The girl with three boobs... Huh?

Yep, right there in black and white (and green)...

Hearda 'rumor' once – twas a company that lined all the folks up outside for a company anniversary... snapped a pic.... oh, 60+ or so folks...

A bit later... there was a separation between one employee and the company.

Few weeks later, the day the nifty 2 foot by 4 foot photo arrived, was affixed to the wall – it was discovered this former employee was photo-shopped outta the picture. Well, the feet were still there.. so.. let's guess 64 people, 65 pairs of feet.

Where this person was photo-shopped out – they “borrowed” the right boob and the right shoulder of another person in the pic (oh, maybe ten or so folks over, down on the front row) – and re-affixed this boob/shoulder to the head of another person – somewheres close to where the former employees torso was on the second row.

So..... person in front row, 'bout the 9th over.. very clearly – two boobs (and a nifty necklace).. and.. her shoulder, right boob, nifty necklace also on row two, about 18 or 19 folks over. Clearly, the girl with three boobs in the pic.

Titillating story, eh? Love, Victurd

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide, No escape from reality
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me

Twas an English day yesterday. Pomp and circumstance. Real life, but fantasy as well.

Dreams. Oft times I have dreams, or at least I think they are – and I awaken asking “Was that real?”.... Some scary, some fun.. some bizarre.. harmless, except for that very first moment you question the reality.

Mama, just killed a man, Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

Freddie Mercury never disclosed the meaning behind his lyrics. Wiki.. Wiki knows everything yeah? Wiki surmises: fairly self-explanatory with just a bit of nonsense in the middle... to: mebbe about a young man who has accidentally killed someone, sold soul to the devil – asks for redemption.

Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

That last line. I think we've all been there. Times get tough, run, hide, get the hell outta here. “Would be easier if I never happened.” Scaramouche – life is good.

I see a little silhouetto of a man
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me
(Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico. I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me
He's just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me

Someone once said Mercury related to them the song was basically “random rhyming nonsense” and that last stanza kinda speaks to that. Hell, spellcheck underlined halfa that whole paragraph.

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Song came out in 1975.. #1 on the charts for long, long time. After Mercury's death in 1991, song resurfaced again at #1 on the pop charts. Is the UK's 3rd best selling single of all-time, and me thinks I've heard of a band or two from the UK! (I know.. you can't always get what you want, but, help I need somebody.. to remind me those other bands names.) I, personally, am proud to have been viewer #14,833,872 on youtube.


Nothing really matters, Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me

Oh contrare, me thinks just the opposite. Song has passion, feel, fun, sadness, fast, slow, whimsical, serious... does matter.

Any way the wind blows

We miss you Mr. Mercury but thankfully we've got your music to remember you by. Pomp and circumstance – the wind still blows.

The Elementary School Sign... Monthly Character trait...

I live a block anda half from a snotnose (said lovingly) local Elementary school... On their bulletin board out front – for young'ns to see as mom or dad drops them off, or as they hop off the yellow bus: THIS MONTH'S CHARACTER TRAIT.

Cool, and good idea. And I'm certain the teachers are encouraged to prepare/include/guide kiddos, incorporating this trait into their lesson plans...

First one I saw: Trustworthiness... (Editor's note.. Use caution when marrying a Catholic gal, I don't think they do these character trait monthly thingys @ Catholic Grade Schools.) A good plan to attempt to teach this, but who knows the internal fortitude of another. That, or hell, they ain't paying attention.. or... the noise from Johnny sharpening his pencil for the 7th time this day wipes out all possible learning. A difficult character trait to ascertain, learn, absorb, deomonstrate - thus, divorces, lies, deceit will happen,10, fitteen, 25, 30, 40 years down the road.

Second: Responsibility.. Well sure.. Mom/dad, for the earliest part of one's life, do for you.. As one ages, more and more, tasks, chores, cleanliness, doing for self.. No, this ain't “look at me mom, I can swing all by myself”... it's more.. helping mom set table.. helping pa raking.. assisting in loading groceries in the car.. Changing the diaper of younger sister Thumbelina.

Honesty... Scroll to Trustworthiness... Same diff.. The dog ate my homework.. I didn't shoot no rubber band at Frankie (Timmy, two negatives make a positive, albeit negative)... You can try, but there's no way in hell to ingrain honesty into someone for life. My take, doesn't have to be yours.

Courage.. Oh, likes this one. Different things worry us all in mustering up the courage to do. Sure, speaking in front of class.. for others, could be PE class.. getting on/off school bus.. the inability (or want not to say infronta others) “I don't understand this (whatever subject one is studying).”

Respect... Tell 'em Aretha.. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.. find out what it means to me.. Oh (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) A little respect (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) Whoa, babe (just a little bit)

Kindness.. Another good one.. You can try.. You can 'laud' when you see it happening.. but then again.. there are just some snotnoses that are cutout for nothing more than taking your bills at the drive thru, them handing you the food, you smiling, saying “THANK YOU”.. and they just hand the money back, no facial expression, no, “you're welcome”.. This trait escapes a certain percent, and it's seemingly a lifelong defect. Most are very good, some go hella aggravatingly overboard – but again, some just “don't get it.”

I got SOOOO perked tonight as I drove home and read...”This month's character trait” SENSE OF HUMOR............. NO WAY! Please tell me you're jesting?!!! I LOVE it!.. We've advanced, awakened...

Back in my day... “Sullen” was vogue in the classroom. You didn't dare have fun. Most teachers in my era had no resemblance of anything even close to I Dream of Jeannie..(Close your ears).. most, very homely.. and if you did anything to cross them, their glare/stare “cut like a knife.” If one persisted, to the office you went where the bespectacled principal awaited holding a very thick yardstick awaiting introduction to the hiney of your patched up Wranglers.

HUMOR? IN SCHOOL? Farm out America, we're waking up. YES (provided you don't go overboard, lose respect..) it's ok to laugh at/with another. IT'S OK (provided you got the courage to recover from) laugh at one's self. Laughter is an emotional balancing mechanism. Today, thankfully, it's considered a visual expression of happiness – or an inward feeling of joy.

A joke. Being tickled (within reason).. a very pleasant sensation.

Funny, how we develop (or don't) character traits over the years. Sure, schools help.. but so do parents.. friends.. later: coworkers, bosses..

That about wraps it up. Sorry there ain't no ending humor. (Imagine those teachers sitting at home, lesson planning.. “now just howinthehell am I gonna mix humor into tomorrow's work?”.. I love that they have that task.. .that our school district understands the importance of laughter.)

Happy weekend... and I hope it entails some humor... love, Victurd.

Whaddever floats your boat...

As a young turd (or young Victurd) we had a lot at the Lake of the Ozarks... as well as a steel/metal cabin-cruiser that we'd annually haul to and fro. Onea my jobs as a snotnose child, was to bail the rain water from our boat during non usage times.. Didn't mind it a'tall... Was a decent trade off for the fun we had during the season..

Aside from my father singing Mac the Knife in the kitchen as he cooked – the next happiest I saw him was at the jerry-rigged controls of the old steel hull boat, pipe in mouth, shades on, shorts pulled up way too high... Pardon the pun, this floated his boat...

Your boat? What floats it? A friend.. baking.. breads more specifically.. attended a long training/educational/cooking session in GERMANY.. way cool.. God Bless that she got to do that.. floats her boat..

With the exception of mebbe athletics, and probably two specifically (baseball/basketball) I ain't real sure anything else on planet floats my boat. (Victor, you LIVE on the internet, the HELL you talking about.) Oh yeah, I do like the internet, sorry. I still play softball kinda- sorta (catch slowpitch every 3rd inning, bat 2 times a game.. pinch-runner on the rare case I somehow get on base.. HEY, I'm old!.. Basketball, signed up for our company's Corporate Challenge basketball team, challenge being the key word.

I love, respect, admire folks in their whatever “floats your boat” thingy.. motorcycles, fishing, hunting, Farmville, sewing, cooking, birds, the yard, helping people, going to bed late, getting up early, Vodka, beer, God, fashion, Sarah Jessica Parker (Sorry, I just threw that in, no particular reason), music, photography, yada yada yada your yada float your boat.

On second thought... women float my boat. I am so, so in love with, enamoured by, 'the female', it ain't funny. We, men, we 'spew'. Words roll from brain to tongue, out 'tween the lips in a millisecond. Many times haphazardly. Women on the other hand, it's like they'd stayed up the night before studying about it.. and the words roll so fluently outta their mouth... Harmoniously.. . really does float my boat.. verbiage with thought behind it..

Women are... much prettier to look at.. much more fun to look at... Much more (I can see his brain, and hell yes, we ALL know what he's thinking) “I have no idea whatinthehell she's thinking”...

We men fart, grunt, hike a leg, clear a room, ROAR, flex our buttocks so 'they'll' “enjoy” an extended 'passage'......... women... toot. And very unceremoniously..

Men. We have one track mind. Women. They juggle: how much gas is in car, exactly where the bank balance is now, what to get Aunt Freda for her BD next month, that I've properly recorded the movie coming in Disney tonight at 9p, are the frozen goodies for dinner tonight set out?.. on the backa the bank balance thingy is a list of goodies we needta grab from the store on the way home. We. We men. We have a one track mind. Sorry, but we don't thinka much in that all-thinking female drive.. and then, we stare at her derriere as she walks into the Piggly Wiggly to get the things on her list.

The other day.. I was out on break.. Myself and six women. (It's a rough job, but someone has to do it.).. Four of the six were talking simultaneously... not being a shop teacher, this enabled me to use all my pinkies to figure that out mathematically.. Only during odd years (this being 2011) am I a relative smartass.. As the four continued.. I said aloud “if there are 7 people, and 4 of them are talking, whointhehell is listening?”

Sorry... Women do float my boat. So much more nowadays than basketball, baseball...... Women rock.. but please don't let that go to your head. Love, Victurd

Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...
She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine.
We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown
So I lit a fire, isn't it good, Norwegian wood.

Who knows whatinthehell this song is about. Stealing opines from another site:

“There is NO wood in the room, that is why he sat on the floor...get it. there is a old line about there are no trees in Norway, so when someone says that their decor is "Norwegian wood" it means they have NO furniture, get it...”

Another's take:

“This song is about a girl.. that said.. when the Beatles were introduced to marijuana by Bob Dylan.. it definitely influenced/changed the style/sound of their music... and Norweigian wood was code for marijuana.”


Still another, Paul himself:

McCartney said the final line of the song indicates that the singer burned the home of the girl:

Peter Asher [brother of McCartney's then-girlfriend Jane Asher] had his room done out in wood, a lot of people were decorating their places in wood. Norwegian wood. It was pine, really, cheap pine. But it's not as good a title, "Cheap Pine", baby. So it was a little parody really on those kind of girls who when you'd go to their flat there would be a lot of Norwegian wood. It was completely imaginary from my point of view but in John's it was based on an affair he had. This wasn't the decor of someone's house, we made that up. So she makes him sleep in the bath and then finally in the last verse I had this idea to set the Norwegian wood on fire as revenge, so we did it very tongue in cheek. She led him on, then said, "You'd better sleep in the bath." In our world the guy had to have some sort of revenge ... so it meant I burned the f-ing place down …

This guy's take:

“John Lennon is a very good musician and this song proves it.This is also really good because it's one of his first full story songs.This is about a boy who goes to a girls house,he wants to (you know) and she doesn't want to so she lets him go sleep on his own then when he wakes up she's gone he's mad so he burns her house.IT'S COMMON SENSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!JUST LISTEN TO THE LYRICS!!!Anyway great song!”

Finally..

“You guys are all stupid, listen to the song, interpret it how you will, but don't debate about it. This is almost as stupid as arguing religion, or politics... Nobody wins, but everybody thinks they're right.”

My own simple take (Victor, you made us read this whole GD [gosh darn] thing just to get to here?... yes, sorry).. “I only wish first dates with whatshername #1 and whatshername #2 woulda ended like this.”

Isn't it good, Norwegian wood? Love, Victurd

I grew up fortunate.

No, no no. Not what you're thinking. Very middle class, maybe even lower middle class. Son of two out-of-the home working parents.

Fortunate for many reasons. Wasn't a household of yelling-screaming, perhaps why yelling-screaming bugs me so much today. Folks took turns cooking - funny, dad always sang as he did.

Town I grew up in. Safe, very. Could walk anywhere, folks knew you were ok. Word spread fast amongst parents – so, if you did get outta line, twasn't a secret long.

My favorite electrical gadget in that day was my clock radio. Fell asleep many a night to the voice of Harry Carey/Cardinal's baseball. Somehow, I lived thru it, being my only/favorite electric gadget.

The yard. Fun. Neighbor kids. Games, aplenty. Day and night. Parents took turns for Kool-aid breaks. Always hit the spot.

Folks weren't into “do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign.”.. Moreso, “so how do you feel about this”, “if this happened, what would you think?”.. Without even knowing so, they 'pointed me' in the right direction.

Dribbled my basketball to the Catholic grade school, where buddies (of all colors) gathered to play. We got along very peacefully – twas prior to the high five becoming vogue – but I do remember we always shook hands prior to dribbling back home.

Holes in the knees of my jeans were patched... tears in my shirt from 'thorn trees' were sewn – yet neither led me to a shrink.

Going to granny's was awesome, and I thought the pallet on the floor was 'special', just for me. Aunts/uncles/cousins – a wonderful bond.

Roof over my head, food in the fridge, being loved – things a freckled faced redheaded kid once kinda took for granted – so very appreciated today. Many would settle for just one of those.

No, as the years have progressed, the painting hasn't always looked as I've desired.. but back in the day – my parents allowed me to paint my own values, form my own beliefs – and they were absolutely awesome role models to boot.

Not being 'perfect' was ok. Understood, actually. Folks always my/my sister's biggest backers no matter the outcome of the endeavor we tried.

I was, am – very fortunate. Thanks mom and dad. Love, Victurd.

Today is a gift, tomorrow is a blessing...

Alarm goes off... first thing thru brain “DO I HAVETA?”... (for the 427th time, I write to me, hitchhikers welcome) No, I getta get up..

I bathe my bod, I find clean clothes, I roll. I pull into gas station, feller with funny accent, vely nice. Greets me so well. Thankful, and I appreciate that.
Large coffee, bagga Planters Salted peanuts, today's newspaper.

Funny – not so much, daily, the paper relates 3, count 'em 3 pages of folks that were here the day before, but they ain't now. It saddens me to read the obits, and probably gruesome that I do - but I don't ever wanna face the embarrassment of “so how's ole so-and-so” and learn of the demise.. .so yes, I read the obits..

The Dish tonight for three. NO VICTOR, surely NOT YOU?.. yeah me. Buddy'a mine, just returned from one year of service around Somalia. After a one hour discussion with him – I learned: African folks are some of the nicest folks there are. “They've had nothing, they're used to nothing.. anything we can give them, help them with, they're SO appreciative.”

I also learned their average life expectancy is around 49 years.

So.......... compare alla the above to: I gots no woman. My car has (close your ears) 235,000 miles on it.. My roof leaks.. I owe more on my house than it's worth.. I did the elliptical for 30 minutes two days ago, and my calf muscles and I are no longer on speaking terms.

Minor.

Like: “Get over it.” Life is different in that how it awakens you. Perspective looms large. Thankfulness varies soooooooooo much.

An early Happy Easter to each... let the woes go, and count your blessings, take pictures with your eyes... and please choose smile over frown. Lord knows I try to.. .sometimes I fail, but I try. (I do whistle quite nicely though thankyouverymuch)...

Hoppy Easturd, love Victurd.

The beat goes on....

The beat goes on
The beat goes on

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

Seems, the more things change, the more they stay the same. (Uh-huh)

When you have reached the age Uh-huh
History has turned the page Uh-huh
The mini-skirt's the current thing Uh-huh
Teeny bopper is our new born king Uh-huh

And the beat goes on
The beat goes on

Whaddever the current rage is.. The Motorola Atrix 4G.. Multiplayer, Touchpad, hell I dunno

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

The grocery stores are super marts Uh-huh
Little girls will break their hearts Uh-huh
And men still keep on marching off to war
Electrically they keep their baseball score

Seems not much that has changed since Sonny wrote it,
Cher sung it in 1967.

Then... ya take a closer peek at 1967. The Doors first album. Aretha wails Respect... Ali refuses military service.. “We” protest Viet Nam.. Elvis/Priscilla marry.. First ATM debuts... Race riots dot the land.. Evil Knievel crashes in Vegas.. Born: Nicole Kidman, John Smoltz, Keith Urban, Jamie Foxx, Anna Nicole Smith, .. gone: Jack Ruby, Spencer Tracy, John Coltraine, Carl Sandburg, Basil Rathbone, Otis Redding,


And the beat goes on
The beat goes on

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

Then.. I reckon you take a closer look at price then... and kinda-sorta compare to wages/cost nowadays... New house: $24,600.. Movie ticket $1.20... Packa cigs 30 cents.. New car $2750...

Grandma's sitting chair's in reminisce
Boys keep chasing girls to get a kiss
The cars keep going faster all the time
Bum still cries, "Hey buddy have you got a dime?"

On this, I happen to love Yogi Berra's take.. God Bless Yogi, the beat goes on.. His quote “a nickel ain't worth a dime any more.”.. Boys do still chase women.. Grandparents, they are us... we do reminisce.. and why not.. 1967 was vogue/wonderful..

And the beat goes on
The beat goes on

Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da

As I drove around Liberty tonight.. I closed my eyes and wished “Geez, I wish for one day, ONE DAY, I could get behind the wheel and drive around 'back in 1967' (or whenever back then).. “Nuh uh! THAT's the Janicke's house.. that WILL ALWAYS be the Janicke's house.. Dave, Gary, Joann, Bill”... and it gets hazy as the years pass.. who lived where.. I would pay bunches, to return to 1967 for a trip around Liberty...

And the beat goes on (Yes the beat goes on)
And the beat goes on (And the beat goes on, on, on....)
The beat goes on
And the beat goes on

Life is really-sorta fantastic. The more stuff changes... towns, roads, who lives where - in what houses, populations, electronics, current rages, fashion trends, celebs, schools of thought, parenting, “childrening”, school, music, et al...

The more the beat goes on. Happy day, love Victurd.

Welcome to online dating........

FOM THE CHICKS:

“and look younger than my age.” (Says who?!!!!)

“you will be an active lessoner.”

“I like quite walks”

“I love to express myself with are such as painting and scketching. Im ery family orented. I also know how to cook verywell so I can most deffently find a way to your heart thru your stomach.”

“I like to go shopping and hand out with my kids and grandkids.”

“IM A VERY LAYED BACK PERSON. IVE BEEN IN LONG TERM RELATIONSHIP IT DIDNT WORK OH WELL LIFE GOES ON HIS LOST.

“I have tryed to delete myself off here but it won't let me so I just won't give any information. Don't have nothing to say or tell. The only reason I am writing this... is because it woun't let me log out. I am traped in plenty of fish.”

“I handle affluent clients and love it, the harder the better.”

(Profession: Education) “My hoppies are reading, traveling and having fun when I can.”

(First Date) “we would go out to dinner and talk about a like and what we looking for in that person. If it gose will we would go for a walk holding hands and some more. Then we would go back to my place for drinks.”

“I want a serious person to connect with me not someone that wants just a hookup or sex because if thats all you want do not write me or email me (my screen name is adoreableaires35 on america online and adoreableaires36 on yahoo.)” I would like to be picked up and taken to dinner and a move, then come home and have a nice kiss good night and another call to be seen again no hookup on the first meeting. I want a serious relationship not no one night hookups.”

“I brake for sales walmart is my store if they don't have it then I probably don't need it.”

(“Online this week”.. “Seeking: Long Term) “I have a great story. I found a great man on this site its wonderful. Wish you the best of luck. It says I need to write more but I've really said all I need to say.”

“I try to see the good in everyone, and even if it isn't appearant, I'll look for it.”

“Good communicator.. not much to say will find out when i communicate with someone.”

“Seeking old rich men with bad hearts and no relatives.”

EQUAL RIGHTS: Some real ones from men.. (stolen, I stole 'em, but they're real!).... A given: All men are pigs!)

“My friends got me a sweater for my birthday last year. What I really wanted was a moaner or a screamer.”

“Bitter, disillusioned SM recently rejected by longtime fiancee seeks decent, reliable woman, if such a thing exists in this cruel world of hatched faced witches.”

“You can lead a horticulture but you can't make her think. Single male farmer looking to teach some cowgirl the ropes.”

“Frisky pup seeks some tail. Tired of going in circles. Lets catchup sometime – you can lead the way.”

“Seeking female companionship due to carpal tunnel syndrome.”

“Wanted: Meaningful overnight relationship.”

“Wanted: Double jointed supermodel who owns her own microbrewery and grows her own weed. If you have a twin you will get extra points.”

Happy day, Victurd.

You have the right to remain verbal – anything you say can and will be used against you......

Nuances.. you got 'em? Man, I do. Just now, was playing Solitaire.. it's where you drag a card with the mouse – to put it in another pile.. you know, like black 7 on red 8. Sometimes, I slip, leggo.. or... my old eyes occasionally slip and place a like color on a like color. BEFORE I CAN EVEN BLINK, this GD (gosh darn) rule pops up, telling me what I've done wrong. CURSOR CURSES! I hate it! (Oh, and have known a few people as quick as that to point out “ahm, no.. you can't... you're not supposed to....”make sure you”... I say: ”Before you start pointing fingers, make sure YOUR DAMN hands are clean”...Music (sweet music) to my ears.

At work. A one page thingy you MUST sign, turn into HR in a lickety-split-moment, relating you've read the 36 pages of “do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign.” YICK, BARF, UPCHUCK. Sad that crap has come to that today. Reckon it's our litigious society that's responsible. You have the right to remain silent...

S'more crap that gets my goat. Those “up here” looking down on those “down there.” PATOOEY! One time, no not band camp, I was working for a El Biggo Commercial Airline. I was at gate checking in folks. Up walked famous actress and her manager. Won't disclose who it was, but will let you know I loved Lucy. As I looked this famous actress in the eye and asked her for her seating preference, she looked at me.. paused... then turned her head over her shoulder toward her manager, so he could answer my pittance of a question. YICK, BARF, UPCHUCK!

4-way stops. The little bastards that sneak RIGHT BEHIND THE CAR that was infronta them!... The dreaded torture Ray Kroc created when he moved the drive thru from one to two lanes. YOU LITTLE BASTARD! IT WAS MY TURN! I ORDERED MY HAPPY MEAL A FULL TWELVE SECONDS BEFORE YOU WERE DONE!

A fire about this high.

A bartender who looks you in the eyes insteada the threshold of the bar. Your clear glass has been empty for 11 minutes. Up she walks, beams that googly, overly-pretentious smile Kelly Bundy-style at you, and spouts (with full uppers and lowers exposed) “Are you doing ok?”.. Yes, I'm doing fine, thanks. I just come here to sit and stare.

The IRS. The companies that add “by paying your bill online, you will be assessed an additional $10.” Ya little creeps, there was no labor involved. WHY?

Moms and dads who yank their kids.

People at work (or wherever) who incessantly “dog” (verbally) the same person, day in/day out. MY TUMMY HURTS – STOP!!!!.. Why, once at a job where I worked, there was even a Supervisor who did it of someone in his/her own department. (Scroll up to dirty hands).. EEEESHHH...

People who blog on and on and on. Oh, sorry, I get the drift. Leaving soon.

Old guys that continue playing slow pitch softball well beyond their years. ALRIGHT ALREADY DAMNIT! I'm outta here.. Thanks for allowing me to get this off my chest. Beloved relatives, close this window here/now.

For those still here: I know, I know. I need to get laid. Love, Victurd.

I've finally found the key...

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Perfect!.. no eyes upon her (I've had two that seemingly enjoyed staring back... demonstrated so... and followed their stares!)...

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

A pretty woman makes her husband look small
And very often causes his downfall.
As soon as he marries her
Then she starts to do
The things that will break his heart.
But if you make an ugly woman your wife,
You'll be happy for the rest of your life,
An ugly woman cooks her meals on time,
She'll always give you peace of mind.

Si, I could stand a home cooked meal. Too many an hour spent in Ronny Mac and Wendy's 'kitchen'... And, definitely know the low feeling of “feeling small”

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Don't let your friends say
You have no taste,
Go ahead and marry anyway,
Though her face is ugly,
Her eyes don't match,
Take it from me she's a better catch.

Again, PERFECT!.. no eyes upon her... and even though her eyes may not match, at least they'll both be on you! Gives a whole new, refreshing meaning to “wandering eye”!!!

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

(Hey... doesn't this beat the hell outta “Pretty woman... don't walk away.”.. I wish I woulda thought of this 35 years ago)

Say man.
Hey baby.
I saw your wife the other day.
Yeah?
Yeah, she's ugly.
Yeah, she's ugly but she sure can cook.
Yeah?. Okay.

Hmmmmmm.. deep fried chicken.. biscuits and gravy.. cinnamon rolls... Honey? Can you fetch me anudder cuppa coffee?

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

If you wanna be happy
For the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife,
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.

Ok, so, if you know someone ugly, available and willing.. and they wanna get married...have 'em hit me up! Love, Victurd

All I can handle....

We've all been there. We've thrown pity parties, we've consternated “why me?”. We've all clammed up, screamed, pulled hair, taken DEEP gulps, looked in mirror... asked self... er... told self... “I don't think I can handle any more”...

Victor, ain't this about where you write that you write to yourself, for yourself, but hitchhikers are welcome? Nah, let's do that later.

Actually, life has been rolling along fairly decently. Work is very good. Good times with buddies after work, sometimes too good. Family, no devistation that I'm aware of...

But then... we're all occasionally confronted with reality... could we paint the picture any brighter?... The lows... Do you have to make it so dreary?...

Then we look around at life, see stuff ongoing, and get pissed at ourselves for bemoaning.

I walk - ok. Friend just outta hospital, new knee. She's gonna be great – but how can I gripe about struggling sometimes to get outta car? Gotta go clear downstairs to get that document? Pah! Wakeup Victor.

Riding into work. I have a lovely bubble on my right front tire. Lovely bubble as in “any time.” My right rear tire needs it's (air) thirst quenched every other day. I am a HUGE lover of “Sports-talk” radio, but my GD (gosh darn) AM doesn't work in my checkenginelight vehicle. DAMNIT! WHY ME?

So... inbetween The Rolling Stones and Stevie Ray Vaughn on the drive in... it's “Military Monday” on my favorite FM rock station. YES, I still rock. NO, it's not a rocking chair – it's my station.... Every Monday morning, they give away a car to a vet. Way cool. The vet this week, just lost his job. He, wife, kids, living with his very, very old mother. To get groceries, using her car. On it's last leg. Needs more oil than gas, and in today's prices, that's hella a lot.

Oh, and his wife was just diagnosed with breast cancer. So, Victor? You're all bent outta shape about a bubble on your tire and that you can't listen to KCMO Sport's talk? Sorry. I hearya, and I apologize.

Pulling into the Piggly Wiggly. Observed two separate cars in Handicap spots. One, the door was open, but the lady was simply mustering up energy to stand, walk in. The other – the driver was simultaneously bracing himself against the car whilst he opened the trunk to pull out/put together his motorized cart.

I'm very sorry. I feel guilt. My life ain't so bad. If I said “I've had all I can handle” I apologize.

A halfa mile away after leaving the Piggly Wiggly – a man, probably late 70's, mebbe early 80's, carrying two VERY full bags from the Piggly Wiggly back to his home - EXTREME stuggle written allover his face – who knows how much further home was. I guessed he didn't have a car (or helpful relatives), and I absolutely know he was carrying “all he could handle.”

“Geez” I thought to myself, “I wonder how often he does this?”... and then, I tried putting on his shoes... He obviously had some money, he obviously was headed toward a home with a roof, refrigerator... what if he encountered a homeless person en route home? Would he still think “I've got all I can handle”?

Life lends us the occasional gutter ball. Yes, sometimes we miss that “gimme” 5-pin. Victor, for behoogity sakes, you even struck out (SWINGING) in slowpitch softball last year.

But, ya know what? None of us have “had all we can handle” yet. God Bless, happy day, love, Victurd.

You've got to pickup every stitch...

Are you good at following directions? Can you pickup every stitch? Perty please then, open anudder window, copy the below... paste... THEN COME BACK HERE! (THANKS, loveya! <-- that's fancy for I haven't figured out how to add music to this crap yet)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5aPhGQ0L9Q

When I look out my window,
Many sights to see.
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
That it's strange, so strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Mm, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Interesting. Pick up every stitch - knitting term. Acid trip?.. Insane asylum? Who knows. Out the window.. MANY strange people... All walks...

Look IN my window.. Multiple personality disorder? The folks around.. co-workers, family, friends, whatever <-- “Witch,”certain somewhere in that grouping.

When I look over my shoulder,
What do you think I see ?
Some other cat looking over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange, sure he's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Eerie. Ever sit at PC and you just KNOW/"FEEL" someone behind you? The spooky ones are the ones who don't interrupt you, let you keep on task, and again, you simply sense they are there...

Halloween maybe? Again, Wiki tells us probably psychedelic trip -and, for the 60's that probably fits...

The “every stitch” .., I'm guessing, means a persistent parent (thank God I wasn't raised by one of those).. perhaps a boss... a coach.. a teacher... an incessant 'friend'..

Looking “in” window... at ourselves.. Paranoia.. the different people within.. We're all different... if we all thought aloud – we'd probably either be fired, placed on probation, locked up – or, put in straight-jackets...

You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch.
When I look.

Donovan oh Donovan, what doest thou mean? Or, simply just rhyming? Please, do tell..
Hard to "pick up every stitch," but perhaps just your point...

When I look out my window,
What do you think I see ?
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
It's strange, sure it's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Finished? Going?

When I go.. when I go....

Rabbits running in the ditch is a good thing, cause I don't like seein' em in the middle of the road.. Beatniks? Coffee house, acoustical guitars.. Been 40 years.. Closest thing today – mebbe those that congregate weathered at the intersections of Interstate connections by traffic lights... Saying/signifying “help” without formally doing so.

Looking out my window is different. Looking in, ditto. I'm (quite a bit) rebel, so the every stitch thing (Ordering, bossing) is like fingernails/chalkboard to me.

A brief respite here to say “who gives a damn about the lyrics, their meaning, just LISTEN, enjoy”... and I do.. hope u do too.

When I go, I normally say, Love, Victurd. Love Victurd..

Knock knock... it's Trooper....

Raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell
Raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell
Raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell, raise a little Hell

This, in and of itself, can be fun. Drone, monotony, same ole same ole – PATOOEY! Gimme left field! Gimme Fun with a capital F (or is it capitol... or is that Jeff City... hell I dunno).. I love tease, laughter, seeing a smile come to another's face... and it's doubly-triply good if oneself has happened to have created it.

If you don't like
What you got
Why don't you change it
If your world is all screwed up
Rearrange it

Aha, this one's much more difficult. A batter with a 'hitch' in his swing... a jump-shooter with an elbow out... an old single fart who goes home, does the same ole thing night after night – and silently bemoans it. The married one who wallows day after day... Envisions change – either in themselves, their partner, situation – mebbe even their residence... Hard to raise a little hell, get off center here.

Raise a little Hell ...

If you don't like what you see
Why don't you fight it
If you know there's something wrong
Why don't you right it

Same thing Trooper. We're the same person as yesterday. The day gets/goes by, we awaken Tuesday, we're “Monday” allover again, no hell raised. Easy to fall into habit, repeat ourselves. Easy to fall into habit, repeat ourselves. (I wonder if Nuns have this habit?)

Raise a little Hell ...

In the end it comes down to your thinking
And there's really nobody to blame
When it feels like your ship is sinking
And you're too tired to play the game

Ship sinking? Mebbe not that dire? Yeah, hear ya.... more like treading water sometimes... does get to arms... body.. brain...

Nobody's going to help you
You've just got to stand up alone
And dig in your heels
And see how it feels
To raise a little Hell of your own

Oh come on Victor, git urass up... go to the gym... you pay $23 a month to drive by it every day, PULL IN next time. Yeah, mebbe. We'll see. Besides, I kinda enjoy that daily struggle with the jeans in “I'll BE DAMNED if I'm gonna buy size 38, NOPE, NOMME.. I'M a 36!"

Raise a little Hell ...

If you don't like
What you got
Why don't you change it
If your world is all screwed up
Rearrange it

Easier said than done Trooper. Seen others do it though. Fun coworker going to gym faithfully, down 19 lbs. Cool. She's raising a little hell and rearranging it. Seen late blooming relationships of divorced, wounded doves too – very happy ones.(Witness happy buddies Wendell/Jan for example).. Encouraging. Seen marriages on last leg – revitalized, renewed – two tango'ed, raised a little hell – their world was all screwed up – they rearranged it.

Raise a little Hell …

Thanks Trooper. I will. Maybe. Probably. We'll see. Tomorrow. Next week. In May. I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.

So Victor, you write to yourself.. By golly do you EVER READ? LISTEN?....

Eh, I'm going to the Dish... raise a little hell thataway.. Check back next Thursday, text me up, 867-5309. Raise a little hell, raise a little hell, raise a little hell... love, Victurd