Stuff I've observed about aging......

Who are you, and whatinthehell do you want?.... Oh... sorry... remember now, I think I mighta invited you...

I've noticed, nowadays, I don't have to nod down near as far to see my belly.. and.. I was once 6' tall (am now not... 5'11”+ change)... but I SWEAR, when I go to tie my shoes, they HAVE to be farther away than they usedta be!

There are some things, that really usedta bug me, not-so-much any more... not being first in line.. not worrying about raising my hand to be the first to answer the question by the higher up/trainer/HR dude/whatever... favorite sport's teams results... driving 7 miles per hour under the speed limit... the rung on the corporate ladder I was on...

And too, some things that usedta roll off my back, that now cause consternation:
Loud people... tailgaters... occupational ass-kissers... a server whose eyes never focus lower than your eyes.. (all your “needs” are 20” below that), and with googly grin they say “Is there anything I can get you?”... Profanity in public. (YOU Victor?) Yes, me.

I look in the mirror, see me... rough.. .oh... rough... then, my eyes look outward, and what's appealing to me has absolutely zero correlation chronologically to what I've just peeked at in the mirror. (What's wrong with this Polaroid?) Oops.

There is NO ONE my friggin' age. When I look out: “Oh heck, he/she's much younger than me”... or.. “there's no way I'm as old as he/she”... There's no inbetween, my age. . The hell happened to people my age? (Or is it focus? Lack thereof... SURELY not denial?)... Insert Muttley's laugh here – the sidekick dog of Dick Dastardly

Running. Running usedta come easy. Down the basepaths.. To the Flanigan's house... Across the court... Down the sideline... Nowadays, when getting ready for a softball game, I visualize going 4 for 5... In actuality, I end up 1 for 4, and THANK GOD for the “Courtesy Runner”who comes to relieve me (Fancy for “This guy's an old fart, please get him off base before our league gets sued”) ... Today, running is pretty much exclusively relagated to: “To the squatter” by Willie Makeit...

Crying now doesn't always involve physical pain. It's precipitated by memories invoked of yesteryear... yester-people... touching stories seen/heard of folks you have no idea whointhehell they are.. mebbe even just a thought thru the brain, that simply trips that 'softy' spot.

I sit more. I eat less. I talk less. Type more. Hell I even text.

“Visits” back in the day, usedta involve dressing for whatever the weather was... making sure you had 'nuff petrol to get you there... sticking your finger in the “Sterling 1” holes of the tele... breaking in on their party line.. to see if “now is a good time to come visit”... Today, we visit instantaneously. If we getta email we don't necessarily wanna respond right away, we “save as new.” (They'll never know I've already read it.”)

Touch, back in the day, was just that. Now... it's an email... a forwarded email... a text.. a voicemail... There's no finding a pen, writing, signing, looking up street addy's, buying a stamp, licking, folding, affixing, walking to mailbox. Today's touch is instantaneous.

We've not come full cycle, 'cause, compare 2011 to 1991, then 1971, then 19-fitty-one... Change.. Aging brings change (Damnit)...

My eating habits ain't the best. Pass me some burnt ends, hell, I've made it this many years... Damn those Chili Cheese Fritos go PERFECT with the 85 cent rolla chocolate donuts in our machine.

Opinionated. Selective. I'll be damned if I will. You gotta be kidding me? No thanks, you go ahead. Sounds like fun, but I just ain't really up for it – thanks though.

Old age has this way of rearranging our priorities from “what am I supposed to do”.. to “what does he/she want me to do”.. to “what are my responsibilities to do”.. and... finally, we're back in 'babyland'.. “What DO I wanna do?”

Your thoughts on aging? Please know, if you stream me something, please turn that crap up 'cause I don't hear as good as I usedta. I've got the runs now. Oops. Typo. I've got to run now. Love, Victurd.

As tears go by…..

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Ya know, if we didn’t have dark – the sun probably wouldn’t be as appreciated.
Hard to navigate in the dark – but dark happens.

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Words, the most wonderful invention ever. Also the cruelest.

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by

Then again, we can have only one thought on our mind – why not make it a positive,
optimistic, happy thought? Brain housecleaning. Walk faster, stand taller. Victor? Yes? Whointhehell are you to attempt to shed light on dark? Blog questioner, remember, I write TO me – hitchhikers welcome.

Avoid the word “try”. Upbeat words insteada upset words. Steer clear of emotional vampires. (Stolen) Pursue what you love to do and it will light your fire. You know, kinda like writing for you Victor. Or, slow pitch softball – even if you did strike out swinging (THE mortal slow pitch sin) last summer. The “love” of the game includes the camaraderie, fellowship, wiseacres, laughing at one’s self. Yeah, light my fire.

Control. Remember control. There are generally six seats in a car, only one person controls the car. The others have no control over that – just as in life – we have no control over the thoughts, actions, behaviors of others. Light, dark. Dark, light. Hurt, sorrow, happiness, glee. It all happens.

Fight dark, shed light. Build others up – they deserve it. Might just lift you as well. Those words said, the hurtful, “scar-causing” ones – let ‘em go. Don’t “etch” forever. The next words you hear may be wonderful, perhaps the ones intended.

Runs. Hits. ERRORS. Happens. Light, dark. And... don't forget the "e". Huh? You mean like "SchultzE"? No, like by"e".. As tears go bye.

Still gotta find my baseball glove. Wonder if that Mace fellow still sews ‘em up? Happy week, time to get up for the game, love Victurd.

Spill the wine, dig that girl....

I was once out strolling one very hot summer's day
When I thought I'd lay myself down to rest
In a big field of tall grass
I laid there in the sun and felt it caressing my face
As I fell asleep and dreamed
I dreamed I was in a Hollywood movie
And that I was the star of the movie
This really blew my mind
The fact that me an overfed long haired leaping gnome
Should be the star of a Hollywood movie, hmmm

What makes the world go round? Is it basically the sun's gravitational pull which rotates the Earth and other planets around it right?

Of course not. It's the enthrallment of men by women, and vice-versa. Oh, aware there are exceptions to the 'rule' – but it ain't the topic today.

Why? Attraction tis my estimate. Of course, the physical – but so, so much more. We, the mated, spend so many damn years trying to figure out our partner... subconsciously (perhaps, perhaps not) we spend eons of time attempting change, molding, “more to our liking”.. Usually ain't gonna happen.

Then... we “finally understand we ain't really ever gonna understand” - and I think that's “when the wine ferments”... But, unlike wine – that's the precise time you don't have to put a cork in it. Never perfect – but smooth. Same direction, occasional getting of the path – only to soon return.

But there I was
I was taken to a place
The hall of the mountain kings
I stood high by the mountain tops
Naked to the world
In front of
Every kind of girl
There was long one's, tall ones, short ones, brown ones,
Black ones, round ones, big ones, crazy ones
Out of the middle, came a lady
She whispered in my ear
Something crazy
She said.........

Victor, ye of two failed marriages, whatinthehell makes YOU the expert on this – your grape barely made it off the bush....

Aha, so very true.. you are correct.. I had one very nice seven year “wine sampling”.. .and anudder one, also nice, for 20 years... dipped my toes in the water long enough to know – it was/is enjoyable.. it's much better with two in a queen sized bed than one..

Spill the wine, take that pearl
Spill the wine, take that pearl
Spill the wine, take that pearl
Spill the wine, take that pearl


I learned that the making up was a hunnerd times more wunderful than the frustration of the argument. I learned to value and appreciate another's opinion... oft times agreeing, acknowledging “I was wrong”, yet too, having it be ok to say “I have a different opinion on that one” - and that was ok.

I thought to myself, what could that mean
Am I going crazy, or is this just a dream
Now wait a minute
I know I'm lying in a field of grass somewhere
So it's all in my head
And then I heard her say one more time

Spill the wine dig that girl
Spill the wine dig that girl
Spill the wine dig that girl
Spill the wine dig that girl

I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back
As she disappeared, but soon she returned
In her hand was a bottle of wine
In the other a glass
She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass
And raised it to her lips
And just before she drank it, she said

Please don't tell... I, quite frankly, LOVE women. I grew up in a family of “fun pranksters” - so that's what I know. Who I am, what I do. That said – there's just something different with how you deal, treat, admire, enjoy – the opposite sex... and I can't speak for women – but I would think this would have to be the case for the as well.

take the wine dig that girl
spill the wine, dig that girl
spill the wine, dig that girl
spill the wine, dig that girl
take that girl, yeah!
It's on girl, all you gotta do is spill that wine
spill that wine, let me feel, let me feel hot, yeah! yeah!
spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine,
spill the wine, spill the wine, spill the wine,
dig that girl!

Ours (marriage uno, marriage dos) consisted of a lot of nice bottles of wine. In each one, a last bottle was emptied – and it was forgotten to replentish the wine cabinet. Insteada going back to our own wine field to replentish - paths were taken to other wineries.

I VERY much still “believe”... love wine, women... “the dream”... Spill the wine, dig that girl. Love, Victurd.

I get knocked down...

I really don't talk much, cept here. Much better at observing than opening mouth, inserting foot – but, certain I do that here upon frequent occasion, and yes, with keyboard (sorry). I peeked on the Internet for a song that speaks to up/down... this one came up. Words aren't perfect – but I REALLY like the “I get knocked down, but I get up again” refrain.

We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

Of observations in the real world, friends, relatives, neighbors, loved ones, on Facebook, – we all seemingly get knocked down – and seemingly with fairly frequent regularity.

Wishing the night away
Wishing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times:
"Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy
Danny Boy..."
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down

Emotions run the gamut... Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, and parts therein. Incense(d) and peppermint mighta worked, but don't think that was the gist of the song. I love (hate) those that are ALWAYS even keeled – as you just KNOW there's gotta be times their tummy is churning. Same, perhaps said for those who wear heart on sleeve – frequently addressing the ups/downs of their life.

Wishing the night away
Wishing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times:
"Don't cry for me
Next door neighbour..."

You witness, observe someone in “mid snap” and u really feel for them... Wish you could reach out from wherever you are, to wherever they are and give 'em a reassuring hug. Not always possible. What is possible, and generally probable, is that things will get better, situation will be righted, and all will be fairly AOK soon. We ALL get knocked down – some with more frequency, some more easily – some for only minutes – some, unfortunately, for much, much longer.

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing

So... the lyrics have ended, howthehell do we wrap this all up? I'm (what I say in my emails at work) “just the Line Haul Dummy” - but my take is.. .down happens... to us all..

I have no great answers.. other than “good generally follows”... Perhaps when down happens – we should strike out in the real world to see/find good.

I dropped my granddaughter's momma off at WalMart the other day.. stayed in car whilst she shopped for clothes/groceries.. As I observed folks parking, walking in, leaving, putting up carts, etc... I thought to myself “hummm.. mebbe blog material?” and I couldn't put it all together.

What I did note, after all the vehicles – ranging from $500 to $50,000 came went, the thin people, not so thin, in a hurry, leisurely, very old, very young, inbetween...

One thing stood out.. Ok, actually two.. An elderly couple, probably late 70's, holding hands as they made the trek from the Greeter to their car - the walk was an admited struggle, but they enjoyed it. Very cool. Certain, they'd gotten knocked down along the way, they were up again.

And... leaving WalMart... traversing Interstate from one side of our town to the other.. A young couple, backpacks, early 30's – most probably without home, a roof over their heads, holding hands as they walked across the bridge over Interstate. Many would call that “knocked down”... They seemingly viewed it as “I get up again.”.

Of course I abhor getting knocked down.......... who doesn't. Seeing those in much more difficult situations than I sheepishly “slaps me” to “I get up again”...

We all get knocked down, let's get up again. Love, Victurd.

“I cannot see

I cannot pee
I cannot chew
I cannot screw
Oh my god, what can I do?

Ya gotta love Dr.Suess. To the point. Fun. Light. In a hurry to get perspective.

My memory shrinks
My hearing stinks
No sense of smell
I look like hell
My mood is bad – can you tell?

Sometimes this is 'the way' at age fitty-sixty-sumpin. Feeling better days, doing better days – perhaps in the rear view mirror. We've EARNED this right of bad mood - comewhatmay.

My body’s drooping
Have trouble pooping
The Golden Years
Have come at last
The Golden Years
Can Kiss my Ass”

But, whadda wonderful age for “just that.” Who cares? No more career paths.. Who gives a rats about midriff bulge – just get me to the squatter fast enough.. .. I am me and I like me, to hell with what you say/think. With my time I'll do what I want – you no likey? You're free to punt.

The Cat in the Hat is where it's at. Tis actually a wonderful stage of our lives. Reflections, and no, not the mirror kind.

We have yesterday to hold dear – and going forward knowing we'll probably forget all that crap – said lovingly.

The Golden Years
Have come at last....
We can do what we want.. say what we want.. go where we want.. when we want (or don't want).. I love the Golden Years, we're basically saying
(You) Can Kiss my Ass.” Love, Victurd.

This bud's for you........

A fairly normal Saturday morning... Friday night - forgot to turn off alarm clock – beeped at 6a this morn... Slapped that basta, “eh, I'll roll back over, anudder hour”.. three minutes later.. cell phone alarm sounding.. Drats.. give in.. up, read email, check FB...

Mickey D's.. Sudoko (Saturday is the hardest).. all but a few numbers.. crossword puzzle a complete success (with one word that looked kinda funny, but it fit - who cares).. drive back home – outta car... walking in....

And there on the bush ordered from Michigan Bulb years ago – BUDS.. Ahhhhh the wonder of nature.. another Spring has arrived.. warmer days ahead... green grass growing... children out playing... baseball.. grilling out.. old man softball soon – better start the annual search for the ballglove soon... Thanks buds.. it's a pleasure and an honor to see you every year...

And, of course, the Bud from the song “This Bud's for you”... camaraderie.. fellowship – so to speak.. letting what hair we have left down... laughs, jokes, war stories, fun tears.. My beloved Grandfather was an AVID St. Louis Cardinal fan.. this 'bud' time of year he could be found on the front porch – transister in hand – Harry Caray, Stan the Man, Bob Gibson, Kenny Boyer, et al...

So, during this 'bud' time of year, Grandpa wouldn't forget what time the game was on any given day – jualah.. the St. Louis Cardinal's Baseball Calendar up on the living room wall.. Ownership/sponsorship, Anheiser.. On the right side of the month of games – you guessed it, a page long bottle of Bud. Not at granny's. Instead, articles by Billy Graham cut-out, affixed neatly over the Bud bottle. I love bud.

Best buds. We all got 'em. We try to lift them when they're down – and we get the same treatment in return. We share our word – as we know it will go no further.. we bounce ideas, thoughts, opines offa 'em – and we listen deeply to their replies, thoughts, opinions thereof – sometimes even causing us to alter our beliefs, thoughts. Thankful – I'm thankful for my buds....

Buds come in all ages, sexes, sizes... Coworkers.. Same-agers (grew up along side the 45, 33, 8 track, cassette, CD.. and whateverinthehell that blue ray thing is nowadays).. kid's friends.. parent's friends.. frat bros.. bud's a plenty, and thankfully so.

Buds bring, emit smiles. Buds are (is that Ok to say Engish teachers?).. Buds are familiarity. Fun. Like. 'Food' for emotional salvation. The end all, be all, do all.

I, for one, am thankful for buds. The Spring ones I've gotten to see now some 57 years.. the ones in my 'treasure chest' I've thankfully been able to befriend over the years... and hey, sure, even the liquid Buds.

When you say "Bud"
You've said a lot of things nobody else can say
When you say "Bud"
You've gone as far as you can go to get the very best
When you say "Bud"
You've said the word that means you like to do it all
When you say "Bud"
You've said it all.

This bud's for you – Happy Spring, fellowship - bottoms up. Love, Victurd

Please wait while you’re being redirected…….

Story’a my life – and mebbe yours too eh? When one thinks of me, please don’t think of: an orderly desk at work that you could mebbe eat off of… a living room carpet that is perfectly, freshly vacuumed… socks, undies, yesterday’s outfit neatly tucked away in the hamper… a car with the shiny clean blackened sidewalls…. ne’er a crum on the floorboard. Quoting Sonny/Cher, it ain’t me babe.

So…….. I’m not an organized person. Oh hell yes my desk at work is a mess – but I know where every gosh darn thing is on toppa it. At home, my bills? Well, they’re placed wherever I was when I walked in from the mailbox that day.

Which all brings us to……. me logging in last night… and getting the message “Please wait while you’re being redirected”… Oh crap, I forgot to pay my internet provider (again.)…

Life is all about “Please wait while you’re being redirected”. Kiddygarten. WHAT? You mean I don’t get mom’s snacks whenever I wanna?... Junior High. I can’t sit in Mrs. Eldridge’s classroom all day? I was comfy!.. High School… bells.. bells to start class.. bells to end.. tardy bells.. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”.. Counselor’s office, college brochures, ‘the next step’…

College… ahhhhh wunnerful. Perhaps the very best six years of my life, and no, that’s not a typo. (Scroll to organization, lack thereof).. WHAT? I GOTTA GETTA JOB? “Please wait while you’re being redirected”…. WHAT? I GOTTA COME BACK HERE TOMORROW?........and the next day?

Marriage. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”.. Ah, a wunnerful six and one-half years… then.. “Victor, I know I/we said the vows and all.. and this ring with the little dangly rubies is REALLY cool.. but… u see, I’m attracted to others at work… and… “Please wait while you’re being redirected”…….

Loved the airline industry. Three different ones. I just picked a bad time to get in the field. United Airlines. “Well, you’ve had a nice three-plus years here, but we’re giving up on the Kansas City hub idea.. you can go to New York or Chicago ‘part-time’ if you like?.. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”.. Eastern Airlines.. 8+ years.. wunnerful. $12 first class, $6 coach – anywhere you’re heart desired.

Going to a softball tournament wasn’t like driving to Swope Park – nope, it was flying to Phoenix, or Clearwater, or San Diego. “Mr. Bryan??? (our Union Leader negotiating our contract”) ppppplllllleeeeeaaaaasssseeee remember that 80% of sumpin is better than a hunnerd % of nuttin!””.. Chapter 11, then 7.. “Please wait while you’re being redirected”

Braniff… Cargo Sales. Wunnerful. Again, free flights, all I did was go around and talk to customers – make sure their freight was moving smoothly. I loved it. Even arranged a golf tournament for them – prizes for them of “passes anywheres u wanna fly”.. Summoned on the 7th hole.. “Victor, they’re pulling the planes into Orlando… we’re going belly up”.. . “Please wait while you’re being redirected.”

Marriage number two. A long, very nice one of 20+ years.. . A blessed son, along with raising a wonderful stepson. Then, the stuff hit the fan. Then, one day.. “Well.. I love you both.” Oh my, I suppose that could be fun, but I ain’tno Charlie Sheen. Was never very good in the sandbox, thus, quoting Snagglepuss, “exit, stage left.” “Please wait while you’re being redirected.”

Victor, that’s all pretty depressing. OH NO.. I’ve had a truly blessed life. I couldn’t have painted a better family to grow up in… I have wonderful friends from all the various redirected stops along the way.. I loved each of my ex’s – and many, many a great hour, day, year, time....

The turbulence in my job history is ok too – cause I get restless. I’ve done nothing really extraordinary, but I’m lucky as hell to have done some of the things I’ve done occupationally… (and u got the short list, thankfully for you!)..

Life ain’t an Interstate. It’s a wonderfully curved, hilly road with breathtaking views along the way (and sure, an occasional pothole here and there).... It’s seeing a smile, and winging one back.. It’s getting old, and throwing that ‘love’ word out like you never did before to friends, coworkers… It’s seeing younger folks going thru the “Please wait while you’re being redirected” that you’ve visited – and winging admiration at how they handle..

It’s having a grandchild whose mom gets her snacks any time she wants. What a wonderful redirection she’s been in my life. Inasmuch as life is a cycle – and “Please wait while you’re being redirected”, redirection ain’t necessarily a bad thing. Many have had more tragic redirections – I’m lucky. I’ve been lucky. I am lucky. I love life, AND the redirection that comes along with it – even if it’s occasionally poopy.

My momma.. who grew up during the Great Depression – always wanted to write a book entitled “Po’, but didn’t know it.”.. That’s my second favorite quote from her. The fav? “The secret to success in life is how you deal with Plan B.”

Ain’t so sure how I’ve dealt with it, but I’ve truly enjoyed B, C, D, “Please wait while you’re being redirected”, E, F, G, H, I, “Please wait while you’re being redirected”, J, K, L, M, N, “Please wait while you’re being redirected”………. etcetera, etcetera.

As one who probably most of his life could stand ‘direction’, “Please wait while you’re being redirected” has actually kinda been a blessing. That was kinda boring Victor. I know.. sorry.. stuff about me ain’t so fun. I’ll redirect soon, and write about something/someone else. A promise. Love, Victurd.

M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

What’s more dreadier I thee dub,
This day for you and me…..
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Hey there, Hi there, Ho there,
They’re as poopy as can be,
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Monday Sucks
Monday Sucks

Forever let us hold our covers
High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song
And join in on the plea
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Monday Sucks club,
It’s no fun,
Many more places,
Druther be BE BE BE!

We could do things and
we could go places
All around the world
We’d go marching..

Who’s the leader that did thee dub
Get up go to work for you and me,
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Hey there, Hi there, Ho there,
They’re as poopy as can be,
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Mondays Suck
Mondays Suck

Forever let us hold our covers
High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song
And join in on the plea
M-O-N – D-A-Y S-U-C-K-S

Unless of course, you’re homeless.. and the days run together…

Or disabled… and you’d give anything to be able to work….

Or unemployed – the bills keep’a coming, the resumes keep’a going –
with nuttin’ to show…

Discharged, dismissed, fired, pink-slipped, downsized, rightsized, delayered, workforce reduction, workforce optimization, simplification, force shaping, recussion, attrition, mass layoff, under-employed… replaced..

Or, in a nursing home – mind vibrant, body spent…

Come to think of it… I’m lucky. Thanks for giving me another week – another day,
another commute. I’m lucky to have Mondays. I will never take them for granted or bemoan them again. M-O-N-D-A-Y’S ROCK… M-O-N-D-A-Y’S ROCK.. Love, Victurd.

Open mouth, insert keyboard, and conversation.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when conversing, to have a backspace key? Would wholly eliminate being able to “hear a pin drop”.. thinking to self “oh shit”.. Upsetting friends, others... And winging those words (or hearing those words) you'll remember for a lifetime.

Whatshername, God love her, once spouted “you write better than you talk.” Hehe. Ok, mebbe I do – but you think that doesn't figure in there somewhere when I have conversation with folks... it's like there's a little toll gate, or mebbe stop-sign somewheres 'tween the brain and the tongue – with a sign “BE CAREFUL VICTOR!”

If you had a keyboard in conversation, you could do neat crap like underline for emphasis. Change font to say (unsaid) “Damnit, are you listening to me?”

Or mebbe go from size 12 type, to size 20 in a millisecond. I know, I know, I know people too who are 'stuck' on size 20. So much to be learned from a booth at Mickey D's. Two ladies, a bit older than me. One of the ladies, participated (controlled, wouldn't let the other lady getta word in edgewise) and as they left I thought to myself “howinthehell did she eat, 'cause there were words coming out the entire time she was there?” I felt for that other lady. Wasn't 'permitted' to converse. Sometimes we just say dumb stuff, like:

"Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that but not with all those flies and death and stuff." -- Mariah Carey

Funny, we... or at least me.. am/are different dependent upon who's involved in the conversation. At work, I'm prolly a touch of the little ole lady at McDonalds, with a heaping portion of smartass thrown in. I enjoy pushing the envelope JUST to the point of getting called into the HR dude's office.

Large crowd, friends, and some who I might not know so well......... I clam. Better to be thought a fool. See from their shoes. Include others if you talk Victor. Use positive words. Beyond all – listen. So I do.

"We're going to turn this team around 360 degrees."
-- Jason Kidd, upon his drafting to the Dallas Mavericks

Facebook. Read,see something that makes you get pissed - THEN GO TAKE A WALK. I've not heeded those words upon occasion – and thank goodness for the “remove this post” thingy. Still, hurt hurts. Posts taken down assuredly have been read. There ain't no backspacing there.

Question: If you could live forever, would you and why?
Answer: "I would not live forever, because we should not live
forever, because if we were supposed to live forever, then we
would live forever, but we cannot live forever, which is why I would not live forever." -- Miss Alabama in the 1994 Miss USA contest

One'a my high school classmates put out a thingy on his wall about my frequency in hanging out at the place I hang out. Admittedly hurt a tad. And hey, what was said was true. I've admittedly not handled some things in my life well - and rebounding from divorce is one of them. Just not certain if I understand how pleasure was derived by the poster.

One night, after hanging out at this place I hang out at too much - “By golly I'm gonna find that post and give my two cents!”.. Editor's note: If you hangout like I hangout at those places yain't supposeda (apparently) hangout at all the time – resist the urge to type after you've hanged out. Mebbe even consider a breathalyzer to gain access to your keyboard. Fortunately, the post was taken down – yet again, it was read, the point etched forever.

I do enjoy shock value. You know, borderline stuff like my father usedta sing:
“She's got freckles on her BUT(t?) she's pretty.”... We have a thingy at work – where, due to time zones, we employ a person to work over until 7pm. Uncle Sam “posts” shipments our company can grab up, and there's even a tally board on the wall with folk's name, how many they nab. Every morning, supervisor walks in, she asks “Did you get any last night?” And every morning I DIE laughing. So, walking down the hallway, I see no reason I can't approach one'a my coworkers and ask her if she got any last night. You?

"I was under medication when I made the decision to burn the tapes."
-- Richard Nixon, Former US President

Conversations “at break”... I happen to enjoy taking a break, getting the hell away from the monitor for a bit. Never fails, one will strike up conversation involving a work question – and I'm quick to toss in “you've got 30 seconds to stop that shit.” (ie, talking about work.) We're on break. They kinda-sorta know me, and know I kinda-sorta enjoy teasing, but they also know I'm kinda-sorta serious.

Victor, you're rambling. You're dominating this conversation, SIZE 20 TYPE.. Sorry. Am. Usually don't. Open mouth, insert keyboard. Conversations can be wonderful. Insightful. Dreadful. Harmful. Fun. Boring. A learning experience. An embarrassing experience. Memorable. Fodder for water cooler talk, phone calls later, emails about – and one on one whispering.

"The word 'genius' isn't applicable in football. A genius is a guy
like Norman Einstein."
-- Joe Theisman, NFL football quarterback and sports analyst

Taking a cue from Joe (and 'Norman”) I will end this conversation. Sorry for inserted keyboard in mouth. Happy day, Love, Victurd.

A quick story......

The tears, happy ones, they come...

I dunno if it's old age... or, so much of seeing occasional not-so-good in life, or mebbe compilation of the two...

but.. close your ears or don't close your ears: some things make me well up. I REALLY liked this story in Parade Magazine today... And really, many parts in the article where I coulda/did, cry. But.. .fer sure I did when I got to the point of the article "Can I ask you something?"... you'll have to read to understand.

Quite a young man. God Bless "good", and there is good out there. Love, Victurd

http://www.parade.com/news/our-towns/2011/0306-the-whole-world-in-his-arms.html

Pation....

Always liked ends. Burnt ends. Perty female rear ends. Good movie ends. Basketball game ends. (Son, upon occasion, as toddler, could demonstrate "grump".. which, sounded exactly like the buzzer at the end of a basketball game. "emmphhh".. We'd relate "Please son (insert task here).." and before we could finish the sentence "emmphhh.".. So, before he could even form words - we decided to simply ask "how does a basketball game end" - and he'd chime in with his 'emmphhhamous' "emmphhh").. Year ends. Work ends..

Thought of 'pation' as an end. Googled pation. Found a lista words, some (fancy for many) I had no idea whatinthehell they meant. So, googed "define ____pation" for each.. and decided to write about 'pation. Thanks for your pation-ce wit me. Here goes:

Woke up this morn with constipation. Chalked it off to anticipation, this nonparticipation... certainly not inculpation.. after brief palpation, to check for obstipation.. definitely no need for extirpation.. probably a result of excessive dissipation... damn the bowels, oh for emancipation..

Inculpation, sure, I be responsible for this, once again, nonparticipation.. Mebbe due to occupation? Just hope I didn't swallow something, no critters down there going thru pupation. Whaddever's going on down there, great preoccupation. Eh, always a ne'er do well, hard to cipher, that way fore'er, mebbe syncopation?

To Mickey D's ten minutes prior to opening, usurpation. Hey, not loitering, not stealing, not gonna rob – my exculpation. It's me, Victor. I come here every weekend, my reoccupation – it's syncopation.

Gotta go now. (I'll leave that for you to cipher.) Runned outta pation-ce.. Happy Day, Victurdpation. Victor, you're weird... but we knew that.

Leggo'a my leggo.......

“Letting go”..... wow, whadda term, thought. Ranges anywheres from ordering at the fast food joint.. “curt” snotnose on speaker.. patience, “letting go” before ya hit the window... to.. a 20+ marriage down drain... mebbe more difficult things...

I still 'play' softball. Shouldn't. But do. Don't wanna leggo of yesteryear. Youth. "Can't".. The 60's, 70's, 80's, yada.. Screw that, from the neck up, I'm still young. Yes Victor, but from the neck up is of very little importance in playing softball. Bite me. Hey Toad, wanna play catch?

Those that ain't here any longer. I so love you all, and I hope you ain't in same boat as I (“the Lone Ranger” from nuclear family).. but too.. I know many have lost spouse, child... so – I'm very, very sorry for that.. Still, I miss my mother, father, sister. I will never leggo'a them. Never.

I love when people never leggo'a their spunk, passion, fervor – be it politics, men/women's rights, equality, animal rights, religion, the love'a blue's music, Farmville, Sudoku, creed, old cars, fishing, hunting, Harley's – WHATEVER. I likes 'attached' folks.

(((((((((((((((((((Don't take my "go" away from me
Don't you leave my pattern in misery
If you do then I'll be blue
'Cause lettin' go his hard to do))))))))))))))))

Harmful words. We've all been on the receiving end. Vely hard to leggo. You conjure up their face in your sleep... mebbe meet 'em in the aisle of the Piggy Wiggly.. a snarl.. raised lip.. Damned hard to leggo. Diuretics, Beta Blockers may helps the blood pressure.. but me thinks the “can't leggo” is engrained fore'er.

A favorite tool, towel, bedspread, shirt, slacks, jeans, cologne type – no matter they went out of favor when Ike was in office, “by God I ain't changing.”. The setting on ur alarm clock.. The pattern with which you do things, be it home or away... the path you take daily by car... NO VARIANCE.. we're fearful of “leggo my leggo.” Comfort.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((Remember when we did things right
And twas the same all through the night
Think of all that we've been through
Lettin' Go Is Hard To Do)))))))))))))))))))

Upset the apple cart. “To mess, or ruin something.” Death. Aging. Divorce. Change. Moving. Losing a pet. Job loss. Job change. Someone rearranging ur crap without autho. A new boss. 60 degrees one day, 24 the next.

As we age, we're seemingly more deeply imbedded in our own way... 'you do what you want... leave me the hell alone'... Change is harder. Walls of resistance stronger. Heels, dug in.

(((((((((((((((( They say that lettin' go up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say that this is the trend
Instead of lettin' go I wish that it were the same ole go again))))))))))))))

Of course we ain't letting of the greatest musical era ever... take your Ipod classics, Touch's, Nano's, Shuffle's, and leave me the hell alone. I ain't lettin' go of Jimmy... John, Paul, George, Ringo.. Mick, the Stones, Woodstock, Motown.. that. Scram. Not.. NOT letting go.

The hairstyle. The friends we keep, make. The favorite places we go to eat, shop, browse. The roads, path we take to get there. I could give a rats if these old, short, white Fruit of the Looms went outta style shortly after Vietnam, I love 'em and I ain't changing. (Well, I flip them every other day, but will ne'er leggo.)

(((((((((((((((((((((I beg of you, don't say goodbye
Can't we give our go's another try
Come on y'all, let's start a new
'Cause lettin' go is hard to do ))))))))))))))))))

Victor. Yes? Leggo of the keyboard. Oh.. K. Sorry. Love, Victurd.