thank goodness I write myself to remember to enjoy today, whatever will be will be.
When I was just a fitty five yr old old fart,
I asked my bloggers, what will I be
Will I be lonely, will I get laid
Here's what they said to me.
Doris? Doris can you hear me now? Dude? Are you still even living Doris? Even if the answer’s s’more o that que sera sera crap.. I rectum it’d be better than talking to/listening to this monitor.
I hope you’re pretty (or handsome).. I hope you’re rich… I hope you have rainbows… I hope you inspire your children…
It can get mighty lonely sleeping alone.. (No offense meant Jackson.. My wonderful Maine Coon cat)… Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be, will be, The future's not ours, to see, Que Sera, Sera, What will be, will be…
Why isn’t life, like Doris, predictable? Nighty night… sweet dreams.. And whatever u do, don’t rollover on the cat… Love, Victurd.
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Well, a few months back some chicky called me “pretty boy”, yet another said after/during ‘you know‘ “you’re not what I want… what are you… 65?”.. both, sadly true…
I’ve never been rich… monetarily…
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Me thinks there was rainbows… Ohhhh not that there wasn’t hella sunshiny days - but they were intermixed with rain.. And toward the end, it rained like a sumbitch…
Now I have children of my own..
They ask their father, what will I be,
Will I be handsome, will I be rich,
I tell them tenderly...
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Frankly, Maynard never asks. He just says “Please go get me that, please go get me this. Will you pick me up there, then?”
So I ain’t real sure about that song. To me (all you young people will now go “huh?”) it’s ironic that Doris Day sings this, because if there was one thing in life that was predictable, it was a Doris Day movie. Que sera sera, what’s next on the reel we already see, que sera sera.
Do we paint our own futures - or are we a victim of them, a happy recipient of them?
I rectum if we knew what lies ahead - it wouldn’t be any fun. Does that cast a spell on visualization? I think not. Does it ‘snap’ hope? Not no but hells no. Does it mean we can’t wish for a parade without rain? Hardly.
Funny… we’re so in hurry of tomorrow we forget today. Wishing our lives away. I’ve been guilty of that. “Passing time until ‘her’. “
Thank goodness I write myself to remember to enjoy today, whatever will be will be.
When I was just a fitty five yr old old fart,
I asked my bloggers, what will I be
Will I be lonely, will I get laid
Here's what they said to me.
Doris? Doris can you hear me now? Dude? Are you still even living Doris? Even if the answer’s s’more o that que sera sera crap.. I rectum it’d be better than talking to/listening to this monitor.
I hope you’re pretty (or handsome).. I hope you’re rich… I hope you have rainbows… I hope you inspire your children…
It can get mighty lonely sleeping alone.. (No offense meant Jackson.. My wonderful Maine Coon cat)… Que Sera, Sera, Whatever will be, will be, The future's not ours, to see, Que Sera, Sera, What will be, will be…
Why isn’t life, like Doris, predictable? Nighty night… sweet dreams.. And whatever u do, don’t rollover on the cat… Love, Victurd.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Eggzactly... I’ll take door number three Bob…
As I’ve traversed this ‘cruise’ to find “her”, I’ve decided our brains are like eggs, I kinda sorta think.. .My preference, and my usual brain description - scrambled. Wake up, ain’t sure what daya the week it is. Have a major appointment time/date/something one should remember - and forget.
Poached. In hot water. Mebbe wanna steer clear of these. Play the game “ain’t it awful”, and nine times outta ten, it’s their actions/behaviors that get them here/there.
Over easy. Please close your ears here. These are women with no self worth, tremendously in need/want of another.. Their desperation flows over to their zipper… well, just think peanut butter.
Fried eggs. At my age, could be old hippie fried eggs. Did so much acid in the 60’s/70’s, they need help just gettin’ dressed today. Or, could be so burnt out on men, life, “ends”, the end result is assuredly the frying pan.
Hard boiled eggs.. These are women who been bit in the butt a time or two. Very sensitive to anything you say. Justa waitin’ with that roundhouse to knock the crap outta ya should you make a linguistic slip. Can be a good mate, just make sure the one you pick ain’t bigger, packs a better wallop than you.
Coddled eggs. These are generally Johnson County ladies who’ve been thru the cessation of that kinda vehicles - station wagon, mini van, SUV, now Lincoln Navigator. They’ve basically gotten by on their looks.. They tell the breadwinner “have a nice day” every morning - then proceed to play golf, get the nails done, or whoop it up at Starbucks with other coddled eggs. The day comes their breadwinner runs inta someone with a heart they love - and the coddled eggs are out on the doorstep - with halfa breadwinner’s retirement - and their looking for someone in the $100,000+ range… Imagine that.
Steamed eggs.. These women are kinda sorta similar to poached egg women. Usually, their mate has run off with the office secretary, their best friend, or, they doinked their younger sister. With time, can be ok, but please - make sure you’re they’re up to snuff on their rabies shots.
Sunny side up. Ah, my favorite. They’ve probably been kicked, landed right side up. You can’t knock the smile offa their face. They simply “get it.” Screw the astrology charts, I wants me onea these.
Egg omelettes.. Now them are hard to figure women. They’ve been around, seen it all, probly even dated outsidea their race, religion.. Smart.. They’re smart folks. I’m a good ole of average intelligence feller, and these ladies scare the shit outta me. Know a little about everything, and a lot about most everything. I’ma wantin’ to spend these last 20 years relaxin’, not trying to keep up intellectually. Good women, but not for me.
Deviled eggs.. Kinda sorta similar to over easy eggs, but they hide it better. Ya hookup with onea these women, makes sure ya gots a pre-nup. They’re planners. Sneaky. Up to no good, ceptin for themselves. They are the yoke of the universe.
Ok, I had fun anyways. I’ve been with poached. Over easy (sorry) Omelettes. Steamed. Fried.
I thinks I’ll have mine either scrambled or sunny side up. Ahm, then we can make some bacon. Sharea potta coffee.. Play footsie whilst we turn the has browns.
Now all you women. (Victor, you had two views yesterday.. ‘both’ would suffice here.).. Now both you women, please don’t be pissed at my blog today. I really DO like/love women. You ARE what keeps me going. I was just funnin.’ Paybacks are hell, go ahead, do ya one up on bananas if u like. “Short shelf life.” “Can be bitter.” “Sometimes very green.” “Turn soft, yucky fast.”
I am eggcited about “her.”. Eggstatic even. She’ll be a good egg, surely. (Pervert. I never mentioned flipping her… you thought that.) I hope she’s all she’s cracked up to be. (A yoke, a yoke).. Medium egg, I’ll take a medium egg. (Oh shit, here come the emails)..
Once again, I’ve cooked myself in a corner, and I have no way outta here. The spatula is no help. The GD bacon grease isa burnin’ me. I put too much water in the coffee-maker, it’s overflowing. The phone is ringing. I’m late for work. Did I put deodorant on? Is there enough left on my GD debit card to purchase $3.47/gallon gas to make it to that hell hole (said with love, and hell hole used ‘cause we ain’t had a raise since ‘06)..
So Mr. Barker. About this seleggtion. I’m eggcited. I’m eggstatic. I’m not eggotistical. I believe I will take door number three.. With hadshbrowns, white toast, grape jelly, some salt, black coffee.. And… ya sell today’s newspaper?
Yours for eggver. Love, Victurd.
Poached. In hot water. Mebbe wanna steer clear of these. Play the game “ain’t it awful”, and nine times outta ten, it’s their actions/behaviors that get them here/there.
Over easy. Please close your ears here. These are women with no self worth, tremendously in need/want of another.. Their desperation flows over to their zipper… well, just think peanut butter.
Fried eggs. At my age, could be old hippie fried eggs. Did so much acid in the 60’s/70’s, they need help just gettin’ dressed today. Or, could be so burnt out on men, life, “ends”, the end result is assuredly the frying pan.
Hard boiled eggs.. These are women who been bit in the butt a time or two. Very sensitive to anything you say. Justa waitin’ with that roundhouse to knock the crap outta ya should you make a linguistic slip. Can be a good mate, just make sure the one you pick ain’t bigger, packs a better wallop than you.
Coddled eggs. These are generally Johnson County ladies who’ve been thru the cessation of that kinda vehicles - station wagon, mini van, SUV, now Lincoln Navigator. They’ve basically gotten by on their looks.. They tell the breadwinner “have a nice day” every morning - then proceed to play golf, get the nails done, or whoop it up at Starbucks with other coddled eggs. The day comes their breadwinner runs inta someone with a heart they love - and the coddled eggs are out on the doorstep - with halfa breadwinner’s retirement - and their looking for someone in the $100,000+ range… Imagine that.
Steamed eggs.. These women are kinda sorta similar to poached egg women. Usually, their mate has run off with the office secretary, their best friend, or, they doinked their younger sister. With time, can be ok, but please - make sure you’re they’re up to snuff on their rabies shots.
Sunny side up. Ah, my favorite. They’ve probably been kicked, landed right side up. You can’t knock the smile offa their face. They simply “get it.” Screw the astrology charts, I wants me onea these.
Egg omelettes.. Now them are hard to figure women. They’ve been around, seen it all, probly even dated outsidea their race, religion.. Smart.. They’re smart folks. I’m a good ole of average intelligence feller, and these ladies scare the shit outta me. Know a little about everything, and a lot about most everything. I’ma wantin’ to spend these last 20 years relaxin’, not trying to keep up intellectually. Good women, but not for me.
Deviled eggs.. Kinda sorta similar to over easy eggs, but they hide it better. Ya hookup with onea these women, makes sure ya gots a pre-nup. They’re planners. Sneaky. Up to no good, ceptin for themselves. They are the yoke of the universe.
Ok, I had fun anyways. I’ve been with poached. Over easy (sorry) Omelettes. Steamed. Fried.
I thinks I’ll have mine either scrambled or sunny side up. Ahm, then we can make some bacon. Sharea potta coffee.. Play footsie whilst we turn the has browns.
Now all you women. (Victor, you had two views yesterday.. ‘both’ would suffice here.).. Now both you women, please don’t be pissed at my blog today. I really DO like/love women. You ARE what keeps me going. I was just funnin.’ Paybacks are hell, go ahead, do ya one up on bananas if u like. “Short shelf life.” “Can be bitter.” “Sometimes very green.” “Turn soft, yucky fast.”
I am eggcited about “her.”. Eggstatic even. She’ll be a good egg, surely. (Pervert. I never mentioned flipping her… you thought that.) I hope she’s all she’s cracked up to be. (A yoke, a yoke).. Medium egg, I’ll take a medium egg. (Oh shit, here come the emails)..
Once again, I’ve cooked myself in a corner, and I have no way outta here. The spatula is no help. The GD bacon grease isa burnin’ me. I put too much water in the coffee-maker, it’s overflowing. The phone is ringing. I’m late for work. Did I put deodorant on? Is there enough left on my GD debit card to purchase $3.47/gallon gas to make it to that hell hole (said with love, and hell hole used ‘cause we ain’t had a raise since ‘06)..
So Mr. Barker. About this seleggtion. I’m eggcited. I’m eggstatic. I’m not eggotistical. I believe I will take door number three.. With hadshbrowns, white toast, grape jelly, some salt, black coffee.. And… ya sell today’s newspaper?
Yours for eggver. Love, Victurd.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Happy Hour.. Some things just are.
If happy HOUR is from 4 until 7, which one is happy?
If you kiss your grandmother in Paris, would it be classified as a French kiss?
What do starving artists eat?
If a 25mph Northerly wind blows your hat 25’ to the South, why is it called Northerly?
If you’re a professional trumpeter, would it be suffice to say you’ve got a blow job?
Speakinowhich (close your ears) why do they call it a blow job when (I seen a video once) there isn’t any blowing going on?
Has anyone ever given you cake and you weren’t allowed to eat it?
Is it hypocritical to say “never say never”?
Do people with shit eating grins have bad breath?
Why would anyone skin a cat, and better yet, why would you create more ways to?
How can we hang out fully clothed?
If you taught your native language in High School in Athens, would “It’s Greek to me” take on a new meaning?
Do pediatricians play miniature golf on weekends?
If you're born again, do you have two bellybuttons? (I stole that one.)
If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?
Could a 320 inmate with a baby face be a hardened criminal?
If you’re the good natured one that everyone on the swim team looks up to, can you make waves?
What happens if you get scared half to death twice? (Stolen)
One day when I pee my pants and forget my name, if I’m in the rocking chair at Golden Acres, could I be off my rocker at the same time?
If a ten point buck is in the throes of lovemaking, could he be horny too?
Thanks for being here. I read a statement that stuck in my brain the other day. Lady had written a letter to an advice columnist about how she tired of women throwing themselves upon her muscular, extremely handsome husband. Included in the answer was the suggestion to raise one eyebrow at the imposing woman - but the answer I REALLY like was “some thing just are.”
Wow. Some things just are. It’s like someone you really like/want but they wouldn’t give you the time of day. Some things just are. It’s like someone really likes/wants you but you have no interest, yet in a nice way - and you have absolutely nothing against them as a person - in fact you like/love them as a person. Some things just are.
I’m white. I’m (presently) po. My roof leaks. My car has 3 undented doors, and onea the ends (the back) is not crumpled. I’ve liked people who had no watch, and sheepishly, I’ve ‘been with’ people I’ve had no interest in. I want white teeth yet I smoke. I send telepathic wisdom and advice to Maynard. Some things just are.
I are glad you’re here. Just had some things to say. Just passing time (yard needs mowed, don’t wanna.. Fence - boards fallen down.. City Code lady says “can’t have that with swimming pool if it has any water in it.” - don’t wanna get out and fix it.) So I sit here and dream about “her.” I can’t friggin find “her.” If some things just are, where are she? Hehe.
Love the day. Love yourself. And there’s absolutely no truth to the fact I pay twenty-five cents per comment. No comment. If you say no comment, shouldn’t it be silent/unsaid? Ok, off to mow, fix fence. Damnit. Love, Victurd
If you kiss your grandmother in Paris, would it be classified as a French kiss?
What do starving artists eat?
If a 25mph Northerly wind blows your hat 25’ to the South, why is it called Northerly?
If you’re a professional trumpeter, would it be suffice to say you’ve got a blow job?
Speakinowhich (close your ears) why do they call it a blow job when (I seen a video once) there isn’t any blowing going on?
Has anyone ever given you cake and you weren’t allowed to eat it?
Is it hypocritical to say “never say never”?
Do people with shit eating grins have bad breath?
Why would anyone skin a cat, and better yet, why would you create more ways to?
How can we hang out fully clothed?
If you taught your native language in High School in Athens, would “It’s Greek to me” take on a new meaning?
Do pediatricians play miniature golf on weekends?
If you're born again, do you have two bellybuttons? (I stole that one.)
If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?
Could a 320 inmate with a baby face be a hardened criminal?
If you’re the good natured one that everyone on the swim team looks up to, can you make waves?
What happens if you get scared half to death twice? (Stolen)
One day when I pee my pants and forget my name, if I’m in the rocking chair at Golden Acres, could I be off my rocker at the same time?
If a ten point buck is in the throes of lovemaking, could he be horny too?
Thanks for being here. I read a statement that stuck in my brain the other day. Lady had written a letter to an advice columnist about how she tired of women throwing themselves upon her muscular, extremely handsome husband. Included in the answer was the suggestion to raise one eyebrow at the imposing woman - but the answer I REALLY like was “some thing just are.”
Wow. Some things just are. It’s like someone you really like/want but they wouldn’t give you the time of day. Some things just are. It’s like someone really likes/wants you but you have no interest, yet in a nice way - and you have absolutely nothing against them as a person - in fact you like/love them as a person. Some things just are.
I’m white. I’m (presently) po. My roof leaks. My car has 3 undented doors, and onea the ends (the back) is not crumpled. I’ve liked people who had no watch, and sheepishly, I’ve ‘been with’ people I’ve had no interest in. I want white teeth yet I smoke. I send telepathic wisdom and advice to Maynard. Some things just are.
I are glad you’re here. Just had some things to say. Just passing time (yard needs mowed, don’t wanna.. Fence - boards fallen down.. City Code lady says “can’t have that with swimming pool if it has any water in it.” - don’t wanna get out and fix it.) So I sit here and dream about “her.” I can’t friggin find “her.” If some things just are, where are she? Hehe.
Love the day. Love yourself. And there’s absolutely no truth to the fact I pay twenty-five cents per comment. No comment. If you say no comment, shouldn’t it be silent/unsaid? Ok, off to mow, fix fence. Damnit. Love, Victurd
Friday, April 25, 2008
I said over and over and over again………
I’ve observed my son. I’ve scoffed at the many times I’ve seen him sit at the computer, play the same GD youtube song over and over and OVER again.
Then, I remembered back. “Hit The Road Jack.” The 45. (For those of you born after 1965, that was “our MP3” in the day. It was a round disc.. I rectum kinda sorta like an enlarged CD.. And u hadta have either a record player that would accept the plastic thingamabob that made it fit the small ‘rod’ of the 33 player… or… the Viagra like full bore thingamabob that u didn’t need the ‘record prophylactic” to make it play.
My sister played “Hit The Road Jack” again, and again, and again. I never understood it, but I got the hee-bee-jeebie Pavlov shakes if I didn’t hear it seventeen times daily.
Rectum our brains are kinda like that. We replay stuff over and over again that’s pleasant to life’s pallet.
I replay, over and over again, the very feel I got when the nurse handed me my bundled newborn son and said “would you like to carry him to the nursery?”.. Friggin A Ray I would, and I’ll NEVER forget that walk, that feel. I play it over and over again in my brain.
Life highlights. You do that? Aw come on.. Moments where “we done good.”
One for me… Back in dinosaur days, I coached the Women’s Basketball Team at a local Liberal Arts College… I’d helped start the program my sophomore year in college, and the next year I was elevated to Head Coach because the coach gradjugated, and was on to a real life….
After 5 or 6 seasons.. Never a losing season, but many many a learning season - we’d finally reached the Missouri Small College State Championship Game… but man o man.. So did Tarkio.. Now Tarkio was like Clubber Lang.. The New England Patriots… Mohammed Ali… They recruited Iowa women, and Iowa women, back then, were jump shots and layups above us Missourians, not to mention - each 4-6 inches taller than we.…
Somehow (friggin’ awesome coaching!) we studied, prepared, lived, breathed, playing/beating Tarkio. I honestly devoted so much time and attention to one game, one moment in life - I was better prepared than checkenginelight was the night I went out with “her”.. for sure to be “the answer”…
After nearly three hours of game… we were ahead… they were ahead… I forgot who was ahead… their coach forgot who was ahead… there was 1:12 left to play. Down one point. Our biggest, baddest player then fouled out. Oh shit. “Ceptin we represented a Baptist College, so I said “Oh shucks.”
“I can do it coach. I CAN DO IT” said the freshman seated next to me on the bench. “I can make it. I CAN MAKE IT.”
She was good. Very good. She came into the season rather cocky from being “IT” in high school… and was somewhat humbled after 25 games or so… Still, very good.
“Ok Terry… go in for Brocko.”
We whittled the clock down to twelve seconds… TIME OUT! TIME OUT!…
And we got it.
I have no idea what I said… what play I called.. I think it was for a big chick - one that could shoot free throws pretty decently.. “take it to the basket.. Worst case, you’ll get fouled.. Make the free throws and we celebrate.”
Shit. They had big chick smothered. She coulda been the campus ho, but there was just no way she was gettin’ it. I CAN DO IT, however, was open on the wing.
Tick, tick, tick.. Five seconds.. Another glance at Big Chick. Nope…. Whoosh.. Over to I CAN DO IT…
The catch.. Sets her feet.. Unleashes… I can’t watch.. I’m on one knee begging for a recount on Brocko’s foul total..
WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! YES. YES.. I CAN DO IT DID IT!
State Champions over Rocky Balboa. We beat Vince Lombardi. George Steinbrenner kiss my ass - we did it!
Afterwards.. (you see I had this little front.. I promised myself not to get too excited.. Or too down.).. I was standing on the sidelines whilst the chickies celebrated at center court.. Onea the dads walked up to me.. Hugged me… said “hey.. It’s ok.. You can smile now.”
I replay that moment more than “Hit the Road Jack” in 1963. Almost as much (but not quite) as carrying Maynard his first day on the planet.
“The first time”…
A speech I made on the Courthouse steps our Senior Year…
The day I asked whatshername (who later rode of on a Harley) for her hand in marriage…
The day my boss said “we’d like you to come to work for us.”
Christmas as a kid. Thanksgivings.. Family dinners as a youth.. The first drive at 16 I ever took. (“Victor.. I know tonight is Homecoming, and you just turned 16 today.. Just got your license TODAY… please stay in our home town, and don’t drive outside it. “K pops, will do.”.. Four hours later, I straddled a GD median on the Plaza - some 30 miles away.)
So you get the point. Moments in time. I’m certain you have yours.. I have many, thank goodness.
Our brains are a DVD we can format, play at will.
As we cronies sat around the table the other night… talking crap from long ago.. I’d heard the stories.. Forgotten a few even.. Life is cone-shaped. We have the base, and we think we’ll remember everything forever and ever. Then, as we age, that cone gets skinnier, and thinner, and the memory just doesn’t recoup as it once did.
So I’m here to say write it down. Blog about it. Put it in your diary. Discuss it. Share it. Expound on it even.
The day will come I won’t remember I CAN DO IT. But it’s saved up there now. Hit the road Jack. I’ve got a few more ice cream seasons left in me. Feeling better now Ethel.
May you, yes you, relive the good/great times over and over and over again. YOU CAN DO IT. I know you can.
WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! … Love, Victurd.
Then, I remembered back. “Hit The Road Jack.” The 45. (For those of you born after 1965, that was “our MP3” in the day. It was a round disc.. I rectum kinda sorta like an enlarged CD.. And u hadta have either a record player that would accept the plastic thingamabob that made it fit the small ‘rod’ of the 33 player… or… the Viagra like full bore thingamabob that u didn’t need the ‘record prophylactic” to make it play.
My sister played “Hit The Road Jack” again, and again, and again. I never understood it, but I got the hee-bee-jeebie Pavlov shakes if I didn’t hear it seventeen times daily.
Rectum our brains are kinda like that. We replay stuff over and over again that’s pleasant to life’s pallet.
I replay, over and over again, the very feel I got when the nurse handed me my bundled newborn son and said “would you like to carry him to the nursery?”.. Friggin A Ray I would, and I’ll NEVER forget that walk, that feel. I play it over and over again in my brain.
Life highlights. You do that? Aw come on.. Moments where “we done good.”
One for me… Back in dinosaur days, I coached the Women’s Basketball Team at a local Liberal Arts College… I’d helped start the program my sophomore year in college, and the next year I was elevated to Head Coach because the coach gradjugated, and was on to a real life….
After 5 or 6 seasons.. Never a losing season, but many many a learning season - we’d finally reached the Missouri Small College State Championship Game… but man o man.. So did Tarkio.. Now Tarkio was like Clubber Lang.. The New England Patriots… Mohammed Ali… They recruited Iowa women, and Iowa women, back then, were jump shots and layups above us Missourians, not to mention - each 4-6 inches taller than we.…
Somehow (friggin’ awesome coaching!) we studied, prepared, lived, breathed, playing/beating Tarkio. I honestly devoted so much time and attention to one game, one moment in life - I was better prepared than checkenginelight was the night I went out with “her”.. for sure to be “the answer”…
After nearly three hours of game… we were ahead… they were ahead… I forgot who was ahead… their coach forgot who was ahead… there was 1:12 left to play. Down one point. Our biggest, baddest player then fouled out. Oh shit. “Ceptin we represented a Baptist College, so I said “Oh shucks.”
“I can do it coach. I CAN DO IT” said the freshman seated next to me on the bench. “I can make it. I CAN MAKE IT.”
She was good. Very good. She came into the season rather cocky from being “IT” in high school… and was somewhat humbled after 25 games or so… Still, very good.
“Ok Terry… go in for Brocko.”
We whittled the clock down to twelve seconds… TIME OUT! TIME OUT!…
And we got it.
I have no idea what I said… what play I called.. I think it was for a big chick - one that could shoot free throws pretty decently.. “take it to the basket.. Worst case, you’ll get fouled.. Make the free throws and we celebrate.”
Shit. They had big chick smothered. She coulda been the campus ho, but there was just no way she was gettin’ it. I CAN DO IT, however, was open on the wing.
Tick, tick, tick.. Five seconds.. Another glance at Big Chick. Nope…. Whoosh.. Over to I CAN DO IT…
The catch.. Sets her feet.. Unleashes… I can’t watch.. I’m on one knee begging for a recount on Brocko’s foul total..
WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! YES. YES.. I CAN DO IT DID IT!
State Champions over Rocky Balboa. We beat Vince Lombardi. George Steinbrenner kiss my ass - we did it!
Afterwards.. (you see I had this little front.. I promised myself not to get too excited.. Or too down.).. I was standing on the sidelines whilst the chickies celebrated at center court.. Onea the dads walked up to me.. Hugged me… said “hey.. It’s ok.. You can smile now.”
I replay that moment more than “Hit the Road Jack” in 1963. Almost as much (but not quite) as carrying Maynard his first day on the planet.
“The first time”…
A speech I made on the Courthouse steps our Senior Year…
The day I asked whatshername (who later rode of on a Harley) for her hand in marriage…
The day my boss said “we’d like you to come to work for us.”
Christmas as a kid. Thanksgivings.. Family dinners as a youth.. The first drive at 16 I ever took. (“Victor.. I know tonight is Homecoming, and you just turned 16 today.. Just got your license TODAY… please stay in our home town, and don’t drive outside it. “K pops, will do.”.. Four hours later, I straddled a GD median on the Plaza - some 30 miles away.)
So you get the point. Moments in time. I’m certain you have yours.. I have many, thank goodness.
Our brains are a DVD we can format, play at will.
As we cronies sat around the table the other night… talking crap from long ago.. I’d heard the stories.. Forgotten a few even.. Life is cone-shaped. We have the base, and we think we’ll remember everything forever and ever. Then, as we age, that cone gets skinnier, and thinner, and the memory just doesn’t recoup as it once did.
So I’m here to say write it down. Blog about it. Put it in your diary. Discuss it. Share it. Expound on it even.
The day will come I won’t remember I CAN DO IT. But it’s saved up there now. Hit the road Jack. I’ve got a few more ice cream seasons left in me. Feeling better now Ethel.
May you, yes you, relive the good/great times over and over and over again. YOU CAN DO IT. I know you can.
WHOOSSSSHHHHHH! … Love, Victurd.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Silence is golden, but my eyes still see
Ya ever get in a mood where ya just ain’t got much to say?
I have. And what I’ve found, - when that happens - my mind is on 47 other things, and the privy and enjoyment of conversation - for that moment in time, just ain’t happenin’..
I don’t wanna talk “the Election”… no “Iraq” (but God Bless our troops).. I tire of ‘work talk.’
I might even use caller ID to hide, be it family, friend or foe.
A plate of BBQ ribs infronta me, ain't eatin' in 24 hours - just don't want 'em.
I find nothing wrong with “sitting out a game.” I might even read the fun, traded emails at a later date.
Ever been around someone and you felt like stating “gee… for once, I wish you had nothing to say.” There’s a dude at work.. He’s genuinely good hearted.. Means well.. Tries his damndest to make friends but goes about it all assbackwards.. On the other hand, there isn’t one thing he doesn’t know about, or so he believes. He is, admittedly, very intelligent. But once, just once, I’d love to hear him say “Gee.. I don’t know.”
Last night I had a very good time. My very bestest friend, his wife, my two HS runnin’ cronies, one’ of em’s sister - the six of us seated around a table for talk for four, count ‘em, four hours. During this moment, I wanted talk. Absorbed in it. Enlightened by it. Reminisced about it. A friendship orgasm - without fear of herpes, aids, pregnancy or “love me til the end of time.”
Today is ‘celibacy day’. Put nicely, “please.. Can I have some space.” Ever feel thataway?
Ever eat a pine tree? Jk.
Ok, lemme explain how I got here. If there’s sucha thing as an auto shop giving you onea them ‘date rape drugs’ - I’ve had two of ‘em. I’ve read every Bass Pro magazine, Ladies Home Jouirnal, and Nascar magazine Meineke has to offer in the last seven days. I don’t fish, I ain’t a women, and I have a hard time telling Jeff Gordon from Dale, Jr.
But that’s not all either. Onea my very good friends - was involved in an auto accident today. This person has an awesome heart - the company of my employ treated her like dog poo poo - and it was all so undeserved. She finally had it all going for her. New job where she’s (finally) appreciated. In addition to initial starting at a higher rate, she’s attained a handsome raise in the meantime.
Today, she was going North on a two lane highway - I don’t know all the details… she rear ended someone - and her car was in the median, now pointing Southbound. She was having trouble breathing.. But word is (after a hospital visit) she’s ok.
So I’m thankful. But, she’s on my mind. I don’t want funny. I don’t want camaraderie. I can’t laugh at emails. I had a hard time getting into my job - and normally my job flows like a waterfall.
A life jolt, and I’m sorry she’s absorbed it.
I recently told this person I loved her as a person, and I do. I feel so glad that I did - because we just don’t say that enough.
One never knows when life will find them in the median. Who knows if 5 MPH more woulda found her on the other side of the highway with a certain end.
Please, count your blessings. Allow those that you admire/love/are so damn glad you know them - to know just that. With the snap of the finger life can change.
Godspeed KB. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like forwarding you a goofy/fun email I’d received. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like sitting around the table with other cronies I love to reminisce how we usedta do that. Maybe tomorrow I’ll learn from the know-it-all at work and not be bothered by it. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll even be funny here. (Victor, don’t push the envelope.)
Please close your eyes and thinka those in your life you’d really really hurt if they were no longer around. And somehow, someway, touch ‘em. You don’t have to well up and be sissified about it. Just find a way to ‘touch.’ The day might come we can’t touch.
Remember, I talk to me here. It shouldn't take a GD jolt for us to let those we love/cherish know. Let's make a pact tomorrow - we'll close our eyes and imagine life without those that really, really matter to us. Then, we touch 'em whilst they're/we're still here.
Thank goodness - today… silence is golden… but my eyes still see.. Love, Victurd.
I have. And what I’ve found, - when that happens - my mind is on 47 other things, and the privy and enjoyment of conversation - for that moment in time, just ain’t happenin’..
I don’t wanna talk “the Election”… no “Iraq” (but God Bless our troops).. I tire of ‘work talk.’
I might even use caller ID to hide, be it family, friend or foe.
A plate of BBQ ribs infronta me, ain't eatin' in 24 hours - just don't want 'em.
I find nothing wrong with “sitting out a game.” I might even read the fun, traded emails at a later date.
Ever been around someone and you felt like stating “gee… for once, I wish you had nothing to say.” There’s a dude at work.. He’s genuinely good hearted.. Means well.. Tries his damndest to make friends but goes about it all assbackwards.. On the other hand, there isn’t one thing he doesn’t know about, or so he believes. He is, admittedly, very intelligent. But once, just once, I’d love to hear him say “Gee.. I don’t know.”
Last night I had a very good time. My very bestest friend, his wife, my two HS runnin’ cronies, one’ of em’s sister - the six of us seated around a table for talk for four, count ‘em, four hours. During this moment, I wanted talk. Absorbed in it. Enlightened by it. Reminisced about it. A friendship orgasm - without fear of herpes, aids, pregnancy or “love me til the end of time.”
Today is ‘celibacy day’. Put nicely, “please.. Can I have some space.” Ever feel thataway?
Ever eat a pine tree? Jk.
Ok, lemme explain how I got here. If there’s sucha thing as an auto shop giving you onea them ‘date rape drugs’ - I’ve had two of ‘em. I’ve read every Bass Pro magazine, Ladies Home Jouirnal, and Nascar magazine Meineke has to offer in the last seven days. I don’t fish, I ain’t a women, and I have a hard time telling Jeff Gordon from Dale, Jr.
But that’s not all either. Onea my very good friends - was involved in an auto accident today. This person has an awesome heart - the company of my employ treated her like dog poo poo - and it was all so undeserved. She finally had it all going for her. New job where she’s (finally) appreciated. In addition to initial starting at a higher rate, she’s attained a handsome raise in the meantime.
Today, she was going North on a two lane highway - I don’t know all the details… she rear ended someone - and her car was in the median, now pointing Southbound. She was having trouble breathing.. But word is (after a hospital visit) she’s ok.
So I’m thankful. But, she’s on my mind. I don’t want funny. I don’t want camaraderie. I can’t laugh at emails. I had a hard time getting into my job - and normally my job flows like a waterfall.
A life jolt, and I’m sorry she’s absorbed it.
I recently told this person I loved her as a person, and I do. I feel so glad that I did - because we just don’t say that enough.
One never knows when life will find them in the median. Who knows if 5 MPH more woulda found her on the other side of the highway with a certain end.
Please, count your blessings. Allow those that you admire/love/are so damn glad you know them - to know just that. With the snap of the finger life can change.
Godspeed KB. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like forwarding you a goofy/fun email I’d received. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like sitting around the table with other cronies I love to reminisce how we usedta do that. Maybe tomorrow I’ll learn from the know-it-all at work and not be bothered by it. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll even be funny here. (Victor, don’t push the envelope.)
Please close your eyes and thinka those in your life you’d really really hurt if they were no longer around. And somehow, someway, touch ‘em. You don’t have to well up and be sissified about it. Just find a way to ‘touch.’ The day might come we can’t touch.
Remember, I talk to me here. It shouldn't take a GD jolt for us to let those we love/cherish know. Let's make a pact tomorrow - we'll close our eyes and imagine life without those that really, really matter to us. Then, we touch 'em whilst they're/we're still here.
Thank goodness - today… silence is golden… but my eyes still see.. Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Oh well.
I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.
I love Fleetwood Mac... This song is kinda-sorta so all about me today – ceptin' for the next line maybe: But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me too.
Oh well.
It's gorgeous weather – whether you've noticed or not. We've been waiting for this goodstuff – now we got it, so let's “do”. I planta. No, I don't mean plant. I mean plan ta. I've got a black thumb, not a green one. (From mechanical attempts on my car... “Hi, wanna go out with me?”... “well mebbe, but we can't hold hands.”)
Maynard turned the tables on me yesterday. Oh Victor, please, this ain't about the car is it? Well, mebbe. Twas driving my Hot... Rod... Lincoln home last night.. Windows down, old people's classic rock blaring, didn't care who noticed.. allofasudden there's this thump-thump-thump-thump (hella loud, louder than 25 or 6 to 4 wasa playin').. Pulled into Community Center (they don't recognize me there any longer.. no, not due to weight loss.. due to lackagoin'.. ).. Damn, that serpentine belt is offagain. (Which means, the battery ain't chargin', which means, I wasn't going very far.)
Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.
Maynard, oh yeah, Maynard. I made it to his City bus stop (whew)– picked him up, and his mostly frantic (the hell do I do now) father said “we gotta go straight home.. that belt broke again”... and as this frantic father had his knuckles taughtly glued to the steering wheel (as if he were in “ona United Airlines jet landing at O'Hare” and “by God these handrails are gonna save my life if/when we crash, so I ain't lettin' go).. I was talking to myself.. Blurting ugly non-profane things like “why us?.. I hate this car.. “ yada yada.. and Maynard said “Dad, I see bums every day downtown. At least we gotta roof over our head.”
Oh well.
Rectum he shaked me back into reality, perspective. HRL, don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.
Meineke tells me, “it was a defective pump.” Durn. The pump is only fitty, and O'Reilly should/will replace that, but it costs $374 to get down to the little dooger. O'Reilly O'really tells me “well.. we can't do anything for your 'relief' – but we can file a claim with the manufacturer, and if they deem it defective, then we might get somewhere.”
Oh well. So I've got the day off. I wish I had a pedometer, 'cause I been out and about a walkin'. Onea my 'buddies' recently wisecracked the other day “I saw you walking down 291 the other day, thought it was the 'Penny Man' or something” eliciting snickers from the table we were at. (We have a disadvantaged chap in our fine town that – daily – walks miles and miles finding spare change on the ground, and in laundromats, vending machines, etc.).. Which, caused me to think to myself “self, if he saw me, whythehell didn't he stop and gimme a ride?”..Now this dude and I usedta do battle on the basketball court. He could really be an asshole, seriously, but I enjoyed that because it motivated me to try to beat him that much more. Hence, those little 'marks' surrounding 'buddy.' But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.
Victor, if you tell one more car story, I ain't never comin' back. Yeah, I hearya. Cars are kinda like people though.. They age, they show wear from love, abuse – the mileage, it all adds up. Then, one day they pee their pants and forget their name, or, start throwing their lifeline (serpentine belts)off of one afta another.
I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.
Ya know what? I find myself in a very good mood. That aint' braggadocios, it's a statement. I've enjoyed the walking, truly. I love everything greening up. I see happy people. I piddle with my friends. I love my friends, coworkers – and I mostly think the reverse is true. Money worries will always be there. Car problems will happen. And happen. This whole durn blog started with my '93 checkenginelight. Roller over to the HRL. My father, for years and years bought them old clunkers (Lincolns).. Put 200,000 miles on each and every one he owned. So there's some history, and some love there. Maybe, just maybe HRL, I would give the answer that you want me to.
Life, it be good. In fact, whilst like the weather can be, cars can be, we all can be – it ain't perfect .. but it's pretty damn good. “I've gotta roof.” I gots my HS running cronies. I gots my friends here (Thanks to all who've ever stopped by to scratch a note – you'll truly never know how much each and every one means... ). I've got ma nifty chair in the cubicle where my butt has managed to give it a decent ravine over the years.. I gots my coworkers.. I gots my daily email chit-chat with Misty/Kendra – two of my alltime favorite usedta-be coworkers.. I gots Mayard.. I gots more loving family.. I gots Jackson and Figaro – and pretty damn thankful they've lived to be teenagers. Most importantly, I've gots smiles.
Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.... I gots God too.
I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin. Yet, life, can it be any better? Love to all, Victurd.
I love Fleetwood Mac... This song is kinda-sorta so all about me today – ceptin' for the next line maybe: But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me too.
Oh well.
It's gorgeous weather – whether you've noticed or not. We've been waiting for this goodstuff – now we got it, so let's “do”. I planta. No, I don't mean plant. I mean plan ta. I've got a black thumb, not a green one. (From mechanical attempts on my car... “Hi, wanna go out with me?”... “well mebbe, but we can't hold hands.”)
Maynard turned the tables on me yesterday. Oh Victor, please, this ain't about the car is it? Well, mebbe. Twas driving my Hot... Rod... Lincoln home last night.. Windows down, old people's classic rock blaring, didn't care who noticed.. allofasudden there's this thump-thump-thump-thump (hella loud, louder than 25 or 6 to 4 wasa playin').. Pulled into Community Center (they don't recognize me there any longer.. no, not due to weight loss.. due to lackagoin'.. ).. Damn, that serpentine belt is offagain. (Which means, the battery ain't chargin', which means, I wasn't going very far.)
Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.
Maynard, oh yeah, Maynard. I made it to his City bus stop (whew)– picked him up, and his mostly frantic (the hell do I do now) father said “we gotta go straight home.. that belt broke again”... and as this frantic father had his knuckles taughtly glued to the steering wheel (as if he were in “ona United Airlines jet landing at O'Hare” and “by God these handrails are gonna save my life if/when we crash, so I ain't lettin' go).. I was talking to myself.. Blurting ugly non-profane things like “why us?.. I hate this car.. “ yada yada.. and Maynard said “Dad, I see bums every day downtown. At least we gotta roof over our head.”
Oh well.
Rectum he shaked me back into reality, perspective. HRL, don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.
Meineke tells me, “it was a defective pump.” Durn. The pump is only fitty, and O'Reilly should/will replace that, but it costs $374 to get down to the little dooger. O'Reilly O'really tells me “well.. we can't do anything for your 'relief' – but we can file a claim with the manufacturer, and if they deem it defective, then we might get somewhere.”
Oh well. So I've got the day off. I wish I had a pedometer, 'cause I been out and about a walkin'. Onea my 'buddies' recently wisecracked the other day “I saw you walking down 291 the other day, thought it was the 'Penny Man' or something” eliciting snickers from the table we were at. (We have a disadvantaged chap in our fine town that – daily – walks miles and miles finding spare change on the ground, and in laundromats, vending machines, etc.).. Which, caused me to think to myself “self, if he saw me, whythehell didn't he stop and gimme a ride?”..Now this dude and I usedta do battle on the basketball court. He could really be an asshole, seriously, but I enjoyed that because it motivated me to try to beat him that much more. Hence, those little 'marks' surrounding 'buddy.' But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.
Victor, if you tell one more car story, I ain't never comin' back. Yeah, I hearya. Cars are kinda like people though.. They age, they show wear from love, abuse – the mileage, it all adds up. Then, one day they pee their pants and forget their name, or, start throwing their lifeline (serpentine belts)off of one afta another.
I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.
Ya know what? I find myself in a very good mood. That aint' braggadocios, it's a statement. I've enjoyed the walking, truly. I love everything greening up. I see happy people. I piddle with my friends. I love my friends, coworkers – and I mostly think the reverse is true. Money worries will always be there. Car problems will happen. And happen. This whole durn blog started with my '93 checkenginelight. Roller over to the HRL. My father, for years and years bought them old clunkers (Lincolns).. Put 200,000 miles on each and every one he owned. So there's some history, and some love there. Maybe, just maybe HRL, I would give the answer that you want me to.
Life, it be good. In fact, whilst like the weather can be, cars can be, we all can be – it ain't perfect .. but it's pretty damn good. “I've gotta roof.” I gots my HS running cronies. I gots my friends here (Thanks to all who've ever stopped by to scratch a note – you'll truly never know how much each and every one means... ). I've got ma nifty chair in the cubicle where my butt has managed to give it a decent ravine over the years.. I gots my coworkers.. I gots my daily email chit-chat with Misty/Kendra – two of my alltime favorite usedta-be coworkers.. I gots Mayard.. I gots more loving family.. I gots Jackson and Figaro – and pretty damn thankful they've lived to be teenagers. Most importantly, I've gots smiles.
Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.... I gots God too.
I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin. Yet, life, can it be any better? Love to all, Victurd.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Well shake it up baby………
(shake it up, baby)
Twist and shout. (twist and shout)
Cmon cmon, cmon, cmon, baby, now, (come on baby)
Come on and work it on out. (work it on out)
It’s happened. This blog is becoming stale. Victor.. Whomever said it was anything but that? Yeah, I know, but I remember the day in September of ‘06, I actually did have 4 visitors here.
So let’s talk. I need ideas. I’m beginning to bore myself. One can only talk so many times about driving thru Mickey D’s… there’s only so many ways to communicate that the key to a fun life is through our own outlook…
Shall we talk herpes? The election? Obama? Osama? Peyton vs. Eli Manning?
Diet and exercise? Shit, I just read canned vegetables weren’t good for you. Didn’t know that. Thought I was behaving. I’ll never purchase Campbell’s again.
My car? GOOD GOD we’re worn out on that Victor.
I know… what about sex? That’s always a fun topic. Victor.. That’s too private. It’s personal. Individual.
I know I know, but it’s always tickled me to thinka the Preacher at the Methodist Church whose been there for like 40 years.. And to imagine a night of ecstasy between him and Mrs. Preacher.
Or like Mayor Funkhouser? EWWWWWW.. Whatabout that boxer Butterbean? Yuck! Rosie O’Donnel? Double yuck!
Howabout the meek 50-something dude at work with the kinda limp wrist whose wife looks like she could chew him up and spit him out! The WalMart greeter? Orville Redenbacher?
Wouldn’t it be fun, if for just one day, it was “National Nude Day”? We’d all probably wanna vomit, seduce and pinch our nose (respectfully, or.. Mebbe disrespectfully) in the same day!
We all.. Wait! Victor, speak for yourself.. Ok, ur right.. Some of us… maybe undress people with our own imagination sometimes… What if “all that” was formally exposed, and it wasn’t all that? Man, dude, u could like hide that thing with a thimble! Or, wow, your belly really paid for havin’ them kids didn’t it?
Ok, nuffa that. We’re all naked. We’re all who we’re mostly perceived to be by our dress. “I wanna stand out.” “I wanna blend in.” “I want THE BEST.” We’re ‘the façade’ walking.
Sex is weird. It’s the most thought about subject, yet, the least shared subject. We piggos, yes, we say “my goodness did u see her?”.. whilst you piglets counter with “oh my, did u SEE that butt?”
But we don’t talk about sex. Personally. Victor, you can’t start a sentence with but. Butt we don’t talk about sex. It’s not like “Suzie, what’d you do last night?” Substitute “Well, we had some wine.. We took turns taking each other’s articles of clothing off.. Ahm… one of us kinda-sorta pleasured the other.. Then.. Frank hopped on for fast and furious.. And we collapsed in each other’s arms” for.. “Well, I went to Price Copper.. Then thru CVS for my allergy meds… and watched the local news before hittin’ it.”
Fresh. How do u keep it fresh? I’m of the opine it never has to go stale. But, then again, one scooted after 7 years, and another after 19 years.. So.. I guess, if it goes progressively, the next one will stick (no pun intended) with me for like 43 years? Hell yeah, “Oh baby oh baby” AND the discounted $3.99 Grand Slam at Dennys!
Victor, you’re stuck aren’t you. You started this blog, and now you don’t know how to get out of it… Well… that’s kinda personal, but it’s been awhile since I was stuck.. Lemme see, the last time was.. VICTOR WE DON’T WANNA KNOW!
I guess I’ll get out by saying, sex is special. And it’s private. And it’s to each his/her own. Hopefully it’s compromise. Hopefully it’s as exciting as the very first time you laid eyes on each other.
One can only control one’s self. Ceptin’ I hope for you, if it’s your wish, you kinda-sorta lose control every once in awhile. That (so I hear) is a special part of sex. Like something takes over your body. You wouldn’t act that way infronta your kids, your work, your school, your family, your next door neighbor, your Priest. But (there’s that but again).. Butt, maybe oh maybe, it’s an avenue for you to be a different creature upon occasion. I actually kinda hope so.
So Victor. What’d you do that night you met that chicky from Excelsior? “Well, I went to Price Copper.. Then thru CVS for my allergy meds… and watched the local news before hittin’ it.”
You know you twist your little girl, (twist, little girl)
You know you twist so fine. (twist so fine)
Come on and twist a little closer, now, (twist a little closer)
And let me know that you're mine. (let me know you're mine)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Thanks, as always, for being here.. And if you care to share how your night went.. .we’d loveta hear… Love, Victurd.
Twist and shout. (twist and shout)
Cmon cmon, cmon, cmon, baby, now, (come on baby)
Come on and work it on out. (work it on out)
It’s happened. This blog is becoming stale. Victor.. Whomever said it was anything but that? Yeah, I know, but I remember the day in September of ‘06, I actually did have 4 visitors here.
So let’s talk. I need ideas. I’m beginning to bore myself. One can only talk so many times about driving thru Mickey D’s… there’s only so many ways to communicate that the key to a fun life is through our own outlook…
Shall we talk herpes? The election? Obama? Osama? Peyton vs. Eli Manning?
Diet and exercise? Shit, I just read canned vegetables weren’t good for you. Didn’t know that. Thought I was behaving. I’ll never purchase Campbell’s again.
My car? GOOD GOD we’re worn out on that Victor.
I know… what about sex? That’s always a fun topic. Victor.. That’s too private. It’s personal. Individual.
I know I know, but it’s always tickled me to thinka the Preacher at the Methodist Church whose been there for like 40 years.. And to imagine a night of ecstasy between him and Mrs. Preacher.
Or like Mayor Funkhouser? EWWWWWW.. Whatabout that boxer Butterbean? Yuck! Rosie O’Donnel? Double yuck!
Howabout the meek 50-something dude at work with the kinda limp wrist whose wife looks like she could chew him up and spit him out! The WalMart greeter? Orville Redenbacher?
Wouldn’t it be fun, if for just one day, it was “National Nude Day”? We’d all probably wanna vomit, seduce and pinch our nose (respectfully, or.. Mebbe disrespectfully) in the same day!
We all.. Wait! Victor, speak for yourself.. Ok, ur right.. Some of us… maybe undress people with our own imagination sometimes… What if “all that” was formally exposed, and it wasn’t all that? Man, dude, u could like hide that thing with a thimble! Or, wow, your belly really paid for havin’ them kids didn’t it?
Ok, nuffa that. We’re all naked. We’re all who we’re mostly perceived to be by our dress. “I wanna stand out.” “I wanna blend in.” “I want THE BEST.” We’re ‘the façade’ walking.
Sex is weird. It’s the most thought about subject, yet, the least shared subject. We piggos, yes, we say “my goodness did u see her?”.. whilst you piglets counter with “oh my, did u SEE that butt?”
But we don’t talk about sex. Personally. Victor, you can’t start a sentence with but. Butt we don’t talk about sex. It’s not like “Suzie, what’d you do last night?” Substitute “Well, we had some wine.. We took turns taking each other’s articles of clothing off.. Ahm… one of us kinda-sorta pleasured the other.. Then.. Frank hopped on for fast and furious.. And we collapsed in each other’s arms” for.. “Well, I went to Price Copper.. Then thru CVS for my allergy meds… and watched the local news before hittin’ it.”
Fresh. How do u keep it fresh? I’m of the opine it never has to go stale. But, then again, one scooted after 7 years, and another after 19 years.. So.. I guess, if it goes progressively, the next one will stick (no pun intended) with me for like 43 years? Hell yeah, “Oh baby oh baby” AND the discounted $3.99 Grand Slam at Dennys!
Victor, you’re stuck aren’t you. You started this blog, and now you don’t know how to get out of it… Well… that’s kinda personal, but it’s been awhile since I was stuck.. Lemme see, the last time was.. VICTOR WE DON’T WANNA KNOW!
I guess I’ll get out by saying, sex is special. And it’s private. And it’s to each his/her own. Hopefully it’s compromise. Hopefully it’s as exciting as the very first time you laid eyes on each other.
One can only control one’s self. Ceptin’ I hope for you, if it’s your wish, you kinda-sorta lose control every once in awhile. That (so I hear) is a special part of sex. Like something takes over your body. You wouldn’t act that way infronta your kids, your work, your school, your family, your next door neighbor, your Priest. But (there’s that but again).. Butt, maybe oh maybe, it’s an avenue for you to be a different creature upon occasion. I actually kinda hope so.
So Victor. What’d you do that night you met that chicky from Excelsior? “Well, I went to Price Copper.. Then thru CVS for my allergy meds… and watched the local news before hittin’ it.”
You know you twist your little girl, (twist, little girl)
You know you twist so fine. (twist so fine)
Come on and twist a little closer, now, (twist a little closer)
And let me know that you're mine. (let me know you're mine)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Well, shake it, shake it, shake it, baby, now. (shake it up baby)
Thanks, as always, for being here.. And if you care to share how your night went.. .we’d loveta hear… Love, Victurd.
Ya got ma goat?
Bent outta shape….
So Victor. You write this friggin’ Pollyanna blog… You ‘preach’ this “it’s a choice”.. “life’s all about attitude, and one’s reaction”… “suckup the good, the years they fly.” Don’t you ever get pissed? I mean, what bends you outta shape?
Wow. Good question. I honestly don’t think, within the last few years, too much has “bent me outta shape.”
I’m at a loss why my ex has absolutely zero to do with her 22 yr old son (cards/money on Christmas, birthday - no phone calls or visits in two years, lives in same town).. But, I have no control over that.
I am a Customer Service fanatic, so I guess it’s little stuff that makes me boil at the stimuli….
So you wanna example? There’s a little gal, she usedta work at the local gas station. I go there because it’s locally owned, and don’t figure I’m buying too many keffiyeh’s (Arab headdress’s) when I fill up. Little gal would be on the phone, and stay on the phone, for like several minutes whilst I stood awaiting to give her my (mostly) hard earned dollars. That kinda stuff makes me “bent outta shape”. I never said anything to her.
So, the other day… I hadn’t seen Queen of the Telephone in awhile…. I’d driven thru Mickey D’s for the normal “hotcakes and two hash browns” for Maynard…. Seems they normally tuck the hash browns up under the cakes… Got home, Maynard releases “Hey Pops, where’s my hash browns?” Shit, I dunno.
So the next day… I drive thru Mickey D’s… ain’t real sure what time it was… the Drive Thru… figured I’d say “Hey, you guys shorted us two hash browns yesterday, I was gonna get a couple of double-cheeseburgers… wondering if you could credit me the two hash browns and call it even?”
Now I’d worked at Sonic. I managed a Sonic Drive Inn……. Yes, Victor, we remember “you know what your problem is? (as they moved me from $57K a year manager to $24K a year assistant manager)… you’re too GD nice.”
So, point being, take my word, ring up whatever GD key you have to ringup on the register, gimme my two double cheeseburgers - you’re happy, I’m happy.
Cepting… no… “Pull on up.. We’ll talk.”… So, I do. I get up to the window. Shit. It’s “phone lady”. “Hi, I was the one who was shorted two hash browns… can u just consider it an even exchange on this purchase?” (At Sonic, we gladly woulda done that, and maybe thrown something in on toppa that.)… “Nope, sorry, for that…it’s too busy now… you’ll have to come inside and see a manager.” I probably shoulda said “I’m not moving my car until I see the manager” - but didn’t.
See… stuff like that pisses me off…. Calling a vendor, whom we are paying, and they cop an attitude. It’s like “Look biotch.. We had a choice.. And we chose you.. And we’re paying you.. And there’s a hitch-in-the-get along, and it’s pretty obvious you don’t give a rats…and that disturbs the hell outta me, because it’s customers like me that keep you employed.”
I get bent outta shape when one perceives themselves to be holier than thou. We had an announcement of the “all 60 of you can hear” intercom Friday…. “so-and-so will be in the conference room from 3:30pm until 5pm and he prefers not to be disturbed.” I have always lived by the motto “all men are created equal.”
It bends me outta shape when I see parents doing things like pulling their kid by the ear.. Forcefully yanking their arm…
What gets your goat?
Softball practice last night. At fitty-five, I was “bent, outta shape.” Fun though. I’m rambling, but reckon I do that. Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me, long as you love me - it’s alright. Have a nice one, love, Victurd.
So Victor. You write this friggin’ Pollyanna blog… You ‘preach’ this “it’s a choice”.. “life’s all about attitude, and one’s reaction”… “suckup the good, the years they fly.” Don’t you ever get pissed? I mean, what bends you outta shape?
Wow. Good question. I honestly don’t think, within the last few years, too much has “bent me outta shape.”
I’m at a loss why my ex has absolutely zero to do with her 22 yr old son (cards/money on Christmas, birthday - no phone calls or visits in two years, lives in same town).. But, I have no control over that.
I am a Customer Service fanatic, so I guess it’s little stuff that makes me boil at the stimuli….
So you wanna example? There’s a little gal, she usedta work at the local gas station. I go there because it’s locally owned, and don’t figure I’m buying too many keffiyeh’s (Arab headdress’s) when I fill up. Little gal would be on the phone, and stay on the phone, for like several minutes whilst I stood awaiting to give her my (mostly) hard earned dollars. That kinda stuff makes me “bent outta shape”. I never said anything to her.
So, the other day… I hadn’t seen Queen of the Telephone in awhile…. I’d driven thru Mickey D’s for the normal “hotcakes and two hash browns” for Maynard…. Seems they normally tuck the hash browns up under the cakes… Got home, Maynard releases “Hey Pops, where’s my hash browns?” Shit, I dunno.
So the next day… I drive thru Mickey D’s… ain’t real sure what time it was… the Drive Thru… figured I’d say “Hey, you guys shorted us two hash browns yesterday, I was gonna get a couple of double-cheeseburgers… wondering if you could credit me the two hash browns and call it even?”
Now I’d worked at Sonic. I managed a Sonic Drive Inn……. Yes, Victor, we remember “you know what your problem is? (as they moved me from $57K a year manager to $24K a year assistant manager)… you’re too GD nice.”
So, point being, take my word, ring up whatever GD key you have to ringup on the register, gimme my two double cheeseburgers - you’re happy, I’m happy.
Cepting… no… “Pull on up.. We’ll talk.”… So, I do. I get up to the window. Shit. It’s “phone lady”. “Hi, I was the one who was shorted two hash browns… can u just consider it an even exchange on this purchase?” (At Sonic, we gladly woulda done that, and maybe thrown something in on toppa that.)… “Nope, sorry, for that…it’s too busy now… you’ll have to come inside and see a manager.” I probably shoulda said “I’m not moving my car until I see the manager” - but didn’t.
See… stuff like that pisses me off…. Calling a vendor, whom we are paying, and they cop an attitude. It’s like “Look biotch.. We had a choice.. And we chose you.. And we’re paying you.. And there’s a hitch-in-the-get along, and it’s pretty obvious you don’t give a rats…and that disturbs the hell outta me, because it’s customers like me that keep you employed.”
I get bent outta shape when one perceives themselves to be holier than thou. We had an announcement of the “all 60 of you can hear” intercom Friday…. “so-and-so will be in the conference room from 3:30pm until 5pm and he prefers not to be disturbed.” I have always lived by the motto “all men are created equal.”
It bends me outta shape when I see parents doing things like pulling their kid by the ear.. Forcefully yanking their arm…
What gets your goat?
Softball practice last night. At fitty-five, I was “bent, outta shape.” Fun though. I’m rambling, but reckon I do that. Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me, long as you love me - it’s alright. Have a nice one, love, Victurd.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Don’t worry be happy….
.Went to McDonalds this morning for my El Cheapo discounted coffee, and had a momentary "to hell with the Biggest Loser Contest at work" and feasted on a sausage burrito. This made me happy. No Sports page in the newspaper rack, damnit, sad.
Four college boys from same small, liberal arts school I attended… Fun, lively, a happy age.
Granny, so slow to walk, fetched the newspaper back to the rack - saw a lady looking thru the depleted items that were now down to the grocery and want ads, handed her the paper. That was happy.
Read an article all about "the older we get, the happier we are." Twas a study done from 1972 to present - and it said it was true. Ya think?
Drove home, searched to try to find the article again online, couldn't.. but found some others. One from '06 said "Republicans are happier than Dems…. Married happier than unmarried… churchgoers happier than non-churchgoers.. Those with household incomes in excess of $100,000 happier than those with a combined less than $30,000.. 36% of whites happy, 34% of Hispanics happy, 28% of blacks happy… Owning a pet means no difference in happiness than not owning one… Retired about equally as happy as working folks..
That article was so-so. The next one I found hit the nail on the head. ""What is most interesting about this study is that people who think they are aging well are not necessarily the (healthiest) individuals," said lead researcher Dilip Jeste of the University of California at San Diego.
"In fact, optimism and effective coping styles were found to be more important to successfully aging than traditional measures of health and wellness," Jeste said. "These findings suggest that physical health is not the best indicator of successful aging—attitude is." RIGHT ON BROTHER BEN! Oops, forgot, I ain't been going to church.
I am white. I ain't Republican. I ain't married. I do have pets, but like they say "so what?" (I say "what" - they make me even happier!..) Household income over $100,00? Lemme peek at my check stub, brb…. Darnit! No!
I do, mosta the time, like my attitude. Victor, don't pat your own back. Can't. Can't reach it, so there!
Here's the results of my study, which began…ohhhh. roughly 1952 or so… I think happiness is all about "the millisecond." Newton's Law proclaims for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Whatever the stimuli is - it's that millisecond of how we react to it. Might be someone walking down the street approaching us. How do we react? Turn our head? Stare straight ahead and not make eye contact? Or do we learn to be friendly and have a fun millisecond?
Someone irritates us, how do we respond? Holds the door open for us? Bumps into us? Looks at us as if to measure up our race, dress, economic status (or lack thereof)? Avoids us?
It's easy to be happy with good stimuli. When's the last time you frowned after sex? A fun movie? Watching your kid play ball? Seeing a family member? Waking at Christmas?
It's all the other times that are critical. And no, I ain't on the pulpit damnit - again, I write for ME, to me. Anyone welcome here - and anyone welcome to dispute.
Happy to report, I do not have to call Judge Judy (yesterday's blog.) I am here to highly recommend Meineke Auto Shoppe in Liberty, MO. They fixed my car Wednesday. Cost exactly what he quoted me before they pulled it into the bay. Overheated on me Thursday, had it towed back in to Meineke that night ($88).. As I walked in around 5:30pm to pick it up, I got my debit card out.. Hal (owner/manager) hands me the keys and says "You're all set."
WHAT? No $452 bill to fix the cooling problem? No $88 tow? "There was a valve we forgot to bleed once we finished putting your power steering pump on, completely our fault, and I apologize." Wow, talk about happy! And ya know what? I think it made Hal happy. I for sure know I'll recommend folks to his shop, and I for sure know I'll go back. Hal had adversity staring him in the face - and he turned it into happiness, mine and his.
I'm gonna go now. Out seeking life's stimuli. Practice up on my millisecond reactions. Work on that attitude. Maybe even go to church, vote for McClain, and apply for a hunderd thou job. I'll pet my cat on the way though.
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Ain't that what it's all about? Don't worry (worry is like being in a rocking chair..…"it will give you something to do, but get you nowhere" right Misty?) be happy.
I ain't heard back from Glenn, the hotel hiring feller. Tis ok, I'll handle the millisecond should it not be a good end. Hal learnt me. Everyone learns me. Kids learn me. Elderly learns me. Pets learn me. It's about choice. Attitude. Reaction. Getting laid. (Sorry, just threw that one in for fun!)..
May your days and nights be fun filled and happy. Love, Victurd
Four college boys from same small, liberal arts school I attended… Fun, lively, a happy age.
Granny, so slow to walk, fetched the newspaper back to the rack - saw a lady looking thru the depleted items that were now down to the grocery and want ads, handed her the paper. That was happy.
Read an article all about "the older we get, the happier we are." Twas a study done from 1972 to present - and it said it was true. Ya think?
Drove home, searched to try to find the article again online, couldn't.. but found some others. One from '06 said "Republicans are happier than Dems…. Married happier than unmarried… churchgoers happier than non-churchgoers.. Those with household incomes in excess of $100,000 happier than those with a combined less than $30,000.. 36% of whites happy, 34% of Hispanics happy, 28% of blacks happy… Owning a pet means no difference in happiness than not owning one… Retired about equally as happy as working folks..
That article was so-so. The next one I found hit the nail on the head. ""What is most interesting about this study is that people who think they are aging well are not necessarily the (healthiest) individuals," said lead researcher Dilip Jeste of the University of California at San Diego.
"In fact, optimism and effective coping styles were found to be more important to successfully aging than traditional measures of health and wellness," Jeste said. "These findings suggest that physical health is not the best indicator of successful aging—attitude is." RIGHT ON BROTHER BEN! Oops, forgot, I ain't been going to church.
I am white. I ain't Republican. I ain't married. I do have pets, but like they say "so what?" (I say "what" - they make me even happier!..) Household income over $100,00? Lemme peek at my check stub, brb…. Darnit! No!
I do, mosta the time, like my attitude. Victor, don't pat your own back. Can't. Can't reach it, so there!
Here's the results of my study, which began…ohhhh. roughly 1952 or so… I think happiness is all about "the millisecond." Newton's Law proclaims for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Whatever the stimuli is - it's that millisecond of how we react to it. Might be someone walking down the street approaching us. How do we react? Turn our head? Stare straight ahead and not make eye contact? Or do we learn to be friendly and have a fun millisecond?
Someone irritates us, how do we respond? Holds the door open for us? Bumps into us? Looks at us as if to measure up our race, dress, economic status (or lack thereof)? Avoids us?
It's easy to be happy with good stimuli. When's the last time you frowned after sex? A fun movie? Watching your kid play ball? Seeing a family member? Waking at Christmas?
It's all the other times that are critical. And no, I ain't on the pulpit damnit - again, I write for ME, to me. Anyone welcome here - and anyone welcome to dispute.
Happy to report, I do not have to call Judge Judy (yesterday's blog.) I am here to highly recommend Meineke Auto Shoppe in Liberty, MO. They fixed my car Wednesday. Cost exactly what he quoted me before they pulled it into the bay. Overheated on me Thursday, had it towed back in to Meineke that night ($88).. As I walked in around 5:30pm to pick it up, I got my debit card out.. Hal (owner/manager) hands me the keys and says "You're all set."
WHAT? No $452 bill to fix the cooling problem? No $88 tow? "There was a valve we forgot to bleed once we finished putting your power steering pump on, completely our fault, and I apologize." Wow, talk about happy! And ya know what? I think it made Hal happy. I for sure know I'll recommend folks to his shop, and I for sure know I'll go back. Hal had adversity staring him in the face - and he turned it into happiness, mine and his.
I'm gonna go now. Out seeking life's stimuli. Practice up on my millisecond reactions. Work on that attitude. Maybe even go to church, vote for McClain, and apply for a hunderd thou job. I'll pet my cat on the way though.
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Ain't that what it's all about? Don't worry (worry is like being in a rocking chair..…"it will give you something to do, but get you nowhere" right Misty?) be happy.
I ain't heard back from Glenn, the hotel hiring feller. Tis ok, I'll handle the millisecond should it not be a good end. Hal learnt me. Everyone learns me. Kids learn me. Elderly learns me. Pets learn me. It's about choice. Attitude. Reaction. Getting laid. (Sorry, just threw that one in for fun!)..
May your days and nights be fun filled and happy. Love, Victurd
Thursday, April 17, 2008
24 Highway and Donnelly Street… and, we’re up to $565...
Oops… Glenn.. I got to thinking, maybe you’re just now clicking this link.. It’s the next blog after this one… Sorry!
It’s been a week. I think not long ago I’d mentioned life can sometimes be like being an average boxer... Some days you knock ‘em out - other days you find yourself on the canvas, and ya just gotta get back up and get in the ring…
Had a job interview Wednesday at 8am sharp. Buddy-o-mine that had given me ride to work Monday and Tuesday… he so very kindly dropped me off at the Hotel where I was interviewing for a part-time position… Neat man, the boss feller of the Hotel… Took the the remainder of the day off to get the HRL running.… started traversing on foot the 3 mile trek home…
Stopped by Meineke Car Care Center… asked “If I bring the power steering pump, how much would you charge to put it on my 1993 Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln…?” He clicked it all in the computer, raised his head up and said “that’ll be a two hour job, you’re talking roughly $150.” Well, that ain’t bad… I’d had a shade tree mechanic run from me when he saw the size of the engine in the HRL… I can do this… (and still eat!)….
Walked home the resta the way… I’m actually beginning to like the look of my legs again, they’re getting hella exercise of late.. I’ve walked to the Library, to Phillips 66, and to where my car was broken down (thrice times) - so the pups have been getting a workout…
Called the auto parts store (right next door to Meineke) to see if they had a power steering pump to fit my ‘93 H… R…. L… “yep, it’s fitty-two dollars, got ‘er right here on ma shelf.” Perfect. The battery charger I had hooked up to the HRL all night did the job, and it enabled me to avoid a tow… Pulled into Meineke…Met Hal at the desk.. Asked if I’d ever been there before… “yup, but you ain’t as pretty as the person that waited on me the last time I was here!”..”
Gave Hal the keys, walked next door to buy the power steering pump… “Say, is it a Signature or Executive model?” Heck I dunno, how do you tell? "Should be rahht thar on the bumper or the trunk…" K, I’ll go look. Wasn’t. Opened up the door handle to read the thingy on the insidea the door where they stamp when produced… “Manufactured 6/95.” Crap, I’d told him the wrong year. The 1993 Checkenginelight car was still ingrained in my brain. “Sorry, it’s a ‘95, my bad.” “Oh we ain’t got that one, sorry.”
So I said hello to my legs again, walked the the next closest auto parts store.. “Nope, sorry, fresh out. You can get it at our warehouse offa Front Street” (some ten miles away.). At this point my legs locked up as if to say “Nope, no way, huh uh, nomme.” I agreed. Ring, Ring. “Clay, can I borrow you for an hour.” Yep. Whew.
So called Hal @ Meineke ‘hey Hal, I thought they had the pump in stock.. Didn’t.. it’s gonna take me 30 minutes or so, so I was just calling to let you know so you wouldn’t tie up your bay.” “Hey Vic, when you left, I went next door to look for you… there’s been a little misunderstanding here… your engine is a 4.6, NOT the same as the one we thought.”
“Yeah, sorry, I told you the wrong year.” “BIG difference here. You’re looking at 4 hours labor, $375 insteada two hours, $150.” Borrowing a line from Meatloaf, “let me think on it… Hal baby let me think on it.”
I could do. It’ll be tight $$-wise, but I could do. “It’s cool. Please go ahead and fix it, but I’m not promising to love you til the end of time Hal.”
Six hours later, a sunburn thanks to the grassy knoll I snoozed on for two hours.. I’m handin’ over more twenties than I seen since I ran the desk at the Soooper 8.. And I’m off in the Hot… Rod… Lincoln… all was good.. Safe at home for the night.
Next morn, jumped in car. Long about a mile down the road, hear this “ding ding ding”.. Dashboard telling me “check temperature gauge.” Did. Uh oh.. Shit. Pulled into gas station in my homey town. Do I miss work again, or do I try putting more water in and see what happens? More water, it’s summertime, I have the time to take off - but I can’t allow my work to sit two days in a row…
Ahhh… the defroster kicked in… temp gauge behaved all the way to turn off to work.. LIG. (Life is good.) Ding ding ding. Uh oh. Yep, overheated again. So I’m thinking, it’s ok, it loves 65 mph, it’s just the 25 mph it hates. I’ll be fine tonight once I jump on the highway.
5pm.. See you guys.. Have a nice evening…Worked an hour over.. Vrooom says the HRL.. I inch my way to Interstate… No, no heater yet. Enter the ramp to the place I can go 65. Yes, it’ll be all good. But it wasn’t. Kept putting my hand up there to feel the heat, and there weren’t no heat. So I get off on 87th street. Gently undo the radiator cap.. PSSSSSSSSSSSSSS… Pour more water in.. off I go… By Gregory (the next exit) “ding ding ding.” More water. Back on the road.
Ding ding ding. 63rd street exit, more water. Missed the ramp to get back on Interstate North.. Thought “I’ll just turn around here”.. oops. Interstate South… Took Gregory exit (again).. More water.. More ding ding ding..
Ding ding ding… 24 Highway.. I know I know, more water. Cept the car died on the off ramp. Six cars behind me honking, at least four of which had men in them that could surely beat the crap outta me. Five very long minutes later, more water, it started!
Turned right on Donnelly Street. Died again. No ding ding ding this time. More water. Started. I turned around. Or tried to. Died. There across the entire narrow span of Donnelly Street, the crossways Hot… Rod… Lincoln had North and South traffic blocked. I say a little prayer for you, I say a little prayer for you.. Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you (HRL)…..
Finally got it turned around. Now this 24 Hwy and Donnelly area - maybe it was a good thing I broke down there. Helped not to direct pity inward. The house I was parked infronta, ten, count ‘em ten children ranging in age from diapers to twelve - walked outta the house to see who this stranger was (and to play in the rain.) Five minutes later momma runs outside, sees her kids getting all muddy, said something ‘sounded kinda scornful in Spanish… I don’t think it was “the chocolate chip cookies are ready!” Succinctly, others worse off than me. Maybe a two bedroom house.
By now battery didn’t even have enough juice for three dings. Inevitable. I ain’t making it home in the HRL. We’re ding-ding-ding, cha-ching-ching-ching, at $470 and counting.
“Hello Mr. Tow man? This is Vic. Say I’m here at the Quick Trip on 24 highway…just’n offa 435.. How much for a tow back home to Meineke?.. And could the feller come tonight? “Well lemme see… $40 hookup fee… ‘bout twelve miles.. You’re looking at $95.” Gulp. There are probably hookers in Vegas for less than $95. “Ok, bring the dude on.” This HRL is the best $4000 car I've ever bought for $1500.
The wait at QT was mostly uneventful. Poorer people are just like barely a little better off people. Dads held the hands of young’s so they didn’t get run over. Laughs and “howdy’s” happened. And if I saw one, I saw ten BBW walk in and buy 3 packs a cigs. They musta had a 3-pack BBW special a goin’ on at the QT.
Tow truck arrived. Quiet feller. ‘Til he got a little soaked as he laid on the ground to hookup the cables. A few F-bombs, and ten minutes later we were off, and HRL stowed neatly away on the flatbed.
“I’ma little nervous about that one hookup.” I’d prayed the dude was a smoker. Wasn’t. When he said that, I needed one more than ever. I rethunk it, even said "the way I feel about my HRL now, I wouldn't mind if it fell off. I wouldn't sue ya".. "Yeah, but it's them folks behind me that might." When you’re going twelve miles at $8 a mile, I figured the conversation oughta be special, so I kinda let him lead the way, and I nodded my head “yup” with every thing he said. Figured to get on his better side, I might not haveta walk home from Meineke, and mebbe, just mebbe he’d leave the meter off if he took me home.
“Yeah, just split up with the old lady two weeks ago… five kids.. “… Dang, sorry to hear that. Ya know, one example I’ve learned the hard way, one can only control one’s self. “Yep, and she thought she could control me, 18 years and she didn’t learn no better. You get out of it what you put in it.”
I thought that was kinda prophetic. “You get out of it what you put in it.” Maybe not quite as cool as the aforementioned “Boogy till you die”, yet, still… not bad.
So, after about 10 miles, some $80 cha-ching ding ding later, I asked about the meter still runnin’ whilst he takes me home. “I’m presently, thanks to $470 already, a po man, I don’t mind walking.” Nah, think nothing’ of it. Whar ya live? Told him. I can do that, just remember to do a favor for another in our boat on down the road. “Cool.” I wanted to see if I could stop and get my kid two double cheeseburgers at Mickey-D’s, but decided that might be pushing it.
So… $565 later, here I sit, no car. “Mike, can I have a ride again tomorrow?”… Thinkin’ about what I’ll say to Hal/Meineke when I call in the morning. After all, the HRL WASN’T overheating prior to me dropping it off the last time. “Let me sleep on it.”
Life, it’s fun. It’s funny. It’s ding ding ding. It’s drenched clothes. Po people, barely better off than po people. Reckon “you get out of it, what you put in it.” Yep, liked that.
Seeya tomorrow, same Bat Channel. Will it be “Vic, I’m sorry, we musta discombobulated something in the circulation lines.. No charge little buddy”… or… Judge Judy, here I come.
Let me sleep on it, baby baby let me sleep on it. Love, Victurd.
It’s been a week. I think not long ago I’d mentioned life can sometimes be like being an average boxer... Some days you knock ‘em out - other days you find yourself on the canvas, and ya just gotta get back up and get in the ring…
Had a job interview Wednesday at 8am sharp. Buddy-o-mine that had given me ride to work Monday and Tuesday… he so very kindly dropped me off at the Hotel where I was interviewing for a part-time position… Neat man, the boss feller of the Hotel… Took the the remainder of the day off to get the HRL running.… started traversing on foot the 3 mile trek home…
Stopped by Meineke Car Care Center… asked “If I bring the power steering pump, how much would you charge to put it on my 1993 Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln…?” He clicked it all in the computer, raised his head up and said “that’ll be a two hour job, you’re talking roughly $150.” Well, that ain’t bad… I’d had a shade tree mechanic run from me when he saw the size of the engine in the HRL… I can do this… (and still eat!)….
Walked home the resta the way… I’m actually beginning to like the look of my legs again, they’re getting hella exercise of late.. I’ve walked to the Library, to Phillips 66, and to where my car was broken down (thrice times) - so the pups have been getting a workout…
Called the auto parts store (right next door to Meineke) to see if they had a power steering pump to fit my ‘93 H… R…. L… “yep, it’s fitty-two dollars, got ‘er right here on ma shelf.” Perfect. The battery charger I had hooked up to the HRL all night did the job, and it enabled me to avoid a tow… Pulled into Meineke…Met Hal at the desk.. Asked if I’d ever been there before… “yup, but you ain’t as pretty as the person that waited on me the last time I was here!”..”
Gave Hal the keys, walked next door to buy the power steering pump… “Say, is it a Signature or Executive model?” Heck I dunno, how do you tell? "Should be rahht thar on the bumper or the trunk…" K, I’ll go look. Wasn’t. Opened up the door handle to read the thingy on the insidea the door where they stamp when produced… “Manufactured 6/95.” Crap, I’d told him the wrong year. The 1993 Checkenginelight car was still ingrained in my brain. “Sorry, it’s a ‘95, my bad.” “Oh we ain’t got that one, sorry.”
So I said hello to my legs again, walked the the next closest auto parts store.. “Nope, sorry, fresh out. You can get it at our warehouse offa Front Street” (some ten miles away.). At this point my legs locked up as if to say “Nope, no way, huh uh, nomme.” I agreed. Ring, Ring. “Clay, can I borrow you for an hour.” Yep. Whew.
So called Hal @ Meineke ‘hey Hal, I thought they had the pump in stock.. Didn’t.. it’s gonna take me 30 minutes or so, so I was just calling to let you know so you wouldn’t tie up your bay.” “Hey Vic, when you left, I went next door to look for you… there’s been a little misunderstanding here… your engine is a 4.6, NOT the same as the one we thought.”
“Yeah, sorry, I told you the wrong year.” “BIG difference here. You’re looking at 4 hours labor, $375 insteada two hours, $150.” Borrowing a line from Meatloaf, “let me think on it… Hal baby let me think on it.”
I could do. It’ll be tight $$-wise, but I could do. “It’s cool. Please go ahead and fix it, but I’m not promising to love you til the end of time Hal.”
Six hours later, a sunburn thanks to the grassy knoll I snoozed on for two hours.. I’m handin’ over more twenties than I seen since I ran the desk at the Soooper 8.. And I’m off in the Hot… Rod… Lincoln… all was good.. Safe at home for the night.
Next morn, jumped in car. Long about a mile down the road, hear this “ding ding ding”.. Dashboard telling me “check temperature gauge.” Did. Uh oh.. Shit. Pulled into gas station in my homey town. Do I miss work again, or do I try putting more water in and see what happens? More water, it’s summertime, I have the time to take off - but I can’t allow my work to sit two days in a row…
Ahhh… the defroster kicked in… temp gauge behaved all the way to turn off to work.. LIG. (Life is good.) Ding ding ding. Uh oh. Yep, overheated again. So I’m thinking, it’s ok, it loves 65 mph, it’s just the 25 mph it hates. I’ll be fine tonight once I jump on the highway.
5pm.. See you guys.. Have a nice evening…Worked an hour over.. Vrooom says the HRL.. I inch my way to Interstate… No, no heater yet. Enter the ramp to the place I can go 65. Yes, it’ll be all good. But it wasn’t. Kept putting my hand up there to feel the heat, and there weren’t no heat. So I get off on 87th street. Gently undo the radiator cap.. PSSSSSSSSSSSSSS… Pour more water in.. off I go… By Gregory (the next exit) “ding ding ding.” More water. Back on the road.
Ding ding ding. 63rd street exit, more water. Missed the ramp to get back on Interstate North.. Thought “I’ll just turn around here”.. oops. Interstate South… Took Gregory exit (again).. More water.. More ding ding ding..
Ding ding ding… 24 Highway.. I know I know, more water. Cept the car died on the off ramp. Six cars behind me honking, at least four of which had men in them that could surely beat the crap outta me. Five very long minutes later, more water, it started!
Turned right on Donnelly Street. Died again. No ding ding ding this time. More water. Started. I turned around. Or tried to. Died. There across the entire narrow span of Donnelly Street, the crossways Hot… Rod… Lincoln had North and South traffic blocked. I say a little prayer for you, I say a little prayer for you.. Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you (HRL)…..
Finally got it turned around. Now this 24 Hwy and Donnelly area - maybe it was a good thing I broke down there. Helped not to direct pity inward. The house I was parked infronta, ten, count ‘em ten children ranging in age from diapers to twelve - walked outta the house to see who this stranger was (and to play in the rain.) Five minutes later momma runs outside, sees her kids getting all muddy, said something ‘sounded kinda scornful in Spanish… I don’t think it was “the chocolate chip cookies are ready!” Succinctly, others worse off than me. Maybe a two bedroom house.
By now battery didn’t even have enough juice for three dings. Inevitable. I ain’t making it home in the HRL. We’re ding-ding-ding, cha-ching-ching-ching, at $470 and counting.
“Hello Mr. Tow man? This is Vic. Say I’m here at the Quick Trip on 24 highway…just’n offa 435.. How much for a tow back home to Meineke?.. And could the feller come tonight? “Well lemme see… $40 hookup fee… ‘bout twelve miles.. You’re looking at $95.” Gulp. There are probably hookers in Vegas for less than $95. “Ok, bring the dude on.” This HRL is the best $4000 car I've ever bought for $1500.
The wait at QT was mostly uneventful. Poorer people are just like barely a little better off people. Dads held the hands of young’s so they didn’t get run over. Laughs and “howdy’s” happened. And if I saw one, I saw ten BBW walk in and buy 3 packs a cigs. They musta had a 3-pack BBW special a goin’ on at the QT.
Tow truck arrived. Quiet feller. ‘Til he got a little soaked as he laid on the ground to hookup the cables. A few F-bombs, and ten minutes later we were off, and HRL stowed neatly away on the flatbed.
“I’ma little nervous about that one hookup.” I’d prayed the dude was a smoker. Wasn’t. When he said that, I needed one more than ever. I rethunk it, even said "the way I feel about my HRL now, I wouldn't mind if it fell off. I wouldn't sue ya".. "Yeah, but it's them folks behind me that might." When you’re going twelve miles at $8 a mile, I figured the conversation oughta be special, so I kinda let him lead the way, and I nodded my head “yup” with every thing he said. Figured to get on his better side, I might not haveta walk home from Meineke, and mebbe, just mebbe he’d leave the meter off if he took me home.
“Yeah, just split up with the old lady two weeks ago… five kids.. “… Dang, sorry to hear that. Ya know, one example I’ve learned the hard way, one can only control one’s self. “Yep, and she thought she could control me, 18 years and she didn’t learn no better. You get out of it what you put in it.”
I thought that was kinda prophetic. “You get out of it what you put in it.” Maybe not quite as cool as the aforementioned “Boogy till you die”, yet, still… not bad.
So, after about 10 miles, some $80 cha-ching ding ding later, I asked about the meter still runnin’ whilst he takes me home. “I’m presently, thanks to $470 already, a po man, I don’t mind walking.” Nah, think nothing’ of it. Whar ya live? Told him. I can do that, just remember to do a favor for another in our boat on down the road. “Cool.” I wanted to see if I could stop and get my kid two double cheeseburgers at Mickey-D’s, but decided that might be pushing it.
So… $565 later, here I sit, no car. “Mike, can I have a ride again tomorrow?”… Thinkin’ about what I’ll say to Hal/Meineke when I call in the morning. After all, the HRL WASN’T overheating prior to me dropping it off the last time. “Let me sleep on it.”
Life, it’s fun. It’s funny. It’s ding ding ding. It’s drenched clothes. Po people, barely better off than po people. Reckon “you get out of it, what you put in it.” Yep, liked that.
Seeya tomorrow, same Bat Channel. Will it be “Vic, I’m sorry, we musta discombobulated something in the circulation lines.. No charge little buddy”… or… Judge Judy, here I come.
Let me sleep on it, baby baby let me sleep on it. Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
You’re really giving this to a potential employer?
Well yes, yes I am. Giving what? And what job? I thought you had a good job?
Well, yes. I do. I’m considering giving a copy of this blog to Glenn… I applied for a part-time night auditor position at a local hotel. This is a want/need job. I miss customer service. I love working with vendors, and attempt to treat them as nicely as customers - but I miss working with the general public. Need. You’ve been here on this blog thru “thick and ‘pen’”.. You know the need. Single dad, Hot… Rod… Lincoln with many problems.
Victor did you tell Glenn, after you interviewed that you walked home over 3 miles because your Hot… Rod… Lincoln was in the shop?? SSSSSHHHHH! No, I didn’t. I didn’t want him to think I was unreliable. If the one I reported to directly until this week happens by, mebbe she’d address my reliability.
Ok, for three years… I’ve been the one on this end of the keyboard. I’m asking you.. Mary W, Mary T, Misty, Kendra, Terry (all current or former coworkers) to submit a one paragraph statement (on this very blog right now), about me If you felt I am/was a good worker, have at. If you think/thought I was a schmuck, have at.. Am I a fun-loving Tigger or a sad-sack Eeyore? Anyone that reads this that’s been around here the last three years - you’re welcome to have at a paragraph. I can spout all I want in a 30 minute interview when asked “what do people say about you?” - and I think I answered something like “nice guy.” Ok, so maybe I lied! If you’ve observed this wonderful roller coaster of life with me here and you feel the need to type, have at.
You see, Glenn “gets it”. Life. Work mixed with service AND fun. Responsibility - with a genuine smile. The man was wearing a Mickey Mouse tie! What could be better!
But Victor. You can’t start a sentence with but. But Victor, won’t he know that you’ve selected people that maybe will say something good? Sure - but the way I see it, I really want this job - and maybe by trying to go an extra step he’d think to himself “hmmm, maybe he would be Ok for this position..”
Thanks, in advance, for doing so (don‘t forget justa paragraph! Mr. Glenn‘s a busy man with that full house he‘s runnin! Mr. Glenn, thanks for your eyeballs here. Please know, whether “yay or nay” I genuinely enjoyed meeting you… Smiles and happy are HUGE with me, and you are that. Kudos.
Thanks all… VICTOR WAIT! You’re not gonna signoff like you always do are you? Well sure I am… scroll to Mickey! Love, Victurd
Well, yes. I do. I’m considering giving a copy of this blog to Glenn… I applied for a part-time night auditor position at a local hotel. This is a want/need job. I miss customer service. I love working with vendors, and attempt to treat them as nicely as customers - but I miss working with the general public. Need. You’ve been here on this blog thru “thick and ‘pen’”.. You know the need. Single dad, Hot… Rod… Lincoln with many problems.
Victor did you tell Glenn, after you interviewed that you walked home over 3 miles because your Hot… Rod… Lincoln was in the shop?? SSSSSHHHHH! No, I didn’t. I didn’t want him to think I was unreliable. If the one I reported to directly until this week happens by, mebbe she’d address my reliability.
Ok, for three years… I’ve been the one on this end of the keyboard. I’m asking you.. Mary W, Mary T, Misty, Kendra, Terry (all current or former coworkers) to submit a one paragraph statement (on this very blog right now), about me If you felt I am/was a good worker, have at. If you think/thought I was a schmuck, have at.. Am I a fun-loving Tigger or a sad-sack Eeyore? Anyone that reads this that’s been around here the last three years - you’re welcome to have at a paragraph. I can spout all I want in a 30 minute interview when asked “what do people say about you?” - and I think I answered something like “nice guy.” Ok, so maybe I lied! If you’ve observed this wonderful roller coaster of life with me here and you feel the need to type, have at.
You see, Glenn “gets it”. Life. Work mixed with service AND fun. Responsibility - with a genuine smile. The man was wearing a Mickey Mouse tie! What could be better!
But Victor. You can’t start a sentence with but. But Victor, won’t he know that you’ve selected people that maybe will say something good? Sure - but the way I see it, I really want this job - and maybe by trying to go an extra step he’d think to himself “hmmm, maybe he would be Ok for this position..”
Thanks, in advance, for doing so (don‘t forget justa paragraph! Mr. Glenn‘s a busy man with that full house he‘s runnin! Mr. Glenn, thanks for your eyeballs here. Please know, whether “yay or nay” I genuinely enjoyed meeting you… Smiles and happy are HUGE with me, and you are that. Kudos.
Thanks all… VICTOR WAIT! You’re not gonna signoff like you always do are you? Well sure I am… scroll to Mickey! Love, Victurd
Monday, April 14, 2008
Stuff that feels good…
Just my list. Got yours?
Popping bubble wrap.
Laying in a dentist’s chair (With no dentist around… I really dig them neck holder thingys.. I no comprende why they don’t somehow manufacture in an easy chair.)
Talcum powder…
A warm waterbed on a sub-zero night…
A cool waterbed on a 100 degree day…
Petting a purring cat…
Dog ears…
Waking up on one’s birthday…
Taking shoes off after 8+ hours….
A warm, relaxing bath….
A backrub…
Giving a backrub…
The face, after a clean shave..
Those squeeze, frustration balls…
The moment, on a cold day, when the heater/defroster kicks in on your car…
Pulling into the destination after a long drive…
Checking one’s bank account right after automatic payroll deposit…
Finding a ten dollar bill in a pair of pants….
Seeing an email from someone you wanna see…
Friday, 5pm….
Looking at the alarm clock, Friday night, reaching to set the alarm and thinking “nahhh.”
A straight on smile from an unknown member of the opposite sex…
A straight on smile from a friend ya ain’t seen in awhile….
Christmas…
Thanksgiving….
Looking at old pics of fun times…
“Mean tease” in a complimentary way…
Cologne…
Driving with the windows down……..
Sunrise….
Sunset…
Moments with friends and no hurry…
An open line at the grocery store….
An inside joke….
Hands thru someone’s hair….
Someone’s hands thru your hair….
Watching someone’s eyes when they open a present from you…
Been awhile, but that floatee thingy at Ocean’s of Fun where you are perpetuated as you relax on a raft in circle after circle, no impetus needed…
Friends who are bloggers, and they finally realize “you’ve carried this too far.”
(One more… please? Bloggers who check their email and see “new blog comment”!)
Here’s toasting feel goods… Love, Victurd.
Popping bubble wrap.
Laying in a dentist’s chair (With no dentist around… I really dig them neck holder thingys.. I no comprende why they don’t somehow manufacture in an easy chair.)
Talcum powder…
A warm waterbed on a sub-zero night…
A cool waterbed on a 100 degree day…
Petting a purring cat…
Dog ears…
Waking up on one’s birthday…
Taking shoes off after 8+ hours….
A warm, relaxing bath….
A backrub…
Giving a backrub…
The face, after a clean shave..
Those squeeze, frustration balls…
The moment, on a cold day, when the heater/defroster kicks in on your car…
Pulling into the destination after a long drive…
Checking one’s bank account right after automatic payroll deposit…
Finding a ten dollar bill in a pair of pants….
Seeing an email from someone you wanna see…
Friday, 5pm….
Looking at the alarm clock, Friday night, reaching to set the alarm and thinking “nahhh.”
A straight on smile from an unknown member of the opposite sex…
A straight on smile from a friend ya ain’t seen in awhile….
Christmas…
Thanksgiving….
Looking at old pics of fun times…
“Mean tease” in a complimentary way…
Cologne…
Driving with the windows down……..
Sunrise….
Sunset…
Moments with friends and no hurry…
An open line at the grocery store….
An inside joke….
Hands thru someone’s hair….
Someone’s hands thru your hair….
Watching someone’s eyes when they open a present from you…
Been awhile, but that floatee thingy at Ocean’s of Fun where you are perpetuated as you relax on a raft in circle after circle, no impetus needed…
Friends who are bloggers, and they finally realize “you’ve carried this too far.”
(One more… please? Bloggers who check their email and see “new blog comment”!)
Here’s toasting feel goods… Love, Victurd.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The perfect storm…
Ever noticed how peaceful it is right after a storm?
Ever noticed how, when the throes of life get one down, how later you realize how silly you looked, felt, acted, when you thought it was “all over.”
Ever closed your eyes in mid-kiss, when you perhaps thought you’d never kiss again?
Ever wonder just how you’re gonna $wing it, and miraculously a check you hadn’t counted on, planned on, shows up in the mailbox?
Ever need help… not really “shouted out”.. but somehow friends sensed so… and were there.. And they made the problem go away?
Ever been down, down, down and a friend, or loved one, says something or wings an email that lifts you up, up, up?
Ever driven in a storm, pulled over… perhaps under and underpass… into a Flying J.. or’a Waffle House… and when it’s safe to go, how much more attentive you are to the rules of the road?
Even see the forecast… “uh oh, storm brewing… I’ll make it thru.. Just onea life’s things we’re forced to deal with.”
When we take a moment to look back… the times that were bad, really bad.. Don’t seem so rough now… We perhaps demonstrated wild behavior, slung words we didn’t mean to sling, questioned, REALLY questioned the fortitude of “Ahm, can I really make it through this?”
I hate the rain… being out in it that is… I’m deathly afraid of driving in MidWestern winter weather.. My tummy churns at family disagreements… I abhor having to “step up to the plate” as a parent.. I wish I slept with someone besides (or in addition to) my cat Jackson (even though I think I’d die if he did.)
Storms remind us, we only control ourselves..
They say San Diego has the most pleasant weather in the Continental 48. Friend just now back visiting, maybe permanent as she’s considering separating. I guess storms even happen there.
Deep breaths. I love deep breaths… I do my best thinkin’ when I take deep breaths… Reminds me “Hey, it ain’t that bad. Look all around, many others way worse off. Lighten up and chill.”
I remember the 14”’s of snow in the mid-80’s… Father traversed 23 miles to ensure his son and daughter inlaw had plenty to eat…
The ice storm, uncertain the year. Mom and dad, sans electricity ten days, had the fireplace going, a potta chili hanging, and were playing Monopoly by candlelight.
I remember, Victor “shut your mouth” a few years back, at work, rumors afloat about one said Executive Administrative Assistant (married lady) and one said Sales Rep (married man, but not to her).. And by 3pm they were closing roads it’d snowed so damn much. Home, they sent us home. AHA! Their chance! She ran around the building shooing people out with rather terse words… “HURRY!”.. “GO!”… I think they enjoyed the storm.
Storms = money, lack thereof… Singlehood, the want of not.. Boredom, the itching’ burning for a hunka hunka burning love.. Car woes - at least for me.. (I’m hitching a ride to work tomorrow.. HR(P)L power steering pump fell off, and me thinks that ain’t a good thing.)… Hurtful words - not perhaps said with intent to hurt, nonetheless, they stung.
All that crap don’t matta… The sun’ll come out, tomorrow. I hate that little redhead, but I love her take on things… Storms with snarls, frowns, sneers and white knuckles are very soon replaced with smiles, pats on the back, feel goods and relaxation.
The sun’ll come out, tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow, there'll be sun
Jus' thinkin' about, tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
'til there's none
When I'm stuck with the day that's grey and lonely
I just stick out my chin and grin and say, ohhh
The sun will come out, tomorrow
So you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow
Come what may...
Tomorrow, tomorrow
I love ya, tomorrow
You're always a day away
We’ll weather the storms whether you believe it or not. Storms bring flowers, relaxation, teamwork, camaraderie, and the realization “this too shall pass.” Bring it on rain, we’re having a parade here.
Love, Victurd
Ever noticed how, when the throes of life get one down, how later you realize how silly you looked, felt, acted, when you thought it was “all over.”
Ever closed your eyes in mid-kiss, when you perhaps thought you’d never kiss again?
Ever wonder just how you’re gonna $wing it, and miraculously a check you hadn’t counted on, planned on, shows up in the mailbox?
Ever need help… not really “shouted out”.. but somehow friends sensed so… and were there.. And they made the problem go away?
Ever been down, down, down and a friend, or loved one, says something or wings an email that lifts you up, up, up?
Ever driven in a storm, pulled over… perhaps under and underpass… into a Flying J.. or’a Waffle House… and when it’s safe to go, how much more attentive you are to the rules of the road?
Even see the forecast… “uh oh, storm brewing… I’ll make it thru.. Just onea life’s things we’re forced to deal with.”
When we take a moment to look back… the times that were bad, really bad.. Don’t seem so rough now… We perhaps demonstrated wild behavior, slung words we didn’t mean to sling, questioned, REALLY questioned the fortitude of “Ahm, can I really make it through this?”
I hate the rain… being out in it that is… I’m deathly afraid of driving in MidWestern winter weather.. My tummy churns at family disagreements… I abhor having to “step up to the plate” as a parent.. I wish I slept with someone besides (or in addition to) my cat Jackson (even though I think I’d die if he did.)
Storms remind us, we only control ourselves..
They say San Diego has the most pleasant weather in the Continental 48. Friend just now back visiting, maybe permanent as she’s considering separating. I guess storms even happen there.
Deep breaths. I love deep breaths… I do my best thinkin’ when I take deep breaths… Reminds me “Hey, it ain’t that bad. Look all around, many others way worse off. Lighten up and chill.”
I remember the 14”’s of snow in the mid-80’s… Father traversed 23 miles to ensure his son and daughter inlaw had plenty to eat…
The ice storm, uncertain the year. Mom and dad, sans electricity ten days, had the fireplace going, a potta chili hanging, and were playing Monopoly by candlelight.
I remember, Victor “shut your mouth” a few years back, at work, rumors afloat about one said Executive Administrative Assistant (married lady) and one said Sales Rep (married man, but not to her).. And by 3pm they were closing roads it’d snowed so damn much. Home, they sent us home. AHA! Their chance! She ran around the building shooing people out with rather terse words… “HURRY!”.. “GO!”… I think they enjoyed the storm.
Storms = money, lack thereof… Singlehood, the want of not.. Boredom, the itching’ burning for a hunka hunka burning love.. Car woes - at least for me.. (I’m hitching a ride to work tomorrow.. HR(P)L power steering pump fell off, and me thinks that ain’t a good thing.)… Hurtful words - not perhaps said with intent to hurt, nonetheless, they stung.
All that crap don’t matta… The sun’ll come out, tomorrow. I hate that little redhead, but I love her take on things… Storms with snarls, frowns, sneers and white knuckles are very soon replaced with smiles, pats on the back, feel goods and relaxation.
The sun’ll come out, tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow, there'll be sun
Jus' thinkin' about, tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
'til there's none
When I'm stuck with the day that's grey and lonely
I just stick out my chin and grin and say, ohhh
The sun will come out, tomorrow
So you gotta hang on 'til tomorrow
Come what may...
Tomorrow, tomorrow
I love ya, tomorrow
You're always a day away
We’ll weather the storms whether you believe it or not. Storms bring flowers, relaxation, teamwork, camaraderie, and the realization “this too shall pass.” Bring it on rain, we’re having a parade here.
Love, Victurd
Hot…. Rod…… (Psychic) Lincoln……
Just when I thought nothing could ‘top’ my 1993 200,000+ miles Ford FallingApart Taurus… I now have the Hot… Rod…. (Psychic) Lincoln…
It basically looks me over, then presents “Fear Me Muther Dubber” - and I do.
Like the other day… I stuggled (no power steering, I really think it went out because it knows that life for me, hell for everyone in this economic state, is a struggle) into the ATM lane… got up to it as close as the steering would allow in the tight 90 degree turn - quarters… I was going out for the evening - and with an all too familiar limited budget (Victor, you HAVE no budget).. Ahm, anyways, I was taking $20 out when I probably shouldn’ta been taking twenty dollars out. So I’ve got my fitty-five year old butt six inches off the carseat so I could reach to punch in my code… enter…. Checking…enter. $20... Enter… and as 1/3 a me is out the window, the window decides on its own, now would be a good time to raise. As if “you don’t have that extra money… STOP.” I managed only a slight bruise on the upper arm, I did grab my money, and my receipt is somewhere on Highway 291 blowing around…
Last night. I traverse the same way every day. Past Royal’s Stadium, down the hill, round the big curve.. Upagin the most God-awful smelling chemical plant this sidea the Mississippi. Apparently, Hot… Rod… (Psychic) Lincoln had had just about enough of the odor - and again, raised up on it’s own.
Then there’s the door latch, or supposed door latch. I think HR(P)L (for short) reminds me “she left”.. and “sometimes I wish he would leave.” If you don’t open the passenger side lock after it’s electronically been locked - then the door will fly open upon a left turn. Again, it reminds me “she left”.. and the sometimes want of “I wish he’d leave.” (Empty nest)… Looking positively, I have found it to come in handy when dating and things just ain’t going quite right. “Hey, let’s go that way.” “Nope, sorry, we’re turning left.” Wooooosh… ker-platt… oops, sorry!”
“You dumbass you.” It reminds me I’m a tightass, and that my mechanical skills ain’t quite up to par. Recently (with the tent/pouring rain) I changed the brakes. An assured $289 Meineke bill had been paired to $63. After I finished, I noticed the little metal plate thingys in the bottom of the brake pad box as I began to throw it away. Shit. They were supposed to be affixed to the brake pads. I hadn’t done that, and I would be damned if I would do it on that wet day after I’d spent four hours in the driving rain. In the two weeks I drove it without the little metal thingys, enough dust was ‘manufactured’ that once I did put them on there - HR(P)L “protested” with a squeaky wheel noise when I applied the brakes, turned the corner - that anyone within two miles could hear it. I know HR(P)L, I’m a dumbass.
“Biggest loser.” We’re having that contest at work. I haven’t combined exercise and diet, but thru diet, Victurd once was 213, now 193. I’ve lived on Price Chopper and Wendy’s salads - and an occasional piece of chicken. Friday night, ‘visitor night’ at “The Peckerwood Club” (A story for another day), I had two pork steaks, seven helpings of vegetables, four thick slices of heavenly buttered bread and several Miller Lites to wash it all down. I was so GD full, and so GD drained from the week - I slept until 10am… and I ain’t slept until 10am since college. I thought my belt was gonna explode. So, what’s HR(P)L do? As I turned a corner - I hear this pop, and immediately the battery light comes on. The GD belt exploded, and the battery light came on. We’re now a pair. Exploded belts, and no juice/energy.
So, it (The Hot… Rod… (Phychic) Lincoln, or HR(P)L, scares me. I’m afraid to takea dump for fear of perhaps the oil pan bursting. I’m worried that once this never-will-end Winter/Spring transition finally does end, the AC will go out. I’m deathly afraid to even consider making whoopee, cause I just know then the next time we’re on Interstate, the cruise control will go ballistic and I’ll be destined to a ditch somewhere in Raytown thanks to a heightened 98 MPH cruise.
I pet it now. I kiss it. I try very hard not to think negative thoughts - or to doubt it once I’m buckled in. I make no jackrabbit takeoffs. I say “YES, my pecs are starting to look GOOD” insteada cursing inside at that lacka power steering. I park and walkup to the ATM. I make passengers (I like) buckle up.
My pappy said "Son your gonna drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop driving that hot rod Lincoln"
Have you heard the story of the hot rod race
Where the Fords and the Lincolns were setting the pace?
Well that story is true cause I'm here to say
I was driving that model A.
It's got Lincoln motor and its really souped up
And that model A body makes it look like a pup
It's got eight cylinders, uses them all
It's got overdrive, just won't stall
It's got a four barrel carb, and dual exhaust
With four, eleven gears you can really get lost.
It's got safety tubes, but I ain't scared
Breaks are good, tires fair
(You know the middle part… then:)
I had flames coming from out of the side
Feel the tension, man what a ride
I said "Look out boys, I've got a license to fly"
And that Caddy pulled over and let us by
All of the sudden she started knocking
Down in the dips she started rocking
I looked in the mirror. Red lights were blinking
The cops was after my Hot Rod Lincoln - Damn
The arrested me and they put me in jail
Called my pappy to throw my bail
And he said "Son, you're going to drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop driving that Hot Rod Lincoln"
SSSSHHHHHHHH! (She’ll hear you!)..
I REALLY DO (kinda-sorta) love my Hot… Rod… (Psychic) Lincoln… Love, Victurd.
It basically looks me over, then presents “Fear Me Muther Dubber” - and I do.
Like the other day… I stuggled (no power steering, I really think it went out because it knows that life for me, hell for everyone in this economic state, is a struggle) into the ATM lane… got up to it as close as the steering would allow in the tight 90 degree turn - quarters… I was going out for the evening - and with an all too familiar limited budget (Victor, you HAVE no budget).. Ahm, anyways, I was taking $20 out when I probably shouldn’ta been taking twenty dollars out. So I’ve got my fitty-five year old butt six inches off the carseat so I could reach to punch in my code… enter…. Checking…enter. $20... Enter… and as 1/3 a me is out the window, the window decides on its own, now would be a good time to raise. As if “you don’t have that extra money… STOP.” I managed only a slight bruise on the upper arm, I did grab my money, and my receipt is somewhere on Highway 291 blowing around…
Last night. I traverse the same way every day. Past Royal’s Stadium, down the hill, round the big curve.. Upagin the most God-awful smelling chemical plant this sidea the Mississippi. Apparently, Hot… Rod… (Psychic) Lincoln had had just about enough of the odor - and again, raised up on it’s own.
Then there’s the door latch, or supposed door latch. I think HR(P)L (for short) reminds me “she left”.. and “sometimes I wish he would leave.” If you don’t open the passenger side lock after it’s electronically been locked - then the door will fly open upon a left turn. Again, it reminds me “she left”.. and the sometimes want of “I wish he’d leave.” (Empty nest)… Looking positively, I have found it to come in handy when dating and things just ain’t going quite right. “Hey, let’s go that way.” “Nope, sorry, we’re turning left.” Wooooosh… ker-platt… oops, sorry!”
“You dumbass you.” It reminds me I’m a tightass, and that my mechanical skills ain’t quite up to par. Recently (with the tent/pouring rain) I changed the brakes. An assured $289 Meineke bill had been paired to $63. After I finished, I noticed the little metal plate thingys in the bottom of the brake pad box as I began to throw it away. Shit. They were supposed to be affixed to the brake pads. I hadn’t done that, and I would be damned if I would do it on that wet day after I’d spent four hours in the driving rain. In the two weeks I drove it without the little metal thingys, enough dust was ‘manufactured’ that once I did put them on there - HR(P)L “protested” with a squeaky wheel noise when I applied the brakes, turned the corner - that anyone within two miles could hear it. I know HR(P)L, I’m a dumbass.
“Biggest loser.” We’re having that contest at work. I haven’t combined exercise and diet, but thru diet, Victurd once was 213, now 193. I’ve lived on Price Chopper and Wendy’s salads - and an occasional piece of chicken. Friday night, ‘visitor night’ at “The Peckerwood Club” (A story for another day), I had two pork steaks, seven helpings of vegetables, four thick slices of heavenly buttered bread and several Miller Lites to wash it all down. I was so GD full, and so GD drained from the week - I slept until 10am… and I ain’t slept until 10am since college. I thought my belt was gonna explode. So, what’s HR(P)L do? As I turned a corner - I hear this pop, and immediately the battery light comes on. The GD belt exploded, and the battery light came on. We’re now a pair. Exploded belts, and no juice/energy.
So, it (The Hot… Rod… (Phychic) Lincoln, or HR(P)L, scares me. I’m afraid to takea dump for fear of perhaps the oil pan bursting. I’m worried that once this never-will-end Winter/Spring transition finally does end, the AC will go out. I’m deathly afraid to even consider making whoopee, cause I just know then the next time we’re on Interstate, the cruise control will go ballistic and I’ll be destined to a ditch somewhere in Raytown thanks to a heightened 98 MPH cruise.
I pet it now. I kiss it. I try very hard not to think negative thoughts - or to doubt it once I’m buckled in. I make no jackrabbit takeoffs. I say “YES, my pecs are starting to look GOOD” insteada cursing inside at that lacka power steering. I park and walkup to the ATM. I make passengers (I like) buckle up.
My pappy said "Son your gonna drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop driving that hot rod Lincoln"
Have you heard the story of the hot rod race
Where the Fords and the Lincolns were setting the pace?
Well that story is true cause I'm here to say
I was driving that model A.
It's got Lincoln motor and its really souped up
And that model A body makes it look like a pup
It's got eight cylinders, uses them all
It's got overdrive, just won't stall
It's got a four barrel carb, and dual exhaust
With four, eleven gears you can really get lost.
It's got safety tubes, but I ain't scared
Breaks are good, tires fair
(You know the middle part… then:)
I had flames coming from out of the side
Feel the tension, man what a ride
I said "Look out boys, I've got a license to fly"
And that Caddy pulled over and let us by
All of the sudden she started knocking
Down in the dips she started rocking
I looked in the mirror. Red lights were blinking
The cops was after my Hot Rod Lincoln - Damn
The arrested me and they put me in jail
Called my pappy to throw my bail
And he said "Son, you're going to drive me to drinkin'
If you don't stop driving that Hot Rod Lincoln"
SSSSHHHHHHHH! (She’ll hear you!)..
I REALLY DO (kinda-sorta) love my Hot… Rod… (Psychic) Lincoln… Love, Victurd.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Outta the blue….
Worked overtime last night. Happens to be the busIEST season for us. Which too, is fancy for lackabuck. Saw too it that Maynard gotta ride home from the bus stop (I’m a wimp, but he walks all day in his job, and it’s two miles from the bus stop to home.)
Driving home – rush hour traffic long gone.. The tremendous storm front a recent memory… Baseball game on the radio.. It was all good, very good.
7:30pm I cranked the Hot.. Rod.. Lincoln up.. Headed North.. Now I’d talked to Maynard earlier, and let’s just say he wasn’t in a “Hi Dad, howya doin’” mood. So, I decided, within my budget, I’d stop for two, count ‘em, two beers. Victor, you don’t have a budget. Oh yeah, you’re right, maybe that’s the problem.
So I decided to go to my favorite greasy, sleazy, down home bar. Walked in around 8-ish.. Said ‘hey’ to the seven or eight I know.. Plopped on the bar stool next to onea my best friend’s sisters.. And of course, as I faced the barkeep – there already was my unopened Miller Lite..
Pups hurt, but I wasn’t taking the shoes off.. I’d save that for a life orgasm when I get home… Royals on TV, albeit getting wasted by the Yankees…
Peeked at the Golden T Bowling thingy. Couple, mid to late 30’s, rockin’. He’d shoot (was terrible by the way) and she’d give him a love pat.. She’d shoot, he’d encourage (she was kicking his ass) – and then they’d smooch. Figured they were from the country, as I’d never seen ‘em before..
Smiles were plastered, literally plastered upon their faces.. the entire time. They’d walk back and forth between the bowling machine – and their table – which happened to butt up right behind our bar stools.
Finally, dude extends his hand… “Hi, I’m John.. this here’s my wife Maggie, and we’re from Florida… Tampa actually.” So, Candy (friend’s sister) and I exchanged handshakes, pleasantries…
“We’ve been in Arkansas” John offered.. “Yeah, my mom lives there.. and she’s been real sick.” Maggie followed with.. “We came here for my work… geez, I worked 19 hours yesterday – but hey, it’s Ok, we’re here now.”… As John kinda-sorta detailed the fact they had an RV – he was working in a small town some 100 miles Northeast a few days a week, and in our hometown a few days a week – Maggie stared at him with a proud smile as he spoke, hand on his thigh.
“Yep, we drove into town, told the guy at the gas station ‘We’re looking for a greasy, sleazy, down home bar… nothing like Chili’s or Applebee’s.. we want down home’ and by golly we found it. This place is cool.”
Well, many would debate that (I’m reminded of my cousin’s friend once describing an establishment with “geez.. can you believe all the sad existences in here?”) I happen to concur. It’s home. It’s down home. It’s “I can be as I wanna be. I won’t judge you. I’ll extend my hand to you.” (Nuther couple from Nebraska who’d moved here once said “ya know, we tried those other places.. ‘Dietz’ (her hubby) likes this place ‘cause people talk to us.”)
So back to the little diddie ‘bout John and Maggie. They were getting an apartment some 100 miles Northeast, and would live either in a Motel, or in their RV whilst they were in our fine city.
In my lifetime, I’m not certain I’ve seen a happier couple. At least for this moment in time. Long about the time I realized my second beer had one gulp left – and it was time for my departure.. I looked at Maggie and said “wow Maggie… you guys really love each other don’t you?”…
I think it made her night. Her month. Her year, perhaps her future. “YES. You can tell?” Well of course I can tell, you touch, you laugh, you respect and admire whilst the other is talking – you SMILE.. a lot.” “Well thank you.. Yes, I do. We do. I’ve never been happier in my life.”
“Honey.. HONEY.. outta the blue.. .he said that!”… “Ohhhh, I can fool anyone!” the onere polecat John spouted…
Yes, yes I did tell them that. They weren’t of great means. They were away from family. It’s no fun living in this city, that city – no real roots. A three car garage seemed of little importance to them.. They had each other. That’s all they needed. I truly feel so very happy for them.
A brief smidget in my life. A huge party in my brain. I hope you are having an “outta the blue” life. Mine’s great – maybe even turquoise! One day, I’ll be partnered – and it’s for sure to come outta the blue. I love seeing happy. I love those who select to be happy. I love those who feel it’s important their friends/family are happy. John’s the key to making Maggie’s engine purr.. Maggie’s engine keeps John motivated. Their eyes talk. There smiles melt one another. Their hands say “I love you.”
It was a nice visual outta the blue. Love, Victurd
Worked overtime last night. Happens to be the busIEST season for us. Which too, is fancy for lackabuck. Saw too it that Maynard gotta ride home from the bus stop (I’m a wimp, but he walks all day in his job, and it’s two miles from the bus stop to home.)
Driving home – rush hour traffic long gone.. The tremendous storm front a recent memory… Baseball game on the radio.. It was all good, very good.
7:30pm I cranked the Hot.. Rod.. Lincoln up.. Headed North.. Now I’d talked to Maynard earlier, and let’s just say he wasn’t in a “Hi Dad, howya doin’” mood. So, I decided, within my budget, I’d stop for two, count ‘em, two beers. Victor, you don’t have a budget. Oh yeah, you’re right, maybe that’s the problem.
So I decided to go to my favorite greasy, sleazy, down home bar. Walked in around 8-ish.. Said ‘hey’ to the seven or eight I know.. Plopped on the bar stool next to onea my best friend’s sisters.. And of course, as I faced the barkeep – there already was my unopened Miller Lite..
Pups hurt, but I wasn’t taking the shoes off.. I’d save that for a life orgasm when I get home… Royals on TV, albeit getting wasted by the Yankees…
Peeked at the Golden T Bowling thingy. Couple, mid to late 30’s, rockin’. He’d shoot (was terrible by the way) and she’d give him a love pat.. She’d shoot, he’d encourage (she was kicking his ass) – and then they’d smooch. Figured they were from the country, as I’d never seen ‘em before..
Smiles were plastered, literally plastered upon their faces.. the entire time. They’d walk back and forth between the bowling machine – and their table – which happened to butt up right behind our bar stools.
Finally, dude extends his hand… “Hi, I’m John.. this here’s my wife Maggie, and we’re from Florida… Tampa actually.” So, Candy (friend’s sister) and I exchanged handshakes, pleasantries…
“We’ve been in Arkansas” John offered.. “Yeah, my mom lives there.. and she’s been real sick.” Maggie followed with.. “We came here for my work… geez, I worked 19 hours yesterday – but hey, it’s Ok, we’re here now.”… As John kinda-sorta detailed the fact they had an RV – he was working in a small town some 100 miles Northeast a few days a week, and in our hometown a few days a week – Maggie stared at him with a proud smile as he spoke, hand on his thigh.
“Yep, we drove into town, told the guy at the gas station ‘We’re looking for a greasy, sleazy, down home bar… nothing like Chili’s or Applebee’s.. we want down home’ and by golly we found it. This place is cool.”
Well, many would debate that (I’m reminded of my cousin’s friend once describing an establishment with “geez.. can you believe all the sad existences in here?”) I happen to concur. It’s home. It’s down home. It’s “I can be as I wanna be. I won’t judge you. I’ll extend my hand to you.” (Nuther couple from Nebraska who’d moved here once said “ya know, we tried those other places.. ‘Dietz’ (her hubby) likes this place ‘cause people talk to us.”)
So back to the little diddie ‘bout John and Maggie. They were getting an apartment some 100 miles Northeast, and would live either in a Motel, or in their RV whilst they were in our fine city.
In my lifetime, I’m not certain I’ve seen a happier couple. At least for this moment in time. Long about the time I realized my second beer had one gulp left – and it was time for my departure.. I looked at Maggie and said “wow Maggie… you guys really love each other don’t you?”…
I think it made her night. Her month. Her year, perhaps her future. “YES. You can tell?” Well of course I can tell, you touch, you laugh, you respect and admire whilst the other is talking – you SMILE.. a lot.” “Well thank you.. Yes, I do. We do. I’ve never been happier in my life.”
“Honey.. HONEY.. outta the blue.. .he said that!”… “Ohhhh, I can fool anyone!” the onere polecat John spouted…
Yes, yes I did tell them that. They weren’t of great means. They were away from family. It’s no fun living in this city, that city – no real roots. A three car garage seemed of little importance to them.. They had each other. That’s all they needed. I truly feel so very happy for them.
A brief smidget in my life. A huge party in my brain. I hope you are having an “outta the blue” life. Mine’s great – maybe even turquoise! One day, I’ll be partnered – and it’s for sure to come outta the blue. I love seeing happy. I love those who select to be happy. I love those who feel it’s important their friends/family are happy. John’s the key to making Maggie’s engine purr.. Maggie’s engine keeps John motivated. Their eyes talk. There smiles melt one another. Their hands say “I love you.”
It was a nice visual outta the blue. Love, Victurd
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Raccoons, 20 minutes, Heartbeats, and… Baseball Ray…
GD Raccoons… Our uninvited house guests last winter chewed thru every phone cord we have running through the attic. Thus, no dial tone. Cut down the tree they climbed to enter said abode – and they’re off somewhere else freeloading amongst the insulation – and chewing on someone else’s digits. I hope it hurts when the little bastards poop…. (They are cute, I just ain’t real fond of ‘em sharing our house.)
Twenty minutes.. So… We’ve hooked the Gosh Darn phone cord into the box outside.. We actually have a dial tone.. and.. for many months it also enabled our DSL to work.. huh uh.. not now.. So.. I have 20 minutes to do this blog before work. It’s worse than being on a first date. I’ve GOTTA perform, and I GOTTA do it within this time frame, and it’s GOTTA be acceptable – for there’s no time for correction. (No wonder many don’t go on a second date!)…
Baseball Ray… Thanks to my boss, attended the Kansas City Royal’s home opener yesterday.. So much fun.. so many mems.. I, as a little turd, had a very good and loving father – but – his job took him to points all around the 5 state region – thus, no “catch” partner. I’d take a plastic bowl from the kitchen, a rubberized ball – and a brick wall would be my partner for literally hours, and hours and hours upon end. I was “Musial”.. “Mantle”.. “Maris”.. “Aaron”.. the dreamer…
I attended the very first Royal’s home opener ever.. 1969 I think… It was about the time I’d gotten a letter from the Royals – actually inviting me to a tryout.. and again I dreamed.. Well.. that went like a lotta those first dates too – but.. You’ll never take the kid outta me…
Yesterday I looked over the parking lot.. Remembered partying “over there” with our company.. “down there” with family on the last game of the year… broke my finger playing football catch “right there.”.. Once inside.. eyes to the very last (top) row of the stadium – right behind home plate – where I, saw the final game of the 1985 World Series.. Up there, where my ex-brother inlaw and I had standing room tickets for Game 6 that year.. down over there somewhere – where I’d witnessed the 1972 All Star game…
The new scoreboard is humongous.. How big you ask? Well.. KU’s football coach threw out the first pitch.. and it actually accommodated his entire wide body. Hehe, he’s a big man.. but funny how things seem larger than life.. This is “The Border”.. right smack dab between Kansas and Missouri.. There’s fun bickering back and forth – and for some, the argument runs even deeper – like back to Civil War days..
So I was smoking a cig at the little designated smoking spot.. around the 5th inning.. and here comes Mangino (The VERY large KU football coach) and his wife – exiting the stadium.. I was amazed how short he was.. You see someone on TV, and they truly are larger than life… He’s average height, maybe even slightly below average.. I’d pictured Paul Bunyan – and was aghast when I saw he wasn’t wielding an axe.. So, these border folks – the KU fans were patting him on the back as he walked.. thumbs up.. and those hideous (gotta love ‘em) Missouri fans demonstrated group behavior with their chant “M-I-Z… Z-O-U… M-I-Z… Z-O-U”… a fun life moment….
Home openers are miserable, weatherwise. I underdressed, and suffered. Still, what better. Dreams of that one Mexican dude pedaling “LEMONADE.. LEMONADE.. LEMONADE”.. 95 degree summer days… ahhhh, remember Halter top days…
Heartbeats. We’re always one heart beat away from life being altered. Jolted. Changed. Perhaps ending. I love trying to gain appreciation for the surroundings.. I love baseball.. I love the Border War.. I love stolen bases, sliding doubles, and the crowd on their feet for a 3-2 count with two outs and the bases loaded… I even love the hot dog, mustard, relish footrace.. I don’t mind the traffic on the way in, out. I love people watching. I am aware I’m a heartbeat away from no tomorrow – thus, I enjoy this day.
Thanks for these twenty minutes. I love twenty minutes. It’s twenty minutes to reflect.. If only we’d take twenty minutes from our hurried day and fully focus on what’s important. Who’s important. Where our thoughts should be.
Enjoy your day.. play ball.. take 20 to think.. feel your heart beating… and trap a raccoon (and release in the wild) wouldya? Love, Victurd
Twenty minutes.. So… We’ve hooked the Gosh Darn phone cord into the box outside.. We actually have a dial tone.. and.. for many months it also enabled our DSL to work.. huh uh.. not now.. So.. I have 20 minutes to do this blog before work. It’s worse than being on a first date. I’ve GOTTA perform, and I GOTTA do it within this time frame, and it’s GOTTA be acceptable – for there’s no time for correction. (No wonder many don’t go on a second date!)…
Baseball Ray… Thanks to my boss, attended the Kansas City Royal’s home opener yesterday.. So much fun.. so many mems.. I, as a little turd, had a very good and loving father – but – his job took him to points all around the 5 state region – thus, no “catch” partner. I’d take a plastic bowl from the kitchen, a rubberized ball – and a brick wall would be my partner for literally hours, and hours and hours upon end. I was “Musial”.. “Mantle”.. “Maris”.. “Aaron”.. the dreamer…
I attended the very first Royal’s home opener ever.. 1969 I think… It was about the time I’d gotten a letter from the Royals – actually inviting me to a tryout.. and again I dreamed.. Well.. that went like a lotta those first dates too – but.. You’ll never take the kid outta me…
Yesterday I looked over the parking lot.. Remembered partying “over there” with our company.. “down there” with family on the last game of the year… broke my finger playing football catch “right there.”.. Once inside.. eyes to the very last (top) row of the stadium – right behind home plate – where I, saw the final game of the 1985 World Series.. Up there, where my ex-brother inlaw and I had standing room tickets for Game 6 that year.. down over there somewhere – where I’d witnessed the 1972 All Star game…
The new scoreboard is humongous.. How big you ask? Well.. KU’s football coach threw out the first pitch.. and it actually accommodated his entire wide body. Hehe, he’s a big man.. but funny how things seem larger than life.. This is “The Border”.. right smack dab between Kansas and Missouri.. There’s fun bickering back and forth – and for some, the argument runs even deeper – like back to Civil War days..
So I was smoking a cig at the little designated smoking spot.. around the 5th inning.. and here comes Mangino (The VERY large KU football coach) and his wife – exiting the stadium.. I was amazed how short he was.. You see someone on TV, and they truly are larger than life… He’s average height, maybe even slightly below average.. I’d pictured Paul Bunyan – and was aghast when I saw he wasn’t wielding an axe.. So, these border folks – the KU fans were patting him on the back as he walked.. thumbs up.. and those hideous (gotta love ‘em) Missouri fans demonstrated group behavior with their chant “M-I-Z… Z-O-U… M-I-Z… Z-O-U”… a fun life moment….
Home openers are miserable, weatherwise. I underdressed, and suffered. Still, what better. Dreams of that one Mexican dude pedaling “LEMONADE.. LEMONADE.. LEMONADE”.. 95 degree summer days… ahhhh, remember Halter top days…
Heartbeats. We’re always one heart beat away from life being altered. Jolted. Changed. Perhaps ending. I love trying to gain appreciation for the surroundings.. I love baseball.. I love the Border War.. I love stolen bases, sliding doubles, and the crowd on their feet for a 3-2 count with two outs and the bases loaded… I even love the hot dog, mustard, relish footrace.. I don’t mind the traffic on the way in, out. I love people watching. I am aware I’m a heartbeat away from no tomorrow – thus, I enjoy this day.
Thanks for these twenty minutes. I love twenty minutes. It’s twenty minutes to reflect.. If only we’d take twenty minutes from our hurried day and fully focus on what’s important. Who’s important. Where our thoughts should be.
Enjoy your day.. play ball.. take 20 to think.. feel your heart beating… and trap a raccoon (and release in the wild) wouldya? Love, Victurd
Monday, April 07, 2008
The last lecture….
The last lecture….
If you read the article in Parade Magazine about this – then apologies, I may bore you..
There’s a 40-something dude, computer science professor @ Carnegie Mellon University...He agreed to give the lecture (The Last Lecture) prior to his learning he was dying.
He thought about not giving it - then.. decided to. I think it mighta changed the way he looked at things.. He’d just been diagnosed with one of the most aggressive forms of cancer – pancreatic cancer. Father of three, very happily married man – life was going great on course.. Then this…
Touching base: “Always have fun.” It’s a selection ain’t it? “Am I a fun-loving Tigger or a sad-sack Eeyore? It’s clear where I stand.”
“Dream Big.” He addressed being at a summer camp – the astronauts were set to walk on the moon – but there was a delay and the counselors sent them to bed. “Give yourself permission to dream. Fuel your kids’ dreams too. Once in a while, that might even mean letting them stay up past their bedtimes.”
“Ask for what you want.” He remembered back to being 4, at Disney World – and he was ready to get on the monorail with his dad. His father told him “Too bad they don’t let regular people sit up on the nose-code with the driver.” The son replied “Actually, I’ve learned there’s a trick to getting to sit up front.”.. he then walked over to the attendant and asked “Excuse me, could we please sit in the front car?”.. “Certainly.,” the attendant replied – and led them right to it.. Doesn’t hurt to ask – don’t be bashful.. Say “why not?”…
“Dare to take a risk.” Don’t worry about failure – everyone fails at some point. Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you wanted. And it can be the most valuable thing you have to offer..
“Look for the Best in Everybody.” His hero, a Disney employee had once told him “If you wait long enough,” he said, “people will surprise and impress you.”… “When you’re frustrated with people, when you’re angry, it may be because you haven’t given them enough time. Jon warned that this took great patience, even years. “In the end,” he said, “people will show you their good side. Just keep waiting. It will come out.” Maynard, I still got faith little buddy. I’ve seen glimpses of good, happy heart – let it flow my man.
“Make time for what matters.” – Here he related that he was finally getting married to the love of his life at age 39.. On the honeymoon, his control freak boss wanted to know his every move so he could stay in touch if need be.. He left this message on his voicemail: ““Hi, this is Randy. I waited until I was 39 to get married, so my wife and I are going away for a month. I hope you don’t have a problem with that, but my boss does. Apparently, I have to be reachable.” I then gave the names of Jai’s parents and the city where they lived. “If you call directory assistance, you can get their phone number. And then, if you can convince my in-laws that your emergency merits interrupting their only daughter’s honeymoon, they have our number.” We didn’t get any calls.”
“Let kids be themselves.” “Kids, don’t try to figure out what I wanted you to become. I want you to become what you want to become. And I want you to feel as if I am there with you, whatever path you choose.” Wow, could we all learn by havin’ a heapin’ helpin’ of that. We try to mold our children – sure, teach them respect, observation of the law – right/wrong.. but let ‘em guide their own ship as far as their adulthood dreams.. Be there to help pickup should they have a momentary slip.
After his lecture he was inundated with phone calls, emails, people writing about their life lessons.. Former students wrote to tell him “your teaching made a difference in my life.”.. He’d said in the lecture – he’d dreamed to play in the NFL, and being Captain Kirk on Star Trek. The Pittsburgh Steelers invited him to scrimmage with them.. and he got to say a line in the new Star Trek film.
Sorry this ain’t really by me. Stole it. From Parade Magazine. It does though, make you stop and rethink things. How would you write your last lecture? I think, in reality, that’s what blogging is all about.. Getting in touch with the things in life that really are important. Writing about life’s observances. Thanks Randy Pausch for your insight. Thanks for your wiseness. We’ll remember your last lecture. Love, Victurd.
If you read the article in Parade Magazine about this – then apologies, I may bore you..
There’s a 40-something dude, computer science professor @ Carnegie Mellon University...He agreed to give the lecture (The Last Lecture) prior to his learning he was dying.
He thought about not giving it - then.. decided to. I think it mighta changed the way he looked at things.. He’d just been diagnosed with one of the most aggressive forms of cancer – pancreatic cancer. Father of three, very happily married man – life was going great on course.. Then this…
Touching base: “Always have fun.” It’s a selection ain’t it? “Am I a fun-loving Tigger or a sad-sack Eeyore? It’s clear where I stand.”
“Dream Big.” He addressed being at a summer camp – the astronauts were set to walk on the moon – but there was a delay and the counselors sent them to bed. “Give yourself permission to dream. Fuel your kids’ dreams too. Once in a while, that might even mean letting them stay up past their bedtimes.”
“Ask for what you want.” He remembered back to being 4, at Disney World – and he was ready to get on the monorail with his dad. His father told him “Too bad they don’t let regular people sit up on the nose-code with the driver.” The son replied “Actually, I’ve learned there’s a trick to getting to sit up front.”.. he then walked over to the attendant and asked “Excuse me, could we please sit in the front car?”.. “Certainly.,” the attendant replied – and led them right to it.. Doesn’t hurt to ask – don’t be bashful.. Say “why not?”…
“Dare to take a risk.” Don’t worry about failure – everyone fails at some point. Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you wanted. And it can be the most valuable thing you have to offer..
“Look for the Best in Everybody.” His hero, a Disney employee had once told him “If you wait long enough,” he said, “people will surprise and impress you.”… “When you’re frustrated with people, when you’re angry, it may be because you haven’t given them enough time. Jon warned that this took great patience, even years. “In the end,” he said, “people will show you their good side. Just keep waiting. It will come out.” Maynard, I still got faith little buddy. I’ve seen glimpses of good, happy heart – let it flow my man.
“Make time for what matters.” – Here he related that he was finally getting married to the love of his life at age 39.. On the honeymoon, his control freak boss wanted to know his every move so he could stay in touch if need be.. He left this message on his voicemail: ““Hi, this is Randy. I waited until I was 39 to get married, so my wife and I are going away for a month. I hope you don’t have a problem with that, but my boss does. Apparently, I have to be reachable.” I then gave the names of Jai’s parents and the city where they lived. “If you call directory assistance, you can get their phone number. And then, if you can convince my in-laws that your emergency merits interrupting their only daughter’s honeymoon, they have our number.” We didn’t get any calls.”
“Let kids be themselves.” “Kids, don’t try to figure out what I wanted you to become. I want you to become what you want to become. And I want you to feel as if I am there with you, whatever path you choose.” Wow, could we all learn by havin’ a heapin’ helpin’ of that. We try to mold our children – sure, teach them respect, observation of the law – right/wrong.. but let ‘em guide their own ship as far as their adulthood dreams.. Be there to help pickup should they have a momentary slip.
After his lecture he was inundated with phone calls, emails, people writing about their life lessons.. Former students wrote to tell him “your teaching made a difference in my life.”.. He’d said in the lecture – he’d dreamed to play in the NFL, and being Captain Kirk on Star Trek. The Pittsburgh Steelers invited him to scrimmage with them.. and he got to say a line in the new Star Trek film.
Sorry this ain’t really by me. Stole it. From Parade Magazine. It does though, make you stop and rethink things. How would you write your last lecture? I think, in reality, that’s what blogging is all about.. Getting in touch with the things in life that really are important. Writing about life’s observances. Thanks Randy Pausch for your insight. Thanks for your wiseness. We’ll remember your last lecture. Love, Victurd.
Friday, April 04, 2008
I’m excited and I don’t know why…..
Perverts… I knew you’d think that. No no no.. It’s the season.. Long range forecast and the highs all begin with a 6… Our Kansas City Royals are 3-0 and just swept the #2 payroll team.. New manager from Japan has livened them up…
Final four weekend.. IT’S the WEEKEND… Paycheck deposited in my bank account at Midnight last night.. I’m wearing jeans to work… Up early, to Perkins for coffee and smoke to unwind before I even wind up…
Don’t rain on my parade… I’m happy to be where I be at the moment… Emails in the inbox from friends/family.. I petted both damn cats before I left home this morning.. My cigs on sale for $1.60 a pack AND they come witha fitty cent coupon..
Was at the Drive Thru at Mickey D’s.. peeked thru to see the counter.. young, tall handsome black dude waiting on decidedly senior couple.. THREE, count ‘em THREE humongous smiles.. Made me think – the young dude probably doesn’t know the discrimination the older folks have seen.. The older folks were smiling because this (the fun, friendly interaction between white/black) can and is happening.
Life, it be good.
God loveya.. I loveya.. Have a great weekend. Victurd.
PS to Lisa and her cruddy sister: I won’t “show my hand”, but it’s my hope someone.. (Bring it on Foghorn) I SAY SOMEONE.. who has coached at Kansas wins tomorrow!
Final four weekend.. IT’S the WEEKEND… Paycheck deposited in my bank account at Midnight last night.. I’m wearing jeans to work… Up early, to Perkins for coffee and smoke to unwind before I even wind up…
Don’t rain on my parade… I’m happy to be where I be at the moment… Emails in the inbox from friends/family.. I petted both damn cats before I left home this morning.. My cigs on sale for $1.60 a pack AND they come witha fitty cent coupon..
Was at the Drive Thru at Mickey D’s.. peeked thru to see the counter.. young, tall handsome black dude waiting on decidedly senior couple.. THREE, count ‘em THREE humongous smiles.. Made me think – the young dude probably doesn’t know the discrimination the older folks have seen.. The older folks were smiling because this (the fun, friendly interaction between white/black) can and is happening.
Life, it be good.
God loveya.. I loveya.. Have a great weekend. Victurd.
PS to Lisa and her cruddy sister: I won’t “show my hand”, but it’s my hope someone.. (Bring it on Foghorn) I SAY SOMEONE.. who has coached at Kansas wins tomorrow!
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Asbestos….
I first started really becoming aware of asbestos in the 60’s.. At school, they passed out pamphlets.. “oh, it’ll keepya warm alright.. but there are dangers there.. all kindsa diseases could be had from it.”
Asbestos was the talk of the locker room, the boardroom, and, whilst I wasn’t of age, certainly bar rooms. Looking back, my daddy was probably attuned to asbestos, but it was a subject we didn’t breach at our household.
Me? Well, some’r ‘leg men’, some’r “BigN” types, I go for asbestos. At work, we’ve kinda had a revolving door of late. Asbestos removal, and new asbestos.
So, I, like most “Average Joe’s”… stand around all day, leer.. And decide who the asbestos is…
Now, yes, we’ve heard asbestos is harmful…Inhalation can cause some serious shit.. kinda crappy.. Not all it’s cracked up to be. .. There are ‘alternates’ that can be used. I don’t care, I love asbestos… (lOOking at asbestos, ogling.)..
In the hardhat life of man, I’ve become quite accomplished in asbestos studies. There be them “no butt” ones… nah.. It’s GOT to be rounded… There be the whole-lotta-butt one’s, and in spitea my old boss telling me “u don’t wanna have to shake the sheets to find them”.. sorry, it just doesn’t fit for me.
Ok, rounded then. What else? Well - rounded from the side view, and rounded from the back view… Victor, you really are a prevert ain’tya? Uh huh.
Junk in the truck. Derrieres. Bootys. Gluteus maximus. Bum. Cheeks. Behind. Asbestos.
Victor, I thought all you did was walk around all day and look for and collect smiles? Well, lemme tellya - oh you know I love witnessing EVERYTHING about lfe - and yes, smiles REALLY do perk me - but please know I oh so smile inwardly when I see the asbestos.
You can call me perve if you want - but I know too you women and the Wranglers, and being befriended by mainly women - I find you are just as bigga perv’s as we piggos.
Bum deal huh? The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get. Hehe. (Make’n an ass outta myself ain’t I?) Fatbottom girl you make this rockin’ world go round. Tooty fruity, oh booty. She’s got freckles on her but(t) she’s pretty. Objects may be closer.
I’m sorry, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a fine butt. Asbestos. They’re a gift. Nature’s easel. Free. Everyone has one – enjoy the asbestos. I certainly do.
Bringing up the rear, love Victurd.
Asbestos was the talk of the locker room, the boardroom, and, whilst I wasn’t of age, certainly bar rooms. Looking back, my daddy was probably attuned to asbestos, but it was a subject we didn’t breach at our household.
Me? Well, some’r ‘leg men’, some’r “BigN” types, I go for asbestos. At work, we’ve kinda had a revolving door of late. Asbestos removal, and new asbestos.
So, I, like most “Average Joe’s”… stand around all day, leer.. And decide who the asbestos is…
Now, yes, we’ve heard asbestos is harmful…Inhalation can cause some serious shit.. kinda crappy.. Not all it’s cracked up to be. .. There are ‘alternates’ that can be used. I don’t care, I love asbestos… (lOOking at asbestos, ogling.)..
In the hardhat life of man, I’ve become quite accomplished in asbestos studies. There be them “no butt” ones… nah.. It’s GOT to be rounded… There be the whole-lotta-butt one’s, and in spitea my old boss telling me “u don’t wanna have to shake the sheets to find them”.. sorry, it just doesn’t fit for me.
Ok, rounded then. What else? Well - rounded from the side view, and rounded from the back view… Victor, you really are a prevert ain’tya? Uh huh.
Junk in the truck. Derrieres. Bootys. Gluteus maximus. Bum. Cheeks. Behind. Asbestos.
Victor, I thought all you did was walk around all day and look for and collect smiles? Well, lemme tellya - oh you know I love witnessing EVERYTHING about lfe - and yes, smiles REALLY do perk me - but please know I oh so smile inwardly when I see the asbestos.
You can call me perve if you want - but I know too you women and the Wranglers, and being befriended by mainly women - I find you are just as bigga perv’s as we piggos.
Bum deal huh? The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get. Hehe. (Make’n an ass outta myself ain’t I?) Fatbottom girl you make this rockin’ world go round. Tooty fruity, oh booty. She’s got freckles on her but(t) she’s pretty. Objects may be closer.
I’m sorry, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a fine butt. Asbestos. They’re a gift. Nature’s easel. Free. Everyone has one – enjoy the asbestos. I certainly do.
Bringing up the rear, love Victurd.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Things we can paint on our day…..
Happiness. Reckon it’s a choice. Garbage in, smiles out. Oh, there’s tonsa good in too – but we gotta file that stuff away!
When I usedta coach, back in dinosaur days.. the true success of any coach, team – was that the coach prepare the team the very best he could to be successful. Let’s arm our friends/loved ones the same way. Wing a comp if you feel it. Touch with an email. Simply ask “how ya doin?” with no ulterior motive. Spoil them with care/concern.
Listen. Listening is onea God’s gift to mankind. Listening way assists in preparing our own speech. The more we listen – the less chance we’re going to say something that rubs the wrong way. The more we listen – the better the view from other’s shoes. The more we listen – the more we file away in the backa our brain about our friends, our loved ones, and what’s important to them.
Victor, you’re on the pulpit again. Sorry, but you’ve heard me say 9,999 times, I write for me. To me. Hitchhikers welcome.
Keep the eyes moving, watching. If we don’t simply look out into the world – if we drive to work, home from work – Pavlov thru our lunch hour – cruise control our evenings away – we will not have taken in all there is this wonderful world has to offer. See a guy up fixing a bridge? Try to see from his shoes. The 17 yr old that handsya the sack of food at the drive up – read ‘em and see how they take on the world.
Take times throughout the day to smile about yesterday. Close your eyes and see loved ones who’ve departed. Bring ‘em back to life. Take a tour and revisit your favorite vacation spots, places you’ve been. Might not even be a vacation spot – it might be the hallway of your high school in your Senior year. Go there. Relive it.
The now. Concentrate on ‘the now’. The now so quickly becomes the past – allow yourself to be the video camera of life. I look at my son now – and I try to think back to him as a baby, at 5.. age 12… 15.. It gets harder and harder to remember – without referring to old albums, videos. Stare. Focus. Remember. I look around at my job and see so many have departed. I wish I’da taken longer looks. I wish I’da bellied up to them more closely to learn of them. Friends. Live life along side our friends – and take pictures of them/you with the brain. THIS IS OUR LIFE. Remember it.
Tomorrow. We can stash dough away. (Well, most of you can – for whatever reason this very time and point of my life it seems there’s more bills than paycheck – but I’m the eternal optimist – I’ll get there.) We can’t predict tomorrow. We can’t control the actions of others. We can’t know of our health – our jobs, which personal loss will come next. We can pray for good things for tomorrow – but reckon the point here is enjoy the day, let us be good people – and the chances for a better tomorrow increase.
And finally, don’t listen to stupid bloggers who think they know everything! Be an artist! Them two feet you have – stand up on ‘em and think for yourself! Seriously – do you ever stop and consider “what could make my life more enjoyable?” If we remote control everything, every day – soon the movie will be over Ferris! Take time for planning. Think about what REALLY is important to you. Had something (a trip maybe.. a ‘touch’ of an old friend, a new gadget) you’ve envisioned? Do it! Go for it! Talk to yourself – thinka how you/yourself – can improve upon the good life you already lead.
I loveya all. In spitea the GD deeper and deeper creases that run across my face – I am smiley inwardly – and hopefully outwardly. I really really do hope life is a smile for you as well.. Love, Victurd.
When I usedta coach, back in dinosaur days.. the true success of any coach, team – was that the coach prepare the team the very best he could to be successful. Let’s arm our friends/loved ones the same way. Wing a comp if you feel it. Touch with an email. Simply ask “how ya doin?” with no ulterior motive. Spoil them with care/concern.
Listen. Listening is onea God’s gift to mankind. Listening way assists in preparing our own speech. The more we listen – the less chance we’re going to say something that rubs the wrong way. The more we listen – the better the view from other’s shoes. The more we listen – the more we file away in the backa our brain about our friends, our loved ones, and what’s important to them.
Victor, you’re on the pulpit again. Sorry, but you’ve heard me say 9,999 times, I write for me. To me. Hitchhikers welcome.
Keep the eyes moving, watching. If we don’t simply look out into the world – if we drive to work, home from work – Pavlov thru our lunch hour – cruise control our evenings away – we will not have taken in all there is this wonderful world has to offer. See a guy up fixing a bridge? Try to see from his shoes. The 17 yr old that handsya the sack of food at the drive up – read ‘em and see how they take on the world.
Take times throughout the day to smile about yesterday. Close your eyes and see loved ones who’ve departed. Bring ‘em back to life. Take a tour and revisit your favorite vacation spots, places you’ve been. Might not even be a vacation spot – it might be the hallway of your high school in your Senior year. Go there. Relive it.
The now. Concentrate on ‘the now’. The now so quickly becomes the past – allow yourself to be the video camera of life. I look at my son now – and I try to think back to him as a baby, at 5.. age 12… 15.. It gets harder and harder to remember – without referring to old albums, videos. Stare. Focus. Remember. I look around at my job and see so many have departed. I wish I’da taken longer looks. I wish I’da bellied up to them more closely to learn of them. Friends. Live life along side our friends – and take pictures of them/you with the brain. THIS IS OUR LIFE. Remember it.
Tomorrow. We can stash dough away. (Well, most of you can – for whatever reason this very time and point of my life it seems there’s more bills than paycheck – but I’m the eternal optimist – I’ll get there.) We can’t predict tomorrow. We can’t control the actions of others. We can’t know of our health – our jobs, which personal loss will come next. We can pray for good things for tomorrow – but reckon the point here is enjoy the day, let us be good people – and the chances for a better tomorrow increase.
And finally, don’t listen to stupid bloggers who think they know everything! Be an artist! Them two feet you have – stand up on ‘em and think for yourself! Seriously – do you ever stop and consider “what could make my life more enjoyable?” If we remote control everything, every day – soon the movie will be over Ferris! Take time for planning. Think about what REALLY is important to you. Had something (a trip maybe.. a ‘touch’ of an old friend, a new gadget) you’ve envisioned? Do it! Go for it! Talk to yourself – thinka how you/yourself – can improve upon the good life you already lead.
I loveya all. In spitea the GD deeper and deeper creases that run across my face – I am smiley inwardly – and hopefully outwardly. I really really do hope life is a smile for you as well.. Love, Victurd.
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