Nascar

If you came here hoping to get inside skinny, predicted driver to win this week, huh uh, wrong place.

This blog is about a 9 lb Miniature Schnauzer named Nascar. Cutest little shit you ever did see.

Nascar belongs to a lady I was dating.  Exactly 6 years ago today, she returned from a 20 day trip, literally around the world (NY, Germany, Italy, Croatia, India, Tokyo, and I'm sure I missed a spot or two.)  As she jetted, I was allowed to share her abode with my buddy Nascar. ..   Well, this came up on my memory today:

"What I've learned in my 20 day 'rescue' of a 9 pound Schnauzer: 9 lbs can pull 215 lbs, even uphill. There is no truth to the 'strict diet' rumor they will die/regurgitate/have bowel problems if given a potato chip, graham cracker, Cheese-it. In spite of being 'shorter than a ruler, they know how to occupy 2/3rds of a queen size bed. If you awaken at 5:20am, chain them up outside to pee/poop before you leave for work, seven neighbors will be awakened by 5:24am by their barking. They like to chew, a lot. (Witness a 'missing' 2 by 3 inch section of the (formally) beautiful 10' by 12 living room throw rug.) Fortunately, they exhibit that 'look' (like their master) that says "but, you love me anyways, right?". ….

I forgot that he also tore up a bra, and 137 pages of a 296 page paperback.

Anyways, when we (she/me) were together, I used to tease "If we ever break up, I want visitation rights with Nascar", half jokingly, but probably half serious too.

Well, breakup happened.. and for a spell, I would come get him, take him on a walk, go to the dog park, yada. But, was pretty obvious, as much as I knew I would miss the little turd, it was time to move on.

Fast forward to yesterday. It'd been a few years. Yesterday I drove by their house (yes, in hopes of seeing Nascar out and about!) and, she was gardening. Pulled in. Got out. We tracked down Nascar - and while it's been a few years, he ran up to me, I got on the ground and he smothered me with greetings. Ain't had that gooda feel in some time! He remembered me. I loved it, loved/love him.

That's all folks. Today's episode of "Victor, who gives a rats?".. I thought fun, hope you might as well.

Arff,

Victurd

Easy to be hard......

 Oh life, what fun you are.  Oh life, what fun you ain't (sometimes).

Danny Duffy, ye of Royal pitching fame - once said "I've finally got pitching figured out."  Of course, twelve anxious reporters wanting a story yanked out their pen, paper, tape recorders (I'm old, I have no idea what they use to capture sound in an instance like this nowadays)... anyways, baited breath. (Stymee halt.  The hell does baited breath mean and is that how you spell it or is it bated breath?)

Glad you asked (kinda) and as far as bated or baited I seen both.  So since I said "I seen both", it's pretty obvious I have no idea about grammar.  As far as whatineheheck bated (baited) breath means, I guess Shakespeare used it long ago, but basically it means holding one's breath in anticipation.  The hell was I?

Oh yeah, Duffy.  "Figured it out."  Turns out, the yoke was on the twelve reporters because Duffy explained "I've figured out that there is no figuring it out, you'll never know everything about pitching, so if I believe I DO KNOW everything about it, I'm in trouble."

Kinda like life.  And women. (VICTOR!)

This blog is over, there is no figuring life out.  jk.  There really isn't, but sometimes things help.

I like the idea of the reporter dudes having their Big Chief tablets handy to record matters of importance.  I "Googled" something about good advice in life and one of the suggestions was to always have pen, paper because you never know when  you'll hear something new, impactive, a great idea, etc, yada.

Got buddy who, after softball games we'd gather to have a Pepsi, when someone would start to tell a joke, he'd yell "HOLD IT!... I never remember 'em so I gotta write it down." - He'd then grab his always nearby notebook, nod, giving approval for the Paul Harvey of the joke.

Isn't that what life is made up of? Listening to ideas, spitting out whatya don't like, saying 'meh' to the ones that are 'meh', and then recording, remembering, telling one's self "I've GOT to remember that."  Impactive stuff.  Usually simple.  Seems life's instructions about this damn hard life are generally simple.

Pimple.  Wart. Scab. <-- that's me.  I am human hear me roar. Inotherwords, by writing this blog on things that have helped me cope with the 365 bit, I in no means think I know everything. (Like ole' Danny Duffy.... Yes, he's wise, but he also fell asleep in line once in his car at Burger King, they couldn't awaken him and he got arrested.)  Insomemorenotherwords, I ain't preaching.  Got it?  Gracias!

Listen more, talk less. I love this one. I have a big mouth (keyboard) here, but in 'real life', were there a table full of us, you'd find me taking in more input than opening my trap and letting 'put' out.  True. Yes, I too have had those phone calls where you ask, they tell...and tell.. .and tell.. and tell.. and after you hang up you think "they didn't learn one damn thing about me." And that's ok. If they woulda wanted to, they woulda asked.  MORESO though, listen more, talk less has really helped me learn along the way.

Learn from wise ones. I never heard anyone spit that statement out along the way. Shoulda. Since Facebook is the 'newstand' where one comes across this blog - I've so learned from Facebook, and wise ones. Death in the family?  I scroll thru the list of prayers, thinking "whatintheheck can I say" as I do - and whoop, there it is, a wise one has written something perfect.  There are no perfect people, but time and time again, valuable lessons are learned by keeping a keen eye/ear on the wise ones we happen upon in life. (And are lucky to have happened upon them.)

Catch them being good. In an interview to hopefully become an elementary PE teacher I heard this one.  It was one of the Principal's guiding principles. Accentuate the positive (catch 'em being good.) It makes 'em feel good about themselves, and good behavior then has a tendency to repeat. We all love to be complemented.  Sure, it can't be hokey, but when it's earned it's hella impactive.

Be a fountain, not a drain. This is for my friend David Soltys, because the Royal's announcer he dislikes (Rex Hudler) always says this.  Turns out his mother used to say it to him every morning of his life.  Pretty decent advice.  I slip, you slip, we all slip   - but the more we concentrate on the positive, the bigger the fountain becomes.  Fountains can be tourist traps.  They also cleanse the body, the brain, helping one to smile, feel a little better about life and themselves.

So, whoop there it is.. the BLT..  PB&J (I always preferred peanut butter and bananas).. the mac and cheese (Patooey!). inotherwords, the lesson(s), life and wise people teach along the way.

Life.  Easy to be hard. 

Write the good shit (sorry, kinda) you hear down, like by softball buddy Dale.  Oops.  Slipped.

Listen more, talk less.  That was from a long article about former KU football coach Mark Mangino. I will never admit to getting advice from anyone connected to KU, so this blog will self destruct in two minutes.

Learn from wise ones. That quote is actually mine.  In life I frequently find myself LOST.  Wise ones = GPS on how to live better.  Thank God for wise ones. Or, as Three Dog Night, Easy To Be Hard would sing "especially people who care about strangers, who care about evil and social injustice."

Last but not least, Good Night Irene. (Irene was the Elementary Principal who espoused "catch 'em being good.") That advice has really helped me in life.  Every aspect.  Family, friends, teaching, coaching, simple being - a  better person.

Life is easy to be hard.  Zits, warts and scabs, we all got em. Along the way, if you learn anything from anyone that a lightbulb goes off and "hey, I should remember this", grab your Big Chief, write it down.

Peace out, love, Victurd

Do do do do take you back.....

This is a song written by Bill Conti for the 1976 movie Rocky.  It's about a feller bemoaning the fact he ain't gonna take "her" back.

That ain't what this is about.

This is selfishly all about me... writing down my "what ifs" about "if I could take you back."  If you perused this blog ever before, hopefully you will remember seeing the verbiage "written to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome."

Do do do do take you back.........

To grannys.  Age 9.  Foraging winter roads to get there.  Standing infronta the Christmas tree, "can't wait" to see what's for me, also, hoping my cousins like what I got them.

To a Ray Charles concert - where folks even way older than me are be-boppin' in their chairs.  The recipe calls for vibrance, wonderful rhythm, and Ray's 'it's always there' smile.  Yeah baby (not to be confused with Austin Powers Yeah baby.)

All my life, I've been a simpleton on keeping up with, in the know of - in the moment, chic things.  It took me forever and a day to finally decide "Rolling Stones" over "Beatles."  I was 60-something when I asked "Pink Floyd really sang that one?" Message:  I'd love to bring Freddie Mercury back, know that can't be accomplished, but just for a baby second to hear "I see a little silhouette of a man, Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandngo"  Thunderbolts and lightning very, very frightening me, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Figaro - magnificoo..."

A Willie Mays 'back to the infield' catch.  Stan the Man wiggling his butt just before a double to right center field.  Brooks Robinson sucking up one of those "howinthehell did he catch that" grounders.

Locally... Bud Temple saying "Rack 'em Charlie." .. Bill Kerston hollering "HELLLLOOOOOOOOO wrestling fans."

Sandy Koufax facing Hank Aaron.  Lou stealing 2nd, then 3rd, followed shortly by Harry's "HOLY COW!"... Free peanuts, Pepsi and color TV World Series games at Woodys.

Hoss's "Dadburnit", Jed's "Weeeee dogggies".. Gomer's "Gyooooollllleeeee".  A fifteen second clip of Barney trying to get the bullet outta his pocket. JFK's "My fellow Americans."

The first time I remember something special about a girl (besides the fact she could kick a kickball as far as any boy in class) - that moment on Valentine's Day, nerves, hope, setting one's self up for failure, joy, when she finally opens that biggest Valentine card in the box. (Patty Gross, I will never forget!  The first in a long line that have left me by the wayside!  And in fairness, I maybe left one or two along the way.)

Those first kisses, and coming swiftly to the realization 'she', will have the remote control in life. (And, pleased as punch about that.) Googling 'pleased as punch' to see whyinthehell that's even a saying.)

A sock hop when we could all still move. Jumping off that too dang tall cliff into the lake, heart beating faster than me today without my BP meds, knowing, just knowing, I might die before I hit the water.  Then, paddling upward like crazy to make sure I make it to the water surface before all the air is outta me and I've not drowned.

After four consecutive failures to debark the ski lift, finally, a proudness, "damn, I'm sitll on my feet."  That look, that awesome look down the slope before launching.  Yum, just yum.

Spending the night at that one friend's house where his mom doesn't care if you ain't in bed by 2am.

A victorious baseball game behind Franklin School, age 9, racing across the street to be first in line for a  Mug's Up 5 cent root beer. Best root beer ever tasted in a lifetime.

The wonderful, scary, oh baby, moment when, you're at work, she reaches you by phone saying "My water broke."  The 14 mile drive from the airport to home that took 7 minutes.

The last day of school.  Every year.

Just one more time, please lemme hear "Now batting, number 9, Dagaberto Campaneris."

Joe Willie throwing one 70 yards on a rope, hoping one day I could have a girlfriend as pretty as one of the 73 girlfriends he had.

Jan kicking, Lenny throwing, Otis catching, Jerrel punting. Hank's distinctive voice.  The George Toma pristine fields at William Jewell.

A drive to Antioch to be the first in Liberty to learn which song topped The 40 Star Survey."

Jimmy's "Good night , Mrs. Calabash, whereever you are."  George's "Goodnight Gracie".. Walter's "And that's the way it is."  Good night Chet, Good night David.

I'd like to help my dad bail out our old metal boat.. or, put up my basketball goal.. play catch with my mom.. tease my sister back..hug on Brownie, or Gabe (Followed by taking Gabe on a car ride so he could "Snap!" at every oncoming car.!)

A drive around the Square.  Or the Koo Koo.  To/Fro the High School to Jewell and back. Past Repperts to see if the flag is up.

Race on my bike, ballglove on the handlebar, through the cemetary to get to the City Park for 4 hours of Indian Ball in 95 degree heat.

Staying home at age 10 in the air conditioning, no swimming, no whiffle ball, no nuttin' because "Tonight is the Big Game!"

Finally developing the "oomph" to make it all the way to the top of the rope climb at Frankin School, followed by "oh no, now whatinthehell do I do." - which, in 1961 was actually "now whatintheheck do I do." Chickenfat, JUST ONCE MORE!

As the king of dog-eared paper, the first of the year when that notebook mom gotya was perfect.  Struggling to finish getting Victor Schultze on the Big Chief notebook. (Yes, take you back is supposed to be about good things, struggle ain't a good word, BUT, completion of that was a good thing.)

The teacher rolling the projector into class, timed perfectly for one with ADHD before it was known what in the hell ADHD was, and thankfully, never medicated for.

Alone in the house, debating whether to spin "Harvest" or "I Wish It Would Rain" - or maybe listen to both.

A compilation video of every crush I've ever had, "Elizabeth Montgomery, Hayley Mills, Candice Bergen, Cher, Shelley Hack, Victoria Principal, Farrah Fawcett, Elisabeth Shue, Sara Jessica Parker, etc, etc, etc and I know there's at least 50 I forgot.

A good ole snowball fight. Kick the can. Build an igloo. Climb the mulberry tree for reward. Whiffle ball.  S'more Wiffle Ball.  And s'more....   A s'more by the campfire.  A marshmellow on a stick flaming.  63 lightning bugs in a jar. "First one to see the streetlights on."  The Flanigan's dinner bell, game over. The Flanigans, my friendship with every one of 'em.

Chasing the mosquito fogger (WHY? Why did we do that?) Dousing cars from atop a tree with mom's water filled empty Joy bottle.  Hustling down, running like crazy when onea the cars stopped.

Have enough energy to once again climb to the top of the hill by Jewell Hall (42 times) for a 25 second sled down to the bottom.  Mom's hot chocolate after.

Barry Sanders zig and a zag, Ditka knocking someone on their butt.. Willie Lanier, same.. Bobby Bell throwing and punting footballs 70 yards in practice.

The characters of the game that made sports fun.. Rick Dempsey, Yogi Berra, Hraboski,  Bob Uecker,......

Seeing, once again, this coach, that coach, this teacher, this school worker - those who have adobe bricked me into the person I am today, shortcomings included of course!

Of course a long, long list of those departed, taking sufficient time to hug each. Every cat and dog buried in backyards across Missouri.

I am quite certain you as well have your do do do do take you back list, dreams, memories, smiles. Maybe we matched up one or two.

Baseaball, and life, have been berry berry good to me.

Love, Victurd

G'Day Mate....

 Blogger note, warning, ya better listen rating:     The below is rated R (Mostly for "Really?", but too, coinciding with the Motion Picture Industry's Restricted.)

Mating. Perty interesting topic. On the beloved Facebook, I recently asked folks how long they've been together - the answers were cool, varying from 50+, to just recently, to "we ain't married but been together forever and a day."

I love learning how couples meet initially... there's a blog buried in here somewhere about it... among my favs, one couple was 'brother and sister'... relax, they were in a play and they played siblings.  By Act 3, they were probably already in violation off the set.

Anudder was, a lady toting her groceries from Piggly Wiggly to car - when she got there, a dude was on the other side of her car, putting his groceries IN THE BACKSEAT OF HER CAR.  "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  She beckoned. "Putting my groceries in my car."  "This is MY car!".. Turns out, they had identical cars.  Were parked aside one another.  They giggled.  She told him "OK, now it's time to take your groceries out." "I will," dude said, "but only if you let me cook you a meal from them."  Maybe probably stranger things have happened, but she agreed. One thing led to another, they ultimately hitched and probably binge watched 63 consecutive episodes of Chopped.

Also..  "At the skating rink... blind date.. I was dating his best friend, he was a dud.. we lived next door, I was 19, she was 15, I asked her dad if I could swim in their pond...  at a bar (Surprise Surprise Gomer)..  at a swim up bar in Cancun - he bought a motor home, parked it in my hometown, and yep, marriage, baby carriage.

While fun, interesting, each having a story to tell...   MERCY, the animal world makes all of the above laughable.. 

Flatworms for example. (Scroll to rated R). They are equipped with both the male and female organs.  Uh huh, you read that right.  They then have a penis-fencing fight.  Uh huh, you read that right. One 'wins', the other becomes 'mom' and they sloth down the aisle.

Some, literally walk on water.  Like the water strider.  Male water striders chase after, attempt to court female water striders.  The female does have a shield she can use to 'just say no', sooooo, the male taps his legs atop the water in attempt to lure predatory fish, in hopes this will scare the watoosie outta the female and she will give in. Scientist conjecture.  I'll have to remember that tapping. 

Porcupines.  YEEEEOUUUUCHHHH!  Hehe.  The female has an 8 to 12 hour window of fertility,  She advertises this fertility by 'spraying perfume' (urine and vaginal mucous, YUCK), males gather (All males ARE pigs, even porcupines).. they fight.. Some lose their quills, some lose their life. The 'winning male' then approaches the female on his hind legs grunting, maybe not unlike the human male eh?  He then sprays her with urine (I just report, I don't make it up).. She exposes 'her area' which is free of quills, they mate, then she heads to another tree and screams at him again, which too could closely resemble human courtship.

Hooded seals.  This chicks are attracted to males with the best looking nasal balloons.  This could be why some guys today put those damn treble hooks in their nose, or bigass hooprings eh?  Anyways, the male blows up his balloon, waves it around to the female in attempt to seal the deal.  Bad pun, turn left here if you wanna.

Praying mantis.  Oh we've all heard of this one. If, during, or shortly after mating, the female gets hungry, she eats the mate's head, followed by the remainder of his body. (May he rest in pieces.) Sometimes, the male is able to mate without becoming a meal. Scientests suggest 13 to 28 percent of the encounters lead to death, the rest become henpecked, have high blood pressure, or become workaholics to steer clear of home as much as they can. (That was edited.)

Of rock bands, groupies and tour buses.  Uh huh, of course, the Bonobos.  This is the 'free love ape.' They are promiscuous, engage in a wide variety of recreational sex-acts with members of both sexes, and aren't particularly jealous. They use sex to make friends, form group bonds, and are rarely found at family reunions or in church service. (Editorialized a tad.)

Wow, alla the above makes Tinder, Match.com, Plentyoffish, walking the school hallways, sockhops, that stuff, mild.

Then, you have the humans who met over a cadver (Med School), married the pizza delivery guy..."One of my friends is really into psychics, so I went with her once. The psychic told me there would be a man in my life whose name started with D, he would truly love you" - so, I was jogging, ran by this guy that looked lost, asked if he needed help, said his name was Doug" and now you know the rest of the story.

Believe it or not, there were even grosser animal stories. I am at a loss on how to "tie this all together" - so, I'll gettheheck outta here with....

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

G'Day Mate,

Victurd

Nonsensical....

Just my opine... that's life today.

I blame it all on Magnes.  WHO?  Yeah, Magnes.  4,000 years ago he was a shepherd in, Magnesia of all places. (Incomplete history, poor Magnes seemingly just had one name. Would his child be born Magnes Magnes? Were their any womensheperds named Agnes back in the day?  Woulda been fitting.)

Anyways, Magnes was tending to his herd of sheep. He took a step and he found that the nails that held his shoe together and the metal tip of his staff were stuck fast to the rock he was stepping on.  A light bulb (even though not invented yet) went off, and he named this metal phenomena 'the magnet.'

Where he screwed up - is when he named 'the poles'.  " 'Like poles', said Magnes, "repel each other.  'Opposite poles' attract."  Duh.  This is so unlike our world today.

Oh ya got trouble. Right here in Magnesia city. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pole!

Opposite repel Dear Magnes, Dear Magnes, there's a hole in your theory Dear Manges, Dear Magnes a hole. (Go ask Agnes, when she's ten feet tall.)  Victor, you can't have more than one song in a blog, watch him folks, he's a thoroughly dangerous man.

LIKE poles attract.  You know, Democrats. Republicans. KU fans. Sci-Fi nerds (sorry, I hate 'em, Sci-Fi stuff that is, color me an opposite pole.) Religion, race, sexuality beliefs, mask, no mask, CNN, Fox, Sleepy Joe, Donald for King, BBQ ribs, vegan, dogs, cats, books, no - movies, Costco, Sams, WalMart, Target, Godfathers, Pizza Hut, Big Mac, Flame boiled Whopper, innie, outtie, night owl, early riser. Social unrest, crisis. STOP!  (NO, GO!) WE ARE ALL MXIDE UP.

Which brings me to my all-time favorite NONSENSICAL song of all:

 Victor what song is it?

I'm so glad you asked.  It's Surfin' Bird by The Trashmen.  You know, "well don't you know about the bird, well everybody knows that bird is a word.. a wella bird, bird, bird is the word."

You wrote all that stupid stuff about Magnes, Agnes, magnets, poles, crap like that to get to "Bird is a word"?  YES!  I did. 

Life today is nonsensical.  This may just be the most nonsensical song I've ever heard, thus, you're stuck, a fav of mine.  Nonsensical 'makes sense' because it takes one's mind offa all the other crap going on in the world today.  For a brief respite, we can forget it all.

Well, I guess now that we're here, why don't you tell us about this song.  I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK!  We must be like poles...or was that opposite?  Go ask Agnes, I dunno.

First, tell us about "Bird."  Good idea!  Bird has carried many slang definitions throughout history, from 'prostitute' to 'middle finger', and in subsequent concepts, bird is the word characterizes something as good, cool, or new and revolutionary. Middle finger kinda sorta fits the polarization of our society today.

The song, Bird is a Word (actually, Surfin' Bird) by the Trashmen was kinda sorta stolen from the Rivingtons and their "Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow" and "Bird is a Word." They (The Trashmen) saw a band perform 'em, so they sang 'em. The drummer stop playing and ad-libbed 'Surfin Bird" during the middle, a local disc jockey heard it, asked 'em to record it. Did. Won Battle of the Bands competition.  Recorded. Sold 30,000 copies first weekend. Drummer claimed he wrote it, Rivingtons threatened to sue, changed to their writer. The end.

I was never in band camp.... but one time, long ago, a group of football playing, beer drinking, ne'er-do-wells from a local fraternity, then plagiarized The Trashmen, changing the lyrics to:

A wella don't you know, about our school, a WELL EVERYBODY KNOWS, about our school, a well Jewell, Jewell, Jewell is the school."  It, surprisingly, coming from them, was clever, but they never made a dollar, never recorded it, but sang it at bon fires, campus sing-a-longs, and at around 3 in the morning about every Sunday morning at the frat house.

Which brings us back to Magnes. Opposites repel damnit, not attract. Life, with more nonsensical stuff like Bird is the Word, could, would be a whole lot better. Liquor can helps, but then there is those that claim religion helps too.  Damn poles. Nonsensical.

I can't figure life out. Can you?

Go ask Agnes, when she's ten feet tall.  I think she'll know.

Love, Victurd

(SOOOOOO... please... copy/paste the below.. and go have a minute or two of nonsensical. If nothing else it'll take you back to 1963 when we all liked each other..hot dogs, mom, apple pie and Chevrolet.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Gc4QTqslN4

It's complicated....

Life, yes, is like a box of chocolates - but it's also a compilation of every damn user name, password ya gots. Have you reached the point, when attempting to logon to some site - where you cuss at the screen, the makers, the cap lock button, yourself, your memory (lack thereof) that you give up and go on?  Well, I have!

As I sat here looking at a blank screen, I, of course, asked "what should I write about?"  Somewhere between thoughts, I remembered that I remembered to buy batteries for my spiffy digital scale... I hate buying batteries because I can never find a package of three, or four.  "Here, buy this one, it's 28 batteries for $37.95, promise they'll never lose their charge."  Uh huh.  I ONLY NEED TWO.  Sorry, I only use caps when I'm mad at myself (like forgetting my damn password.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, Liberty MO and the batteries. I finally, at Piggly Wiggly, found a package of six, and after purchase I still have enough money leftover to pay my May rent. So, I grabs the scale, place it on the kitchen table, open the casing holding the batteries (this too can be a challenge...especially remote controls and cell phones).. 

I notate "here's the little springy thing, that's where the negative side goes.. and here's the flat part, that's where the positive side, the 'tit', so to speak, goes.  I go to the junk drawer.... time out.  Do you have a junk drawer?  EVERYONE has a junk drawer. I wasn't mad at myself (the CAPS) I was making a point.  If you say you don't have a junk drawer I don't believe you - which, was a topic I thought about writing about today - "if walls could talk."  Then we'd know, yay, nay, if you had a junk drawer.  Bet urass you do.  I kinda like saying 'bet urass'. Seven relatives and three strict churchgoers just turned left, moved away from this blog - but that's ok, it's me.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the junk drawer. What's in yours? Mine? I'm so glad you asked. Hammer, 4 pair of scissors, thread, whiffle ball, an old mouse (relax, the pc kind), drill bits, two Exacto knives that ain't had blades in 'em since Bush was in office, four sockets, a koozie a friend gave me when their kids got married twelve years ago (they've been divorced 7 yrs now), a brush attachment for a vacuum I no longer have, Scotch tape, cordless razor, a dried up tube of super glue, three other tubes of stuff (After Bite for the damn oak mites...some kinda bacteria zinc stuff.. and Terminator 10 for when I had a zit the size of Delaware.) There's more, but I'll spare you.

Junk drawer #2 just below... no, I'm not kidding, and no, I won't bore you with contents.

Batteries, that's it, I was getting batteries. I grab the freshly bought pack of AA batteries, head back to the kitchen table to attack the scale.. can't open the pack of batteries without something sharp, so, I go retrieve one of the four pair of scissors from junk drawer one, and open.  YES! Not mad, happy. I grab the scale, I praise myself because I haven't yet lost the little plastic thing that locks in the batteries.  I stare at the batteries in the scale, I stare at the batteries in the sixpack, damnit, darnit (Oops, I mean DAMNIT DARNIT) of course, I bought AA and I needs AAA.  I may drink the rest of the day THEN go to AA.

The jokes on the scale because, AHA, junk drawer two has a fancy four pack of AAA batteries.  I carefully open them, put in two new batteries, yeah yeah, positive this way, negative that way. Why are they always (in a remote, a scale, a whatever) one turned this way, one turned the other way.  Shouldn't they be like the way people sleep?  Resting same way?

Earlier, as I was staring at this blank page, I'd considered doing a blog "just my luck".  The batteries, turned a specific way, reminded me.  The just my luck blog. Our Kansas City Chiefs.  Outta 16 regular season games they called the coin toss correctly 14 times.  14 TIMES! (Not mad, astonished.).  The "just my luck" - ever since I plugged in my first USB, I have NEVER turned it the right way the first time.  Yes, NEVER means pissed.  One would think, all these years, but NOPE, nada.

This is a quick blog this morning because I finally did get two AAA batteries in my scale, I finally did weigh myself, but there is NO WAY IN HELL you will know the outcome of that.

Tune in tomorrow, maybe the blog will be "If walls could talk."  You?  You, you wild person - what would your "if walls could talk" blog be about?  Wow! Uh huh, that one night, my my, didn't know you had that in you - you wildthing!  I bet you'd have a couple of relatives and staunch churchgoers turn left on you too.  Oh, and I saw where you put that booger when you thought no one was watching.

PS:  I also didn't know women could fart so loud.

Love, Victurd

Momma said "Life is like a box of....... Rubik's cubes?"

 Red and yellow and pink and green...purple and orange and blue...I can sing a rainbow...

Well, the colors above are mostly correct.  The original Rubik's cube had six colors. On the six faces of the cube, there were nine stickers.. of six colors:  White, red, blue, orange, green and yellow.

Some fool hearts think this was invented by the Hungarian sculptor and professor of architecture Erno Rubik in 1974. Nuh uh, way earlier.  Actually, the Powhatan Indians, living in what is now Eastern Virginia in 1622...noticed their lunch pails.. six sides, a singular color on each side, were being painted different colors by these smartass, strange-talking, weird-dressing folks that had arrived in Jamestown,Virginia a few years earlier.

Wanting to get the damn extra colors out, they waged war, did battle with each other - and the cube was invented. (More on how those battles turned out later.) The Indians scattered across the vast land.A couple hunnerd years later, some newspaper editor and publisher named Horace Greeley, representing the new Liberal Republican Party (uh huh, ya read that right) ran for President against Ulysses S. Grant, lost, but he encouraged the smartass, strange-talking, weird-dressing folks to "Go West young man" so, it's assumed many of them, led by Louie and Clark, headed out.

It wasn't until years later a fellow in the town of Freiberg, Austria, unearthed the six-sided lunch pail in the backyard of Sigismund Schlomo Freud in the late 1800's. (No idea how the pail made it this far.)

Rumor has it that it coulda been transported by Frank E. Butler.  Butler was the number 2 star of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show.  His role was to put a cigar in his mouth, turn sidedways, and his wife (aka Annie Oakley) would load her gun, aim, fire that sucker and knock the cigar outta his mouth. Once heard she came too damn close (maybe on purpose?) - and stage hands reported seeing him grab his lunch pail, head out the back door saying something about "Take this job and shove it."  He was never heard from again.

Back to the backyard of Freud. He was planting water lillies, dug up the lunch pail, tossed the lillies aside, and he took the pail into his home. Originally Freud was gonna put the lunch pail on and end table and use it for decoration purpose, but he later decided to take it into his office to study it closer, and perform boo koo experiments over the next few decades.

He took two of the sides (Red and White) and called 'em the id. From his Rubik Cube lunch pail studies, he learned the id was all about instinct.  Like hunger, thirst, and the drive for sex, or libido. Then, he used the Blue and the Orange as the ego. The ego works to rationalize the id's drive in the most realistic ways.  I know, I'm getting boring. Need to move on. Will. One sec.

Finally, he grabbed the lunch pail, took the final two colors (Green and Yellow) and made them the superego. The superego, he taught us, is basically driven by morality principle.

Over the years he brought in many unsuspecting Austrians, had them experiment with the mixed up lunch pail Rubik's cube.  The ones who tried to reassemble, and keep all the colors separate, he gave visa's, ocean passes, and transport to the new land (The United States) and he labeled these color separators as Southerners, having no superego (morality prinicples.)

The folks who took the cube, turned it every which way but loose creating bright, vibrants looks - he guided them to spots like Italy, France and the Netherlands and labeled them artists.

There were some very brilliant folks that refused to work on the cube to reassemble it to separated colors - one such was even quoted as saying "Why can't we be friends" - he teleported them across all lands to become preachers, teachers and leaders.

The next subset, he labeled the 'id'.  They had zero concentration skills, all they wanted to talk about was fishing, hunting, beer, BBQ, derrieres and lacy underthings.  He noticed these folks to be strictly male, and he extended their qualifier from 'id' to 'idiot.'

Years after Freud's death, as relatives were clearing out his belongings, they came across a file "Incomplete."  It was the results of a certain set of folks working the Rubik's cube who would become emotional, well up, mildly chastise Freud with "There's a better way to do this", they'd frequently get up, run to the mirror to fix whatever, admire themselves, and, once in a great while they'd fly off the handle at Sigmund. He did connect that these folks were all females, and on the last page of his 'incomplete' psychoanalysis file they found written "I have no ghastly idea on how to describe, explain or understand this subset of folks."  Many who followed in Freud's footsteps, studied same, agreed - and to this very day, it is unclear as to why, what, how makes this woman say "I am woman, hear me roar" but he did have notations "You'd better listen."

The lunch pail was not seen or heard from again until 1984 in the United States (A Freudian slip perhaps?). Snotnoses all across the land begged mom, dad for the Rubik's cube for Christmas. Kajillions were sold.  Every Little Leaguer and Girl Scout had one. Teachers across the land confiscated them in class to keep the little rat bastards on task.

"Speedcube" contests were held to see who could get the original six colors back to the where they were originally. Yusheng Du holds the all-time record in 3.47 seconds. Many scoffed that this was impossible. Why, even a group led by a "Texas Longhorn" attacked the Rubik World Headquarters, tossing guards left and right, as they were just sure Yusheng took the colored stickers off, placed them back in the right place to win.  They wanted a do over, even though judges deemed Yusheng did nuttin' wrong.

With life and a box of chocolates - you can grab a chocolate, turn it over, stab your thumb in it to determine if it's a yummy one, a sucky really crappy flavor one, or a pure chocolate one.   Then you can put 'em back in the box rightside up and no one will ever know.

With life and Rubik, Sigmund determined there are men, Lord help them... women, God please help us understand them..  Separatists, we wish who would be comfortable with colors mixed... conspracy theorist folks, "not true, I don't believe it", and thank God, finally leaders, teachers and preachers who remind us life can be pretty good if we allow it to be.

Can you solve it all? Mark, set, go!

Love, Victurd

Momma said "Life is like a box of..............Rubik's cubes?"

Red and yellow and pink and green...purple and orange and blue...I can sing a rainbow...

Well, the colors above are mostly correct.  The original Rubik's cube had six colors. On the six faces of the cube, there were nine stickers.. of six colors:  White, red, blue, orange, green and yellow.

Some fool hearts think this was invented by the Hungarian sculptor and professor of architecture Erno Rubik in 1974. Nuh uh, way earlier.  Actually, the Powhatan Indians, living in what is now Eastern Virginia in 1622...noticed their lunch pails.. six sides, a singular color on each side, were being