Being down 20 points....

Ok, so I relate everything to basketball... Qouting our former head coach of the
Kansas City Chiefs "get over it!"...

Sometimes, friggin' life just lends you that.. that being down 20, dismal,
"I'll never get outta this", shitty, horific feel.

Thenya look around. You realize perhaps my life ain't so gosh darn bad after all.

The late 70-something lady at the Piggly Wiggly who refuses to reduce herself to
the motorized cart, yet you can tell from her limp it's a GD struggle to navigate
the aisles...

Ya look around and view the folks that just lost someone VERY close. Makes being
down 20 remind you "it's justa game."

The ones you see, observe, think "man, I am soooo glad I am not them" and then you
see them smiling, moving, acting, talking as if they were the Queen, King of England.


Today, prior to lunch (close your ears, whatshername would shoot me) I was feeling
down, down, down.. I'd just gotten up from the computer after a plea with my mortgage
company to "find a way to work this out".... I made two right turns... and there in
the median, a man, cardboard sign... hoping to feed his family... (His wife was on the
adjacent corner)...

Tactics... I'm reminded of the coaching days.. "howinthehell do you get one outta
this 'down 20 points' mess?"... Tried numerous tactics... One recently I loved about
MU's coach Mike Anderson... after his team had demonstrated not-so-great performance,
behavior.. he called time out... had them in his huddle... arms crossed... silent...
made sure his head swiveled to meet each and every set'ta eyes in the huddle... and,
after some 15 seconds of very, very uncomfortable feel, he finally said "WE CAN'T DO
THAT."..."we CAN'T do that!:...

I even did the silent treatment back in the day. Team wouldn't listen, down 20 at
halftime... would walk in... say.... "I'm not saying a word to you all... because
you don't listen anyways.... come on out when you're ready to play the second half."
Twas risky, but too, leaders happened. Eight times outta ten they overtook the team
with the 20 point margin.

Finally, it's justa game. Basketball. Life. Fleeting. We're approaching March
Madness... Soooooooooo important to many of us.. yet... when you spin the globe, it's
very doubtful if 97% of the resta the Earth even have any idea all this crap is going
on. Down 20 points? Who cares...

Life, like basketball, and being 20 points down, is perty groovy. There's turnovers,
missed layups, dunks, sweet three-pointers that don't hit the rim... awesome assists..
High fives.. touching your chest "My bad"... smiles, frowns.. grit, determination...
emotion.. acting pissy... jubilation... bit player.. key component.. mastermind...
official.. it's all so complex and so wonderful...

Perhaps, at age 56, I'm 20 points down.. Tis cool. I love all aspects of the 'game'.
I have great faith for every minute in the game remaining. I will take some time
outs. I will take my turn on the bench to rest. I will cheer my teammates on. I will
willfully thank my 'coaches'. I am very thankful I ain't gotta suffer thru 'down 20'
alone. (When two lean upon one another, they walk upright.)

Regardless of the outcome... I'd like to think... when the buzzer sounds.. I will have
given it my all.

By Henri Gibson, or Dickie V... your call. I'm the baby, gotta love me.. Love, Victurd.

I want to live, I want to give....

I've been a miner for a heart of gold
It's these expressions I never give
That keep me searchin' for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old
Keeps me searchin for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old

Funny, I guess, as we age (and are singled) we want so badly - yet -
when faced with that potential arrangement, we run. They run. Is there
sucha thing as believing there's a 'figment'.. there's really nothing
close... yet, when "could this work" happens... run happens.

I've been to Hollywood, I've been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I've been in my mind, it's such a fine line
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old
Keeps me searchin for a heart of gold
And I'm gettin' old

Living in Missouri, or, as our border opponents Kansas call it, "misery",
is this something subconsciously enjoyed? We turn from the potential
because it ain't status quo. It's new, it's perhaps trying to start over.

I remember our family moving so much when I was a child. Toward the last
few moves - I did not want to start over. I tired of making friends,
having fun, then losing them. Only to be told "here we go again."

Relationships, I think, are like that. You don't move in with the intent
to move some day - but it happens. Each and every time it happens, you
load the truck, thinking to yourself "I don't wanna. I'm tired of this.
I'll just stay put." And we do.

Keep me searchin for a heart of gold
You keep me searchin and I'm growin old
Keep me searchin for a heart of gold
I've been a miner for a heart of gold...

I love to move. No, not that kind. The kind at the gym. Yes, been going.
Trying to get mini Matterhorn back down to Flinthill. Softball moving.
Moving on the dance floor. Moving simply to say "no ya don't, you bastard
a-g-i-n-g."

I ain't real sure, particularly now, home is where the heart is. Misery love
no company. I guess. Fools gold, I reckon. Creatures of habit. Resistant
to change. Buyer's remorse. Leaving the retail dressing room with an arm full
of new duds. Nah, not this time. I'm good as I am.

Or are we? Keeps me searchin for a heart of gold. And I'm gettin' old.

Love, Victurd

Infractions.....

I went ahead and Googled "define infraction"... Google asked "did you mean define infarction?"... Huh uh, didn't. Meant infraction.

So Google gave in, and thanks to the English World Dictionary, we learn "failure to comply: failure to obey or fulfill a law, contract, or agreement, or an instance of this."
Tonight, I'd had a visit with Victor... en route home, I was to buy TP..."Dad... we've got one roll left"... did... and then I was to (go straight to Community Center, do not pass "Go".. do not collect $200") I was to workout.

So I did. The Piggly Wiggly. "No thanks, don't need'a sack" (for my four BIG "same price as 8 small rolls") thingy of TP... As I dodged cars ignoring the "Stop fo really old/slow people" signs... I felt kinda silly toting my four rolls of TP that weren't concealed by a "Paper or Plastic?" bag.

YES, you creep, gettin' outta your 2006 Lexus, I DO wipe my booty, just like you and every other person on this planet. WHY ARE YOU SHOCKED I'M TOTING THE ROLLS "AS IS"?.. Have you not pooped in several days? Is your bathroom not equipped with a vent fan because yours don't stinky?

So I guess I committed the dreaded Charmin infraction.. no sack... NC-17 exposed TP in a GP parking lot.

Marital infractions... U might haveta help me here... been a few years... Ifn's I remember correctly, this would include being late in excess of two hours with no phone call.. partaking in a meal and u didn't cook it, nor clean up after it... finishing any sentence about an inlaw that even resembles derogatory... any dent in the checking balance in excess of fitty bucks, with no advance explanation... I'm sure there are more... those I remember...

As a po' single person. "Hi, this is your electric conglomerate... I am so saddened to learn that Ralph (or Edna) hasn't upheld their end of the bargain in child support... regret the fact ur working 74 houris a week to make up for the shortage... still.. your payment was due two days ago... please pay the balance in full... and the $60 reconnection fee and we'll gladly restore service... oh yeah, please give us 3 to 9 days to schedule this."

From hella big "Obama/Bush bailed me out" mortgage lender.. "Yes, we see you're late. There are programs in place. We'll get to you soon. Promise. I know you're '97 Buick shot craps last week.. ur ex is again behind.. you've had to pay a taxi (and extra daycare) so you could make it into work on time... dang I/we feel for you... Please forward your mortgage balance in full along with a minor late fee charge os $32.79.

Infractions. Hate 'em.

Was doing the 1st and 2nd grade thingy the other day. (Refereeing little shits basketball.) Mebbe one in seven kids "get's it", the remainder.. two of seven are there for the flimsy fruity drink that you punch the straw in it. Two, 'cause dad played High School basketball. Anudder two 'cause Tyler normally gets all the attention, but this is my friggin' stage.

Coach runs out on the court after a hard foul (which we called.)... "IT'S BECAUSE YOU'VE LET THIS GAME GET OUT OF HAND. THESE CHILDREN COULD GET HURT! I'M CONSIDERING WRITING YOU UP TO YOUR SUPERVISOR." Ok, so the guy isn't getting laid with regularity. Or mebbe he's divorced and he only has the kid on Saturday/Sunday and he can't control that kinda blood pressure. Maybe coulda even been cut from the 9th grade team in Middle School - and he carries the grudge to this day.........
So................................ me and my best bud Sanford.... The last seven minutes of the game, CALL EVERYTHING. They couldn'ta picked a booger without us finding some kinda infraction.. Whistles blew.. damn near simultaneously.. and Sanford and I thought "Ok, you (close your ears) asshole.. you want everything called? Here ya go"... And the kids didn't getta play. All the time for the running clock was spent "side out". But.. that's what he wanted. Call them infractions. Every single one. I hate infractions.

Driving infractions. Oh hell. We see 'em all the time. Lazy bastas that don't use their turn signals, make you wait at the light/stop sign, then they turn... lane changing, no signal... "thou shall not follow any closer than one car length per every 10 mph"..uh huh, like that's gonna happen. (And quite frankly, it's either the henpecked dude that can't get a word in edgewise at home, or, the gal that couldn't get a date even if Obama announced a Viagra stimulous plan.
5 mph over the limit = "Hey, slow down!".. 10 mph, finally, an infraction.

Lawyers have this fancified way of turning really really bad infractions into more palatable infractions - but this takes bank.. the more bank, the greater the reduction in the infraction. "Defective equipment" I believe is the most widely used judge (I don't give a shit, as long as you can make a buck and get him outta her) and lawyer (Say Frank, have you seen my new Ford Edge? Fits all seven kids. Three DVD players.)... infractions...

Another infraction, I hear tell... is rambling on and on in a blog - to where you simply lose people. Hey, I be sorry. Didn't meanta ramble. Color me "infracted"... I "blog time out". Bailiff, whack his pee pee.

We've discussed, many a time, life has it's ups and downs. Infraction don't fit in there anywhere. Why I hate 'em. Sorry, stepped over the free throw line, bucket no good. Your left turn signal is out sir, please go purchase a new bulb, bring it back, and we'll happily pass your car for inspection. I'm sorry, we can't license your car. We're aware you've stood in line thru two birthdays. You have nine of the ten needed documents. That's an infraction.

I'm the baby, gotta love me. Love, Victurd.

Shoe fly don’t bother me…

Yes damnit, I realize that was misspelled… (I’ve been on these GD [gosh darn] dating sites too long.. “need a man with a since of humor”… “enjoy dancing”.. “very careing person”… I GET IT, OK?)…

Shoes. VERY interesting. We haveta have ‘em.. No shirt, no shoes, no service.

Shoes as a gift, not a good thing. Ya just can’t do that. You gotta try ‘em on, work ‘em out, look and see “is this me?”…

I know I’ve told this one before, so apologies… onea my alltime favorite stories.. My nephew, then 4.. Christmas time.. All he wanted for Christmas was a pair of cowboy boots. I think he started planning, begging in February.. So.. Granny… as all grannys do… came thru…

THE DAY. Unwrapped ‘em.. JUMPED with joy.. Put ‘em on. Kinda. It was a damn struggle.. For like thirty minutes.. But he had the “I’ll be gosh darn I’ve wanted these soooo bad, now I’ve got ‘em, I will spend however long it takes to get ‘em on.”…

He did, but it took awhile.

Ten minutes later, nephew limping around the house.. Following granny’s every move. “Hurt Grandma, hurt.” Granny would smile, think “Oh, they’re just new, of course new cowboy boots are gonna hurt.”…

An hour later.. Nephew walking like he was on stilts… Still, very proudly wearing them, but too “hurt grandma… hurt”…

Finally… after all the gifts had been unwrapped.. The turkey/ham devoured… The pumpkin pie vanished… s’more attention was paid to the continued “hurt grandma… hurt”…

Seems.. Granny found the right size boot.. But… in his angst to get ‘em on.. He didn’t pay any attention to the big wad of paper they stick in the toe of new boots/shoes…. So he’d scrunched his size 6 into (with the paper) size 2’s… because “by God.. I wanted these boots.. And I’M WEARIN’ ‘EM!”….

Shoes… shoes have sole… Shoes, when picking them out.. Some are too expensive… some are too cheap… some ‘hurt’.. .some just not aesthetic enough for you/me… Some too narrow.. Some too wide..

Some feel really good at first.. Only to “ouch” not long after. Some need much conformation for it to ever work. Some last a long, long time. My father had’a par’a what I term “boat shoes” that were slip on mesh things.. Honest to goodness he wore them occasionally from their purchase (I’m guessing 1960-something) until his death.. 2003... Without coming out and saying so, he loved them. They weren’t unsightly, they were just very damn comfy. They worked. Felt good. Fit.

I’ve had instances of “hey, I think this pair will work”…………….. Cha-ching..

Only to learn months, weeks, years later… “nope… shoulda never done that.”

Some are favorites. The best. I’ll put these on, they’re comfy. I like these, they’re in style. If the shoe fits, wear it.

Some need a little work… a shoe horn… polished… re-soled… new shoestrings.. Washed… Hung out to dry…

Some u take for granted, and only take them out on those special occasions… Some, we put away in the closet - and forget about them without intent.

Todays “whatinthehell are you trying to say Victor, and whyinthehell do you make it so weird to read thru you weirdass brain” thought is……………………

Shoes are like people… Relationships… . You can reread the above.. Substitute ‘person’ for shoe… think of the shoe/foot relationship as that of he/she (Or, in keep up with society he/he, she/she)… two left feet? Sorry, I’ll stop….

There is a comfort level, or there ain’t. At the enda some days - we just wanna take them sumbitches off ‘cause they’ve been killing us all day, and we wanna relieve the burden.

Tomorrow happens though.. And we’re glad they’re there… so comfy.. “I picked” these.

Finding the right pair of shoes it a tough one. Finding the right mate is difficult as well. Sometimes “purchased” and it just don’t work. Sometimes we wear ‘em out., getting all we can from ‘the relationship’.. Sometimes they ‘burst’ - and allofasudden it’s over. Sometimes we get a lotta lotta miles and we appreciate them more and more for every new mile.

I’m apperchiative you’re here reading. I ain’t real sure why I ain’t written. Feet been hurtin’ some I rectum. It’s hard as hell trying to find a pair to fit.

Bottomline… always take the paper stuffing outta the toe when trying on ‘shoes’. It’s a sunofabitch if you don’t. “Hurt blogreaders… hurt.” Love, Victurd

February….

A different month… A “tweener”… Warm temps surprise you - then, a GD Nor-Easter or Alberta Clipper nips you to remind you “huh uh, it ain’t over yet.” Closets filled with long sleeves - starting to place in a few short sleeve ones. At times, find our self at work - underdressed, or over dressed.

Aha, lovers. Yes, the hoopla of Valentine’s Day at one time or anuther has captured us all.. From getting/giving the BIGGEST valentine in the box, to lovers/gifts along the way. (Whatshername’s Birthday was 2/14, hell I was sunk if I forgot…. Either.)

I think whomever made the calendar did it right - what with less days and all… I mean, who REALLY wants to be in winter.. Come on robins… Spring Training, hell yeah!

By now most of us have stopped our insane “This is gonna be the year I’m GONNA workout ALL year!” We pretty much didn’t do anything except really really challenge some muscles for a few weeks.. Cha ching.. That’s the sound of my monthly Community Center fee being auto-drafted from my checking account. Here is where I tell myself “Oh, I ain’t gonna stop it yet, mebbe I’ll feel another binge along the way.” And I drive by the Community Center daily. Twice. On the way to work, and on the way home from work.

February is the month us college basketball freaks cuss our cheer our team. We gotta win in February to ever have a chance at March Madness.

February people beat feet to get their tax forms in to recoup what Uncle Sam has held.. Or… for those of us that might owe a little - we place the forms on the desk for safe-keeping. Later. I’ll do it later. (I didn’t have the extra when I filed last year 4/15/08, so the basta’s took what I owed outta my stimulus check. Hate when that happens.)

February finds us in the house… and of that we’re tired of… Again, brief ‘facades’ allow an occasional game of golf… a trip to the Piggly Wiggly in shorts/t-shirt… and the windows down with CCR a blastin’…

February, at least with my family and my work family, has found itself with a multitude of unfortunate illness’s, losses. I hope this isn’t a pattern - as I’d always kinda liked February. I’ve always love teasing, and February is the biggest tease month of them all.

Under wraps. Literally. Our want of Spring, and our covering our bods. I wanna get in shape for softball again. Later. I’ll do it later. I’ll get those 10 off of the 21 I’d lost… later.. Right now I think I’ll take another slice of that German Chocolate cake someone brought. “Hey who DID bring that?”…

February is dirty cars. Frozen ground ya can’t dig. Gas bills that make us think “whyinthehell didn’t I ever get on that level payment plan?”…

February is probably the hardest month to pronounce. Ya gotta take that slow, but hurry, cause there’s only 28 days… or is it 29? Reminded of my cousin getting his pic in the local paper, eight years of age, cake only had two candles. At least he can legally lie about his age as he ages. The Jack Benny 39-crap never really cut it with me. Cousin is ‘12’ now.. Fitty three actually.

A “have to” in the calendar year. No biggie Holidays (unless u do up the one where you really just wanna get laid).. Temps from single digits to 70’s here. Quite a range.

I’m about outta FebRUary chit. Can u thinka any? Nonetheless, I hope the chocolates or the flowers get u laid, if that’s ur quest. I hope u concentrate real hard on “Victor, get your ass back to the gym, and quit eating that junk.. You’ll feel MUCH better the first time you luck out, get a base hit and head toward first… and you’ll get there faster at 195 versus 205. OK OK OK. (Did someone say chipmunk?)…

The hunters have hunted, and now they await warm water temps. The golf clubs are cleaned, raring to go. “Now whereinthehell did I put that box of shorts” rings out.

Might even plan a nice summer vacation. Wonder whatinthehell gas will cost? Talk about range.

Victor, you’re rambling. Feb is only 28 days. Stop. Ok. Will. Happy FebRUary. Love, Victurd.

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you

Ok. .I was all set to do a blog about direction… Fascinating word. Was gonna talk about us single-ites, and how our direction is controlled by each “maybe” that happens… The conductor of the orchestra - and wondering if, in his/her private life, they too controlled the symphony there… A child, young adult, with no direction… The wind.. We all know how piercing it can be from the North… Pleasant, but sometimes annoying from the South…

You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

This song appears to be about someone how “had it”, then allofasudden, lost it. Seen the type. A “way up there” point in employment - only to find it crashing down. (Pride is hard to swallow, but it will go down.).. Doing the online thing, I see it all too frequently in women (just shoot me) who’ve lived the good life (and I am THE biggest critic of equal pay) but now find themselves with no job skills/yet with the yearn/want to “continue to live the good life.”

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

And………. I think this song speaks to aging… We all traverse life as if we’re indestructible. We’ll forever be “in”. Envied. Vibrant. Adored. Emulated. Aging has a harsh way of changing that. Move over old-timer, get the hell outta the fast lane, you’re going five MPH under the speed limit.

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it

We can’t wait for 21. Raising kids, we do the crap over again we gotta do as kids. Forty, eh, the mirror still looks pretty damn good. 50 hits. WHAT? You say “thanks for the interview… we’ve got s’more apps to go over”.. I know bullshit when I hear it. BUT I AM SOMEBODY!

You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

We plan like hell for our 20’s, 30’s, 40’s… Ok, a few of you saps do it right and have four retirements, a bigass 401K, house paid for.. And it’s right, REAL right. Not the vast majority. Most men, however, can’t think past the (close your ears) end of their pecker - and most women just wanna spend - and while the gettin’s good, they get.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Perhaps a life jolt such as “no direction home” could be a good thing. Maybe home has been a facade. Maybe it’s caused us to miss out on what really is important in life. Thanks to GD digital cameras and 100 watt light bulbs - we ‘get there’ - and we hate it. THIS IS NOT ME. I’M FRIGGIN YOUTHFUL. YEAH, I KNOW, I SEE ME, BUT THAT’S NOT ME. I’M STILL A PUP!… and we’re left with a brain that thinks young, and protests reality.

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you

Mebbe, just mebbe, we coulda been nicer along the way to “underlings”… Not all of us for sure, but mebbe some of us…

You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

We look up, our bosses are 20-something. 30-something. WAIT. AIN’T RIGHT. Sorry. The way it is. YEAH BUT THERE’S A LOTTA GOOD LEFT IN ME. We know, you follow direction well, in spitea “no direction home”….


How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Rolling stone. Outta control, and every GD bump hurts a little bit more….

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe

All things precious come undone. The Armani suits.. The evening gowns.. The ‘96 Benz.. Outta style.. Seeya later. You WERE good. Even the neighborhood is starting to fall apart…

You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

Have we trounced those along the way? Cruel to elders that were in our boat now?… Take youth lightly? “What do they know?”… It’s time we were all grabbed forcefully by the collars…

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Bottom line. What’s important? Last time I looked, there wasn’t room in a casket for the Benz, the 3-car garage… you only get to choose one outfit from that walk-in closet..

I think some… not all…. But some… go thru life with blinders… oblivious to everyday ‘good’. We’re centered, horribly so. We thinka ourself when thinking of someone else is so much more rewarding.

Frienda mine today, coworker. She, 40-something. Another coworker (20-something) tragically lost her mother in a car wreck last week. 40-something friend takes 20-something friend out to lunch her first day back from bereavement… One, I wouldn’t have the courage… Two, what do you say? God Blessya TWB. You get it. Direction known.

Please don’t allow this blog to get u down. (I mean hell, who can’t love Bob Dylan from back in the days when you could actually understand his words?)… It’s just that sometimes WE ALL, get off center. Lose focus.. Go like 60 in the wrong direction.

Like a complete unknown. Like a rolling stone.

Quoting Porky… a-dee-a-deee-a-deee-daaaaahts-daaaaahts all folks! Love, Victurd.